Page 118 of Give Me What You Will

Issues meaning a robbery, he thought darkly. Or someone hassling over the dirty money meant for the mob, and Frankie being forced to intervene—to step into harm’s way over their money. He swallowed hard, images of gunshot wounds flashing in his mind, of the countless victims and lives lost to pointless gun violence.

He gripped the edge of the wooden bar, steeling his body against the oncoming flood.

“Why don’t you call him, huh?” the tall man instructed. “Tell him to come back so we can finish our business, yeah?”

Hands shaking, Sam pulled his phone from his back pocket and, inhaling deeply, hit the first caller on his favorites list. The phone rang only twice before Frankie answered.

“Hey,” he rasped quietly. “I’m almost done here. I was hoping to talk to the doctor about—”

“Frank,” Sam said sternly, hoping his tone would alert him to the problem sitting at the bar.

“What’s wrong?”

“There are two men here,” he glanced over at them. “I didn’t catch your names.”

The smaller man smirked ruthlessly, “Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumb.”

Sam was about to relay that when he heard Frankie let out a stream of curses and rustling over the line.

“You okay?” Frankie asked.

“Yeah.”

“Are you alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, okay. There’s a bat under the bar,” Frankie said quickly. “I’m on my way. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Frank…” Sam heard the tremor in his voice and turned away, hating how scared he was. He was stronger than this. But when it came to Frankie—he never felt so fucking weak in his life.

“I’m comin’ for you, baby,” he whispered urgently.

He took a few steps away and the two men watched him, their eyes like those of hawks, ready to descend at any moment.

“If anything happens to you…” Sam hushed out.

“Nothin’ will,” Frankie reassured. “Keep feeding them drinks—hard shit. No beer. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“I—”

I love you.

The words burned on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t say them. Not like this. Not scared out of his mind, thinking Frankie could get shot the moment he walked through the door.

“It’s okay. Breathe, baby. Nothin’s gonna happen. You’re gonna be fine. I’ll be there soon.”

Swallowing hard, he nodded. “Right, okay.”

They hung up.

Get it the fuck together, Samuels.

“That was a long conversation just to tell him we’re here,” the shorter man drawled.

“Well, yeah—it’s Frankie and Sammy,” the tall one countered.

The shorter one’s eyes widened in recognition, “Shit, that’s right. Lou mentioned Frankie was best friends with a fag.”