Chapter 17

Frankie jumped off the balcony as the sun’s rays peeked above the horizon. She wanted to be gone before her mom got up. She wasn’t in the mood to hash out the events of last night but was positive her mother did. Frankie pulled her coat tighter across her chest, fending off the biting wind. Snow began falling again as she crossed Main Street toward Tastful Bean, where Faith and Hunter waited for her.

The windows were fogged over from the warmth inside the coffee shop, and snow clung to the outside sills. Strands of Christmas lights wrapped the telephone polls in a soft glow. It was magical. Christmas was coming, and it was Frankie’s favorite time of the year. She and her mom would typically decorate the Christmas tree the day after Thanksgiving or Black Friday, but it held a whole new meaning for Frankie that year.

Faith squealed from a corner table when Frankie pushed through the store's front entrance. The place was packed with weary shoppers that had, most likely, been up since three in the morning, blowing all their cash at the mall in town. Strong black coffee mingled with the scent of blueberry muffins wafted around Frankie as she approached her friends.

Faith jumped from her seat and pulled Frankie in for a hug. “I have missed you, Chickadee!”

“Faith, you were only gone one day.”

“I know, but Thanksgiving wasn’t the same without you!” she handed Frankie a steaming hot mocha latte. “I ordered for you,”

“Hey, Hunter.”

He looked up from his phone just long enough to nod a greeting. “Hiya, Frankie,” he said before returning to the game he was playing.

“You are going to get carpal tunnel in your thumbs from playing that game so much,” Faith shook her head but didn’t raise any other admonishment.

“You’ll never guess what I got yesterday,” Frankie bounced in her seat.

“Salmonella?”

“Nope!” Frankie pulled an envelope from her purse and gingerly pulled out a folded piece of tissue.

“What is that?” Faith tilted her head to the side and quirked an eyebrow.

“The ‘sample,’” Frankie said in air quotes and whispered loudly. “For Operation Who’s Your Daddy.”

“From Old Man Winters? Oh, my gosh! How did you get that?”

“Mom invited him for dessert yesterday, and I stole it from the collar of his jacket,” Frankie puffed her chest out. “Sneaky, huh?”

“I’ll say! But I can’t believe he was in your apartment!” her mouth gaped open momentarily.

“She didn’t even tell me she invited him. But that is a conversation for another. Right now, we have a problem with the test.”

‘Uh oh, what kind of problem?”

Frankie withdrew the instruction sheet and several forms accompanying the test kit from her purse. She glanced over her shoulder to see if patrons were paying attention to them. Satisfied their conversation was private, she pointed to one of the forms. “I was reading the directions for the test kit, and we have a bigger issue than just getting a hair strand…We can’t send in the test kit without Mr. Winter’s signature and a copy of his driver’s license.”

“How in the heck are we going to get that?!” Faithe exclaimed loudly. Several heads turned in their direction. Even Hunter looked up from his phone.

“Shhhhh!” Frankie admonished her friend.

“Sorry, but how are we supposed to get his signature and ID?”

“I have been up all night trying to devise a plan. The best I can come up with is breaking into the school office and getting ahold of his employee file. I’m not into a breaking and entering charge against me.”

“There has to be another way.”

“What if we pickpocket his wallet?”

“We could get a fake ID made for him,” Faith voiced wairely. “My cousin might know someone that knows someone….”

“I can get that stuff for you,” Hunter joined the conversation unexpectedly. Frankie hadn’t realized he was listening.

“How are you going to get that? Mug him in a dark alley and force him to sign?”

“No, Miss NCIS. Wow, you have such a criminal mind, I swear,” Hunter teased his girlfriend.

“Then how?” Frankie's eyes bounced between Faith and Hunter like watching a tennis match from center court.

Hunter leaned forward and whispered to the center of the table. “He has an account at Gaming World. His license and signature are on file. I’ll make a copy tomorrow when I’m at work,” He settled back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Piece of cake.”

“Oh my gosh, you can do that?” Frankie's pulse began to race. “What if you get caught?”

“I won’t. I am opening tomorrow morning, and I’ll be the only one there until noon when Nate comes in.”

“You are the best!” Faith shrieked as she lunged toward Hunter and smothered him in kisses.

“Wow, Hunter, you don’t say much, but you pack a wallop when you do!” Frankie giggled. Hunter shrugged a shoulder and went back to his phone.

Frankie carefully placed the tissue with Michael Winter’s hair strand back in the envelope and secured it inside her wallet. In a week or so, she would know whether Mr. Winters was her father or if her mom had been living in a fairytale.

“It’s getting crowded in here. Do you want to head out?” Frankie pouted her bottom lip as she looked inside her empty coffee mug. “Nothing is sadder than the bottom of a cup of coffee.”

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“My roommate went home for Thanksgiving. We can watch a movie or something.” This wasn’t the first time Hunter had offered all of them to hang out in his dorm room, but Steve was usually with them. Frankie started to decline; remembering when Frankie had asked to hang out with Faith and Hunter in his dorm room, her excuse was always, “it doesn’t look good for a young lady to be coming out of a boy’s apartment.” She was one to talk!

“Sure!” Frankie piped up. “I don’t want to spend today day at home.”

“Well, let’s go!” Faith’s grin widened as she jingled her keys in the air, “Pickle is waiting!”

“You two go ahead, and I will meet you there,” Hunter scooted back from the table and put his coat on. “I’ll stop at the store and grab some munchies and drinks.”

“Okay, Sweetie, we’ll pick up the movies,” Faith leaned over and kissed her boyfriend.

“No sappy Rom-Coms!” he instructed the pair of girls.

“Don’t worry, Hunter, I hate them too.” Frankie assured him, “I will pick out something with lots of blood and gore.” Hunter nodded his head in agreement.

“Nooo,” Faith whined. “That isn’t fair!”

“Sorry, Babe, you are outnumbered this time, and pouting won’t help.” Hunter tweaked her nose and winked before heading to his Jeep parked outside the coffee shop.

The girls stopped by a RedBox near the campus and picked a few movies to binge on for the rest of the afternoon. Frankie stayed true to her word and rented two Stephen King movies, but Faith rented The Princess Bride. Frankie to rolled her eyes at Faith’s selection.

“What? I will watch it at home tomorrow while Hunter is working.” she gave her best innocent tone.

“You are such a sap.”

“Let’s go,” Faith hurried them along the slushy sidewalk toward her VW after retrieving their selections from the machine. “It’s starting to snow again.”

“I hope Hunter gets hot chocolate!”

“Me too!” Faith licked her lips, “and jalapeno poppers!”

“You like the strangest combinations!”

“What can I say? I have an eclectic pallet.”

It was warm inside the dorm room, and Frankie was thankful. Standing in the snow, scrolling through the screen at the RedBox, had chilled her to the bone. Not only had it begun to snow again, but the wind whipped around them fiercely. She expected to see Dorothy and Toto whiz by at any second.

“I don’t ever remember it being this cold,” Frankie mused as she settled in a beanbag closest to the floor heater. “And snow in November? That is crazy!”

“That’s ‘Global Warming’ for ya.”

“I know, right?” Both girls laughed as Hunter walked in.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” they said in unison.

Hunter quirked an eyebrow in their direction but didn’t question them further. “Okay, so I got the goods! Hot Chocolate, Hawaiian Punch, popcorn, corn chips, and jalapeno poppers.”

“You do love me!” Faith wrapped her arms and legs around Hunter, grinning like an opossum. Frankie rolled her eyes and picked at the nail polish peeling off her left hand.

“What are we watching first?”

“Pet Cemetary,” Frankie offered, handing him the DVD to queue up. “Why did you get Hawaiian Punch? We aren’t in kindergarten anymore.” Hunter could be just as odd as Faith sometimes.

“I saw a drink on Tic Tok that I want to try.”

“An alcoholic drink?”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to try it. I know you don’t drink. I learned that the hard way at the Homecoming dance,” He chuckled and rubbed his ribs. Faith must have taught him a good lesson. “Faith, are you game?”

“Yup. I’m not driving anywhere. I told Mom I was staying at Frankie's,” she perched herself in the corner of Hunter’s bed with her back against the wall facing the TV. “Start the movie so already!”

An hour into the movie, Hunter and Faith were finished with the hot chocolate and changed to the poppers and “Drop Kick” drink Hunter had talked about. Blue Hawaiian Punch and Jim Beam didn’t sound very good to Frankie, but they seemed to enjoy it.

“Can I have another one, Babe?” Faith cooed at Hunter with glassy eyes.

“Faith, are you sure you need another one?” Frankie asked cautiously. “You’ve already had three.” She had never seen her best friend drink before, which made her uncomfortable. She felt like a third wheel at their little movie marathon. She wished Steve was with her. He wouldn’t be drinking, either.

“I don’t need another one. I want another one.” Faith giggled loudly and burped. “Ooopsie!”

“C’mon. Live a little, Frankie.” Hunter peered at Frankie over a red solo cup and swirled the contents. “Just have a little one. I will make it weak. I promise.” She knew she shouldn’t. She twirled a strand of hair in her fingers and pursed her lips.

“I don’t know. I probably shouldn’t.”

“Oh, come on, Chickadee. Have some fun! It’s Black Friday!”

“Thanksgiving is the holiday, not Black Friday.”

“Whatever,” Faith slurred slightly, thrusting her almost empty cup toward Frankie. “Here, just have a taste. It is soooo yummy!”

“Okay, just a taste.” Faith fell off the bed as she handed her cup to Frankie and rolled on the floor laughing.

Frankie latched on to the drink before it landed on the floor and took a sip. It tasted like cherries, but the notes of whiskey burned as it lingered on her tongue after the sweetness of the punch dissipated. She took another tentative sip, emptying the solo cup of its contents.

“This is pretty good,” Frankie admitted.

“Told you!” squealed Faith. “Now, gimme my drink back!”

Frankie returned the empty cup to Faith and felt a slight flush rise in her cheeks; she wondered if two sips could affect her. She wondered if she could already be drunk but decided she was paranoid and asked Hunter to make her a drink. “Make it weak, okay?”

“Sure thing,” he was already pouring Jim Beam into a fresh Solo cup and topping it off with the red punch. Frankie took the drink and sniffed it.

“There isn’t much in here, right?”

“Barely a shot,” He promised, crossing his heart with the index finger on his right hand.

Frankie snuggled back into the bean bag, feeling a warmth come over her as she continued sipping the red liquid from her cup. She liked the drink and had consumed two full Solo cups of “Drop Kick” when the movie finished. Faith had fallen asleep, and Hunter was arguing with the film, making no sense. He seemed pretty drunk.

“I think I need to go home,” Frankie informed Hunter and a sleeping Faith. She peeled herself off the floor and swayed as she stood. Her stomach churned, and her head felt huge. She wanted her bed.

“Faith is passed out, so I’ll take you,” Hunter fumbled for his keys and dropped them on the floor.

“No, that’s okay. I already sent for an Uber on the App.” Frankie assured him. “What about Faith?” she could tell he wasn’t in any shape to drive.

“I’ll take care of here,” he slurred.

Frankie nodded and stumbled over her own feet two feet as she headed toward the door. The room started to spin; she clutched the doorknob like it was her lifeline.

“Gonna make it, Frank?”

She turned to look at Hunter, but there were two of him. “Yeah, I think so,” she shook her head, trying to clear her vision, but that only worsened matters. She heard Hunter chuckle through the fog in her brain.

“Now, you know why it’s called ‘Drop Kick.’ It drop kicks you in the ass when you stand up.” He roared, laughing as she stumbled her way out the door.

The cold air hit her face and felt good on her skin. She pulled her coat on, made her way to the sidewalk, and waited for her ride. She noted the sun was low in the sky and judged it to be around 4:00ish in the afternoon. It was time for dinner, and her mom would expect her soon, but the thought of food made her tummy rumble again.

Her Uber finally arrived fifteen minutes later. She climbed in the back seat, rattled off her address, and put her head between her knees to avoid puking. Her fingers were frozen popsicles because she didn’t wear gloves. The chatty blonde driver talked nonstop from the university to the apartment complex, but Frankie could only grunt responses. She wished the driver would shut up and let her die in peace. She kept thinking the drink “Drop Kick” should be renamed “Drop Dead” because that is how she felt.

Climbing the stairs to their apartment was equivalent to reaching the summit of Mt. Everest. The steps were slippery from the snow, or she was dizzy from drinking; she wasn’t sure which was the case. The ten stairs to the second floor were kicking her butt. Frankie stopped twice to focus her vision. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, and she couldn’t understand why people thought being drunk was fun. She was not having fun.

Stumbling through the breezeway, Frankie finally reached the door to their apartment and was thankful she would be able to collapse in her bed within moments. She leaned her head against the door. More accurately, she banged her body against the door without the strength to pick her head up and rifled through her purse for her keys. Upon hearing Frankie knocking on the front door (with her head), her mom jerked the door open without warning.

“What the hell?” Frankie cried out as she fell into the foyer of the apartment.

“Frankie! What is wrong with you? Are you hurt? Where have you been?” the questions came rapidly as Rachel helped Frankie to her feet.

“I’m fine. Let go of me.” Frankie slurred in her mom’s face. Rachel winched at Frankie’s breath and backed away from her daughter.

“Oh. My. God.” Rachel enunciated slowly in disbelief. “You are drunk!”

“I’m sick. Bad Mexican food,” Frankie could not lift her eyes to look at her mom, which was good because staring at her feet, she saw four instead of two.

“Don’t even try it, Young Lady! I didn’t come over on the turnip truck yesterday! You reek of whiskey!”

“Move!” Frankie bellowed and ran past her mom to the hall bathroom. Ten minutes later, she lay on the cold tile, praying to the porcelain princess that the room would stop spinning.

She woke up hours later with a pounding headache, vomit on her jeans, and a blanket was thrown over her. She had no idea how long she had passed out, but the apartment was dark, and she could hear her mom on the phone in her bedroom. Slowly, she crawled across the floor and climbed into her bed.

She knew there would be hell to pay tomorrow, but right then…she didn’t care.