Chapter 2

Friday rolled around, and though Tommy had thought he'd have cleaned his hotel room up a bit in anticipation of Bob's visit, he just couldn't find the energy. Finally, there was a knock at the door and Tommy went to let Bob in.

"Alright, I'm here," Bob crossed his arms defiantly.

"Obviously," Tommy rolled his eyes. "Come on in."

"What's this all about Tommy," Bob demanded as he wandered in and took the desk chair Tommy offered. "Why me?"

"I wanna do somethin' special foah Frankie," Tommy said.

Bob's head sunk down into his hands. "You called me out heah to help you do somethin' for Frankie…now?" Bob muttered.

"I wanted to do somethin' like you did foah him," Tommy explained.

"Well, what I did was not dick him around and mess with his head," Bob chuckled darkly.

"I know about the song," Tommy snapped.

"What song," Bob asked in confusion, finally looking up at Tommy.

"Can't Take My Eyes Offa You," Tommy spat.

"Yeah," Bob crossed his arms and stood up. "What about it?"

"Does Frankie know," Tommy's voice softened as he asked curiously.

"I don't…how did you…is it that…am I that transparent?" Bob face fell as he finally managed to get out as he started pacing the messy room.

"I talked to Lorraine…" Tommy fixed a couple drinks and offered one to Bob.

Bob's anger boiled back over. "She was Frankie's girl, and she left him about two months ago. What did you do," He roared.

"I didn't do nothin," Tommy stormed back setting the extra glass on the desk. "I didn't even have a chance to say nothing. I saw her for maybe all of one minute and she was gone."

"Half way across the country and you still manage to pull this crap," Bob shook his head in disgust.

"You don't know what you're talking about Bob," Tommy shoved Bob back down on the bed. "Can't I just say my piece?"

"Haven't you always said your piece," Bob sneered. "Hasn't it always been all about you?"

"Damnit," Tommy moaned, chucking the glass he was holding, against the far wall over Bob's head.

"I don't have to put up with this," Bob started getting up. "Don't you call me again until you get your act cleaned up."

"Wait Bob," Tommy begged desperately." Please Bob, don't go yet." Tommy sank to his knees before Bob.

"Why should I stay and let you twist crap around makin me or Frankie or Nickie look like the bad guy," Bob sneered down at Bob.

"Please just listen to me," Bob begged breathlessly. "Please, just listen…I got to tell you somethin', ask you somethin'…I'm just tired…so tired."

Bob sat back down, but didn't say a word. He wouldn't give Tommy the satisfaction of words, but the look in Tommy's eyes made him stop. There was something there that wasn't right. No, Bob decided in a matter of seconds. It wasn't something there. It was actually something that wasn't there. The cocky self-assuredness was missing. That startled Bob more than he cared to admit.

"Lorraine found me at a poker table two months ago, and basically told me I was worthless and Frankie would be better off if I was nevah in tha picture," Tommy sighed. "She told me I didn't deserve 'im, and then she was gone like that." Tommy snapped his fingers. "She was right. She was right about everything."

"No, she wasn't right about everything," Bob heard himself speak without thinking. "You was just a kid. We all were. Without you, Frankie probably woulda ended up cuttin' hair his whole life. And as far as the money goes, we dumped too much of the shit on you."

"I shoulda told ya'll about the tax lien sooner," Tommy nodded from where he was sitting on the floor.

"That's true, but that was just a bad deal. I also know you didn't mean for us to take the fall in Ohio with the hotel." Bob acquiesced. After a quiet moment, Bob frowned. "But all that aside Tommy, you were rotten to all of us, 'specially Frankie. He looked up to ya like a big brother or somethin', still does." Bob frowned.

Tommy nodded sharply, unable to speak as he tried to hold his composure.

"I don't know how it is that he can keep giving you all these chances, I know I wouldn't have," Bob frowned.

"I-I wanted…no," Tommy shook his head. "I needed him to need me. He was such a good kid. In the beginning Nickie and I would look out for him. Back then, he did need me. At least he did for a while. Someone finally needed me. And he could sing! God could he sing. He wasn't a leader though, that was me. Things were going pretty swell, then…"

"Then I came along," Bob interjected when Tommy trailed off.

"Yeah," Tommy nodded, massaging his abdomen absentmindedly. "Suddenly Frankie wasn't a kid anymore. He didn't need me."

"Yeah he did you idiot," Bob chuckled roughly. "He wasn't a kid, but he still needed you as a brother and a friend."

"It sure didn't seem like it," Tommy frowned. Bob didn't say anything. He wasn't sure what to say. "So anyways, does Frankie know about the song?" Tommy asked again.

"I don't think so," Bob shook his head.

"You gotta tell 'im," Tommy smiled thinly.

"I couldn't do that, not when he and Mary are such a mess," Bob explained.

"I had no idea," Tommy murmured. "How are Toni and Francine doin'?"

"They're doing real good," Bob smiled softly. "Toni is about to graduate from high school, gonna go to beauty school. Hey, I'll take that drink now."

"Good for her," Tommy's smile slipped away and Bob couldn't help but notice the pained look that flashed across Tommy's face as he turned and grabbed Bob's drink off the desk.

"Tommy, what's wrong?"

"Look Bob," Tommy sighed and collapsed into a chair. "I don't have much time, and I really don't want to get into it, but I wanted to see if you would help me."

"What are you talkin' about," Bob shook his head again in confusion.

"I've got some words, but I was wondering if you could help me finish a song for Frankie." Tommy turned and started shifting through the mess on his desk.

"What sort of song?" Bob asked suspiciously.

"Don't worry Bob, I ain't gonna move in on you," Tommy laughed softly as he finally pulls out the notepad he was searching for. Wordlessly, he handed it to Bob. "I know I can do the song from here. I wanna sing it for him, I just need help. I am not so good wit' the words. Maybe, the four of us could rerecord it later if all you guys like it too."

Bob skimmed the lines and scribbles on the pad Tommy handed him.

Yeah, I'm workin' my way back to where we were
And the happiness that died
It slipped away and I've been payin'
I'm payin', 'til the day that I die
I used to love to feel like a man inside
But if I'd really been a man
You'd still be here.

Lonely and strugglin',

I just miss you so
Can't be proud

can't give in

"It just some thoughts," Tommy's hands were back to massaging his abdomen. "What do you think?"

"I think you got an interesting idea here Tommy," Bob answered honestly. "Let's call up some room service and work this over."

"Not hungry, you go ahead though," Tommy nodded to the phone.

"You sure," Bob asked with raised eyebrow. "You look like skin and bones."

"Maybe just a glass of milk." Tommy sighed.

Bob quickly made the call, then turned back to Tommy. "Look, I'll help you with this, but you gotta promise that you ain't gonna dick Frankie and Nick and I around anymore."

"I swear to God," Tommy replies solemnly.

"Okay," Bob gives in warily. He skimmed the lyrics again. "Do you want to make this clearly about you and Frankie or a bit more abstract?"

"Abstract?" Tommy shakes his head.

"Do you want the whole world to know who this song is about or just you and Frankie?" Bob sighed exasperatedly.

"Just Frankie," Tommy quickly nodded. "I hope we can do this today, cause I got the recording time tomorrow at The Palms."

"Really Tommy, really," Bob chided, shaking his head. "Okay, hand me a pencil."

Tommy did so, then sat back to let Bob work.

After a while their food arrives. Tommy sipped at his milk, nervously watching Bob scribble and scratch out lines while eating a sandwich.

Hours later, Bob handed the pad back to a dozing Tommy and flopped back on the bed.

"This is real good," Tommy nods.

"It still says everything you want it to?" Bob asked with his eyes closed.

"Yeah," Tommy shuffled to his feet. "Do you think he'll like it?"

"Yeah Tommy, I really do." Bob struggled to sit up again with a warm smile.

"I'm really tired, you must be too, but I got one more thing I gotta say."

"Yeah?"

"I want you to take all the credit for this song after I record it." Tommy looked very uncomfortable.

"You gotta tell Frankie," Bob argued.

"I will, but I don't want people to know I was part of this," Tommy sounded like he was on the verge of tears again. "They already hate me."

"No they don't," Bob frowned.

"Yeah they do," Tommy scoffed. "You've heard what they've said."

"Fuck 'em Tommy," Bob declared. "People can go to hell."

"I don't care enough anymore," Tommy roughly wiped his eyes. "Too much shit to deal with."

"What's going on?" Bob asked. "The loan's been paid off, taxes are covered. You can come back to Jersey."

"I got good memories of Jersey, I don't want to mess that up." Tommy frowned. "Bob, tomorrow after I record, I have I job I need to do. I want you to leave town before six."

"What kind of job?" Bob demanded.

"The less you know, the better." Tommy shook his head.

"That's not gonna work Tommy," Bob growled. "You promised not to do this shit. Swear you won't do the job or I am taking my lyrics back."

Tommy sat silently, holding Tommy's unflinching gaze. After several minutes, Tommy looked away and nodded. Bob thrust his hand out. "I want your word."

Wordlessly, Tommy shook his hand.

"What's the matter Tommy," Bob pressed. "Do you need money?"

"More than you could give or I deserve," Tommy murmured so softly Bob barely heard.

"Good lord, how much trouble are you in?" Bob wondered.

"Cancer," Tommy stated the one tiny word plainly.

"What?" Bob gasped, suddenly on his feet gripping Tommy by his thin arms.

"I had some pretty bad heart burn and was tired for a while. I thought taking a break would help. You know…stress and all. Well, I finally went to the doctor and got the news." Tommy explained carefully. "Like I said, I don't really want to get into it."

"No," Bob snapped, shaking Tommy. "No, you can't just lay this shit on me you selfish bastard. Do the guys know?" Bob released Tommy and suddenly realized he could answer his own question, by the absence of the rest of the group. "The guys don't know and you weren't going to tell them. You were gonna have me to tell them."

"Bob," Tommy tried to interject.

"No," Bob snapped. "You can't drag me half way across the country and tell me this. How much longer?"

"Four to six months." Tommy slumped down in the chair.

"Damnit Tommy, I can't listen to this." Without another word, Bob storms out of the hotel room without looking back.