Got A Hold On You (Ringside Romance) (34 page)

“No, you sound like you’re in love.”

“Of course I’m in love. Bradley and I will make the
perfect couple.”

“We’re not talking about Bradley are we honey?” Mama’s
gaze cut right to Frankie’s heart. Who did she think she was kidding?

“He’s a wrestler, Mama, a wrestler who wants to travel
and paint. Can you imagine? He’ll probably end up drawing caricatures of people
on the street for pocket change. He’ll tumble through life doing who knows
what.”

“And if you love him, you’ll tumble right along with
him.”

“I can’t live like that, not feeling secure, not
knowing if my husband will make my child’s school play. I’m going to fix all
this and get my happy ending.”

Mama put her arm around her. “I followed the rules
once and ended up marrying your father. I didn’t love him, Frankie. I made that
decision with my head, not my heart. Look where I ended up. If you’ve been
lucky enough to find love, think real hard before letting it go.”

“Jack doesn’t love me.”

“Nonsense. How could he not love my special little
girl? Now come on, splash a little water on your face to brighten your mood.”

She absently followed her mother to the powder room,
where Mama brushed at Frankie’s cheeks with a rose-colored washcloth.

Frankie craved stability down to the marrow of her
bones. She needed a man who would be her partner, carry his share of the
weight, and help her up when she was down.

Jack had held her, comforted her, and made love to
her. But it was physical love, a kind of love that led nowhere. Jack wasn’t
offering emotional love. She wondered if he had it to give, or even knew what
it was.

“There, all better,” Mama said with a final stroke of
the cloth. “That Sullivan. I’d like to take a strap to that silly man.”

“I’d like to see that.” Frankie chuckled.

“And what about Bradley?”

She glanced into Mama’s eyes. “He got me a deal on
disposable diaper stock.”

“How romantic,” Mama said in a sarcastic tone.

“He gave me an engagement ring.”

“And you said…?”

“I didn’t have to say anything. He kind of assumed.”
Frankie glanced at her mom. “I wish I knew what to do. I don’t know what’s real
anymore.”

“Search your heart, honey. That’s where you’ll find
your answers.”

***

Frankie flew back to WHAK headquarters the next day to
confront Sully. She secretly made her way through the building, hoping she
wouldn’t run into Jack. She didn’t know if she could handle that today, or any
other day.

She hovered outside Sully’s door, watching him count a
pile of butterscotch candies.

“You imposter!” she accused from his office doorway.

“What? Who? Where?” Sully jumped out of his chair and
gripped the lapels of his brown polyester suit. His gaze darted around the
room. Once he realized he was the only one there, he looked back at Frankie in
question.

“When I think of everything I’ve done for you, and
you’re not even my uncle.” She stormed toward him.

“Oh, well, that.” He tugged at his tie.

She pulled the knot free and ripped the tie off. “Why
do you bother with this thing? It only gives you away when you’re lying.”

“Well, yes, gives me away. How
is
your mother?”

“My mother?”

He nodded, his eyes wide with fear.

“She’s fine. But she doesn’t want you, Sully. When are
you going to get that through your thick skull?”

His eyes dimmed, and he flopped back in his chair. “I
guess I’ve always suspected as much.”

“Then why? Why did you come around all the time and
give me things, take me to ball games, and act like the father I wish I’d had?
Because you wanted to endear yourself to Mama?”

“For a college graduate you sure are stupid,” Maxine
accused from the doorway.

Frankie turned to the older woman who was a symphony
in red from her tennis shoes to her spandex pants, topped off by an oversized
T-shirt that read, “Mat Men Do It With Submission.”

“Just because Sully isn’t blood doesn’t mean he
doesn’t love you,” Max said.

“You knew all along and didn’t tell me?”

“It wasn’t my business to tell.”

“Maxine, please, this is a family matter,” Sully said.

The older woman backed away.

“Stop right there,” Frankie ordered Max, then glared
at Sully. “In case you haven’t figured it out, Max is the only family you’ve
got, big guy. So I’d be real nice to her if I were you.”

“Frankie, you’re not going to abandon me, not now when
I need you most?” He reached for the knot of his tie but came up empty handed.

“Why should I care? Why?”

“I hate to interrupt this family squabble, but we’ve
got company.” Max slammed the door shut and shouldered the mahogany credenza to
block it.

“Max?” Frankie said.

“Pugsy and the snakes. Quick, help me with this.”

Frankie crouched next to Max and gave a hardy push.

“I’ll call security!” Uncle Joe said, pulling on his
hair.

“What have you done, Sully?” Frankie cried, giving the
heavy piece of furniture one last shove into place.

“I told them to go away. I told them never to come
back.”

Frankie rolled her eyes. As if a threat from Sully
would scare off the mob. Max snatched Sully’s putter from the corner of the
room.

Frankie supposed she should be scared, maybe even
terrified at the prospect of being attacked by the thugs. In reality, nothing
scared her right now. With the explosive anger burning in her gut she pitied
the fool who tried to tangle with her today.

Pounding on the door made Frankie and Max shriek in
unison.

“I told them they don’t belong here,” Sully ranted.
“We’re a legitimate company. We don’t want their kind.”

“Like the mob is going to listen to you? What the hell
were you thinking, taking money from them?” Frankie swiped a brass bookend from
the shelf and weighed it in her hand.

“Mob? What mob?” Sully said.

She glanced at Max, then Sully.

“Max said you borrowed money from the mob and Pugsy
and the snakes are bag men coming to collect.”

“Bag men?”

“Did you borrow money from the mob or not?” Frankie
demanded.

“No! Honest, I haven’t done anything illegal since ’94
when I opened the midget strip club down in Quincy.”

“The what?” Max said, hands on her hips.

“Never mind,” Frankie said. “If these guys weren’t
sent by the mob, who are they?”

A loud thud sounded on the door.

“Dammit, Sully!”

“I liked it better when you called me Uncle Joe. And
you shouldn’t swear. It’s not becoming.”

She slammed the bookend on his desk and he jumped.

“Okay! They’re two wrestlers from OW. They want to
sign with us. We’ve become the preferred wrestling organization since you
joined the team.” He grinned.

She gripped the bookend with deadly force to keep from
hurling it at her uncle.

“They’re wrestlers?” she ground out.

He nodded.

“Max?”

Max glared at Sully. “The last time they showed up you
were terrified. You said you feared for your life.”

“Snakes are poisonous!” he defended.

“Not all snakes,” Max said.

“Forget the reptile lecture,” Frankie said. “I refuse
to be intimidated by these idiots.”

Another blast busted a two-foot hole in the center of
the door.

“I’m ready.” Max gripped the putter with firm, bony
hands.

“Wait until security comes,” Sully cried. “They’re
violent men. Their snakes are deadly. And the wrestler with the tuba? He’s
keeps knives in there. He throws them at those wiggling creatures.”

“Is this a circus or a wrestling promotion?” Frankie
demanded.

They both looked at her. Neither answered.

“Out of my way.” As she marched toward the door, a
large, hairy head popped through the opening.

“Sully! We want a contract,” demanded the beast with
one eyebrow growing across his forehead.

“What you’re going to get is a concussion if you don’t
get the hell out of this building,” Frankie said, wielding the bookend.

“Who the hell are you?”

“I’m the Franken Niece. And you’re going to be
unconscious in a minute. Now get out.”

“You won’t be singing that tune when we drop our
sneaky friends in there.” He backed out of the hole. “Give me the girls,” he
called to his partner.

She scanned the office for a better weapon and her
gaze landed on Sully’s prized machete. It surprised her none of the guys had
used it to slice up their boss before now.

So the snake charmers wanted to play hardball? Fine.
She snatched the machete from its mount.

“Frankie! What are you doing?” Sully said.

“Putting an end to this.”

“That’s not a toy. I brought it back from the Orient.
It’s a real weapon.”

“Good.” Frankie glanced at Maxine, whose blue eyes
beamed with pride.

With a firm, two-handed grip Frankie raised the sword
over her shoulder.

“Here they come, ready or not.” A maniacal voice
boomed from the other side of the door. Two burly hands slipped a thick bag
through the hole.

“I hear snake is delicious when cooked over an open
flame, isn’t that right, Sully?” she said.

The burly hands froze and yanked the bag from the
hole. The hairy beast stuck his head through the hole and his eyes bulged at
the sight of Frankie wielding the weapon.

“What are you gonna do with that?” he said.

“Make mincemeat out of your gift.”

His skin paled beneath the mound of facial hair.
“You’d really cut up Puffy and Minx?”

“Well, I’m sure as hell not going to use them in our
show. I have to draw the line somewhere, and this is it.”

“All we want is a contract.” His voice softened.

“Contrary to what some people think, we’re a wrestling
organization, not a circus. Come back when you learn how to fall and get up
again fifty times in a row, or when you can show me a proper full nelson, arm
bar, or drop-toe hold.”

“But—”

“Does the word ‘decapitated’ mean anything to you?”
she said, winding up.

“I’m going, I’m going.” He retreated. “If you ever
change your mind…” he said from the other side of the door.

“We’ll look in the yellow pages under ‘reptiles.’”

She heard the scuffle of security men, a few grunts,
then silence. A guard poked his head through the hole in the door.

“Everyone okay?”

“Peachy.” She propped the machete against the wall.

“Let’s get this out of the way.” Max pushed the
credenza and Frankie helped.

Frankie brushed off her hands and picked at the splintered
door where the snake men had busted through. What a joke, the whole damn thing.

Sully wasn’t her uncle. There was no real connection
between Frankie and Joe Sullivan.

Except the panic in her gut when she’d thought Pugsy
and the snakes were sent to crush his kneecaps, and the memories of presents
wrapped with pink bows, like her favorite, the Easy-Bake Oven. Orange cakes
were her specialty and sheer torture for Uncle Joe. She’d never forget the
pained look on his face as he masticated the horrible concoction. He didn’t
have to do that. He also didn’t have to take her to Red Sox games or the
ballet, where he snored in harmony with the orchestra.

He didn’t have to do any of it.

But he did because he loved her like his own daughter.

And the irony of it all was…she loved him back.

“I can’t believe this,” she whispered to herself as
reality hit her like a ton of bricks. It doesn’t matter who a person is or what
he does. If you love him, you love him.

It didn’t matter that Joe Sullivan wasn’t her real
uncle, that he was a crazy old shyster whose scruples were questionable most of
the time. She loved him anyway.

And she loved Jack, even though he was a comic book
hero, a “phony wrestler” with no set future. There was nothing phony about his
pain, or his determination to be a good role model for kids.

She glanced at Sully, who was chewing his bottom lip.

“I love you, you big jerk.” She crossed the room,
wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest
thing to do, but it was love. And it was real. “Okay, Uncle Joe. Where do we go
from here?”

Pushing away from him, she spied the gleam in Maxine’s
eyes.

“Come here, Max. You’re as much a part of this as I
am, if not more so.”

Uncle Joe pressed a handkerchief to his eyes, then his
forehead, as if wiping sweat from his brow.

“I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, Francine. I’d
be all alone,” he said with a hitch in his voice.

“Aren’t we a pair of blockheads.” Frankie put her arm
around him and nodded at Max. “Look at that gorgeous lady. You think she sews
costumes and cleans up after you because you’re paying her the big bucks?”

“Big bucks?” he said, reaching for his ledger. “I
thought we negotiated a three-percent raise last year.” Frankie flattened her
palm on the paperwork. “Uncle Joe, stop thinking with your head and start
seeing with your heart.”

He glanced at Frankie and his eyes grew wide. Then he
looked at Max. The former Women’s Champ actually blushed.

“But Max, you’ve always been so critical and bossy.
You seemed mad at me all these years.”

“That’s because you sell yourself short. You’re a good
man, Joseph Sullivan. It’s time you acted like one.”

“Joseph. No one’s called me Joseph since third grade.”
His eyes shone with awe and wonder, as if seeing her for the first time.

“Maxine, would you like to go out for dinner tonight?”
he said.

“Jumpin’ Jupiter, it only took you thirty years to
ask.”

He burst out laughing and Frankie realized she’d
rarely heard that sound. Screams, sure. Howls, squawks, even shrieks, but not
laughter.

“Now that that’s settled, how is WHAK’s financial
condition? You still need help?” She ambled to his desk.