Chapter 6) Mustache
_-.-.-_
Frank climbs into the passenger seat, closing the door quietly. The only sounds that can be heard are the purr of the engine and rhythmic tapping of Gerard's fingers against the steering wheel. Every few seconds Frank glances at him through the corner of his eye, noticing he seems perfectly at ease in the claustrophobic, air conditioned space.
Does he want to talk about Ransom... or about my problems? Frank wonders.
Gerard doesn't know whether to be flattered or nervous with Frank glancing at him every couple of seconds. He settles for terrified.
I hope I made the right choice by asking him to talk. He's the one that asked for my help right? Or...no, I offered to help. How would I be of any help in this kind of situation though? What do I even know about Frank? Gerard contemplates, he begins a mental list of all the things he knows about Frank.
1) His name is Frank
2) He's a father.
3) He doesn't have a job
4) He lives in a shitty apartment
5) His mom doesn't like him
6) He likes skinny jeans
7) He's afraid of snakes
8) Ransom said he's fond of a woman named Pansy
Well...I guess I just need to make that list longer. What harm could come from dat... being a friend to Frank Iero? No, I'm being selfish. Instead of adding to the list, why don't I try improving it?
"Gerard? Are you in there, man?" Frank laughs, knocking on Gerard's head playfully. His head jerks around to stare at Frank with a confused expression before realizing that the car is parked in front of a Star Bucks.
We already made it to Star Bucks? I don't even remember parking. "Yea, just thinking about some things, sorry. Let's go get our coffee." Gerard sighs, taking the keys from the ignition and climbing out of the Mustang.
Frank follows closely behind him as they walk through the parking lot and into the small coffee shop. As soon as Gerard pushes the door open, the smell of coffee invades their senses. Gerard can almost feel his mouth start to water. They quickly order and Gerard offers to pay. Frank doesn't have it in him to decline so he just nods and leaves Gerard's side to find them a secluded table.
When Gerard finally sits down across from Frank a big smile is on his face as he sips (more like chugs) his latte. When he pulls it away from his mouth there's a white, whipped cream mustache above his upper lip.
Someone has an addiction. Frank thinks, chuckling quietly.
"What's funny?" Gerard asks, crossing his legs contently.
"Oh I was just thinking about the things people do to keep sane. For example, you seem to need coffee to survive, and I'm a heavy smoker. Do you smoke?" Frank tells him, trying not to laugh at the whipped cream covered man in front of him.
"I used to always have one lit. You wouldn't find me without one on hand. But when Mikey came into the picture I decided to try and quit. Well, that didn't work. So for now I just try not to smoke in front of him." Gerard says, staring at something on the other side of the window.
"Do you drink?" Frank asks, wanting to learn more. It takes Gerard a minute to answer.
"No, never." He says quickly.
"Where are your parents?" Frank asks. The question seems to catch Gerard off guard. A distant expression appears on his face and he begins to bite his lip while staring out the window. This should've worried Frank but he was still trying not to laugh at the mustache.
"I take care of Mikey now. Mikey is safe with me." He says quietly, not really answering the question. "Where is Ransom's mother?" He adds, glancing at Frank.
"She left when he was eleven months old, the day before he took his first step. She had a lot of drug addictions and she wasn't ready to be a mother. I doubt she'll ever be ready." Frank says, getting lost into thought.
"And you were ready to be a father?" Gerard asks, finally turning his full attention towards Frank.
"No, I wasn't. I was eighteen when he was born, and I still had another five months of high school. The only things I had to worry about were failing chemistry and finding a decent band to join. He changed everything, to say the least." Frank sighs.
"I was twenty-one when I was given full custody of Mikey. He was two months old." Gerard tells him.
"Wow. That's... that's just a newborn." Frank says.
"I had to get my act together fast. From the time I turned eighteen and moved out of my parents house, drugs and alcohol were my best friends, particularly anti-depressants.
When...it... happened, I knew if I didn't get my shit straight then they would put him in foster care. I couldn't let that happen to Mikey, and I just... I couldn't... contemplate losing him after everything that had happened.
It was easy to stop the drugs once I had a real reason to. I think that's why I took them in the first place. I had no purpose, or I didn't think I did at least. But when I got Mikey... I just can't describe it. It was like I suddenly had a reason...to keep on living." Gerard says, looking at Frank intently, begging him to understand.
"Anyways..." He sighs, dropping his gaze to the table once again. "So you play an instrument right? Since you were looking for a band in high school." He asks.
"Yea, I play guitar." Frank says, smirking slightly.
Guitar? I can make that work... Gerard thinks.
"Can you play acoustic?" He asks Frank.
"Yea, sure. Why? Did you have something in mind?"
"Well um...I own this art gallery downtown and we just remodeled. Our re-opening is this tomorrow night. I think it'd be really great to have you playing some acoustic stuff on a stool when they first walk in. It would add a whole other art element to the gallery, music. So what do you think? You'd get paid as much as the other staff." Gerard pitches.
"That sounds great, man. But I don't own an acoustic guitar, just an electric named Pansy. Sorry." Frank tells him, shrugging.
Note to self: Pansy is a guitar, not a woman. "Oh...that's fine. We have one." Gerard tells him, smiling.
"At the art gallery?" Frank asks skeptically.
"Yea, my...receptionist used to play." He replies.
"Cool. Sure, I'll do it. Don't you have to be at work right now?" Frank asks.
"Yea, but...shit. I'm meeting with an artist in twenty. I better go. We should do this again sometime. It was nice. See ya, Frankie." Gerard says quickly, standing, wiping his mouth with his shirt sleeve, and running out the door.
"I guess I'm walking home." Frank laughs.
.-.-.
After arriving at the art gallery with only two minutes to spare, Gerard hurries to the front desk.
"Yes, Mr. Way?" Annie asks.
"Dry clean my suit, schedule me a hair appointment, reschedule my meetings for later, confirm with Casey that she's still babysitting tomorrow, and for gods sakes...find me a damn acoustic guitar."