Fallen, chapter 4

Frank groaned and threw himself onto the couch. Billie Joe plopped down next to him and grinned.

"Shut up Bill" Frank warned before Billie could even open his mouth.

"Aw, come on Tre. I wasn't going to say anything." He protested. Frank shot him a look.

"I'm sure you weren't. Because Billie Joe Armstrong is very good at keeping his trap shut." Frank said sarcastically.

"Yes I am!" Billie said proudly, half-joking. He helped himself to some beer and collapsed back down with Frank. Adrienne shook her head and turned on the TV. As they sat watching, occasionally laughing, Frank noticed that Billie kept throwing him strange looks, which he returned. Finally, the businessman could take it no more.

"Bill, what the hell is your problem?" Frank asked irritably, looking at his best friend with furrowed brows.

"I don't have a problem!" Billie tried to sound innocent, but somehow, he wasn't quite able to pull it off; innocence just wasn't in his make-up. Finally losing control of himself, he burst into peals of genuinely happy and strangely amused laughter. Even Adrienne looked annoyed by this.

"What are you so happy about, Billie Joe?" she turned her attention to her husband. Billie managed to keep his laughter under control for a few minutes to reply.

"It seems like Tre Cool here just fell in love!"

Frank made a face. "How does that make any sense? I just met the girl and talked to her for less than a minute! Falling in love takes time."

"Love at first sight." The couple cooed together. Frank got out of his seat and marched up to them.

"Shouldn't you two be getting home?" he asked. Taking the hint, they decided to leave. As he closed the door, Frank couldn't fight the smile that found its way to his lips. Good friends really were like four-leaf clovers. Honestly, they're just mutated weeds, but somehow, they make the world a little bit better. And Frank's thud-thudding heart told him that they were right.

Climbing into his bed and wrapping his sheets around himself, he knew that he would see that red haired woman again. Frank knew that when he did, he would just have to capture her heart the way she'd taken his with just her mere presence. Isis. His goddess.


The morning brought sunshine streaming into Frank's bedroom. After rolling around and trying diligently to ignore his 6:00 AM alarm, he finally managed to get up and out of bed. Today was business as usual.

Frank was unusually careful as he shaved; he could feel something special was about to happen. Taking an extra look in the mirror before he left, he closed his eyes and remembered the scent of his goddess.

In his car, the radio blared. Even through the loud guitars of System of a Down, Isis broke into his thoughts and haunted him. Every flash of red hair in the parking lot caught his eye, making him frantically turn in that direction with the hopes that it was Isis. Isis. Her name felt so beautiful on his lips. Like a rose.

He passed right through every level of his store, sparing only a few minutes for that special guitar. Frank realized that the buyer would be coming today to pick it up. But soon, his thoughts turned back to Isis. He cursed Bill and Adie for being right.

Frank wasn't just smitten. This honestly was love at first sight. And he'd never felt anything like it. Not with any of the women he'd ever dated, not with Claudia, not with anyone.

"Isis... " Frank whispered to the sudden emptiness of his office. The word tickled his tongue and caused a flutter in his stomach. If only there were a name for the color of her hair, for the texture of her body, for the sweetness of her smile, or the echo of her voice. Frank leaned back in to his chair. There was a word for all of that. Perfection.

Just thinking about this woman threw him back into the past. The moment he laid eyes on her, he felt like his teenage self again. The sight of her truly turned him into Tre Cool, if only for a moment. There was nothing like it, and he would never feel it again, unless he saw her again.

"Uhh... excuse me? Mr. Wright?" A hesitant voice suddenly struck Frank out of his thoughts.

"Oh. Yeah, Jim? Is there a problem?" Frank asked, his tone all business.

"No, sir, no problem. It's just, uh, the, um, lady who brought the, uh, guitar. You wanted me to um, tell you when she came, um, didn't you, sir?" Jim stammered

"Guitar?" Frank frowned in confusion, trying to bring his thoughts back to the present. "Oh, the guitar! Right, I did. Is she here now? Tell her I'll be there in a minute to talk to her." He sent Jim back downstairs and sighed. Why did this random woman have to come now and interrupt his thoughts? Why did he have to go talk to her when he could have just sat there and thought about Isis? Of course, the guitar was like a baby to him. And there was no way Frank would let some random woman adopt his baby.

As he neared his guitar, Frank's breath was knocked away and he tried in vain to steady himself. For who could have turned up to buy his favorite guitar than his goddess?


***
Isis all but skipped into La Musicale, totally excited about giving the guitar to Mike for his birthday. He would just love it. A boy came up to her as she waited at the counter.

"Excuse me, miss?" the boy, whose nametag told Isis he was Jim, had a very charming voice. "Ma'am, are you here to pick up your guitar?" Isis nodded and showed Jim her receipt.

"Its for my best friend." She smiled, "He's going to love me for this! His birthday's tonight, you know." Jim returned her a dazzling smile and asked her to wait a moment as he disappeared up the stairs to the next floor.

After a brief wait, Jim came back down and behind him was none other than Frank Wright. Isis felt her jaw drop. Mr. Wright was coming to her! She grasped the cross around her neck and continued to gape. The man was a total legend to every single performer in the state. He was once a small-time musician who made extra money by fixing instruments, and now owned the best store in America. How can he not be a role model?

Isis felt her pulse quicken. What was he here for? Was he coming to talk to her? What would he say? Oh gosh, what would she say back? Isis grasped her cross and prayed with all her might that she wouldn't make a fool out of herself in front of this man. He was coming closer! Isis took a deep, deep breath and forced herself to calm down. When she looked up, Frank Wright was right in front of her.

"Hi," he said, holding out his hand to shake. "I'm Frank Wright." Isis looked down at the hand. It was quivering slightly, but she grasped it and shook it anyway. Mr. Wright's hand was cold, but Isis felt her cheeks burning up. She wished that she really were Juliet and really did have her happy dagger right there with her. Of course, she would never. The Lord condemned suicide.

Isis steered herself back to the moment. Frank Wright was shaking her hand and she was thinking about the Lord? He opened his mouth again to say something, but closed it, as though he couldn't find the words. She saw him look at the guitar with a spark in his eyes. Isis wanted to laugh.

"Mr. Wright?" she dropped his hand slowly. "Um, are you going to take this guitar back? Please don't. I mean, it's your guitar, and I guess you have the right to, but you can't! It's Mike's birthday, and I've been saving up for years to buy him this and now I'm totally broke but this means so... " Isis looked up to see that Frank was looking intently at her. He cracked a smile and relief flooded through her.

"Call me Frank," he murmured quietly. "You must be Miss Farrell." He added, speaking louder Isis nodded, blushing even deeper. "I'm not going to take this guitar back." She noticed that his smile at this point seemed pasted on. "Your boyfriend must be something real special if you're getting this for him."

Isis' eyes widened. "Oh no! Mike's not my boyfriend. He's my best friend! We've known each other since college! Not that you'd, you know, care or anything... " she trailed off.

Mr. Wright smiled again, but this time, it didn't seem so strained; his eyes seemed to soften with... relief. "Well, it must be nice to have you as a friend. Oh, lighten up! I didn't mean for you to freak out. See, I just wanted to know who's buying this guitar."

Isis nodded and he continued, "This is real special guitar, and it deserves someone real special to have it. Like you." This time, Mr. Wright blushed with Isis

"That's very... kind of you Mr. —"

"Frank, Miss Farrell; I'd like you to call me Frank." He took her hand again, and for some reason, she shivered. He kissed her palm and Isis felt chills go down her spine. Jim came back with the guitar in a sturdy case. Walking towards the door, Isis noticed Mr. Wright behind her.

She turned around. "Thank you for not taking the guitar back," was the only thing she could even think of to say. Inwardly, she groaned at her own pathos.

"You're welcome, Miss Farrell. Can I... can I call you Isis?" he asked slowly. Isis nodded her head. He must have thought she was a bobble head toy by now. "I hope I'll see you in my store again." The confidence returned to his voice. Isis wanted to run. Very fast. Far, far, far away where she wouldn't humiliate herself anymore. Mr. Wright thought she was such a freak that even his voice was going haywire!

But she answered him anyway. "Um, sure, I guess. Bye Mr.... I mean, Frank." Isis left La Musicale feeling like a complete dork.