I
“Get up, motherfucker,” Mark’s nasally voice hissed through gritted teeth. Lines of tobacco-ridden spit flew off his lips and tangled themselves with the blood on Frank’s face, who flinched and curled his lip in disgust. It trailed down his eyebrow and dripped just above his top lip, where he moved to wipe it off. His hand barely made it off the ground before searing, hot pain exploded across his cheek.
BAM. Another thick, brawny fist made contact with his jaw.
CRACK. Another one.
More unimaginable heat bloomed under Frank’s eye. He could feel even more blood pooling in his mouth, and, looking directly into Mark’s eyes, he spat a glob of red and chunky saliva into his face. Mark screamed in rage and grabbed his hair, pushing through his men and dragging him into the disability stall at the end of the bathroom.
Dangling him over the toilet bowl, Mark leaned forward and whispered inches from Frank’s face. “You’re a little fucking jack-ass, you know that?”
“I get that a lot,” Frank said coolly, trying to mask the searing pain in his face.
Mark growled. “But it just never gets through that thick fuckin’ skull of yours, does it?”
“Guess not,” Frank turned around in Mark’s grip and smiled cheekily. Mark immediately ripped his head away and shoved Frank’s face into the toilet.
The water was lukewarm and bitter. Frank shut his eyes as tightly as possible, but water leaked through his nose and sealed lips. His throat burned as the water made it down his windpipe, and he desperately flailed his arms around until Mark yanked his head back up, breathing heavily down his neck.
“Are we gonna have a nice, civil conversation?” He snarled, “Or will I have to stick that fat mouth back into the toilet?”
Every bone in Frank’s body screamed at him not to back down and say his piece, but he turned around, narrowing his eyes at Mark, who challenged him with a raised eyebrow, and answered, “Fine.”
Mark huffed and pulled him up by his collar. Frank shakily got to his feet and casually brushed off his now-blood-stained sweater. Six huge guys surrounded him, all reeking of cheap liquor and cigarettes.
“You think you’re clever, huh, Frankie?” Mark goaded. “Someone's outta sew that mouth of yours shut. Seems like all it does these days is get you in trouble.”
Frank didn’t speak, but glared daggers at Mark. His guys laughed haughtily, but Frank stayed quiet.
“You owe me four bands,” Mark spat. He stared sharply at Frank and gave him an expectant look. His bug-eyes and double chin quivered with fury.
Frank had to close his eyes and turn away to avoid laughing. “I said I’d get it by the end of November.”
“It’s the 28th.” Piped up one of Mark’s buddies. This one was pudgy and stout, and Frank was pretty sure that one was the one that socked him in the jaw.
“November has thirty days,” Frank retorted.
“You gonna come up with four thousand dollars in two days?” Mark asked, shoving his face into Frank’s, who didn’t flinch.
“Are you going to let me go so I can?”
Mark squinted at Frank, eyes dripping with hatred. “You don’t get me the money by December 1st, I take one of your eyes.” Mark reached for his pocket and pulled out an iridescent knife, waving it dangerously close to Frank’s right eye before closing it and handing it to one of his guys. “Let’s go.” He waved his men towards him, and they shuffled out of the bathroom and back into the noisy bar.
Frank immediately collapsed onto the damp tiles and cradled his face. There were tiny cuts and lumps all over his cheeks, and a spot on his jaw hurt like hell when prodded. His breathing slowed down with the adrenaline waning, and an ache settled deeply into his bones. He took a few shaky breaths and pulled himself back up.
“That was pretty brutal.” A voice said from behind a stall door. Frank jumped and slammed his side into a sink.
“Fuck! ” He yelled. “Who was that?” Frank spun around and peeked his head into one of the half-open stalls.
Standing on the toilet seat, a tall, rough-looking man with shaggy hair and — was that eyeliner? — calmly looked down at Frank like he perfectly belonged there. He wore a long, black coat with faux fur on the cuffs and collar, and a pair of the flashiest and most obnoxious sunglasses Frank had ever seen.
“Who the fuck are you?” Frank scowled. “And how long have you been here?”
“I’m Gerard,” The man said, lowering his hand for Frank to reach. “And you are?”
*
With an icepack graciously given to him by the bartender pressed against his face, Frank limped outside, wincing with each step. Gerard’s arm was wrapped around his torso, steadying him as they navigated the dimly lit street. Frank felt the cold chill of the night air biting at his exposed skin. He finally sank hard onto the curb, a jolt shooting through his body as he hit the ground. Looking up at Gerard, he saw his concerned expression, the glow of a nearby streetlight illuminating his features. Gerard handed him a beer, the condensation from the bottle pooling on the pavement as he sat beside Frank.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Frank began, feeling the sting of the cold pack against his battered face. “How long had you been in there?”
Gerard sighed, his breath hanging in the crisp air as he waved his beer around in frustration. “I was already in there when those guys grabbed you and brought you in. Hell if I was gonna make my presence known to them.” He leaned back, propping his elbows on his knees, his gaze fixated on the ground.
“How did none of us see you?” Frank demanded, his voice rising.
“You guys were busy.” Gerard’s nonchalant attitude put a smirk on his lips as he stared at the pavement, seemingly unbothered.
“And you didn’t bother to help me?” Frank pressed.
“Did you see those guys? Do you see me?” Gerard motioned at his scrawny build, shrugging his shoulders slightly. “I wasn’t in the mood to be pummeled.” He took a swig of his beer, the sound of the can crumpling slightly as he returned to Frank. “My turn to ask a question. Who were those guys? And why were they after you?”
Frank glared at Gerard, frustration bubbling inside him, but he sighed, finally relenting. “Mark is my cousin's friend.” He tossed his empty beer can into the parking lot, the metal clattering against the asphalt as it rolled. “He gave me some pot to sell under the precondition that I’d come back with at least two thousand dollars.”
“I thought Mark said four thousand?” Gerard asked.
“Yeah,” Frank sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I was supposed to have the two bands by the end of October.”
“So they doubled it and gave you an additional month to come up with the money,” Gerard concluded, his brows knitting together.
Frank nodded.
“And how much money do you have?”
“Fifteen hundred.” Frank felt a shameful heaviness in his gut.
Gerard raised his eyebrows, surprise flaring across his features. “Yeesh.”
“Yeah,” Frank muttered, staring at the ground, his thoughts racing.
“What’s your plan?” Gerard asked, his tone shifting to genuine curiosity.
“I have no fucking clue, Gerard. I'm desperate,” Frank's voice quivered as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, the weight of his situation pressing down onto his conscience. “I've even considered fleeing the country, but that's a pipe dream. I'm lost. I've nowhere to go. I can’t go home. Mark has an army of people working for him; they'd track me down in a heartbeat.”
Gerard fished around in his pockets, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter. As he lit it, the flame flickered, momentarily illuminating his face. “You got a friend’s place you could stay at?”
“I don’t have friends,” Frank said, the admission slipping out heavy in the air.
“Oh,” Gerard frowned, his expression softening. “That’s depressing.”
“Yeah,” Frank muttered, his eyes downcast. “It’s not like I don’t want them. I just can’t keep people around.”
Gerard looked at him, letting his shoulders relax as a sigh escaped his lips. “Look, Frank, I know we're not exactly best buddies, but I’d feel bad leaving you in this mess. How about you crash at my place for a while?” He offered, his tone sincere. He finished off his beer, the can crumpling in his hand before he tossed it in the same direction Frank had thrown his. A sharp shattering sound pierced the silent, winter air, and Frank glanced down at the pavement, feeling more vulnerable than ever.
“I can’t make you do that,” Frank said, his voice laced with uncertainty.
“You’re not makin’ me do anything. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t have the means.” Gerard's steady gaze held Frank's eyes, firm and unwavering.
“Are you sure?” Frank asked warily.
“Yeah, man.” Gerard smiled and stood up, taking one last hit from his cigarette before stomping it into the ground, leaving a black char mark on the sidewalk. “Follow me,” He made a grand gesture with his arms and backed up a few feet into the parking lot before turning around and continuing towards the forest at the back of the lot.. Frank followed him until the edge of the greenery, where Gerard kept going, trampling over broken sticks and dead leaves. He made no sign of stopping.
“Hey!” Frank yelled, his voice echoing across the empty lot. “Where’s your car?”
Gerard kept walking, forcing Frank to follow him into the foliage. His jeans kept getting stuck on logs and branches, and he had to stop multiple times to untangle himself.
“We’re walking!” Gerard yelled from ahead. “I don’t have a car. It’s bad for the environment.”
Frank made a puzzled face at the back of Gerard’s head, “And smoking isn’t?”
“Pobodies nerfect!” Gerard hollered loudly as they strolled through the woods.
*
Finally, they entered another parking lot. This one was much smaller and opened up into a shabby-looking condominium. Gerard whooped, “We’re here!”
“You don’t have to scream,” Frank whispered. “I’m right behind you. You’re gonna wake people up.”
“They don’t care,” Gerard said, his voice confident. He started skipping over to the very last door in the building, opening it without a key and prancing in.
Frank stared at him, a mix of disbelief and caution in his eyes, and gingerly followed him into the apartment. “You don’t lock your door?” Frank tried not to sound judgmental. “You really trust your neighbors, huh?”
“They know better than to fuck with me,” Gerard said, “I’m a liability.”
Frank nodded slowly, “Okay, man.”
Gerard’s apartment wasn’t anything to write home about, but it wasn’t as shabby as Frank was expecting. It smelled vaguely of incense and firewood, which he appreciated. There was a crummy couch with quilted blankets over it, masking what Frank assumed were more rips and tears. The kitchen was small, but it had the essentials. A small white fridge, an electric stove, a cheap microwave, and a brownish sink took up half of the apartment. There was a door propped open at the end of the kitchen, but when Frank made to go into it, Gerard appeared from behind him and grabbed his shoulder.
“Don’t go in there,” He said sternly. “Seriously.”
Frank put his hands up in defense, “Sorry, sorry. My bad.” He shook off Gerard’s hand and turned around. Gerard was staring at him intensely. His tousled hair framed his face and highlighted the amber in his eyes.
“You can sleep on the couch,” He said. “My room is over there,” He pointed at a door next to the couch. “Feel free to eat whatever, watch whatever. Etcetera Etcetera. Mi casa es su casa.”
“Sounds good,” Frank said, smiling slightly. “Thank you again for doing this for me. I’ll be out of your hair in a few days, swear.”
Gerard shook his head and made for his room. “All good. We can figure out the money problem tomorrow.”
Frank froze. “Money problem? What do you mean?”
Gerard looked at him like he was insane. “The four thousand for Mark?”
Frank sputtered and held onto the counter behind him. “Gerard, seriously. I don’t need your help for any of that shady stuff. Your refuge is enough as it is.”
Gerard laughed, “Frank, if you’re staying at my place, I don’t want Mark and his crooks to trail you back to here. It’d be easier for everyone involved if we just worked together to get the cash.”
“I feel like I’m totally overstepping to ask you to do that.” Frank ground his teeth.
Gerard sighed and threw his arms into the air. “Enough with the apologies and denials! Just let me help. No payback necessary. I need some thrill in my life anyway. Go to bed, Frank, we can talk more about this in the morning.”
They were both staring at each other in a standoff. Finally, Frank backed down and walked towards the couch, plopping onto it and staring at the blank TV.
Gerard smiled, satisfied, “Goodnight, Frank.”
“Goodnight, Gerard.”