Page 95 of One Last Verse

“Please stop it!” I shouted and stepped closer to calm him down, but it was too late. Cameras flashed. Laugher diluted the noise of the ballroom.

“Don’t fucking tell me to stop!” His drunken wrath was now directed at me. “You short-changed me for a goddamned magazine.”

My heart stopped beating. His words sliced me open. “There are people here, Frank,” I said firmly. “You need to calm down.”

“Yeah, buddy. You need to calm down!” Dante croaked, moving to stand by my side.

“Are you happy, Cassy?” His gaze swept over the stage, then back at me. “Or are you tired of fucking a guy who can’t use both hands?”

The blood drained from my face. “That’s enough, Frank.”

“Is that why you came here? To find a replacement for me? Someone who can fuck you properly?” His slurred voice was like a slap in my face.

A giggle rang out somewhere in the crowd. My entire body felt like it’d been set on fire. I’d never been subjected to this kind of public humiliation before. My words were stuck in my throat along with my breath. Tears swelled in my eyes.

Frank jumped on stage and twirled around in front of the microphone. A few claps came from behind me. Dizzy with hate, he trotted around the small podium as if he was looking for something he’d lost. Maybe his sanity. His frenzy seized all the air in the room.

I watched him through the gathering mist in my eyes. Part of me knew this wasn’t my Frank. This was the alcohol talking, but part of me hated him for bringing us into this stupid squabble with Dante, for making us a spectacle.

It hurt too much.

“Could you please come down?” I asked quietly, nearing the stage.

He ignored me. “You guys want to hear a new song?”

The crowd responded with a cheer.

“Frank.” I held out my hand. “Please come down.”

“Just wait, baby.” He shook his head and pulled out a piece of paper from the side pocket of his jacket. “I wrote some stuff the other day.” His fuzzy eyes settled on my face. “While you were mad at me.”

“Please come down.”

“Johnny! My man! Can you help a brother out?” Frank whipped his hand in an attempt to unfold the paper. “Fucking sucks when you’re disabled, right?” A silly grin passed his lips.

Scattered laughter filled the ballroom.

Not able to bear this anymore, I got up on stage. “Everyone is making fun of you. Let’s go home.”

He gave me a confused look. “I just got here, doll. I’m going to sing the song I wrote.”

“Please.” I clutched his elbow.

He jerked away. His body swayed backward and slipped from my grip. The rattle of cymbals filled the room as Frank wrecked Carter’s drum kit on the way down. I dropped to my knees to help him, but he was too heavy and too drunk.

“What is wrong with you people?” I cried out, glancing at the sea of spectators. “He just had two surgeries! Someone help him!”

Johnny and Dante hopped up. I saw Marshall making his way through the crowd. Cell phones and cameras continued to record. My body shook. I couldn’t tell if it was anger or something else. Emotions of all colors surged through me. From the darkest to the brightest, they fought within me as I watched Johnny and Marshall helping Frank up.

“My song,” he slurred, looking down.

Someone picked up the paper from under the destroyed kit and handed it to him.

“You gotta hear this, baby.” He dragged his gaze to me and a lopsided grin curled his lips.

Dante stepped in. “You’re ruining my party, man. Get your ass down.”

“I wrote the fucking album! You wouldn’t have a party if not for me.” Frank tried to shake off Johnny and Marshall, who held him straight.

---