Saying Goodbye (What the World Doesn't Know) (31 page)

            It was plain to see that things had changed between him and Sarah. When he was with her, his mind often drifted and even his body language—the way he leaned away from her when standing right alongside her—seemed to tell the story of their relationship. He was pulling away and Sarah was holding on tight. The tighter she clung, the easier she made things for him, the harder it was for him to make a clean break.

            The phone rang around five in the morning and rattled Alex and Sarah awake. Alex rose from the bed, sliding out from under Sarah and into his underwear. He walked into the kitchen to answer the phone. “Hello?” he grumbled, still half asleep, but all he heard was a soft muttering.

            “Hello.”

            Frankie sat alone in the darkness of her parents’ living room. “It’s me,” she said softly, trying to hold back her tears.

            “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

            Frankie wiped her tears. “I can’t go to Bermuda.”

            Alex leaned against the wall, deflated. “Ah, okay,” he sighed. “We can plan something else. Maybe we can meet for Christmas. Maybe I can get to the US.”

            “No, that won’t work either,” she sniffed.

            “Um, all right.” He paused and asked, “What’s going on here?”

            Frankie pulled herself together to be strong enough for her next words. “I can’t see you anymore.” Alex said nothing, which confused Frankie. “Did you hear me?”

            “No. I can’t accept that.”

            “What do you mean you can’t accept that? You have to.”

            “Why?” he asked strongly as a tidal wave of emotion brewed in his solar plexus.

            Frankie started to cry. “Alex.”

            “Why?” he asked again. “Tell me why or I am getting on the next plane to New York and you’re going to have to tell it to my face.”

            “Why don’t you invite Sarah along?” questioned Frankie harshly.

            Alex froze and then laughed nervously. “Sarah?!” he choked out. “What the hell does she have to do with it?”

            “I don’t know, Alex. Are you planning for her to be our English nanny?” Frankie asked angrily.

            He couldn’t help but laugh. “Where are you getting all this?”

            “Tell me! Are you still living with that skinny bitch?!”

            Peeking around the corner of the kitchen he could see Sarah’s legs in bed. He paced around the kitchen scratching his head. He had a lie on the tip of his tongue. It might have been easier, but he went with the truth instead. “The skinny bitch has been hard to get rid of,” he said with an awkward laugh.

            “Do you think this is funny?” she howled. “I am over here in America, pregnant with your child, and you’re still fucking that bitch!”

            “Frankie, calm down. It’s going to be okay. I promise you. It’s all going to work out. I just need to figure out a way,” he said calmly.

            “How about this?” Frankie asked. “‘I’m in love with another girl. She is pregnant with my child. Get out of my house!’ Unless of course you don’t love me like you say you do.”

            “I tried that and she didn’t go for it,” he said, bringing his tone down to a whisper.

            “So then I guess you just don’t have the balls to stand up for love, do you?”

            Alex stopped pacing and watched Sarah lying in bed. He whispered into the phone, “I know people. You start making waves, and they will blab it to the world. You know what will happen if this gets out beforehand, everyone will try to stop us
—
everyone. That’s why I told you not to tell anyone.”

            “Did you tell Sarah?”

            “Yes, but not that it was you. I told her because I thought she’d leave me for sure, but she didn’t.”

            “She’s not leaving?!”

            “Not yet, no. Look, when we’re married she’ll have to.”

            Frankie laughed.

            “When I told you I’m taking care of everything, I meant it. We’re doing the right thing, Frankie. You just have to trust me. Do you trust me?” asked Alex.

            Frankie paused. She had thought she had known Alex so well, but now she had doubts. For the past couple of months he was only a voice on the telephone. She didn’t know what he was really doing or who he really was. “Is there anything else I should know?”

            Alex laughed, attempting to ease the tension. “My first name is actually Shane. My full name is Shane Alexander. I just go by Alex.”

            “So what you are telling me is I got pregnant by a Shane.” She sighed heavily. “Gee, Alex—Shane—whoever you are, how can I ever trust you?”

            “Frankie, you’re being ridiculous. Alex is my name
—
my middle name. Is Frankie your real name?”

            “It’s Francesca!”

            “See? And I thought it was Francine,” he replied lightly. “I like Francesca; it is a beautiful name.”

            “But . . . Shane? SHANE?!”

            “What’s your problem? What’s in a name?”

            “Well, I thought the father of my child was named Alex, now I learn it was Shane.”

            “Shane was my grandfather’s name. Is Shane too common for you? What’s your middle name.”

            “Marie.”

            “Like Antoinette? Are you going to toss your scraps at me?”

            “You’re an ass. Fat chance I’m going to marry you now. Good thing I found out sooner than later.”

            Alex laughed. “The joke’s on you, princess, you
have
to marry me.”

            “Why? Because I am carrying your baby? Do you think I’m your property?”

            “Damned right you’re my property
—
you and the baby.”

            “And what about Sarah?”

            “You let me handle Sarah.”

            “Sweetheart, I think she’s handling you. What has she got over you anyway? Why can’t you tell her to get lost? If you truly loved me like you say, she’d be gone already. And let me make something clear to you: I am not, nor my baby are your property!. Got that? I don’t know what it is with men who think they own a woman. No one owns me.”

            Alex puffed on his cigarette. There had to be something he could say to calm her. “Frankie, I love you and I don’t give a goddamn about anything else. You gotta believe me.”

            Frankie held tightly onto the receiver as tears fell from her eyes. “I’m having a hard time believing.”

            Alex felt his body tighten and he hand a strong urge to punch something, but anything in striking distance would surely break his hand. There was nothing he could do from three thousand miles away. He couldn’t embrace her; he couldn’t shake sense into her. He only had his words and he wasn’t having much success. “I love you. I don’t know what else you want me to say or do.”

            “Goodbye, Alex,” she said and then hung up the phone. The phone rang immediately. Knowing it had to be Alex, Frankie picked up the phone and hung up again. She left the phone off the hook. Sitting on the couch, alone in the darkness, Frankie buried her face in her palms and sobbed heavily. She had felt like she had cut off a part of her soul and she was sure there was no way she would be whole again.

            Alex slid down the wall and sat on the kitchen floor with the phone in his hand, listening to the busy signal. It was the most devastating phone call he had ever received. And afterward, he didn’t have the strength to stand up. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, Alex stood and staggered back into his bedroom.

            “Was that
her
?” asked Sarah.

            “Nick,” he lied.

            “Why’s Nick calling you in the middle of the night?” she asked.

            “You know Nick—he’s always got some drama.”

            “Well, Nick needs to learn to wait; you’re mine tonight,” she said, nestling close to him and fell back asleep. Alex couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night. He was far too confused and his mind was traveling in a thousand different directions.

 

            The next day, after a Dark Knights recording session, Alex followed Darren outside into the cold drizzle to an awaiting car. “I need to talk to you,” he said.

            Darren turned to his driver. “Mel, drive us around the block a few times.” Mel opened the back door for Darren and Alex to climb in.

            Mel pulled onto Suffolk Place and then onto Haymarket toward Trafalgar Square. No one spoke inside the car until Darren finally broke the silence. “Does this have something to do with your contract?”

            Alex looked away and fidgeted. The rain started to pour and it was hard for him to see anything outside the window. “Not quite.”

            Darren breathed heavily. “I don’t have all day, Alex. Believe it or not, I have other clients to tend to you besides you. What is it?”

            “Frankie Robinson.”

            “What about her?” Darren asked as he brushed a piece of lint from his wool slacks.

            “She’s pregnant,” Alex muttered and then faced Darren and noticed his stunned expression. “You gotta help me. She won’t talk to me.”

            “Are you sure it’s yours?” asked Darren.

            “YES!”

            “Does Sarah know?”

            “Yes, and she won’t leave. Frankie won’t talk to me. I’m in a real bind.”

            “I’d say so,” Darren grunted.

            “I need your help.”

            “What do you expect me to do? What do you want?”

            “Frankie can’t ignore me. I am the father of her child. Get in touch with her agent. I have to have rights as the father.”

            Alex, this is a mess
—
a big mess.” Darren sighed. “Are you sure Frankie wants you involved?”

            “I don’t care what she wants! She’s pregnant; she emotional and not thinking straight.” Alex poked at Darren’s chest. “Get on the phone with her agent and get this worked out!”

            “Okay, okay. I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, don’t say a word to anyone, you hear me? Don’t mention it to the other guys; and don’t bring it up to Sarah again. Just go on as if everything’s normal.” Darren looked harshly at Alex. “Is there anything else I should know? If I’m going to help, I’m going to need to know everything.”

            “We were going to be married in a few days. We were going to elope to Bermuda,” replied Alex.

            “Oh no, no, no,” replied Darren.

            “Why?!”

            “Frankie Robinson
—
America’s sweetheart—are you kidding me? You’d be killed the next time you set foot in the States.”

            “I don’t care; besides, she’s going to move to England.”

            Darren tapped on the driver’s shoulder. “Take us back.” He turned to Alex. “You’re going to go on as normal; you’re going to take Sarah to Bermuda and there is not to be a peep out of you until I get this figured out. You hear me?”

            “But . . .” Alex protested.

            The driver parked alongside Alex’s 1963 dark green Triumph sports car. Alex climbed out of the back seat.

            “Not a word!” ordered Darren. “I’m going to get this resolved. Until that time, we cannot risk this going public.”

            Alex slammed Darren’s car door shut and waved goodbye. Despite the drizzle, Alex leaned against his Triumph and lit a cigarette. He could not believe how fucked up his life was, having to take a woman whom he didn’t love over his proposed elopement with another. 
If Frankie finds out,
he thought,
it will be the end of me for sure.

            He took a final puff of his cigarette, tossed the butt into a puddle, and watched it fizzle out. He took a quick glance around the rain-soaked streets of London, climbed into his car and drove away.

 

            Geraldine Robinson wasted no time in telling Frankie the latest gossip of her boyfriend Alex. She hated to do it, but it was something Frankie needed to hear. Heartbreak was the first point in healing and in order for Frankie to move forward, she needed to know the truth.

Opening Frankie’s bedroom door, Geraldine found Frankie lying under the covers, hugging a teddy bear and staring at picture of Alex. She looked so pathetic.

            “Francesca,” Geraldine said as she sat on the corner of Frankie’s bed.

            “It’s over,” Frankie said. “I broke up with him.”

            Massaging Frankie’s foot, Geraldine replied, “Well, if it makes you feel better, you did the right thing.”

            “How do you know?” asked Frankie. “You don’t know him.”

            “Honey,” Geraldine said carefully, “Alex took his girlfriend on vacation to Bermuda.”

            Frankie sat upright in bed and glared at her mother. “Where did you hear that?” she asked.

            “It’s all over the tabloids,” replied Geraldine.

            “Tabloids lie!” Frankie yelled. “You know that, Mom. You know it’s just gossip.”

            “Sweetheart, he’s moved on,” said Geraldine. “That’s what boys do. Now it’s time for you to move on, too.” Geraldine stood over Frankie and kissed her on the forehead. “You know now that it would have been a big mistake to marry Alex.”

            Frankie waited until her mother left and then she looked at the wall covered with Alex’s pictures. “Motherfucker!” she yelled as she tore down her favorite picture of him and then proceeded to rip down the rest. “Asshole! Son of a bitch!”

            After shredding all the pictures, she shoved them into the trash can and then fell back onto her bed, crying from exhaustion.