Got A Hold On You (Ringside Romance) (17 page)

From a business standpoint he was right. The fans
could make or break an organization like WHAK, and the fans expected Jack to
show up with his new bride.

She wished she could call Mama for advice, but she’d
have to tell her where she was and what she was doing. Frankie needed help, not
a well-deserved lecture.

Running her fingers over the black plastic telephone,
she considered what to tell Bradley. He was so excited about coming to Chicago
and working with his new client. She’d panicked at first, thinking he’d find
out what she was really doing. Then she remembered Bradley’s work ethic. When
absorbed in an audit, he crunched numbers from dawn until dusk, even on
weekends. He said the only time he could carve out a few hours was tonight.
He’d be so disappointed.

Yeah, but he’d flip if he found out she was
moonlighting as a half-naked feline. There was no way he’d understand her
devotion to her crazy uncle.

Bradley was a man of common sense and practicality.
Emotions and obligation rarely entered into his thought process. She wondered
what he’d think about her strutting out on Jack’s arm, prancing around in the
ring wearing nearly nothing.

“I can kiss my engagement goodbye, she muttered.

And she had the ring all picked out, too. They’d put
the half-carat, pear-shaped diamond on layaway during a recent close out sale
at Smith and Wesson Jewelers.

But this wasn’t about rings. This was about Bradley,
her perfect mate, practical, smart, and honorable. You wouldn’t find Bradley
going from city to city pretending to beat up other men for fun, while jumping
in and out of bed with one bimbo after another. Nor would you find him tumbling
across the countryside trying to find himself, abandoning his family, his
children.

No, Bradley was dependable and stable, the cornerstone
of her life.

She’d lose him for sure if he caught her in this lie.

“Time to come clean.” She dialed his number.

“Bradley Dunsmore’s office,” his
secretary Ruth answered.

“Hi Ruth, it’s Francine. May I speak to Bradley?”

“Oh, again?”

“I forgot to tell him something.”

“Sure, hold on,” she said with surprise in her voice,
because it wasn’t like Frankie to call twice in one day.

While holding for Bradley she debated how to explain
what she’d been doing this past week.

“Frankie? Everything okay?” Bradley answered.

“Sure, I need to talk to you about something. Have you
got a minute?”

“What’s happened, Sweetums? Did the annuity report
come in from Harper?”

“No, it’s—”

“Your feet aren’t cracked, are they? You know how
important it is to continue the cod liver oil massages before bed.”

“My feet are fine.”

“Reservations are all set for tonight at Leo’s Fish
House. The Thursday special is all-you-can-eat calamari with a side of hash
browns.”

“Nipper, I’m sorry. I won’t be able to make it.”

Disappointed silence filled the line.

“You still there?” she said.

“I’m here.”

“I’ve been lying to you, Bradley. I’m sorry, but I
didn’t think you’d understand so I made up the story about a sick relative.”

More silence.

She took a deep breath and continued. “I’m actually
helping my uncle with his business. I’ve taken an extended leave from work
because it’s going to be a while, maybe two months, before I feel confident the
company is back on its feet.”

“Your uncle? You never mentioned an uncle.”

“He’s kind of…different. His business isn’t exactly in
the mainstream.”

“Is he a criminal?” Bradley hushed.

“No, nothing like that.” Not yet anyway.

“Pornography?”

“Bradley, stop. Look, I can’t tell you over the
phone.”

“I don’t like the sound of this, or the fact you lied
to me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“And dinner? You’re breaking our date because…?”

“I have to help my uncle with a promotion.”

“What kind of promotion?”

“We can talk about it when I see you. How about Friday
night or Saturday?”

“Can’t. Working all weekend.”

“Sunday night? You’ll still be in town, won’t you?”

“Let me check my flight. Hang on.”

He put her on hold. She wondered whether he was making
her wait on purpose. She knew he was staying through Monday and rarely made
plans on Sunday evenings, his designated reading night. Then again it might be
tough to choose between reading
Money
Magic
for the fifth time and dining with his lying future fiancée.

“I can schedule you for Sunday although the company
booked me on a flight first thing Monday morning. It’ll have to be an early
night.”

“Six o’clock early enough?”

“That should be fine.”

His tone was warming up.

“Leo’s Fish House?” she suggested.

“They won’t be running the calamari special.”

“We’ll splurge. I’ll buy, okay? I really am sorry
about all this.”

“Well, you’re a sharp girl. I’m sure you have your
reasons.”

If he only knew.

“And Francine?”

“Yes?”

“Check your e-mail when you get a chance. I sent you a
surprise.”

“Thanks, Nipper.”

“Bye.”

She ended the call and smiled to herself. Everything
would be okay. Bradley would forgive her for not being up front with him once
he found out what she was doing. Well, maybe not everything she was doing.
Would she ever be able to confess parading half naked in front of thousands of
people? Maybe she wouldn’t have to. No one besides Uncle Joe and Jack knew who
she really was under the black mask and feathers. And no one ever would.

She logged onto her uncle’s computer and checked her
e-mail. Bradley’s message topped the list. It was entitled, “For my girl.”

“How romantic.” She clicked it open. A scanned
newspaper article popped onto the screen listing growing stock funds. Circled
in bold ink were stock figures for Daisy’s Diapers. Good old Bradley, always
keeping track of things for her. What would she do without him?

***

Four hours later Frankie scanned the crowd of fans
lined up at the Sterling Falls Shopping Mall. “I can’t believe all these people
are here for me.”

“Us, sweetheart, not you.” Jack nodded to a security
guard, who escorted them down a narrow hallway.

Jack hadn’t said much during the three-hour drive to
the capital of the cornfields. She hated silence, especially when it was
directed at her. Mama used to give her the same treatment when she’d bring home
a B instead of an A, or if she forgot to stop by Nana’s on the way home from
Girl Scouts.

She tagged behind Jack, barely able to keep up with
his determined stride. He was determined to get away from her, no doubt. Her
temper flared. It was his idea to bring her along. He could have made this
appearance alone, without his woman.

You’re my wife.
I need you with me...everywhere
.

Her heart skipped at the memory of the primal command
in his voice. It made her simultaneously cringe and thrill. How could that be?

“Come on, move it,” he said, approaching the entrance
to the stage.

“Hold your horses, cowboy. The fans aren’t going
anywhere.”

Obviously it was going to take him a while to get over
the big, ugly lie and forgive her. Tough. Her loyalty was to Uncle Joe not
Black Jack Hudson.

A voice boomed across the PA system. “Black Jack
Hudson and his tiger wife, Tatianna.”

He took her hand and pulled her to his side. “Smile
and wave.”

She searched his eyes. Hoping for what? Understanding?
Forgiveness?
Dream on, Frankie.

The white curtain parted and they stepped onto the
stage. Security men lined the platform with arms crossed over their chests,
their faces somber and intense. You’d think they were protecting the president
of the United States instead of a silly comic book hero. Had the whole world
gone mad?

A sea of fans hooted and hollered from both the first
and second levels of the mall. With a nervous smile she waved to the crowd and
they cheered even louder. This wasn’t so bad.

Suddenly Jack grabbed her wrist, flattened her palm
against his chest and stared deep into her eyes. Her fingertips burned where
they slipped off his tank top and touched bare skin.

“Gotta give them what they want,” he said, his voice
low and husky.

“What they want?” she said, barely able to think. His
piercing green eyes darkened to the color of a pine forest.

He kissed her. It was a soft, gentle kiss, smoldering
with need she thought would fry her circuits. She dug her gloved hands into his
shoulders, pulling him closer, wanting his lips to open.

He broke the kiss abruptly. Dizzy with desire she
glanced into his eyes waiting for his next command. God, she needed to get away
from this man, and fast.

“Chill, kid. It’s just a show,” he said with a
condescending smile.

She balled her hand into a fist. “You’re enjoying
this, aren’t you?”

“Aren’t you?”

There was that smile again, that
I’m-gonna-eat-you-alive smile. It made her want to snap her whip across his
hind quarters. Instead, she ran the thin piece of leather along her open palm
and tried to regain her composure. Jack sat down but she remained standing,
whip at the ready. First he punished her with silence and then he tortured her
with desire.

That’s all it was, animal attraction, nothing more. It
wasn’t like she respected this man, thought highly of him like she did her
future fiancé.

A middle-aged security guard led the first group of
enthusiastic fans onto the stage.

Jack handed Frankie a black pen. “I’ll sign, then pass
it to you to make your mark.”

“My mark?”

“A scratch, paw print, whatever.”

“Jerk.”

“What?” He pinned her with his eyes.

“Your first adoring fan is here, Black Jack.” She shot
him a forced grin and gritted her teeth. It was going to be a long day, a very
long day.

A little boy with round cheeks and a huge grin
approached the table with his mom. The kid sported a crew cut and waved a foam
hammer that read “Black Jack Attack.” He couldn’t have been more than six.

“Hey, kiddo, what’s your name?” Jack said in a gentle
voice.

“Jeffrey.”

“Nice to meet you, Jeffrey.” He pressed his pen to an
eight-by-ten glossy of him twisting the Basher’s legs into the shape of a
pretzel.

“She’s funny,” Jeffrey said, pointing to Frankie. “You
gonna have kittens?”

Jack’s pen slipped, slicing an arc across the Basher’s
bald scalp.

“No kittens.” He slid the photo to Frankie.

“Meow,” she purred, arcing a decorative “T” across the
bottom of the photo. How could he do it? How could he lie to a child by
pretending to be a superhero when in fact he was an average man with an
overgrown ego?

“You’re gonna have real people babies?” Jeffrey asked.

His mother flushed. “I’m sorry,” she said to Jack,
then looked at her son. “Jeffrey, honey, that’s kind of a personal question.”

“Oh.” Jeffrey studied his feet.

“It’s okay, kiddo.” Jack patted the boy’s tiny fingers
and the child’s face lit up.

What a joke, Frankie thought, drawing a claw next to
her initial. Hundreds of fans crammed the mall expecting to meet a real hero, a
superstar, a great man. Yet they were paying homage to a master pretender, a
man who dominated the world around him with his body, with brute force.

She slid the photo toward the little boy whose
attention was still riveted to his hero. Frankie tried to tear her gaze from
the boy’s awed expression but couldn’t. Something squeezed her heart. Something
pure and honest reflected from Jeffrey’s hazel eyes.

Something very real.

The mother thanked Jack and Frankie and led the boy
away. Frankie must have muttered something, but she didn’t know what. She was
still feeling a little off balance. She pulled out a metal folding chair and
sat down.

The next customer was an animated teenage girl.

“I dropped out last year but I’m working on my GED.”
She snapped her gum and shoved her hands into the front pockets of her jeans.
“I read what you said in
Wrestler’s
Wisdom Magazine
about getting an education. You made me go back to school.”

He capped the pen and eyed the girl. “No, kiddo, you
did that all by yourself. I’m glad I said something that inspired you.”

“I want to be an astronaut.” She jutted out her chin
as if expecting him to challenge her.

“Go for it.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Give yourself more credit. Something like that comes
from inside. Here.” He placed an open palm to his chest.

“What’s the holdup?” a burly security guard called
from the edge of the stage.

“Sorry,” he said to the girl.
 
“Gotta keep the line moving. Good
luck.”

“Thanks.” She practically floated off the stage.

“Oh, brother,” Frankie muttered.

“What?”

“You inspired her? Give me a break.”

“People find strength wherever they can. But then you
wouldn’t know about that would you? I mean, you were born tough as nails, right
Frank?”

She wanted to slap him silly, get in his face and
shout that he couldn’t be more wrong, that she had a soft side, a vulnerable
side.

What was happening to her?

“Jack Hudson? I don’t suppose you remember me?”

Jack tore his attention from the Franken Niece and
glanced up into the familiar, but weathered face of Vicious Vic, an old-time
grappler who’d made his name in the Northeast.

“Vic? I can’t believe it.” Standing, he shook the
former champion’s hand. “What are you doing in this part of the country?”

“Meryl and I moved back here in ’88. Took over her
dad’s grain business. This is my grandson, Bruce.”