The Russos 3 Page 3

Tony shouldn't feel awkward around his own blood, but she knew he did.

  She placed a hand on his shoulder and then looked at her son. Janet had warned her about the feeding tube, but it still frightened her to see her son like this.

  "How are you?" she asked Tony.

  "Okay. And you?"

  She met his eyes. "I'm going to make a lot of things all right soon. If I make things right, then Johnny will open his eyes and get well."

  Tony narrowed his eyes. He had no idea what she was talking about. This was not the first time he had heard her say things like that. She seemed prone to ramble a bit, which made him wonder if she might be a little senile.

  When he brought the idea up to his aunt earlier on, she dismissed it. "Your grandmother has only just turned sixty, Tony. That's a little young to go senile."

  But she did add that sometimes she mumbled things, as if to herself, that she couldn't make head nor tail of."

  Tony decided to ask her what she meant by making things right. "What things?" he inquired.

  She was caressing his father's brow now, gently cooing to him as if he were still a small child.

  When she didn't answer he tried again, this time in a louder voice. "What do you mean, Mrs. Russo...eh...Grandmother...when you say that you're going to make things right?"

  She looked at him, and then smiled. "You called me Grandmother. Thank you."

  He blushed a little.

  She went back to caressing his dad's forehead.

  "Drake is going to be here tonight."

  Tony inhaled. "He is?"

  "Yes, they're releasing him. God has released my boy because he knows I am going to release both of them from their pain."

  Tony sighed and walked over to the window. He pushed aside the heavy curtains. The sun streamed into the room.

  Outside, the fans were still occupying part of the parking lot. Police cars and vehicles bearing the names of television and radio stations were everywhere.

  Reporters were making statements into their microphones, while cameras spanned the parking lot and the hospital windows.

  Tony closed the curtains.

  His grandmother was leaning over the bed and speaking in a low voice to her son as if he were awake and could hear her.

  Tony silently left the room without his question ever being answered.

  * * * * * *

  His aunt was sitting in the waiting room smoking a cigarette. They had spent most of the afternoon talking.

  He felt bad after his cousin left. He hadn't meant to say what he did to Angelo about his father. He knew the two brothers were close, and that the shooting had been an accident. The words had just tumbled out of his mouth.

  He confessed to her that he felt like a stranger here and how he wasn't even sure he belonged.

  She understood. She held him when he cried.

  Now Drake was coming. The Drake Russo was being released from jail. Tonight he would be face to face with this superstar who was his uncle.

  He needed air but he wasn't allowed to go wandering around outside for security reasons.

  Janet suggested they go downstairs for a coffee.

  The cafeteria was huge. One end of it was filled with people in white coats eating on trays, talking about diseases and medications. The other end, where he and his aunt took their place was where the visitors and mobile patients were scattered. They huddled around ashtrays and drank murky coffee from the vending machines with that white stuff in it, and talked about their aches and pains.

  "So," his aunt said, sitting across from him with her paper cup, "you got a girlfriend back home? You haven't told me much about your life at all."

  She was really a very pretty lady, his aunt--beautiful, even, with her shoulder length blond pageboy and china blue eyes. He shook his head.

  "No girlfriend?" She paused suddenly. "Boyfriend?"

  He blushed.

  "This is L.A., Tony. You can tell me if you're gay."

  She could tell he was uncomfortable with the subject and she didn't know if she should pursue it or not. She knew that her son had flirted with the possibility of being gay himself.

  Drake was the one who had 'the' talk with Angelo when he was old enough to ask the questions. He had explained to him that there was a wide range of possibilities when it came to sexuality, and that he would find out what was right for him when the time came. She had no idea how old Angelo was when he had his first sexual experience, but Drake assured her that he knew what was going on with him. "Don't worry, Janet. He's smart and he knows about condoms and he has a very open mind and mature attitude toward his sexuality."

  Looking at her nephew now, she was getting the impression that he was a little confused sexually, and it didn't look like he had anyone to talk to about it.

  "If you ever want to discuss..." she began.

  Tony interrupted. "Sometimes I think I might be...you know...attracted to men, but I have had sex with a few girls," he blurted.

  She nodded. "Maybe you're still too young to..." she began.

  "I'll be eighteen in a week," he replied.

  "You know, you should talk to your cousin Angelo about it," Janet suggested, swallowing her cold coffee.

  "Angelo?" He seemed horrified. "I could never tell him that. Please, don't, okay?" He looked around him nervously.

  She reached over and patted his hand. He seemed really upset. "I won't. I just thought...it's okay. Listen, what do you feel like eating? I'm starving, and I don't want whatever that is," she wrinkled her nose and looked over toward what was left of someone's meal on a deserted tray.

  "Me neither," he laughed.

  "Let's go out to a restaurant, my treat," she offered.

  They both rose out of their seats and headed for the parking lot.

  They got into the car, and Janet waved to the security men. She laughed when Tony waved as well.

  * * * * * *

  Tony was quiet on the way to the restaurant. He tried to concentrate on the various places his aunt was pointing out to him on the way, but he was distracted. He couldn't believe that he had told his aunt how he felt about men. God, it was the first time in his life he had confessed that aloud to another living soul, not even Sam. And Drake Russo's son was the very last person he wanted to discuss his sexuality with.

  God, what would his cousin think if he told him that it wasn't a Playboy centrefold which was his inspiration when he finally began to seriously masturbate at the age of fifteen, but his father, rock star Drake Russo.

  When he was a kid, he hero-worshipped him, but as soon as he hit puberty, his hormones went crazy. In his mind, Drake Russo was the sexiest person alive. At night before he went to sleep, he would kiss the shiny paper face that stared out at him in that poster he kept on his wall beside the bed. He would fall asleep with the sound of that deep voice singing through his earphones. He would make believe he was singing to him, and he would drift off in contentment.

  Ya sure, talk to Drake's son about his sexual attraction to men. What exactly was he supposed to tell him? "Hey cousin, it was your father who gave me my first serious hardon when I hit puberty. Of course, I had no idea that the guy was my uncle at the time."

  He started to laugh because it was just too crazy.

  His aunt looked over at him. "What?" she said.

  "Nothing, I was just thinking what a crazy stupid world this can be."

  She nodded as she pulled into the parking lot of one of her favourite Italian Restaurants. "Kid, you said a mouthful," she remarked and patted his knee.

  * * * * * *

  Francine sat down on one of the leather sofas and tried to relax. It had been a harrowing ride to Drake's home in Malibu. At one point, she thought that green van was going to run them off the freeway.

  Drake poured some scotch into a glass and handed it to her.

  She was still shaking.

  He was angry as hell. He pulled up the antenna on his cordless phone and punched in the number for the private neighbourhood police
force.

  She sipped her drink and then coughed a little, trying to relax. She lit a cigarette and then looked surprised as he held out his hand for one.

  She lit another one and passed it to him.

  The voice on the other end of the phone belonged to Sergeant Lewinsky.

  "Lewinsky, this is Drake Russo. Listen, fucking reporters almost drove me off the goddamned freeway on my way home tonight, and now my house is surrounded." He went to the window and peered outside. "They're all over my lawn. I want you to send someone over here to get these people off my property now!"

  "I'm sorry, sir," Lewinsky replied, recognizing how angry he was, "we've been busy tonight. Two attempted robberies. I knew you were coming home, but you got here earlier than expected. I'll come personally right away with backup, sir."

  "Ya, well, you can provide an escort to the hospital as well. I have to see my brother."

  "No problem, sir," Lewinsky replied.

  "Shit, no wonder we got here fast," Drake said to Francine as he hung up the phone, "we must have been doing one hundred and twenty on the freeway. I can't believe it, those assholes chasing us like that!" He took a drag of the cigarette and then sat down beside her on the sofa. "They'll do anything for a story."

  Francine reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder. He was really tense. "Wow, you're tight as a coil."

  He moved his neck around a few times as she gently began to rub his shoulder.

  "Ya, I get like that. Johnny used to massage my shoulders and back after a concert. I'd be in real pain. Sometimes it was the only thing that would put me to sleep."

  Francine crushed out her cigarette and drained the last of her scotch. "Want me to try?"

  He looked genuinely hesitant. "No...it's..."

  "Come on," she coaxed, "lie down on your stomach. I'll try to get some of the kinks out."

  She moved off the sofa. He lay down and slowly rolled onto his stomach. She sat on the edge near his middle and began to massage his neck with both hands.

  He made some appreciative noises.

  "Did I tell you what a good driver you are?" he murmured.

  "No, but thanks. Stop thinking about that, just relax," she said softly.

  "If I relax any more, I'm going to pass out," he chuckled deeply.

  Her hands moved from his neck to his shoulders, then down to the small of his back. She lifted his shirt and placed her hands on the naked flesh of his back.

  The feel of his skin startled her a little: soft and smooth, so taut and toned. She moved her hands up and down his back, under his shirt, stopping at the waistband of his jeans, trying to avoid letting her eyes wander over the swell of his buttocks.

  She imagined what it would like to massage his entire body as he lay there naked on that sofa. She ran a tongue over her lips in anticipation. She almost lowered her lips to the back of his neck.

  "Should I take off my shirt?" he asked her.

  She knew it was an innocent question.

  "Take off what you like," she laughed nervously. She had meant it to sound like a joke. It didn't.

  Drake raised his head, and turned to look up at her.

  "Francine?" he said. His voice was deep, questioning.

  She stood up. "Don't act so goddamned innocent," she snapped.

  He blinked and sat up. "Did I do something wrong?"

  "Yes...yes, but it's not your fault. It's the fault of whoever made you."

  She sighed and then laughed, because he had the most perplexed expression on his face.

  "You're so beautiful," Francine said, walking over to where he sat on the sofa. She caressed his cheek with her fingers. Then she stood away from him again.

  "Have you ever done something you know you shouldn't have done, just because it was irresistible to you?"

  He pushed some of his long black hair out of his face.

  "Yep," he replied, his expression serious. "Now, what is it that you're thinking about doing that you shouldn't do, Francine?"

  "You're teasing me," she accused.

  "I don't mean to. Maybe you're teasing me!" He raised an eyebrow.

  She laughed out loud.

  "What?" He grinned.

  "I doubt you've ever been teased by anyone for too long," Francine shook her head.

  "You'd be wrong to assume that. I assure you I have been teased."

  "When?" she demanded comically.

  "Well...once, maybe...when I was...eh...let's see..."

  "Comedian." She laughed. She sat down beside him, shaking her head. "Tell me something."

  "Something else?" His eyes widened good-naturedly. "Okay, what?"

  "If I was to do what I know I shouldn't do with you, would it be a one-time thing?"

  He met her eyes. "I don't know. How can I tell you that now?"

  "Is there even a tiny chance you could ever fall in love with me...just a tiny chance?" She avoided his eyes now.

  She would have been happy if he had responded in the same way, telling her that it was too early to tell, but he didn't.

  "Listen, Francine, I'm not going to lie to you. I'm in love with someone I can never be with...ever, and I will never love anyone else in my life like that. If you want to spend some time with me...if you want to be my lover...I'm interested, but I can't give you much more than that."

  "So, I could end up with a broken heart," she stated flatly.

  He took her hand. "Not if you go into to it with your eyes open."

  "Well, I'll have to think about it a while," she squeezed his hand.

  The doorbell rang.

  "Excuse me," he said and went to the window. There were police vehicles outside. Lewinsky was here, barking orders at the reporters, taking off the police officer hat and then putting it back on again.

  "Are you ready to go with me to the hospital, or have you decided to..." Drake turned to look at her.

  She looked back at him. "No, I'm coming with you."

  She knew it was already too late to turn back now.

  * * * * * *

  When Janet saw Drake step off the elevator, she completely forgot she was in a hospital and let out a yell.

  Drake smiled when he saw her. She got up out of her seat and ran toward him.

  She didn't notice the woman at his side until her ex-husband took her into his embrace.

  "Are you okay?" she asked him.

  He hugged her tight and kissed her full on the mouth. His kisses still had the power to send a little shiver down her spine.

  "I'm fine," he nodded, releasing her. "Janet, this is Francine Thomson." He stood aside in order to introduce the woman. "She's my lawyer."

  "Really?" Janet said, smiling at her. She took her hand. "We are grateful to you, Ms. Thomson."

  "Francine, please and it was my pleasure," she smiled back.

  Janet recognized the look in the woman's eyes almost immediately. Francine Thomson saw her as a potential rival. Janet didn't feel offended by that, however. Rather, she could only pity her, for she knew what lay ahead. On one level, she felt like shaking her, demanding to know if she were out of her mind.

  At the very least, she wanted to warn her. She wanted to tell her that she knew he was gorgeous and famous. She also knew how he was capable of driving her wild in bed, but he'd never love her. She'd give him everything and he would treat her like a queen, but there would always be something missing. His heart would never ever be hers.

  Janet wanted to yell in her face, "Look at me, I was his wife, I even had his son, but I never really had him."

  "You all alone?" Drake was asking her now, shaking her out of her trance. "Are you okay? You look a little depressed, Jan."

  She shook her head. "I'm fine. Your mother and Tony are with Johnny."

  "Where's my son?"

  "I don't know. He must be with Pepi and Mac, or with some of his friends. I haven't seen him since this morning." Janet sat back down.

  "I'm going to get some coffee," Francine said. "Want some?" She looked at Drake, then Janet.<
br />
  They both refused.

  Francine walked over to the coffee machine.

  "Well," Janet smiled at him, taking his hand, "should I drive her crazy and start cuddling with you in the corner?"

  He narrowed his eyes, and then laughed out loud.

  "Another notch on the bedpost?" Janet raised an eyebrow.

  "It's not like that," he muttered.

  "Really? It will be. It's not exactly the norm to bring your lawyer with you everywhere you go, is it?"

  "She gave me a ride here," he replied, entwining his fingers, looking down at the floor.

  "That was cooperative of her. When's the hearing?"

  "Probably not for a while." He paused and then met his ex wife's eyes. "Is Johnny going to make it, Janet?"

  She looked away.

  "Listen, we've always been honest with one another. You can tell me."

  She studied him. He looked as young as Angelo suddenly, with his faded jeans and brown cable knit sweater. A thirty-six-year-old little boy. She wanted to hold him. She knew by the look in his eyes that he was suffering.

  She opened her mouth to say something, but he slapped his hands together suddenly and gave her an irritated look. "You're going to treat me like a child and play games with me too, aren't you?"

  "Drake, I'm not playing games. No one is. The truth is, no one knows, not even the doctors. There is no answer to your question."

  He relaxed then, reeled back in his chair, pressing it against the wall. He pounded his head against the wall a few times and closed his eyes.

  He was putting off what he had wanted to do more than anything. He was suddenly afraid to see Johnny, afraid that he would lose his mind or break down and cry so hard he wouldn't be able to stop.

  "Tony is here. I told you that, I guess. He's a little nervous about meeting you," Janet mentioned.

  Drake opened his eyes and set the two front legs of this chair down hard on the floor. "What for? I changed his diapers when he was a baby."

  "God, don't tell him that," Janet laughed.

  "Why not?" Drake grinned. "I'm his uncle, for Christ's sake."