AN: I hope you like the embellishments I put on these famous scenes. To help get me in the right mood for this chapter's second half, I checked out lists of Christmas songs that were popular in the 60s.
The following week felt like a whirlwind to Theresa. It'd been a long time, since she'd had this much fun. Most of the laughs came from her life-of-the-party big brother. On this particular day, they were driving to Crewe's apartment with some take-out lunch in the back seat. Judging by the frustrated look on his face, she knew Tommy must've been thinking about Bob's continuing writer's block. She decided against asking him about it. She held one food bag, when they reached the appropriate door. He held the other, as he put his spare key in the lock. His frustration increased, as he took in the state of their keyboardist and producer's immediate area: the men sitting backwards on chairs, with crumpled wads of paper all over the floor. Frankie and Nick weren't there, due to prior family commitments.
Tommy asked, "You guys got somethin' yet?"
Crewe sighed and responded, "Not yet. Not yet."
"What the hell, man? It's been three weeks. The company's goin' nuts."
"I know", Bob said through a groan.
As the siblings walked over and took seats beside them, he noticed they were carrying something.
He asked, "What's that?"
"It's Chinese. Ya gotta eat to work."
The guitarist then instructed Crewe's "friend" to get forks.
Through sips nd nibbles of her wonton soup, Theresa mumbled, "You could be a little more polite, you know."
Her brother simply gave her a quick side-glare. She then asked what movie they'd been watching.
Crewe told her, "It's 'Ace In The Hole'. Kirk Douglas and Jan Sterling. God, I love Jan Sterling."
Tommy sounded annoyed as he asked, "Hey, what are you guys doin', huh? Workin', or watchin' the tube?"
He didn't say anything when he was shushed, but the expression on his face told that he was slightly miffed. Theresa stifled a giggle, refocusing her attention to the television screen. Jan walked closer to Kirk, a wide, hopeful smile on her face. The man tried to warn her off, but she couldn't take the hint.
Her voice came out in a playful tone: "Make me."
To Theresa's right, Crewe mumbled, "Oh, he will."
She didn't get the chance to ask what he meant, because Kirk suddenly did something that surprised her. He gave Jan a slap on each cheek, which instantly turned the hope in her eyes to shock. Crewe and Bob both gave wordless shouts, while Tommy burst out laughing and clapped his hands twice.
He reached over and tapped the producer's arm, saying, "Watch. I betchoo she cries."
"No. Big girls don't cry."
An odd chill flooded through the seventeen-year-old's body. She wasn't sure why. Apparently, she wasn't the only one who felt that. Stretching her neck a bit, she saw how Bob turned and looked at the producer. If this had been a cartoon, a lightbulb would've appeared over his head. For the second time in ten minutes, Theresa had to force back a laugh. She was glad for whatever this little spark of inspiration would produce. This was both for public, who'd soon be listening to it on the radio, and for the weight now off her friend's shoulders. A couple of hours went by. By then, Tommy was passed out on a nearby couch, and Crewe was taking a phone call in the kitchen. Theresa was, in a word, bored. She hadn't thought to bring a book along, so she really didn't have anything to do. That was until she spotted Bob at the piano, randomly jotting down what she assumed were lyrics on a piece of paper. She walked over and sat down beside him.
"Hey."
Instantly, his head turned in her direction, as he snapped back to Earth.
"Hey, Rees. I'm, uh...ha-ha...I'm sorry for not paying attention."
"It's no trouble. So, what are you working on?"
"Just a little something."
"Well, show me."
There was a brief flush in his cheeks, which Theresa found endearing. She liked how unjaded he was, despite being in the professional music industry for several years more than his bandmates.
Softly, he told her, "Before he went to take that call, Crewe hummed a piece of a melody for me to work with."
She giggled and made a "Cough it up" gesture, which earned a smile in return. Bob lifted his hands to the keys and began playing. The tune that poured out was bouncy and fun. It was easy to picture people, dancing to it. And sure enough, when she glanced at the top of the paper he'd been working on, the words "Big Girls Don't Cry" were written there. She started playing the lower notes on the piano, adding some more depth to the song.
She said, "This is going to be amazing with Frankie's falsetto."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"I mean it. You've got to stop, selling yourself short, dude."
"I'll do that, when you do the same."
When she asked what he meant, he asked her, "Why didn't you tell us you could play?"
He gestured at the piano to make his point. Feeling a brief surge of nervousness, she began twirling a lock of hair around her left index finger.
She said, "I didn't think it was that big of a deal."
Crewe walked out of the kitchen in that moment, which put an end to Bob and Theresa's conversation. She immediately stood up and went over to him, pouring them each a glass of lemonade from the pitcher on a nearby table.
"Thanks. So, what were you up to, baby?"
Bob answered for her: "We're working on the new song."
"Sweet."
Sweet, indeed. That "new song" tore up in the radiowaves in the months that followed. It was at the crest of this wave that Theresa finally got something she'd been asking about from the beginning: a chance to see her brother's group in action. This concert was special, because it was the first time they'd be perfoming "Big Girls" before an actual audience. The seventeen-year-old was beyond excited, sporting a proud, borderline-idiotic grin as she stood in the wings and watched the show. She was barely peeking out from behind the curtain, observing the fans' reactions. It was funny, how they tried to imitate Frankie's voice. Some of them looked like they had gum, stuck in the back of their mouths. as they parroted back the "Cry-aye-aye" bit. And speaking of the man, Theresa was amazed that he didn't damage his knees, each time he landed on the stage after a spin. Luckily, whatever suffering he may or may not have endured was over, because this was the last song of the concert. This would become the group's trademark for a little while, sharing their newest hits near the final bow.
Ironically, just as that notion crossed her mind, the guys were taking said bow. They waved at the crowd, as they turned on their heels. Theresa barely had time to get out of the way, before they came barreling into the backstage area. They were all laughing and shouting, and so was she. Nick yanked her up into a hug, her feet leaving the floor as he spun her around. Tommy produced a bottle of champagne from beneath a pre-delivered snack cart, and he used his pocketknife to yank out the cork. Light gold-colored liquid shot everywhere. It even got into Theresa's hair, making it look like she'd just gotten out of the shower, but she didn't mind. Frankie's dimples were fully out, his smile as bright as the lights of Atlantic City. Her heart fluttered for the two seconds their eyes made contact. Meanwhile, Bob was leading Crewe inside through the concert hall's back door. The producer smiled, when he saw what was shaping up to be one heck of a party. He grabbed a camera that'd been sitting unattended, and he captured that moment for eternity.
Six months later, Theresa was treated to yet another group milestone. She got to join them in the recording studio for the first time. She was leaning against a wall in the mixing room, a fruit smoothie in her hand. The guys, too, had just finished their lunchbreak, and they were setting up to do another song. Tommy seemed to be a tad frustrated, though, which he voiced when Bob entered the studio proper.
"It's just...I don' get it."
"What don't you get, Tommy?"
"The title 'Walk Like A Man'?"
"Yeah?"
"As opposed to what? A woman?"
"No. It's for boys, Tommy. Teenage boys. We're telling them to act like men."
"Instead of like girls."
"Yes. Instead of like-no. Instead of like boys. Come on. Why are you doing this?"
Then, Crewe chimed in on the matter: "Hey. Hey. Hey. Miss Congeniality?"
When he got their full attention, he continued, "It's a metaphor. It's an anthem for every guy, who's ever been twisted around a girl's little finger. And if I'm explaining that to you, we're in trouble."
Seeing the look on Tommy's face through the glass, Theresa stiffled a laugh behind her hand. She loved her brother to death. But sometimes, he could be really dense.
Evidentally, the producer shared her sentiments, and he was fed up with it: "Now, knock off the bullcrap. Sing the song! Roll the tape, Phil!"
She wanted the guys to go into this in a good mood. So, to bring that back, she discreetly put her hands on either side of Crewe's head and flapped them back-and-forth, like donkey ears. She pulled back and tried to look innocent, when he looked over his shoulder to see what was going on. The plan worked. Frankie had to clamp down on his bottom lip to keep from laughing aloud. Then came the stomp, stomp-stomp, stomp, stomp-stomp that would be the opening. Bob cued up the drums, and Frankie hit that first high note. Theresa felt that familiar warmth in her chest, which always told her a specific song would do well. The sensation had never failed her before, and it certainly didn't now. "Walk Like A Man" kept the fans happy and cozy, as winter officially began closing in. Soon enough, it was Christmas Eve. This was the first time Theresa wouldn't be spending the holiday in Salem, with her mother's side of her family. Without her saying so, they understood she wanted to be with her other family and new friends, and they were very gracious about it. They made a comprimise with her, saying she could come for New Year's, instead.
She was on a laughter high as she lounged on her couch, having just watched a brand-new holiday special. Reaching down, she scratched behind the ears of the puppy Frankie had given her: Yukon. Suddenly, the relative quiet was broken by the sound of a phone ringing.
"Hello?"
"Yo! What's goin' on there, Lil' T?"
She smiled, remembering how he'd started calling her that last month. Ironically enough, that time was also through the phone, but she'd been at her grandparents' house for Thanksgiving. Despite being happy to have returned to her home state, she still missed Tommy and the guys a lot.
She told him, "I'm good, Big T. "
"Just good? Dat don't sound right. You should be more upbeat and excited. I mean, come on. It's Christmas."
"Really", and she giggled at the grunt he made, "I take it you have ideas, then?"
"Yeah. I booked the Frank Sinatra suite at the Waldorf. Bobby and Nicky are here, too. We got ourselves a little party goin' on."
She knew the words "Little" and "party" didn't go together in Tommy's world. Apparently, being subtle didn't belong there, either, given how easy it was for her to understand what he was really doing.
She gave another slight laugh, before saying, "Don't worry. I'll be there. I just need to change clothes."
"A'right. See ya then."
"See you."
It took Theresa roughly forty minutes to get fully prepared, and to drive across the Hudson and reach the hotel. She was amazed at how easy the drive was, since there was usually so much traffic. She didn't know why, but she felt a bit awkward as she stood outside the suite's door. She nervously fidgeted with the hem of her pale pink sweater-dress, which stopped an inch above her knee and had white snowflake embroidery around the waist. Her hair was done in a high-set ponytail, and silver snowflakes dangled from her ears. A white double-breasted coat and brown, fur-lined, knee-high boots kept her warm. She could hear lots of noise on the other side of the door, as she knocked on it. Seconds later, Tommy appeared. His dress shirt was opened to reveal the undershirt beneath, and he sported a wide cat-that-ate-the-canary grin. If he wasn't totally drunk yet, she could tell he'd be there soon.
"Hey! There she is! Bring it in here, baby girl! Mwaa!"
With that, he gave her cheek a loud kiss. He didn't give her a chance to respond, when he then pulled her in for a hug. She let out a squeak at the suddenness of it, before fully relaxing into his embrace.
"Merry Christmas, Tommy."
"Merry Christmas. Shut the door behind ya, a'right?"
"Sure."
Once that was done, he put his arm around her again and turned her to face the rest of the room.
He called out, "Eyes front, people! We got us a little princess here!"
Theresa tried not to let her discomfort show, at being the center of attention. The place looked like a hurricane had gone through it. Beer bottles were scattered everywhere. A waiter stood next to the balcony door, his tie undone and looking like it was taking all his strength to stay upright. She offered tentative, slightly-awkward waves at any of the scantily-clad girls that made eye-contact. She scanned the area, looking for a familiar face. Eventually, she found him: Nick, sprawled across an armchair with a leggy blond in his lap. A Santa hat was askew on his head. He had a beer in his right hand, and an odd-looking cigarette pinched between his left thumb and index finger. He smiled when he saw her, stifling a laugh at the "Help me" look on her face.
He called across the room, "Come on, Tomooch. Let the kid put her coat down, before you start parading her like a show-dog."
Tommy gave him the finger, which made Theresa giggle. Despite the unusual circumstances, she was still flattered to know her brother had been bragging about her to his friends.
He told her, "Just put it on the island in the kitchen. Nobody's gonna bother it."
"Okay."
A little while later, Theresa had crammed her way onto a couch. A plate of gingebread cookies was on her lap, and a glass of the only non-alcoholic drink in the place, hot apple cider, was in her left hand. The sweets were a welcome distraction from the surrounding chaos, as was the voice of Perry Como, pouring from the radio.
She turned to Nick, who was in the chair beside her spot, and said softly, "This place is insane."
He laughed and replied, "It ain't that bad."
"Easy for you to say. You're used to it."
"Fair enough."
"Mm. And...hey, where's Bob? Tommy said he was here. I think I saw him peek out from somewhere, but I can't be sure."
"You're just noticin' that now?"
He chuckled under his breath, when she gave him a brief glare.
Then, he gestured towards the bedrooms and said, "He went that-a-way, I think."
"Thanks."
She weaved her way through several wiggling bodies, eventually finding her way to the bedrooms/bathrooms area. The muffled sound of a televison led her to one particular door, and she was cautious as she peered inside. Bob was sitting on the bed, looking bored out of his mind as he stared at the screen. Poor thing. The corner of her mouth twitched up, and she tapped her knuckle twice against the door to get his attention.
"Hey, stranger."
"Hi, Rees. Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas to you. What are you doing in here all alone?"
He responded by pointing at the small television set. On the screen, a familiar face traded flirtations with a cute short-haired girl.
" Sweet. I like 'Rawhide', too", and she paused before continuing, "So, that explains the 'what'. Now, how about the 'why'?"
He told her, "You know, I don't mind the occasional good time. But that", and he gestured at the wall to reference the party beyond it, "-is insanity."
A giggle was followed by, "It's funny you say that, actually. I told Nicky the same thing."
"I guess great minds think alike."
"Mm."
There was a flicker of hope in Bob's eyes, a type of hope Theresa hadn't seen before. It passed too quickly, though, for her to give it serious consideration. Somewhere behind her, she could hear Tommy getting into a conversation with one of the high-end callgirls. She recignized the female voice as belonging to a girl named Raven. Apparently, the keyboardist could hear them, too, judging by the way he tilted his head slightly to the left.
Clearing her throat, Theresa said, "I guess my brother's found his hot water bottle for tonight."
The keyboardist knew that three-word-phrase meant "conquest".
He gave a clipped chuckle and replied, "Yeah. Maybe."
"Um...", and she peeked into the small hallway, "Hang on a second, okay? I'll be right back"
"Sure."
As she walked out, she nearly collided with Tommy and Raven. She didn't think anything of it at first.
"Havin' a good time, Lil' T?"
"Seems I'm not the only one."
She nodded at the black-haired beauty on his arm.
"Hey, no judgin'. Dis ain't for me."
"She's not my type."
Raven hid a giggle behind her hamd, while Tommy made a "tsk" noise.
"Go back inside, a'right?"
"Fine. Just be quiet, is all I ask", she told him with a smile, before walking away.
He called back over his shoulder, "I said dis wasn't for me!"
Now, Theresa was the one giggling. At least, that was until she realized which door they were heading towards. What the hell was going on? She discreetly watched as her brother turned the knob and pushed the door open. She could only imagine the look on Bob's face, what he must've been thinking.
Tommy smiled and gestured at Raven, saying, "We brought the boy to the party. Now, we bring the party to the boy."
The truth of the plan fully dawned on the seventeen-year-old.
She whispered, "Oh, he is not..."
It was confirmed when he then said, "Enjoy yourselves."
As she stepped in and closed the door behind her, Raven replied, "We will."
Tommy walked past Theresa, as he crossed back into the living room.
"What's eatin' you?"
She pointed down the hall to make her point. He started laughing.
"It's not funny."
"Hey, there's nothin' more poetic, than when two prople enact the oldest dance on Earth. It's a nice gift to give."
She laughed out the word "poetic", before saying, "Right. Let's get you back to the spiked eggnog, Longfellow."
When he smirked, she realized the innuendo she'd made.
She rolled her eyes and asked, "I walked right into that one, didn't I?
"More like skipped."
She groaned, grabbing his wrist as she dragged him back towards the couches. A little while later, Tommy kept checking his watch as he nibbled on a cookie. Theresa asked why he was doing that, saying it was starting to make her nervous.
He told her, "I was just wonderin' how Bobby was doin'. Hey, Machoch..."
He threw a crumpled cheeseburger wrapper at the bassist to get his attention.
"What gives, man?"
Tommy was smiling, as he gestured towards the hallway and said, "Let's go check it out, huh?"
Now, Nick was smiling, too. A few of the party guests had been listening in on the conversation, and they decided to go along.
As he got up, Theresa shouted after her brother, "You're so immature!"
"Then why are ya comin' with us?"
"I'm not."
He didn't respond. She waited at the entrance to the hall, watching in embarrassment and horror as Tommy knocked on Bob's door. Whatever they saw must've been pleasing, because they burst into laughter and applause. The voices were so mixed together, that Theresa could barely tell who was saying what. A barely-visible ring of smoke floated out from within the room.
Then, she finally heard Bob speak up: "You were right. It is more fun with another person."
There was another round of applause and laughter. Despite the awkward situation, Theresa let out a laugh of her own. If the keyboardist was okay with everything, so was she. It wasn't long after this, that she realized she needed to go home. She was a bit reluctant to leave. She sighed as Tommy hugged her good-bye.
He said, "Be careful on the road, a'right? Ya know the number for the room. Call me when ya get home, so I know you're okay."
The corner of her mouth twitched. She knew he was only speaking in this near-whisper voice, because he was trying to hide his softer side.
"I'll be fine, Big T. I promise to call. I love you."
"Love ya, too. Merry Christmas."
Once she was back at her house, and after she'd made the asked-for call to her brother, Theresa was relaxing in her armchair with an ice-cold glass of cranberry juice. Yukon was on the floor beside her. Her arm dangled casually over the side of the chair, her fingertips grazing the top of his head. Suddenly, she remembered that there was another important phone call to make. She hoped he hadn't gone to sleep yet, and that she wouldn't wake up anyone else there.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Frankie. Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, doll. What's shakin'?"
"I just came back from feeding time at the zoo."
He chuckled warmly and said, "Come on. Tommy's party couldn't have been that bad."
"Really? How long has it been, since you've actually gone to one?"
His laughter got a bit louder, and she started making giggles of her own. She asked him what his plans were for tomorrow.
He told her, "Mary and I are takin' the girls to church. We'll meet my parents there, then go for a late breakfast. We'll open presents, when we get home."
"Sounds good. And speaking of presents, I hope your wife likes the silk robe I bought her, and that your daughters like their new porcelain dolls."
"Sure, they will. They love that kind of stuff. How about you? Got any plans?"
"Well, not church, since I went to the evening mass tonight. Before the party, I mean. I'll probably sleep in tomorrow, and then open the gifts that got sent here."
She briefly thought about the fifth present she'd sent to the Valli household, this one for Frankie. It was a Rolex watch, which Crewe had graciously put up half the money for. It was custom-ordered: white gold with an emerald-green face. The face's color was a nod to his birthstone. She mentally crossed her fingers, hoping she'd chosen right. Her gaze briefly flicked across the room, settling on the pile of shiny, wrapped boxes by the door. She wondered which one had come from him, and what it was. He yawned, and she stifled a giggle over it. She realized that their conversation was wrapping up.
She said, "Sounds like we both need to crash. Especially you, man. You need to save your energy."
"Ha-ha. Yeah. I guess so. I'll talk to ya tomorrow, Rees. Maybe after lunch."
"Okay. Talk to you then. Good night."
"Night."
Theresa felt a bit breathless, as she hung up the phone. It'd been several months since she'd first met him, and she was no closer to understanding this feeling she'd get whenever she was around Frankie. It wasn't the type of confusion she was used to, and she wasn't sure if she liked that fact or not. She took another sip of her juice, messaging out a bit of sinus pressure with her opposite hand. As the voice of Andy Williams poured from the tiny radio next to her chair, her eyelids grew heavy. The snore Yukon made earned a slight chuckle, before she finally gave into sleep. She was extremely achy the next morning, due to her sleeping in the chair. She didn't mind, though. That's what aspirin was for.
AN: Prayers going out to Louisiana, which is still dealing with horrible flooding & is expecting even more rain soon. Can't wait to hear your feedback on this chapter.