“Who?”
“My little sisters. One day ACS came and took them away. I was seventeen, but they were only nine and seven. I tried to take care of them, but I was getting in trouble all the time. I acted out, being stupid and useless and a shit brother, and I let them down.” I held on to Frankie as if he was the only thing left in the world. “I let them take my sisters. I was too wrapped up in getting drunk and hooking up to pay attention until it was too late.” I always had an excuse.
“ACS? What’s that?”
Amazing that Frankie wouldn’t know. But he’d had a different kind of life. A perfect, loving family who accepted him.
“Administration for Children’s Services. Child Welfare. Whatever you call it. Someone, probably one of the neighbors, reported the Blackmuns for neglect. And when they came, they had to bust the door down because, as usual, they were passed out in the living room. Too busy getting high to make sure their kids were dressed properly for school. One of Jasmine’s teachers asked her what she had for breakfast, and she said ‘nothing’ because ‘Mommy couldn’t get up to make nothing.’”
This was the worst fucking thing that I ever had to do. Hearing it all over again, realizing I’d lost my sisters because of my stupidity, that I’d almost lost Frankie for the same reason, that I still could if I didn’t change, brought all my failures crashing down on me. And Frankie didn’t know there was still plenty I hadn’t told him. I couldn’t. Not yet.
“Oh, baby.” He cradled me in his arms, but I couldn’t return the hug. I didn’t deserve it. “I don’t know what to say to make this better. I wish I did.”
“I’ve been such a selfish bastard ’cause I haven’t looked for them. But I know I gotta get my shit together before I can do that. I wanted to find a job and move past this prison sentence, get in a good place.” My head drooped. “I want them to be proud to have me as their brother.”
“Oh, honey,” Frankie murmured and kissed my head, squeezing me tight. “They will. I promise. I’ll help you.”
“No.” I extracted myself from him. “Not that I don’t want your help—but I gotta do this myself, to prove that I can make it alone. I gotta do it for me. Not for anyone else. Not even you.”
With shaking hands, Frankie framed my face and kissed my cheek. “Look at you. I’m so fucking proud. You’re gonna make it. You aren’t the same person you were last year. I believe in you.”
One thing for certain, I didn’t deserve a guy like Frankie. “Why? I’ve been so horrible to you. Why do you stay with me?”
“I don’t have the words to explain. But I remember how good it was in the beginning. It was there for us, and I want it back. You’re the one who’s made me happy. And out of everything we can lose in life…a job, money…whatever, the only thing no one can steal from me is my happiness. I find it, name it, and make it my own. So you”—he kissed me—“you’re my happiness, and no one is going to tell me you’re wrong for me and take away my happy.”
God, I wanted it so badly, I could taste it. “If I fuck this up, I promise it won’t be because I didn’t have your support. It’s on me. My success and my failure.”
We sat for a while, the lengthening evening shadows slanting across us, neither willing to move and break the fragility of our peace. When my stomach growled for the third time, Frankie laughed. “All right, already. I get the hint. My mom gave me some lasagna last week. I can take it out of the freezer and nuke it if you want. I gotta do it now, though, ’cause I have to get back to the club.”
“Yeah. Sounds good.”
While he busied himself in the kitchen, I thought about another night spent here alone. “You, ah, mind if I go with you? To hang out?”
Frankie’s brows shot up in surprise. “You really want to? Not because you want to drive me home, though, right?”
“No. I wanna be with you. And see you dance.”
He placed the frozen lasagna in the microwave. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“That night when you walked outta the club. We need to talk about that too.”
“Yeah. Something about the way you looked at the guy and he touched you really got to me.” At the memory, I couldn’t control the angry spurt of jealousy, and my body tensed.
“I know you say it don’t matter about me dancing, but are you sure? I mean, I ain’t doing hand jobs or touching them, but you gotta know they’re getting hard-ons while I’m giving them lap dances.”
I saw no shame in his eyes as Frankie faced me down.
Before answering, I took several deep breaths to calm my nerves and rid my voice of anger. “Not gonna lie. It’s weird.” I chewed the inside of my cheek.
“It’s my job. And until I can find one that makes me the same or similar money, I ain’t giving it up. I need you to keep your cool in the club and not go running out every time that happens. If you can’t, then maybe it’s better if you don’t come no more.”
I raised my hand. “I won’t do anything stupid. Swear.”
He nodded. “Okay. As long as you understand where I’m comin’ from.”
“I do. I like when you come over to me at your break. It lets everyone know my guy is the hottest one in the club.”
