He bumped his fist with mine and I knew he believed me when he nodded. We drove to Mary Well’s then, we were both hungry for some breakfast and, of course, I wanted to see Frankie. Knowing she was working the morning shift at the diner made Mary Well’s the obvious spot for us to head to. When we pulled up, my eyes widened. Out at the front of the diner, there was a police car. Joe, the owner of the diner and Anna, the waitress that May screwed, were speaking to an officer. May and I got out of car after I parked.
Anna spotted me and she glanced over her shoulder.
“Is everything okay, Anna?”
She looked back at me and nodded. “Just a little incident, everything is fine though.”
“Where’s Frankie?”
Anna jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. “She’s inside.”
“Go ahead,” May said to me. “I’m gonna stay here for a bit.”
Anna’s attention shifted to May and just like that, I was forgotten. Without another word, I walked into the diner. I saw Frankie leaning over the counter next to the till, she was looking at something. When the doorbell rang, she turned. I smiled her way but the look I received in response caused that smile to falter. I approached her and she turned her back to me and began wiping down the counter. She wasn’t a rude person so there had to be a reason for her to give me the cold shoulder.
“Hey, Frank.”
She mumbled a response that wasn’t coherent to me.
“Is everything okay?” I questioned. “Joe is out front talking to—”
“I said I’m busy and I can’t talk. Are you deaf?”
I didn’t even have a second to ask what was wrong, but I knew something was wrong. Frankie turned and walked directly into the kitchen of the diner. The ice in her tone had caught me off guard. I watched her go for a moment before I snapped out of it and followed her. She was in the kitchen on her own and from what I could see when I entered the diner, the place was devoid of customers. It was just the pair of us.
“What’s going on?”
“Staff only!” Frankie jumped with surprise, turned to face me and quickly put her hand behind her back. “You shouldn’t be in here.”
I frowned. “What’s happened?”
“Nothing,” Frankie blurted. “Nothing happened, so you” – she glared at me – “can leave.”
I bristled at her tone.
“I’m going nowhere until you tell me what the fuck is going on.”
“Don’t you speak to me like that, Risk Keller,” she snapped. “Get out.”
Joe and Anna entered the kitchen just as Frankie shouted at me.
“Frankie,” I said firmly. “What the fuck did I do?”
“Stop cursing!”
Christ.
“Tell me what I did to piss you off so much and I will. And while you’re at it, tell me why the police are here.”
Joe and Anna glanced at one another, then left the kitchen without a word spoken, leaving us alone once more. I was getting more and more pissed off by the second so I crossed the space between us.
“What. Happened?”
“Nothing.” She shifted her stance. “I handled it.”
“Handled it?” I repeated. “What the fuck is ‘it’?”
“Stop. Cursing.”
I felt the muscles roll back and forth in my jaw as I stared down at Frankie.
“So help me, if you don’t tell me—”
“You’ll what?” she interrupted. “Write a horrible song about me? Too late, you’ve already bloody done that.”
I felt as if I had been punched in the gut because I knew instantly what song she was referring to.
“Don’t even deny it,” she continued. “I know it’s about me.”
“You’re talking about ‘Cherry Bomb’?”
“Yes.” Frankie sneered. “Real classy, Risk.”
I lifted my arm and ran my hand through my hair.
“Why’re you bringing it up now and not the night when I came by to apologise to you? We’ve been cool since then.”
“Because I didn’t listen to it until today. It was on the radio.”
That surprised the hell out of me.
“That record was on our last album, it came out two years ago.”
“Oh.” Frankie held up her hands in mock defeat. “Am I supposed to not be pissed because I’ve only just heard it?”
“No.” I held her gaze. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s bollocks and you know it,” I snapped. “You wrote that to be hateful and cruel!”
She was upset. She was shouting at me and she looked meaner than a bee-stung dog, but I could see the hurt in her green eyes. She was sad . . . my song made her sad. If there was one record I regretted writing, cutting and releasing it was ‘Cherry Bomb’. Christ, any time I thought about it, it left a bitter taste in my mouth.
“I didn’t write it to be cruel and hateful,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm and collected. “I didn’t, Frankie.”
“Bullshit,” she practically growled. “I listened to every word, you evil bastard. Fuck you! We’re not gonna be friends or anything of the sort. Get the fuck out of my life and stay the fuck away from me, you arsehole!”