Chapter 7) 'Effin Loaded

-.-.-

Wonder how she'll feel about this. Frank questions, smirking and reaching his hand out to knock on the classroom door. He waits a few seconds and although he can hear the screaming preschoolers on the other side, no on answers.

Knock, knock, knock.

Soon enough, a man appears behind the door and yanks it open. He appears to be in his late twenties and is way too under-dressed to be a parent of one of the brats at this preschool. No offense, Gee.

"Uh..." He says questioningly.

"I'm Frank and I'm here to pick up my son." I tell him happily.

"Oh okay. Which..." He starts, motioning to the crazy preschoolers in the room. I search the room and find the set of eyes I'm looking for. Well...the two sets of eyes.

"DADDY!"

"FWANKIE!"

They squeal, jumping up and heading towards me. I kneel down to their level and they collide into me, squeezing as hard as their little bodies can. The teacher stands there, giving them us amused expression and trying not to laugh. I smile and picks the two boys up in each arm.

"This is our new teacher, daddy. Mr. Roro." Ransom says happily.

"That would be me, and it's Toro actually." The teacher, Mr. Toro, says.. "Are these your boys?" He questions.

"Well not re..." I stop and glance at the other little boy in my arms, who has his head against my shoulder and a smile on his face. The one with dirty blonde hair and glasses that he wears on the tip on his nose. The one that never knew what it was like to have parents.

"Yea." I tell him. "These are my boys."

"Well, have fun you three. I'll see you Monday."

"Bye, Mr. Toro." I say, giving him a nod and turning to leave the classroom. "Oh Mr. Toro..."

"Yea?" He asks, turning back around to face me.

"My friend's art gallery is opening downtown, tonight at eight. I'm sure he'd love it if you came."

"Cool. I'll think about it."

-.-.-

"Where are we going, Fwankie?" Mikey asks once we're outside.

"Is Gerard working all day, Mikey? Since tonight's the big opening?" I ask, carrying them down the sidewalk and towards the bus stop.

"Yea. He said he won't be home until after I'm aweep. He said you're going to play guitar at his art place tonight. He's suuuper happy. Casey is going to babysit me."

"Well how about we go to your house and make dinner? Then all three of us can go to the opening and see Gee."

"YAY!" Ransom squeals.

"Weally?" Mikey asks excitedly.

"Yea, weall...I mean really. We need to take the bus to my house first and get me and Ransom a change of clothes for later, okay?" I ask.

"Ok, Fwankie."

"Ok, daddy."

.-.-.

"Do you think Geward will be happy to see us?" A tux clad Mikey asks as we walk down the sidewalk towards the art gallery.

"I think he'll be very happy, Mikey. He loves you so much." I say, squeezing his small hand.

"Fwankie..."

"Yea?" I ask, glancing down at him.

"Why don't me and Gee live with our mommy and daddy?"

"I don't know, Mikes. But I wish I did." I tell him sadly.

"This is it." Mikey smiles, pointing to the large , open building in front of us. The large glass windows seem bright and inviting. Mikey and Ransom release my hands and run ahead to push the door open and disappear inside. I follow closely behind them, taking in the unfamiliar space.

The place is so full of color that I immediately find my eyes darting in ten different directions, trying to study each piece of art all at once. A large desk rests at the other end of the room, where a woman in her early thirties sits, working on something. Behind her is a black door that I assume leads to Gerard's office.

"WE'RE HERE!" Mikey yells, running through the open space with Ransom close behind, past the desk, and knocking rapidly on the black door. Gerard throws the door open, looking at me and then down at Mikey and Ransom who latch onto his legs.

He looks back up at me and points at Ransom. I smirk and shrug. He mouths 'what the hell happened'. I mouth 'later' in return. He sighs and I stick out my tongue.

"What are you doing here, Mikes?" He asks worriedly.

.-.-.

"Fwankie picked me and Ransom up from school, and then we went home and made dinner. It was so much fun. Fwankie tried to make lasagna..." Mikey says, he drops his voice to a whisper and leans towards me. "He burnt it weal bad, but he said it was supposed to be that way 'cause it's Cajun." Mikey whispers happily so Frank doesn't hear.

"Ahh." I reply, shaking my leg in an attempt to knock the boys off. Their grips only get tighter, so after an exasperated sigh I begin dragging the three of us towards Frank. He laughs and meets me halfway.

"Thanks for this. I was so fuckin' nervous about tonight, having yo...Mikey here really helps." I tell him, sitting a hand on his shoulder.

"No problem, Gee."

"So... you ready to do this?"

"Hell yea."

-.-.-

"So you just sit here and play whatever you want. Preferably something calm." He tells me, pushing me down onto the black stool by the entrance.

"So I can play whatever I want...as long as it isn't what I want?" I ask sarcastically. He rolls his eyes and walks over to the broom closet. After rummaging around for a few minutes, he walks out with an acoustic guitar...and not just any acoustic guitar.

"Holy...shit." I say in awe, reaching for the beauty. He hands it over nervously and steps back, allowing me space to get comfortable.

"Is that alright? I mean, everyone said it was a good guitar, but..." He stutters, biting his knuckles.

"This is a 1931 Martin OM-28." I say, then noticing his look of confusion I add... "This is my dream acoustic guitar, Gee."

"Oh...well that's awesome. I'm glad someone is putting that old thing to use. It's just been hiding out in the broom closet for months." He says, smiling. I give him a thumbs up and start messing around with some chords.

.-.-.

"I think he likes it, Annie." Gerard whispers, leaning against the receptionist's desk and watching Frank play.

"He better like it. Just be glad Mikey and I found it at an auction instead of on the shelves. In the store it would've been forty-five, but we got it for twelve." She sighs.

"Twelve bucks? Sweet." Gerard says happily.

"Twelve thousand, Mr. Way." She corrects.

"Holy fuck... That is the last time I let Mikey anything out."

"He did quite well, in my opinion."

"Yea, well in my opinion..."

"Doors open in fifteen minutes, Sir."