Echoes of the Heart - Casey, L.A. (digital ebook reader .TXT) 📗

wanna hear it, you prick!” she bellowed. “All this time I’ve wished you nothing but the best and you’ve been objectifying the memories you have of me for the whole fucking world to hear. I can’t believe you would do that to me, Risk. I just can’t!”

I felt like the room was closing in around me.

“That’s the only record where I’ve ever talked about you in that way and it was only because I was hurting. Fuck, Frank, I wrote that shit when I was out of it. I snorted coke and drank my weight in vodka that night. I can’t even remember cutting the fuckin’ thing.”

She recoiled the second the words left my mouth.

“Stupid idiot,” she spat. “You’ll kill yourself ingesting all of that poison. Is that what you want? To die? You bloody dope. You think you’re some big-time hot shot because you’re famous? Well, you’re still the stupid boy I’ve always known, but at least that boy didn’t take drugs!”

I stared down at her and I surprised us both when a chuckle left my mouth.

“This isn’t funny, wazzock!” She reached out and shoved me. “This is your life, you don’t get to risk it like that. D’you understand me?”

“Yeah, Frank,” I said. “I hear you.”

“You don’t look like you do. What’s so funny?”

“You are.” I shook my head. “All five foot nothing of you is ready to kick my arse because I said I took drugs.”

It was dumb of me to be so happy that she still cared enough about to get angry over my drug use and alcohol consumption. She could have brushed over those facts or ignored them completely, but she called me out on my wrongdoing in true Frankie Fulton fashion.

“Only stupid people take that squit. I didn’t think you were stupid. Or at least not that stupid.”

“Frank, why are you going off on me only now about what I’ve done with drugs?”

“Because I’m mad at you and I might as well get everything that pisses me off about you off my chest!”

“Okay,” I rubbed my hand over my mouth. “I get it. I’ll be quiet while you rail on me.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits. “I can’t think of anything else.”

When I laughed, she shoved me again, but this time there was no anger behind it.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated and lifted my hand to my necklace. “I swear I am. That record . . . we don’t play that shit on stage anymore and I cringe if I hear it on the radio. I pretend it doesn’t exist.”

“Really?”

“Really.” I nodded. “I wish I never wrote it, never sang it . . . I never will again. I promise you.”

Frankie exhaled. “And your drink and drug problem? I’ve never brought it up because I didn’t want to upset you, but I’m so mad right now that I don’t care. I won’t have you in my life if you take that poison again. I swear, Risk.”

“I’ve been sober from both for six months, remember? I’ve got my coin to prove it.”

She stared at my coin then flicked her gaze to mine.

“Stay sober and I’ll be impressed.”

“I’m working on it every day, Frank.”

She nodded, satisfied with my answer.

“You didn’t mean what you said right?”

“What’d I say?”

“About me getting out of your life.”

She sighed, long and deep. “No, I didn’t, I’m just really mad at you.”

“Then take it back,” I prompted. “Tell me you want me in your life.”

I needed to hear those words to feel like I could breathe.

“I take it back,” she frowned. “I didn’t mean it. Of course I want you in my life, you big dope.”

I relaxed. She reached out with her right hand to lean on the counter-top, but instantly she hissed and brought her hand up to her face and thoroughly inspected her palm. Her bloody palm.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

“I cut myself.”

She said it as casually as wishing me a good morning.

Frankie turned and walked over to the other side of the kitchen and retrieved the first aid kit from its spot on the wall. It was clearly difficult for her to unzip it with one hand but she didn’t have to worry about it for much longer because I moved behind her, plucked the kit from her hands without a word, barely a second later. With a grumble, she turned to face me and sighed. She knew she wasn’t going to win this battle with me so she didn’t even bother to start arguing.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw she cradled her injured hand against her chest while I removed the items I would need and placed them on the counter. Silently, I held out my hand and when she didn’t give me hers, I rolled my eyes. I turned my head, looked at her and waited. Slowly, Frankie moved her trembling, injured hand towards mine and when my fingers skimmed over the back of her hand, she shuddered. I gripped her wrist and turned her hand over so I could see her palm.

“Just put a gauze and bandage on it. It’s only a little cut, it’ll stop bleeding soon.”

I didn’t look up at her as I said, “There’s dirt in it.”

It wasn’t a deep cut but it was wide and just over an inch long. I knew it was hurting her and I wanted to do nothing more than quickly bandage it so it could begin to heal, but I had to clean it first.

“I could just run it under the tap,” she hurriedly suggested. “That would clean any dirt away.”

She was scared, which didn’t surprise me; she never did have a high threshold for pain.

“Or you could be a big girl and let me clean your hand correctly so you don’t get an infection and have to get your hand amputated down the line because you were too chicken to let me do what needs to be done.”

She squeaked. “You’re such a little prat, I hope you know that.”

I made a point not to smile.

“Can I please clean