El Tango de Frank Iero
Chapter Eight ; 8
"Uhm, ex-excuse me?"
Gerard's eyes were set on me like a hawk as he spoke. "I didn't stutter. You heard me, Frankie."
I turned my head and put all of my focus on the glove compartment, it was covered in stickers of Betty Page, obscure indie rock bands, and once again - drawings and random words made with a sharpie marker.
"Frankie."
Oh, and look, there's a piece of dried gum ctuck to the part where the key goes in.
"Frankie, look at me."
It's yellow and it looks kinda crusty; I wonder if it was Juicyfruit, possibly -
"Frank."
My head snapped towards him. Does he know my name?
"You can't see the resemblence, just a little?" he asked, curious. Now that he mentioned it, I could see it: hair type, bone structure, eyes. Most definitely the eyes. I wonder why I never noticed that before.
He smiled when he saw that I put the picture together in my head.
"Do you wanna know why he won't let me see you?" he questioned again as his eyes started to grow dark, with what, I honestly couldn't tell. He didn't wait for my reply, "Because he says I'd be taking away one of his best employees. He thinks you'll get distracted while you're sucking off some douche or getting pounded mercilessly and lose his precious clients."
His tone was bitter. I understood and nodded.
"So what do you wanna do?"
I shook my head at him, "What do you mean?"
Gerard's face went hard and he pursed his lips together before he spoke. "What I mean is what are you going to do with yourself?"
My view went straight back to the glove compartment. "This is my life. This is what I do."
"But I could still pay you," he started to say with a slight tinge of anger in his voice, "we could just talk and I'd still pay you. I like you."
Without knowing it, I laughed bitterly, "Yeah, I'll be just like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, but gay, right?"
He didn't say anything for a while, he was partially in surprise from my response.
"Actually, you're worth more than what he payed her in the movie, a hell of a lot more that what I pay you now, and a shitload more than what my brother pays you," he finally replied, mostly in a whisper, as if I was the only one that needed to know this special secret.
"Yeah? Then how much do I cost?"
He brought his hand up to my hair and ruffled it a bit, feeling the texture, and then he grinned.
'Sugar, you're priceless."
Gerard's eyes were set on me like a hawk as he spoke. "I didn't stutter. You heard me, Frankie."
I turned my head and put all of my focus on the glove compartment, it was covered in stickers of Betty Page, obscure indie rock bands, and once again - drawings and random words made with a sharpie marker.
"Frankie."
Oh, and look, there's a piece of dried gum ctuck to the part where the key goes in.
"Frankie, look at me."
It's yellow and it looks kinda crusty; I wonder if it was Juicyfruit, possibly -
"Frank."
My head snapped towards him. Does he know my name?
"You can't see the resemblence, just a little?" he asked, curious. Now that he mentioned it, I could see it: hair type, bone structure, eyes. Most definitely the eyes. I wonder why I never noticed that before.
He smiled when he saw that I put the picture together in my head.
"Do you wanna know why he won't let me see you?" he questioned again as his eyes started to grow dark, with what, I honestly couldn't tell. He didn't wait for my reply, "Because he says I'd be taking away one of his best employees. He thinks you'll get distracted while you're sucking off some douche or getting pounded mercilessly and lose his precious clients."
His tone was bitter. I understood and nodded.
"So what do you wanna do?"
I shook my head at him, "What do you mean?"
Gerard's face went hard and he pursed his lips together before he spoke. "What I mean is what are you going to do with yourself?"
My view went straight back to the glove compartment. "This is my life. This is what I do."
"But I could still pay you," he started to say with a slight tinge of anger in his voice, "we could just talk and I'd still pay you. I like you."
Without knowing it, I laughed bitterly, "Yeah, I'll be just like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, but gay, right?"
He didn't say anything for a while, he was partially in surprise from my response.
"Actually, you're worth more than what he payed her in the movie, a hell of a lot more that what I pay you now, and a shitload more than what my brother pays you," he finally replied, mostly in a whisper, as if I was the only one that needed to know this special secret.
"Yeah? Then how much do I cost?"
He brought his hand up to my hair and ruffled it a bit, feeling the texture, and then he grinned.
'Sugar, you're priceless."
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Sorry for the lack of updates!