The Homecoming Of Whatsername (Edited), chapter 4
The morning after Frankie's Gilman Street announcement, Sunday, she sat at the breakfast table with her father. Tre was still in bed, nursing a hangover. Frankie carefully squeezed a perfect flower shape over her pancake with the thick syrup. She set down the syrup bottle, and added a tiny bumblebee on a petal in strawberry sauce. Her dad looked over the top of his paper, and gave a throaty laugh. "What?" asked Frankie, her face a picture of perfect innocence.
"Nice bee. Want some coffee?" Mr Wright moved to the low counter, and poured out two coffees. "Black, right? Sugar? Or are you on one of your mom's crazy LA diets?"
"Half a sugar, thanks Dad. I won't fit into my dress, otherwise," Frankie took the cup her father handed her. Mr Wright sipped his.
"Half a sugar, but a massive pancake with syrup and strawberry sauce?" Mr Wright remarked. Frankie paused, a forkful of pancake halfway to her lips.
"Crap." She set down her fork and crossed to the basement door, where Tre had his room. "Tre, get up, and you can have my pancakes." Mr Wright chortled as he heard his son finally stir.
"Took me the best part of a month to think of bribery to get him up after you left." Frankie shared his smirk as she sat down and pulled her coffee closer. She leant back in her seat and grabbed a pen from the pot, and began to complete Mr Wright's half finished crossword. "And Brad is flying down here when?"
"Three weeks time."
"Ah, yes." Mr Wright traced his finger around the rim of his cup. "So Frankie, about this wedding..." He pretended not to notice his youngest daughter's knuckles tighten around her pen.
"Hmmm?" Mr Wright reached out and held her tiny wrist in his massive, meaty hand.
"Honey, I'm happy for you, I really am, just..." Frankie set down her pen, the plastic slapping hard against the wooden table.
"Just what, Dad?" She looked quite pissed now.
Her dad shook his head. "Just...well baby, I just don't want you to rush into things too young, then regret it when you're older. Please don't get upset, I..." he sighed. "Anyway, you're, Christ, you're eighteen now. You can take care of yourself and from what you said about Brad last night, before you went after the boys, well, he sounds like a good lad, from a good family, etcetra, etcetra..."
"I get it, Dad."
"OK, cheeky." Tre wandered sleepily in to the kitchen, and flopped down next to his sister. Frankie wiped some syrup up and licked it off her finger.
"Piss off." Tre whined.
"You piss off."
"Language, please kids."
"Sorry Dad. PLEASE piss off, Tre."
***
That afternoon, Frankie, Tat and Chloe sat in the local coffee bar, an old girls only tradition from years ago. The small tabletop was littered in bridal magazines, and Tat's infamous 'To Do' lists. Frankie scanned the lists. "God, no wonder you and Mike got together," remarked Frankie, as Tat returned with the traditional iced frappuchinos. "You and him are so alike."
"Yeah. He's fantastic, so sweet." Tat mused. "Jeez, look at that one! Puffball or what?" She pointed to a hideous gown in one of the magazines. Pale pink, with even lighter pink gauze and hot pink fur trim. Frankie and Chloe let out piercing howls.
"Totally your colour, Kit," Chloe yelped as Frankie pinched her.
"Nah, I like this one," said Frankie, opening up another magazine. "Page 187, number 369."
Chloe and Tat breathed reverently. It was so beautiful. It was a skinny fit, sheath type dress, strapless in a snow white colour. The silken bodice had tiny flowers embroidered over it. Simple, subtle and absolutely stunning, it was the perfect dress for Frankie. Chloe yelped again."Two thousand dollars?" Frankie reached into her purse and threw down a new credit card onto the table.
"Lets just say, Brad thinks I'm worth it!"
This time, Tat squealed.
"He got you a new credit card just for the wedding?" she gasped. Frankie shrugged.
"Well, his dad did. His whole family is, like, MEGA rich. They own this music magazine in LA, did I tell you that? That's how I met Brad. At some singer's launch party."
"You said you got a job for some music magazine and went to loads of launches, not that you met him there!" Tat and Chloe were shocked and a little pissed that their so called best friend hadn't bothered to tell them of these dramatic changes in her life.
"Yeah I did! In the letters I sent you. You never replied!"
"No, you said on the phone you got signed, and met a guy, then said you had to go. We never got any letters."
"Oh," Frankie sounded puzzled. "But Brad said he sent the- Never mind. They probably were on that mail train that caught fire, remember? Anyway, I'm telling you now. Do you want to see a picture of him?"
Frankie reached into her purse again, now pulling out her wallet. From the plastic window she tugged a photo and passed it to her friends. In it, Frankie was dancing with a seriously cute boy. He had light blond hair, and slate gray eyes. One arm was pulled tightly across Frankie's waist, the other was draped just as tightly around her shoulders. The pair were looking at the camera, mouths opened in near identical happy grins. That was the way to describe them, the girls decided. Happy. Frankie pointed to some important looking people in the background.
"It was taken about three months ago, at Celeste Steele's new album launch. She's there, onstage, see? She is so cool, she's another of Brad's father's 'friends' and she's been helping me with some shit for my new columns, like backstage gossip and stuff. That's Jonathon, he's Brad's cousin- he's gay as anything, but he is fantastic. Oh, and there's Brad's father, and his step-mom. His dad is so sweet, and generous, but SHE is just an absolute bitch. Doubt she'll last long." Frankie's monologue was interrupted by her brother blowing chocolate chips into her ears from a plastic straw.
"Tre, you stupid little kid- grow up! God, if you get chocolate on my new jacket, I'll slap you so hard!" Frankie screamed. Tre grinned bashfully, and waved at Tat and Chloe. Mike chuckled at the twins, and dropped a gentle kiss on Tat's lips."Ugh, gross," grumbled Frankie, as she brushed chocolate from her golden hair. "Where's Beej?" she added, glancing around.
Mike shrugged, too quickly for Frankie's liking, but she ignored it. "No idea." Mike said. "He grunted something about a bad hangover, when his mom called him for breakfast. Or lunch!" He gave another quick chuckle, kissing Tat again. Frankie nodded a thoughtful look on her face. She raised her left eyebrow, as she surveyed the two boys, Mike still kissing Tat and Tre flipping through a bridal magazine.
"Staying long, guys?" she said, in her old 'ballsy' voice. Tre pretended not to hear her tone.
"P'raps. Why?" Frankie raised her eyebrow even higher, rolling her eyeballs and folding her arms.
"Uh, hello? Sunday afternoon, girls only? I need my bridesmaids to pick their dresses without distractions and..."
"We're your bridesmaids?" Tat and Chloe interrupted. Frankie stared at them, confusion in her eyes, before grabbing her 'to do' list and scribbled something at the top.
"Note to self: Remember to ask Tat and Chloe about being bridesmaids." She said to herself, scrawling furiously. She looked back at the girls. "So, how about it, then, ladies?" Tat and Chloe glanced at each other, considering for about three seconds before screeching and leaping on their friend.
"Of course!"
***
Sunday night. Billie Joe couldn't sleep. He was alone in the house, his last sibling, his sister Annie, had just moved out, his mom was working a late shift at the restaurant, and Mike was at Tat's. And there was nothing on TV. He reached for the phone to call Tre, before remembering that a) Tre was out with yet another girl, and b) even if Tre was at home, Frankie may pick up the phone, and Billie Joe wasn't quite ready to talk to her, just yet. He flicked off the TV, and his fingers began to tap out a tune on the arm of the sofa. He reached for some paper and a pen as a song began to form in his head.
"Sit around and watch the tube, but nothing's on/ Change the channels for an hour or two/ Twiddle my thumbs just for a bit/ I'm sick of all the same old shit..." Billie Joe chewed the end of his pen, thinking hard. "...In a house with unlocked doors/ And I'm lazy." Billie Joe reread his words, considering the last line. "In a house with unlocked doors/ And I'm...FUCKING lazy."
There, that sounded much better. Billie Joe felt much better. He ran upstairs to his room for Blue, the guitar his dad had given him before he died. He ran back downstairs, and picked out a tune for his new song. Pretty soon, he had finished, and was all ready to show the guys their new chords and shit at their next practice.
Billie Joe lay back, his guitar still in his hands. His fingers flicked absently at the strings, and began to sing softly, words flying into his head, mingling with thoughts and memories of Frankie and Brad. "I don't know you/ But I think I hate you/ You're the reason for my misery/ Strange how you've become my biggest enemy/ And I've never even seen your face."
"Nice song." Billie Joe's mom was standing at the door. She looked at him, an amused expression on her face. "Not about me, is it?" Billie chuckled, a small blush creeping over his cheeks.
"Nah. You've been my mom for eighteen years- I may have seen your face once or twice over the years." His mom reached over and ruffled his hair.
"Who, then?"
"No-one. Just, uh, I was watching a movie on 3."
"Huh," Ollie was flipping through the TV guide. "Snow White?" She threw the guide onto her son's stomach. Billie Joe went redder.
"Yeah, um, yeah. You know, that evil queen, stepmother woman is, like, a total bitch. Yeah. Um, I'm gonna go to bed." With that, he grabbed his songs and Blue, and sped upstairs. He could still hear his mother's hysterics when he was in bed. "Oh, shut UP Mom!" he yelled, which made her laugh even more.
"Nice bee. Want some coffee?" Mr Wright moved to the low counter, and poured out two coffees. "Black, right? Sugar? Or are you on one of your mom's crazy LA diets?"
"Half a sugar, thanks Dad. I won't fit into my dress, otherwise," Frankie took the cup her father handed her. Mr Wright sipped his.
"Half a sugar, but a massive pancake with syrup and strawberry sauce?" Mr Wright remarked. Frankie paused, a forkful of pancake halfway to her lips.
"Crap." She set down her fork and crossed to the basement door, where Tre had his room. "Tre, get up, and you can have my pancakes." Mr Wright chortled as he heard his son finally stir.
"Took me the best part of a month to think of bribery to get him up after you left." Frankie shared his smirk as she sat down and pulled her coffee closer. She leant back in her seat and grabbed a pen from the pot, and began to complete Mr Wright's half finished crossword. "And Brad is flying down here when?"
"Three weeks time."
"Ah, yes." Mr Wright traced his finger around the rim of his cup. "So Frankie, about this wedding..." He pretended not to notice his youngest daughter's knuckles tighten around her pen.
"Hmmm?" Mr Wright reached out and held her tiny wrist in his massive, meaty hand.
"Honey, I'm happy for you, I really am, just..." Frankie set down her pen, the plastic slapping hard against the wooden table.
"Just what, Dad?" She looked quite pissed now.
Her dad shook his head. "Just...well baby, I just don't want you to rush into things too young, then regret it when you're older. Please don't get upset, I..." he sighed. "Anyway, you're, Christ, you're eighteen now. You can take care of yourself and from what you said about Brad last night, before you went after the boys, well, he sounds like a good lad, from a good family, etcetra, etcetra..."
"I get it, Dad."
"OK, cheeky." Tre wandered sleepily in to the kitchen, and flopped down next to his sister. Frankie wiped some syrup up and licked it off her finger.
"Piss off." Tre whined.
"You piss off."
"Language, please kids."
"Sorry Dad. PLEASE piss off, Tre."
***
That afternoon, Frankie, Tat and Chloe sat in the local coffee bar, an old girls only tradition from years ago. The small tabletop was littered in bridal magazines, and Tat's infamous 'To Do' lists. Frankie scanned the lists. "God, no wonder you and Mike got together," remarked Frankie, as Tat returned with the traditional iced frappuchinos. "You and him are so alike."
"Yeah. He's fantastic, so sweet." Tat mused. "Jeez, look at that one! Puffball or what?" She pointed to a hideous gown in one of the magazines. Pale pink, with even lighter pink gauze and hot pink fur trim. Frankie and Chloe let out piercing howls.
"Totally your colour, Kit," Chloe yelped as Frankie pinched her.
"Nah, I like this one," said Frankie, opening up another magazine. "Page 187, number 369."
Chloe and Tat breathed reverently. It was so beautiful. It was a skinny fit, sheath type dress, strapless in a snow white colour. The silken bodice had tiny flowers embroidered over it. Simple, subtle and absolutely stunning, it was the perfect dress for Frankie. Chloe yelped again."Two thousand dollars?" Frankie reached into her purse and threw down a new credit card onto the table.
"Lets just say, Brad thinks I'm worth it!"
This time, Tat squealed.
"He got you a new credit card just for the wedding?" she gasped. Frankie shrugged.
"Well, his dad did. His whole family is, like, MEGA rich. They own this music magazine in LA, did I tell you that? That's how I met Brad. At some singer's launch party."
"You said you got a job for some music magazine and went to loads of launches, not that you met him there!" Tat and Chloe were shocked and a little pissed that their so called best friend hadn't bothered to tell them of these dramatic changes in her life.
"Yeah I did! In the letters I sent you. You never replied!"
"No, you said on the phone you got signed, and met a guy, then said you had to go. We never got any letters."
"Oh," Frankie sounded puzzled. "But Brad said he sent the- Never mind. They probably were on that mail train that caught fire, remember? Anyway, I'm telling you now. Do you want to see a picture of him?"
Frankie reached into her purse again, now pulling out her wallet. From the plastic window she tugged a photo and passed it to her friends. In it, Frankie was dancing with a seriously cute boy. He had light blond hair, and slate gray eyes. One arm was pulled tightly across Frankie's waist, the other was draped just as tightly around her shoulders. The pair were looking at the camera, mouths opened in near identical happy grins. That was the way to describe them, the girls decided. Happy. Frankie pointed to some important looking people in the background.
"It was taken about three months ago, at Celeste Steele's new album launch. She's there, onstage, see? She is so cool, she's another of Brad's father's 'friends' and she's been helping me with some shit for my new columns, like backstage gossip and stuff. That's Jonathon, he's Brad's cousin- he's gay as anything, but he is fantastic. Oh, and there's Brad's father, and his step-mom. His dad is so sweet, and generous, but SHE is just an absolute bitch. Doubt she'll last long." Frankie's monologue was interrupted by her brother blowing chocolate chips into her ears from a plastic straw.
"Tre, you stupid little kid- grow up! God, if you get chocolate on my new jacket, I'll slap you so hard!" Frankie screamed. Tre grinned bashfully, and waved at Tat and Chloe. Mike chuckled at the twins, and dropped a gentle kiss on Tat's lips."Ugh, gross," grumbled Frankie, as she brushed chocolate from her golden hair. "Where's Beej?" she added, glancing around.
Mike shrugged, too quickly for Frankie's liking, but she ignored it. "No idea." Mike said. "He grunted something about a bad hangover, when his mom called him for breakfast. Or lunch!" He gave another quick chuckle, kissing Tat again. Frankie nodded a thoughtful look on her face. She raised her left eyebrow, as she surveyed the two boys, Mike still kissing Tat and Tre flipping through a bridal magazine.
"Staying long, guys?" she said, in her old 'ballsy' voice. Tre pretended not to hear her tone.
"P'raps. Why?" Frankie raised her eyebrow even higher, rolling her eyeballs and folding her arms.
"Uh, hello? Sunday afternoon, girls only? I need my bridesmaids to pick their dresses without distractions and..."
"We're your bridesmaids?" Tat and Chloe interrupted. Frankie stared at them, confusion in her eyes, before grabbing her 'to do' list and scribbled something at the top.
"Note to self: Remember to ask Tat and Chloe about being bridesmaids." She said to herself, scrawling furiously. She looked back at the girls. "So, how about it, then, ladies?" Tat and Chloe glanced at each other, considering for about three seconds before screeching and leaping on their friend.
"Of course!"
***
Sunday night. Billie Joe couldn't sleep. He was alone in the house, his last sibling, his sister Annie, had just moved out, his mom was working a late shift at the restaurant, and Mike was at Tat's. And there was nothing on TV. He reached for the phone to call Tre, before remembering that a) Tre was out with yet another girl, and b) even if Tre was at home, Frankie may pick up the phone, and Billie Joe wasn't quite ready to talk to her, just yet. He flicked off the TV, and his fingers began to tap out a tune on the arm of the sofa. He reached for some paper and a pen as a song began to form in his head.
"Sit around and watch the tube, but nothing's on/ Change the channels for an hour or two/ Twiddle my thumbs just for a bit/ I'm sick of all the same old shit..." Billie Joe chewed the end of his pen, thinking hard. "...In a house with unlocked doors/ And I'm lazy." Billie Joe reread his words, considering the last line. "In a house with unlocked doors/ And I'm...FUCKING lazy."
There, that sounded much better. Billie Joe felt much better. He ran upstairs to his room for Blue, the guitar his dad had given him before he died. He ran back downstairs, and picked out a tune for his new song. Pretty soon, he had finished, and was all ready to show the guys their new chords and shit at their next practice.
Billie Joe lay back, his guitar still in his hands. His fingers flicked absently at the strings, and began to sing softly, words flying into his head, mingling with thoughts and memories of Frankie and Brad. "I don't know you/ But I think I hate you/ You're the reason for my misery/ Strange how you've become my biggest enemy/ And I've never even seen your face."
"Nice song." Billie Joe's mom was standing at the door. She looked at him, an amused expression on her face. "Not about me, is it?" Billie chuckled, a small blush creeping over his cheeks.
"Nah. You've been my mom for eighteen years- I may have seen your face once or twice over the years." His mom reached over and ruffled his hair.
"Who, then?"
"No-one. Just, uh, I was watching a movie on 3."
"Huh," Ollie was flipping through the TV guide. "Snow White?" She threw the guide onto her son's stomach. Billie Joe went redder.
"Yeah, um, yeah. You know, that evil queen, stepmother woman is, like, a total bitch. Yeah. Um, I'm gonna go to bed." With that, he grabbed his songs and Blue, and sped upstairs. He could still hear his mother's hysterics when he was in bed. "Oh, shut UP Mom!" he yelled, which made her laugh even more.
