Frankie Fever

I directed Frank through New York, both of us grinning at the sights. New York, the city that never sleeps. He looked amazed. I’d never seen him look so happy. We cruised past all the fancy hotels, looking for one that caught our fancy.

When we found one, Frank giggled. He parked in the street, down the road a little. We got out and made our way back to the hotel. There was a doorman in a fancy coat to open the door for us. We thanked him and walked into the grand, shiny lobby.

“No one’ll look for two filthy street rats like us here,” Frankie giggled.

A quick word with the guy on the desk and the exchanging of money. I then took, Frank’s wrist and we got into the elevator. I pressed the little gold button that bore the legend “Penthouse” and up we went.

“Whoa, what?” Frank questioned “Surely you don’t have that much allowance?”

I just smiled mysteriously.

The elevator pinged and the doors opened to heaven. A beautifully decorated penthouse. A grand four poster bed with virginal white sheets. A fancy bathtub, a bar and kitchen. Frank wandered in, looking amazed. He smiled in awe.

I watched him with a smile, putting my bag on the cream sofa. He wandered to the panel door and out to the balcony. I followed him out and stared at the view with him in amazement.

“I could stay up here forever,” He smiled in amazement “I bet the Queen of England doesn’t have a view like this!”

“Me too,” I smiled.

* * *

We found the stereo and settled on a radio station, playing “Tonight Tonight”. While Frankie waltzed with one of the complimentary bathrobes, I went to the fridge and found a bottle of champagne. I then pulled out two sandwiches and handed one to Frank, ate mine and searched for two glasses.

Frank took a bite of his sandwich and gave his fluffy, fabric companion a rest. He wandered to the bathtub and, after inspecting the little bottles of bubble bath, began to run a big bath.

I smiled and shook my head at him, wrestling with the cork on the bottle. After he was sure the cork had popped and it was safe to come over, he had a serious question.

“How can you afford this, Gerard?” He asked “It’s amazing.”

I grinned and retrieved my bag from the sofa, unzipping the front pocket. Frank’s eyes widened at the glittering beauties in my hand.

“Mom has some valuable jewellery,” I began “And Dad has a very nice little plastic friend we’re familiar with!”

He laughed and saluted the credit card I held between my index and middle finger. I was named a genius and Frankie then went to stop the taps on the bath. He poured in a load of bubble bath and swished it about.

“That’s how the rich people have a bath, isn’t it?” He questioned “Lotsa bubbles?”

I nodded. Satisfied with my answer, he shamelessly stripped off and jumped into the bath. I looked away quickly and busied myself with pouring two glasses of champagne.

Fancy crystal champagne glasses. They reflected light perfectly and sparkled seductively. Frankie thanked me and took his glass from me. I smiled as he set it on the edge of the bath and poked at the vast amount of bubbles surrounding him.

“You know,” He began as I turned to go away and let him take his bath “There’s uh, room for two in here,” He finished, with a small smile.

I returned his smile.

“You want to bath with a pervert?” I commented cheekily.

“Gerard, I didn’t mean any of that stuff I said,” He appealed “I was angry and out of order! I didn’t mean any of it!”

“I’m only teasing,” I smiled “Okay, well watch out bathtub, one more coming in.”

I turned shyly away to strip off. All my clothes were folded in a neat pile next to Frank’s crumpled pile of clothes. He looked down at the water respectfully as I pulled my jeans and underwear off.

“No vagina?” He mocked as I clambered in, sitting at the opposite end to him.

“I know, it’s a shock isn’t it?” I replied, reaching for my glass.

In the minute or so of silence, Frank giggled uncontrollably. When he saw my confused expression, he just laughed harder.

“What is it?” I asked.

“It’s just,” He giggled, harder “This is. . . I just realised. . . this is so gay!”

I laughed.

We had to keep our knees bent a little to avoid kicking each other in the balls. It was a little cramped but we didn’t really care.

We sat in peaceful quiet for a moment, listening to the music on the radio, which was now Maria by Blondie. As I listened, I reflected on how the lyrics seemed to fit to the boy in front of me. Frank smiled at me as he rested back against the bath tub.

“I’ve never set foot in a hotel before,” He confessed “And I’ve only been on vacation once. I was about four and my parents took me to this crappy beach for a weekend. Like, watching garbage float in this brown water was a treat.”

“Well, this is a good start,” I smiled.

“Indeed,” He grinned “I bet your family have great vacations,” He mused.

“We usually go to Italy,” I said “We’ve been to France twice, Scotland and England once in the same vacation.”

He smiled and nodded, commenting on how he’d suspected we had great vacations. I took a sip of my champagne and he took a huge gulp of his. I watched as his face twisted in disgust and he stuck his tongue out.

“Ugh,” He commented “Are you sure this isn’t cheap stuff? Because it’s drier than the Sahara!”

“It’s supposed to be that way! Champagne’s an acquired taste.”

“You what?”

I shook my head with a giggle. I should have known he wouldn’t know what it meant. For a minute, I tried to think of how to explain it.

“It’s like, uh, you have to teach yourself to like it by drinking it over and over. A bit like Oysters. You eat them over and over until you learn to like them.”

His face was one of horror as he looked at his glass and back to me. I covered my mouth with my hand and disguised my laugh as a sharp cough.

“You’re kidding, right?” He said “Why would someone torture themselves like that?”

I shrugged and mumbled about snobby rich people, desperate to look fancier than they were. He giggled and concluded that they would be the only people stupid enough to do that.

I took another sip of my champagne and watched him pinch his nose and brave his own drink again. He made a disgusted noise.

“Come on, Frankie, acquire the taste,” I teased.

He blew a raspberry.

“Run to the kitchen and see if there’s something I can put in it, will you?” He requested.

“You’ll just make it worse,” I insisted “If you don’t like it, don’t drink it.”

“Fine, I won’t,” He spoke in his best impression of a posh accent.

I shrugged and finished my glass off. While I refilled, Frank asked if I thought there’d be any vodka in the kitchen. I shrugged and told him to go and see for himself.

He grabbed a towel and ran for the kitchen. I could hear a cry of horror when he discovered no vodka and smirked. I sank further into the water, closing my eyes and swilling water with one of my hands This was bliss.

If this is how heaven is, I’ll have seconds, thanks.

Water swished about gently. My phone bleeped but I ignored it. . .

“Hey, Buttman,” I rolled my eyes at Frank’s unoriginal name and looked up at him “You have a text,” He said holding my phone out.

Bert again.

Wht have I done? Plz txt me!

“Nothing important,” I sighed, putting my cell to one side.

“Well, come on, make room,” Frank ordered, sticking his leg in the water to give me a kick.

I heaved myself up to give him room to sit back in the water with me. I nodded to the glass in his hand as asked what he had. He sipped it and made the okay gesture with his forefinger and thumb.

“Rum and coke,” He said “Much nicer than that sour crap you’ve got.”

I smiled and shook my head, sipping my champagne again.

“This is a taste I could acquire,” Frankie grinned “You try some!”

I leant forwards to take a sip of his drink. I smacked my lips and nodded, declaring it nice.

“A taste you could acquire too?” He giggled.

I nodded with a decided smile. And then frowned as he ran his foot across my thigh. I caught at his foot.

“Don’t do that.”

“What?” He questioned, smiling cheekily “I thought you wanted to acquire a taste.”

He repeated his actions. I tried to catch his foot again.

“Frankie, no,” I said firmly “Don’t do that. Not unless you mean it.”

He looked confused as I let his foot go and he pulled it backwards. Then he smirked.

“Oooh, maybe you do have a vagina after all, Mr. Tight-ass!” He commented with a cheeky smile.

I didn’t say anything.

“Huh?” He questioned, splashing water at me with his foot “Huh? Not gonna’ prove me wrong, Tight-ass?” He continued splashing at me.

I couldn’t fight my smile and splashed back. The resulting splash washed over his head, soaking him thoroughly. He burst into uncontrollable laughter and smushed the bubbles across my face.

That water fight was the best.

* * *

Once we’d dried off, we put on our dressing gowns and rested on the sofa, Frank once again emphasizing how gay our bath had been. I giggled good-naturedly. He was right.

My phone vibrated while we were listening to the music. Bert was calling me again. I just left it. Frankie leaned over my shoulder and looked at the caller.

“Do you wish you were here with him?” He asked.

“Not really,” I shrugged.

He didn’t say anything. He looked down at the white material covering his arms thoughtfully while I snuggled back into the sofa.

Frankie smiled when I caught his eye, his hazel eyes shimmering in the soft light from the lamps in the room.

“Have you done it, yet?”

“No,” I replied truthfully.

“Bet you’ve eaten face!” He said.

I shrugged.

“Maybe.”

“Oooh, Gee. Careful or you‘ll end up a little man-slut,” He teased gently “Who’s a better kisser, me or him?”

The song was, much to Frank’s disgust, “You’re Beautiful” by a guy called James Blunt.

I shrugged in reply to his question, not really wanting to answer. I knew what I should have said and what I wanted to say conflicted. I was afraid of which would come out. I didn’t want to hear it.

“Gee? I won’t be upset, who d’you prefer? Me or him?”

“Bert’s great,” I answered cleverly “Really nice. Funny, thoughtful, caring, good-looking. . .” I dithered.

“So why don’t you wish you were here with him?” Frank questioned “You could be having a lot more fun than we are - not that I’m not enjoying myself but-”

“Because I’m here with you,” I said quickly.

That shut him up. His expression was unreadable. Softened features. Something I’d never seen him use. It was strange.

I watched him pick at his sleeve.

“So who would you choose to be up here with you?” I asked curiously “Anyone in the world.”

He shook his head thoughtfully.

“Kim Gordon. The chick from Sonic Youth,” He answered finally.

I smiled sadly and nodded.

“But you’ll do,” He said.

Suddenly I was annoyed. Anger was starting to appear from nowhere. I don’t even remember why I suddenly got so irritated with him. I just remember, out of the blue, I was pressing him with all these questions and demanding answers from him.

“Why will I do?” I demanded “Why me? Why was it me you called?”

His eyebrows furrowed at the sudden assault of questions. The song was coming to an end. He’d be pleased.

“Because I knew you’d come,” He said “You’re reliable.”

“So it’s because you can call and I can come running,” I said sharply “Because I’m your lapdog?”

He shook his head, trying to disagree. I didn’t give him a chance to speak. I was going to make him listen to me again. I needed to talk.

I needed this.

And he needed to listen to me. It was important.

“That’s always how our ‘friendships’ been hasn’t it? You say jump, I say how high. Doing all this stuff for you. Buying stuff with a stolen credit card, helping you pick up Italian chicks, taking you out for lunch at my Dad’s expense, giving you my money so you could run tonight-”

His face was changing to one of realisation. Finally, I was getting through.

“What have you ever done for me?” I questioned “Tell me one. Single. Little. Thing. Frank.”

He sat there silently, unable to look me in the eye. He couldn’t think of anything. There was nothing. I stood up coldly and left for the balcony. The next song was playing on the radio. It was a song I’d never heard before.

It was talking about seeing someone stripped to the bone and stuff like that. I leant on the balcony and looked at the view in front of me, trying hard not to cry.

This is the build up to the most special moment I ever shared with Frank Iero.

I don’t know if he planned it out or if it just happened. Either way, it changed the way we related to each other forever. I can still remember it as if it was only yesterday. Every single detail.

Frank was bad for me. He was so set in his ways. He’d never change, I was certain of that. I would always be his toy poodle. Cute and amusing but completely useless.

“I’m sorry, Gerard,” A hand touched my back “I didn’t know you felt that way,” He said as I turned to look at him.

His lips moved but no words were coming out. Just kind of ‘I. . . I’ over and over.

He tried to kiss me. I shook my head and looked away.

“Don’t waste your time,” I said calmly, turning away and looking at the view from the balcony again.

“At least come back in,” He appealed, brushing my hair from my face “You’ll freeze out here.”

I didn’t say anything.

He kind of stood there and watched me, breathing slowly and deeply. I tried to ignore him as best as I could. But I was gone when his fingers turned my head to look at him.

“Gerard,” He said softly “I mean it this time. You matter to me.”

I let him kiss me this time. But it was different. Compared to the bliss of this, the last couple of times I’d kissed him - that once were amazing and earth shattering - were like kissing a porn star. He had one hand on my elbow and the other on my neck.

The music went on in the background.

He carefully pulled me into him, moving to hold my waist almost shyly. I touched the side of his face. This felt like love. He’d never been like this with me before. He was being much more tender; caring.

I moved my hand from his face to the back of his head, stroking his hair. Slowly, I was led back inside, out of the cold. It was a lot warmer than I’d realised inside. I had the same feeling I’d had with Sarah. I knew where this was going. But this time, I didn’t feel anxious. This felt natural. Like it was supposed to happen.

The hand not touching his head moved to touch his chest. I felt him tense up in. . . anticipation? He moved back to press his forehead against mine, staring intensely into my eyes. My hand moved down slowly, to undo the knot of his bathrobe.

“Kiss me,” He whispered.

He didn’t have to ask twice.

I slid my hands up to push the piece of material down his shoulders. He moved his arms back to make it easier for me.

Let me see you stripped down to the bone.
Let me hear you crying just for me.

The white bathrobe fell to his feet.