Saying Goodbye (What the World Doesn't Know) (37 page)

            “Yeah, we’ll give them a listen,” said Bridget. “Can you drop us off at the Abahati?”

            “Whatever you ladies like.”

            Within a few minutes the girls arrived at the Abahati Hotel. There were so many people hanging around the lobby, including pretty girls. Frankie immediately thought of Sarah and became anxious. She wondered if Alex had brought her with him. As she carefully studied the girls in the crowd, she soon realized there was no sign of either Sarah or the band.

            Frankie approached the reception desk. “Can you phone Peter Barton?” she asked.

            The receptionist looked at her with a typical mix of suspicion and curiosity. “Who may I ask is requesting?” he said.

            Frankie paused and replied with a deep, masculine voice: “Igor Shantzky.”

            The receptionist eyed Frankie and then dialed the number while Frankie glanced over at her hopeful friends. The receptionist removed the receiver from his ear and said to Frankie: “You can take the call over on the lobby phone.”

            Frankie was actually shocked that Peter had taken her call so readily. She winked at the girls as she crossed the lobby to a booth at the other end. She picked up the phone and found Peter on the other end of the line.

            In his hotel room, Peter glanced at Alex who was resting on his bed with his hands behind his head. “Is this the real Igor Shantzky?” he questioned in a joking tone.

            Alex sat upright as his heart fell into his stomach. “What the hell!” he exclaimed.

            Peter looked at Alex and nodded his head as he kept the receiver next to his ear.

            “It’s the fake Igor Shantzky, but the real Frankie Robinson,” she said with a laugh.

            “What are you doing here?” Peter asked, glancing at Alex, who was now wide-eyed with interest.

            “I’m performing for the USO down in Santo Domingo,” Frankie explained. “Some of the girls wanted to come up here, hoping for the chance to meet you creeps.” She glanced over her shoulder at her friends watching from the lobby. “Apparently, since I’ve met you jokers before, I have the task of making introductions.”

            “Well, who are your friends?” asked Peter as he watched Alex dramatically shaking his head no.

            “Hot American actresses, singers, and dancers like me,” she said flirtatiously.

            Peter glanced at Alex and whispered: “She’s performing down in Santo Domingo and flew up here with some friends.”

            Alex threw himself back down on the bed. “I’m not allowed to see her,” he said. “Restraining order, remember?”

            Peter covered the receiver with his hand so Frankie couldn’t hear. “Restraining order in the States,” he said. “We’re in Jamaica, mate. Same rules don’t apply.”

            Alex folded his arms defiantly. “Still, it has been made crystal clear,” he replied. “I’m not to see her.”

            Peter uncovered the phone receiver. “I’ll be right down,” he said.

            Frankie’s heart sank when she realized only Peter would be coming down. It was proof that Alex didn’t want to see her. As she hung up the phone, she tried not to cry; she didn’t want to show the other girls her disappointment. So Frankie, ever the actress, put on her happy, perky face and headed over to her friends. “Peter will be down shortly,” she said.

            The girls giggled excitedly and then quickly presented a cool, confident exterior when they saw Peter heading down the staircase. “He’s even cuter in person,” whispered Michelle into Frankie’s ear.

            “Yeah,” said Frankie calmly. It wasn’t Peter who made her heart beat faster.

            Peter approached them and gave Frankie a big hug as if she were an old friend. “It is good to see you, Igor,” he said teasingly.

            “Igor?” questioned Eileen.

            “It’s my alter ego,” joked Frankie. “Anyway, this is Peter, girls. Peter, these are my friends, Eileen, Bridget, and Michelle.”

            “Hello, girls,” he said and then gave each of them a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. While hugging Michelle, Peter slyly reached toward Frankie and handed her a small object. “Go say hi,” he whispered.

            Frankie looked down and without a word quickly clutched her fist around the room key Peter had secretly slipped her. As casually as possible, she said to the others: “I’ll be back in a few.”

            Her heart was already pounding furiously even before she reached the stairs. She felt scared to death by the time she rounded the corner and found the room where Alex was located. She slowly inserted the key into the lock and turned the doorknob.

            Alex sat up when he heard the door open and said: “What happened? Did she have to―” He stopped himself once he saw Frankie standing in the doorway. “What are you doing here?” he asked coolly.

            “Peter gave me the key,” she said, dangling the key loosely in her in fingers.

            “Peter’s an arse,” he said angrily. “But you still haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here?”

            “I was down in Santo Domingo,” she explained. “A few friends and I flew up here for a couple days. It was their idea; I really didn’t want to.”

            “Didn’t want to see me?” questioned Alex.

            Frankie choked. “You’re the
only
person I really wanted to see, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me. And now I know―you don’t. So . . . I guess I’ll just leave.”

            “Wait!” Alex spat out as Frankie turned to leave. When she stopped he stared at her. She looked different. Much different. Not as vibrant or vivacious as the last time he saw her. She was vulnerable. She looked as if someone had stolen something precious from her and then it dawned on him completely; someone
had
taken something from her―their baby. All her pain and anguish could be seen in her vacant stare. He wasn’t sure what to say. “I thought you didn’t want to see me again,” he said. “The restraining order made that perfectly clear.”

            “Restraining order?” she questioned with a laugh. “What restraining order?”

            Alex sat upright on the bed, his spine stiff. “The one your parents issued against me.”

            Frankie stared at him in disbelief and then popped down on the corner of Peter’s bed. “That’s impossible,” she muttered incoherently.

            “Frankie, how could you?!” he yelled in a scolding tone.

            It was the moment Frankie had feared for the past month and now she was finally faced with the confrontation. She knew she could forgive herself for her abortion, so why did she think Alex would? She wanted to cry, but in reality she didn’t believe she deserved her own tears. “Alex, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to do it, but I wasn’t strong enough. I couldn’t stand up to them. Eventually they injected me with tranquilizers and then it was too late.” Tears began to well in her eyes. “The worst part was knowing I’d have to face you and beg for your forgiveness.”

            “You should have listened to me,” Alex said angrily, his voice growing louder. “You should have trusted me!”

            “You were so far away,” she said. “I didn’t know if you really wanted me, if you really loved me.” By now the tears were streaming down her cheeks and her own voice was increasing in volume. “And everyone was filling my head with doubts. I didn’t know who to believe. I couldn’t admit to you that my parents had found out. And then, on top of everything else, I found out you were still living with Sarah! I caved in. What the hell was I supposed to think? How was I to trust you and believe that you loved me when you’re living with another girl and frolicking on the beach on what was supposed to be our honeymoon?”

            Alex bolted from his bed and paced around the room. It was so crystal clear: they had been set up to fail. Everybody in the world was content to satisfy their own selfish desires, needs, and wants at the expense of two young lovers and their unborn child. He reached on the bedside table for a cigarette, lit one, and took a few big puffs. “I can see why they would do this to me, but not to you.”

            Frankie wiped her tears and gazed up at him, curious. “Who’s doing what to whom?”

            “Don’t be naïve, Frankie, you know what went down here,” he said with an angry puff on his cigarette.

            “You don’t think that you and I are responsible for this mess?” Frankie contended.

            “How the fuck do you think
we
are responsible?” screamed Alex.

            “Because I caved and you have no backbone for love,” Frankie said bluntly.

            “You should have believed me,” he said. “I meant it when I said I loved you.” He sat on his bed across from her and reached out for her hands. “I meant it when I said I wanted to marry you. That was the plan, remember?” Alex shook her hands in his. “We were going to get married and then no one could tear us apart. But they did, don’t you see?”

            Frankie shook her head. “They were just looking out for my best interest.”

            “They were concerned with their pocketbooks, with their reputations and images. You know I don’t really care about any of those things; I’d have you no matter what. I would have you poor, fat, and tainted, because that smile of yours is all I need,” replied Alex and then wiped away the tears from her cheeks.

            “But I needed you,” she said. “I needed you near me. That’s why it was so hard. You weren’t there.”

            “Your father would have shot me if I came within a hundred feet of your front door,” Alex replied. “Come on, Frankie, admit it: your father hates me.”

            It was true; she couldn’t deny it. She tried so hard to paint Alex in the brightest colors for her father, but her father just refused to see the picture. She couldn’t understand; if only Marcus could see in Alex the way she did, she was sure he’d accept him.

            Frankie looked around the room, wiping away the remainder of her tears. “I guess this isn’t the holiday to the Caribbean we were planning,” said Frankie. “I was so excited that I went shopping for new outfits. But you wound up going with Sarah.”

            “Darren told me to,” he replied quickly.

            “Why would he do that?”

            Alex sat back on his bed and sighed. “You weren’t taking my calls. I asked him for his help. He told me he’d handle it and in the meantime go about as normal. Normal was taking Sarah to Bermuda.”

            “I guess you’re right; they were setting us up to fail,” Frankie grunted.     

            “But they don’t have to succeed,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her onto the bed beside him. Frankie nuzzled her face against his neck. He smelled so clean—freshly showered and shaved. His hair was still a little wet. It felt so good to hold him tightly in her arms again.

            “I can get arrested for being with you,” he said.

            “I came to see you,” she replied.

            Alex ran his fingers through her silky blonde hair. “Are you okay?” he asked.

            “I’m getting better,” she said, curling up next to him. “It was awful. I cried all day—every day—for month. Finally the tears just stopped. The worst part was wondering what would happen when you found out.” Frankie lifted her head and brushed Alex’s hair back from his eyes. “How about you?”

            “Yeah, it was pretty bad,” he said, holding her body close to his. “The hardest part was not having any control of my own life. Everyone’s making decisions for me and you, all for the sake of money. It’s all just fucking bullshit.” Looking into her big blue eyes, his mood finally softened. “You know, I’m really a simple guy; I don’t need much. I don’t need all this . . . I just need you.”

            “What are we going to do?” she asked.

            Alex looked at the ceiling blankly and said: “Love one another.”

            They lay in each other’s arms for what seemed like an hour until Alex turned toward Frankie and kissed her neck and shoulder and whispered softly: “Have you . . . ?”

            Frankie turned her head to look at him. “No, I haven’t been with anyone,” she said. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve dreamt of being with you again.”

            Alex rolled over on top of her and kissed her passionately. “Me too; it’s all I could think about.” As he removed her dress, followed by her bra and panties he admired her naked body. She was as perfect as he remembered—full breasts, narrow waist, and curvaceous hips. Frankie was strong and muscular, but looking at her nude body, it was hard to tell. And then he rose above her, removing his T-shirt while Frankie unzipped his fly and tugged off his jeans.

            As fervent as he felt about making love to her, he was sure to take care, not wanting to hurt her. “This is how we got into trouble before,” he said.

            Frankie didn’t care; she was just so glad to be with him again. “I don’t care,” she said. “Maybe I’ll get pregnant again.”

            “Then your father would kill me for sure,” said Alex.

            “He would have killed you the last time if you were in the States,” said Frankie with a slight laugh.

            “Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t come chasing after you,” he said as he kissed her neck.

            “Hmm,” she sighed. Frankie closed her eyes and just enjoyed feeling him.

            Afterward, Alex stretched onto his back and lit a cigarette as Frankie curled up next to him. She glanced up at him and asked: “Is Sarah here?”

            “Nah, she has a show to do back in London.” Alex sighed with a puff of his cigarette.

            “I can’t believe you are still with her,” said Frankie.