Chapter 35: Breaking Ground
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Julie Pentecost was a generous spirit by nature, and she had insisted that they use her Rolls Royce for their trip north. "You can't take any of your vehicles or they'd recognize you. Besides, you deserve to ride in class for a five hour drive."
Frank was certain that there wasn't a single vehicle in production that Ricky Bianco had not driven before. The young man took to any wheel like a pro, and he had been all too thrilled to be driving such a luxurious car for their first trip out. Pettigrew stayed in the passenger seat while Frank and Tony sat in the back of the roomy car with Rachel.
Frank was surprised when Rachel hadn't fallen asleep once during the drive. Instead, she'd spent most of it attempting to check in with Fletcher where he'd stayed behind at the house under Fitzgerald's watch. Her overprotective nature had increased substantially since becoming pregnant with her second child. In an odd turn of roles, Rachel had seemed more nervous than Frank for their first time out in public since the incident at her OB-GYN's office back in L.A.
"I wouldn't have suggested we come out here if I didn't think it would be safe for you," Frank said softly to her as she stared out the window, worry etched into her face.
"I guess I'm just a little nervous for what will happen next," she admitted, glancing around the car at all the occupants who were there to protect her.
"You're in good hands," Frank said. "And so is Fletcher."
She looked down at her hands in her lap.
Frank looked thoughtfully over at Tony before he asked, "Tony, what are you most afraid of?"
Without hesitation, Tony replied, "Bellini's Butcher Shop going out of business."
Frank nodded in consideration. "Ricky, how about you?"
From the driver's seat, Ricky's voice called back, "Egyptian gods."
Frank nudged Rachel and casually assured her, "See, these two aren't scared of anything."
She finally cracked a smile.
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"Jesus! This house is so big, you could install a ski lift to get to the top floor!" Tony gushed as they walked through the towering wooden frame of the house that had yet to be completed.
Frank pointed at Rachel from behind, signaling that the massive size of the house was all her idea.
He walked them through each section of the framework, explaining the layout of the rooms as he went along, and pointing out different features in each. When he had finished taking them on the house tour, he guided them to the locked storage house that sat about thirty yards away on the property.
"Careful, Ricky," Frank warned, pointing out a vine of poison ivy by the shed door. "Leaves of three, let it be."
Ricky nodded in mock understanding before reciting under his breath, "I before E, except after C."
Frank narrowed his eyes for a moment in the young man's direction with confused humor before inserting his key into the padlocked door.
As soon as he pushed open the door, Tony and Rachel both let out a startled scream at the sight of a giant elk head staring back at them from the shadows. Frank pulled the chain of a single lightbulb which illuminated the beastly piece of taxidermy so that they could get a better view.
"That thing is not going in our house," Rachel vehemently declared.
"Sure it is," Frank said casually, unperturbed by her reaction. "It'll go in my study."
"You want that nightmare fuel in your study?"
"Yeah," he said proudly, staring into the soulless elk as if it were his kindred spirit. "My father shot it. He gave it to me as a gift on my twenty-second birthday."
Tony scrunched up his face in confusion. "Wait, your birthday only lasted twenty seconds?"
Frank stared dubiously over at Tony, who promptly burst out laughing. Rachel softened a bit at his humor and began to giggle along with him. Her brevity was short-lived, though, because the sudden appearance of an eight-legged fiend sent her yelping about a foot in the air.
She freaked out and attempted to climb Tony for protection as the spider made a stealthy escape underneath a box of their valuables.
"Frank, shoot it!"
Chuckling at her reaction, Frank told her, "Don't worry, I'm sure he'll die under there."
Playing along, Tony said in an exaggerated tone, "Ooh, I dunno, he looked healthy."
Rachel smacked Tony in the chest and promptly ran from the storage house, as fast as her three-inch heels would allow.
"She reacts to a spider the way I react to paparazzi," Frank confided in Tony as they followed her back to the car.
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They made it to the resort by early evening to check in to their rooms and have dinner. Luckily, not a single person seemed to recognize them. As ridiculous as she may have looked, Rachel had opted to wear her head-scarf indoors to be on the safe side. After dinner, Tony and Ricky invited Frank to go down to the Bavarian lounge bar for drinks. He had hesitated when Rachel began to complain of nausea, but Scott insisted that he would stay upstairs with her to give Frank a chance to relax.
Tony and Ricky were easy-going company, and their humorous nature gave Frank a buoyancy of confidence he had not felt in a while. They found themselves at a high top table in a speakeasy style lounge in the basement of the hotel, surrounded by beer steins and busty barmaids in traditional German garb.
"This place looks like Hitler's man-cave," Tony observed darkly as he looked around the room.
All three men turned to stare as a middle-aged lady with a platinum, teased 80's hairstyle walked into the restaurant with her much older and fatter boyfriend. Ricky leaned into the table and muttered derisively, "Someone went to Supercuts with a picture of the goblin king…"
Frank couldn't remember a time when he'd laughed so hard at someone in public.
Moments later they were greeted by their waitress - a short, curvy brunette with gratuitous cleavage. Tony elbowed Ricky in the side after she finished taking their drink orders.
"So, are you prepared for fatherhood, Frank?" Tony opened the conversation with a question Frank would have rather not had to answer at the moment.
He looked down at the table and shrugged. "As prepared as I can be."
"You gonna retire for good or what?"
"I don't know yet."
"I can't imagine you being the 'stay-at-home-dad' type," Tony admitted.
Frank cringed at the term.
The waitress arrived then with their drinks. Frank noticed that she brushed purposefully against Ricky's arm as she laid a small pile of napkins on the edge of the table. He seemed to smirk to himself as he watched her go back to the bar, a satisfied look in his eyes.
"Have you ever had a Jack and Cherry Coke?" Tony nudged Frank with a grin. "It's my guilty pleasure."
Frank shook his head. "I don't really like Cherry Coke."
Tony's face was dead serious as he said darkly, "I'll see you in court."
"Why the hell would you order that in a place like this?" Ricky asked his cousin, deeply offended as he raised his giant mug of foamy beer.
"I told you," Tony said forcefully, "it's my guilty pleasure." He raised the tiny glass in his hilariously huge hands.
"So, when's the baby due, Farmer?" Ricky asked. Frank had hoped they'd move on from the topic, but he had no such luck.
"Middle of winter sometime. Probably January."
"I hear the first couple months with a newborn are pretty rough," Ricky said, "My Uncle Johnny said it's like being in the army."
Frank felt oddly comforted by the comparison. Army he could handle.
Tony shoved off his cousin. "Quit scarin' him. You're gonna love it, Frank. Our family's got lots of little ones running around these days. Boy, it's a trip when they first start talkin'! My cousin Regina's baby's first word was 'syphilis.'"
Frank nearly spat out his drink.
"Well, it wasn't really 'syphilis,' it just sounded like she said 'syphilis.'"
Ricky asked thoughtfully, "Was that the baby who never grew out of her mullet?"
Tony looked at Ricky as if he were dumb. "No, no, that was Millie. Millie had a mullet." He stared at the ceiling as if he'd had a sudden epiphany. "Millie still has a mullet!"
Frank listened to the two men converse with each other about trivial family things while he scanned the room and observed the people around him. For as much as he tried to relax, he could never seem to completely let his guard down. It seemed too good to be true that they had evaded all recognition out here. They weren't nearly as far out from L.A. as they had been in Tahoe, but even there someone had recognized Rachel. Now that she was the topic of hot gossip again, he felt like he was waiting on the edge of his seat for someone to come up to his table and ask "are you the bodyguard?"
"I can't believe Rachel Marron is actually having your baby," Ricky said, his tone one of pure admiration more than envy.
Frank shifted uncomfortably and gave the man a tight smile.
"I've been mildly obsessed with her since I saw her in Queen of the Night," Ricky admitted.
Frank considered it a personal achievement that he'd managed to never watch so much as a preview for her signature blockbuster film, even after all the hype and promotion that had surrounded the movie while he was working for her. Frank knew the dangers that came along with just watching one of Rachel's music videos. He had never been in the position to compromise his dignity by subjecting himself to a whole full length film featuring her as the leading lady. Then again, that was before she was his girlfriend . . .
"That part where she rips her clothes off and jumps in the pool?" Ricky pulled at his collar and took a swig of his beer.
Tony seemed to pick up on Frank's awkward body language.
"Frank, have you ever even watched Queen of the Night?" he asked in a low voice.
"No," Frank confessed, feigning indifference.
Tony and Ricky exchanged a significant, knowing look.
Ricky nudged him in the side. "I watched it while high."
Frank lazily lifted one eyebrow at the man. "So you're 'highly' recommending it?"
Tony let out a mighty guffaw and slammed his hand down on the table, drawing the attention of the other patrons.
After a bit more casual talk of Rachel's film resume, Frank finally managed to guide their conversation into more serious matters.
He carefully explained his need for them to keep his identity under wraps over the next few months, at least until they could move safely into their new house and get away from everything.
"I just would like to keep my name a secret for as long as possible," he said.
Tony mockingly quoted John Proctor, "Because it is my name!" Noticing Ricky's empty stare, he put his arms out in disbelief. "Come on? Arthur Miller! The Crucible?"
Frank gave a reluctant half-laugh behind his mug of beer.
Tony's voice was more serious as he said, "I'm impressed they haven't pulled up your records yet."
Frank smirked proudly. "I have no records." He finished the rest of his beer and set the empty mug down on the table. "That's what comes from living off the grid for twenty years."
"I've got enough records to outsell your girlfriend," Ricky laughed, barely recognizing his alcohol induced slip of the tongue.
Tony winced. "Don't say that too loud! They're gonna throw us in the furnace like Caddyshack, Snack Shack, and Indigo!"
Frank grinned to himself. "Well, I didn't go to Catholic school, but I assume you're making an allusion to the Book of Daniel?"
Tony scoffed. "Come on, Frank, it's from The Bible."
Frank nodded. "Right." He had to admit, being with these two was like watching a first class comedy act.
"Listen," Frank murmured to Tony, gesturing over to Ricky who was singing an off-tune Tarantella into his empty mug. "I won't let him be found out. But you gotta promise to make him keep clean at least til the end of the year. Capiche?"
Tony smirked at Frank's smooth use of Italian slang. "You got it, chief."
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Frank glanced over at Tony as they stepped out of the elevator onto their floor.
"Your yawn had a doppler effect."
Tony waved him off, one hand lazily covering his mouth as he helped Frank drag Ricky's fumbling form over to his hotel room door.
"Pettigrew will take first shift," Frank told Tony. "Sleep off that buzz."
"I only had one drink, Frank," he said innocently.
Frank smiled. "I know."
"Goodnight."
Frank closed the door and started his stride down the hall to Rachel's room, glancing once over his shoulder as the sound of the ice machine made his heart jump.
Although the light was still on, she was already lying in bed, her head propped up on a pillow. "Did you have fun with the guys?" she teased.
"They're . . . interesting."
She giggled her infectious, teenage-like giggle and raised her arms for him to come to her.
He sat on the edge of the bed and began to remove his shoes and socks while she hugged him from behind. "How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Better. I've been thinking about baby names," she said.
His chest tightened. "I thought you were supposed to wait until you knew the gender to think of names."
"Oh, you can think of names any time. I used to think of baby names when I was in third grade!"
He smirked at her. "You mean you weren't sold on 'Nelson West, Jr.?'"
"I can't believe you remembered the name of my first crush, Farmer."
"I told you, I pay attention."
She looked at him archly. "Anyway, I've been thinking I really like the name Olsen, for a boy."
Frank made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat.
"Oh, you don't like that one?" She sounded hurt.
"I don't know. I guess it's fine."
She ignored his apparent lack of interest and added wistfully, "And I really like the name Arelzia, for a girl."
Frank paused to chuckle as he unlatched his wristwatch. "Arelzia?"
"Yeah," she murmured with a dreamy look in her eyes.
"That sounds like a drug name." He mimicked the artificial stiffness of a medication commercial voice, "'Ask your doctor if Arelzia is right for you!'"
He was expecting her to be offended, but instead she complimented him with a laugh, "You have a nice radio voice."
He leaned down to kiss her cheek. "It's absolutely absurd of you to compliment my voice in any capacity."
She looked up at him teasingly as he tucked her in. "You want me to sing you a lullaby?" she asked.
He shook his head and whispered, "If I fall asleep, I'll miss it."
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They didn't waste any time sticking around the resort longer than was necessary. After a quick continental breakfast, which Rachel had decided to skip altogether, they packed up to leave in the Rolls Royce. Thankfully, their chauffeur was quick to recover from his heavy evening – Frank had pretended not to notice the barmaid from last night as she exited Ricky's room with a hotel bathrobe barely covering her Bavarian dress.
They'd considered themselves lucky that none of their party had been recognized during their short stay overnight. Having made it back to Pentecost Manor safely without any incidents, they were encouraged to try for a 'staged appearance.'
"We need to go somewhere public here in L.A., but not too public," Rachel said. "Like a restaurant, where people still have to maintain a distance."
Frank nodded, eyeing Pettigrew from the side between each of Rachel's suggestions.
"And we can't go alone. That would be too obvious. It has to be casual, but it has to have purpose."
Fletcher chimed in from his armchair, "Why can't you guys just go with Julie and Laura?"
"Because then we'd be publicly linked to them. The press might guess where we were staying," Rachel said strategically. "We have to meet up with someone, but it can't be just anyone. It has to be someone we can trust. Someone who already knows Frank's identity, so we can still get away with not formally introducing him."
Frank met Rachel's eyes and immediately had the same thought.
Tina Brennan was all too thrilled to have an excuse to fly out to L.A. to visit her friend. Having already spilled the details of her involvement with Frank to the woman, Rachel had decided Tina was their best and most trustworthy option. As part of the package deal, however, she was insistent on bringing along her fiancé, Devon. It wasn't ideal, since Rachel had understood the power in keeping their circle small, but he would have to be another ally by extension.
Rachel had called in Oxana to help her decide on a perfect ensemble for their outing – both for herself and for Frank. With great reluctance, Frank found himself under the manipulation of Oxana's rough hands and hairbrush again. She was as meticulous about his appearance as she seemed to be about Rachel's.
Frank was not at all thrilled with the clothing she had selected for him. In the overly trendy dark denim jeans, blinding white button-down, and sand-colored suede jacket, he felt like the last member of the yacht club. She had hand-selected several accessories for him, which he'd repeatedly attempted to slide off into his pockets. He would not have had any opposition to a wristwatch, but wearing one which weighed more than his entire arm and cost more than his entire house was not a comfortable compromise for someone who preferred the reflexes of his strong hand to be unencumbered at all times. He hadn't bothered to ask permission to carry a gun. He had instead waited until they had left him alone so he could discreetly fit his holster under the inconveniently form-fitting clothes.
Rachel was effortlessly ravishing in her flowing taupe-colored sundress. Frank noticed the waistline was conveniently high up on her midsection, but it did not prevent her curves from being on full display. His fingers had latched disapprovingly onto the sleeveless straps that barely hugged her shoulders, and with a sweet smirk, she said defensively, "They're spaghetti straps."
Tony had stepped in to make a timely correction, "Well, they're more like 'fettuccine' straps when you think about the thickness relative to that of spaghetti."
Frank was thankful for the brevity, even though he would have preferred she wore a jacket to cover up more while in public. On their way out the doors, Frank stopped to ask Scott his honest opinion on the cologne that Oxana had insisted he wear.
"You smell like someone threw a bucket of rubbing alcohol on a Christmas tree," Scott stated with a shrug.
"Thanks."
Frank covered his eyes with a pair of designer shades as his arm was suddenly yanked by the vice-like grip of his girlfriend as she dragged him to the car.
Rachel had decided on the best place to test the waters: a local brunch spot in Beverly Hills she had used to frequent every Sunday. Frank's photographic memory sent him into a mild trauma response at the sight of the quaint sign that read "Charlie's" in cherry-red cursive.
From the safety of the car, Rachel laid the ground rules, instructing Frank that he could not push people off this time if they approached her, that he had to walk beside her the entire time, and he had to hold her hand. As uncomfortable as he was with the entire situation, he listened to her. To his great relief, there appeared to be no paparazzi when they first arrived. They walked into the restaurant with relative ease, and were seated on the back terrace among the other tables of wealthy looking people.
Frank instantly recognized the red-haired woman with whom Rachel had spent most of her time in Pittsburgh. Her fiancé, however, he had not recognized. Devon was a tall, stoic young man with dark features whose reserved expressions seemed to remind him of Fletcher. However, his quiet nature put Frank at ease. Tina and Rachel did most of the talking at their table, by which he was not surprised in the least.
Frank's eyes frantically scanned the terrace, searching for suspicious activity until he realized Scott was doing just that from the opposite side of the restaurant. When he caught Frank staring, he narrowed his eyes and gave a curt nod in the direction of their table, signaling that Frank's attention was not needed elsewhere. Frank turned reluctantly back to the table, where plates of fancy looking appetizers were being served.
He thought very little of his appetite when out in public. Having spent years watching from the distance while his clients were wined and dined, Frank had learned to consume meals quickly during the non-traditional pockets of the day. Here, they expected him to eat at a leisurely pace with the rest of them. They did not eat out of necessity, but rather as a social activity.
Frank envied Scott for the earpiece that he wore, quietly feeding his observations to Tony where he stood on the other end of the terrace. Frank glanced back at the parking lot where their car was barely visible among the many luxury vehicles that were parked on the gravel. He could just make out the distant figure of Ricky Bianco, leaning casually against their Rolls Royce with a cigarette in his mouth.
Rachel poked him in the side, and with a forced smile Frank returned his attention to their table. He took one accidental sip of the champagne that had been placed in front of him, and just barely managed not to gag at its cloying aftertaste.
"Hope you enjoyed that sixty dollar sip, Farmer," Rachel whispered sardonically into his ear.
The topic of Rachel's pregnancy did not come up once during their meal.
As they said their goodbyes, Frank observed the glaring differences between Tina and her partner, Devon. Where Tina was outgoing and loquacious, Devon was the exact opposite. Frank identified their relationship as an interesting template for his own with Rachel. The familiarity tempted him to put more trust in the pair, as reluctant as he may have been to do so. Rachel obviously had no issues with either Tina or Devon knowing their situation. And as much as Frank hated to admit it, they did need at least one outside source who was not linked to their current location of residence.
Tina and Devon seemed to instinctively protect Rachel and Frank as they walked out of the restaurant, however there was not much they could do to save them from the small group of people with cameras waiting near the fence. Frank felt his blood pressure rise as he scanned the faces for that of his blue-vested archnemesis, but he seemed to be absent today.
Before Frank could study the other faces too closely, Scott was in front of him, blocking his view as he carefully shoved off some of the people who had gotten too close. Frank jumped slightly as he felt a large hand on his shoulder from behind. He glanced back to see Tony following closely behind them, providing a barrier between them and the patrons who had just recognized Rachel. Frank was so uncomfortable with the idea that two bodyguards were protecting him; he could hardly focus on the hounding stream of questions that were being thrown at both him and Rachel. The only ones he seemed to hear were the ones that repeatedly asked for his name.
Rachel clung to Frank's hand as tightly as she could, but on the outside she appeared as controlled as ever behind her sunglasses, a casual smile on her bright red lips. Frank squinted in the face of the camera flashes, but Rachel stared directly at them without a flinch.
"So, you fell in love with your former bodyguard?" one woman's voice managed to ask, more loudly than all of the others.
Rachel's answer was graceful. "No, I fell in love with the man who saved my life." She looked over at Frank, her beautiful face catching the sunlight in a way that would have prompted him to kiss her if they hadn't been caught in a lightning storm of camera flashes outside a public restaurant.
"Is it true you're pregnant with his child?"
Frank was shocked at how callously they could ask such a thing with him right there beside her. It was as if they were discussing breeding cattle.
As calmly as she had before, Rachel replied, "We weren't planning to announce this early but yes, it's true." She held his hand tightly with both of hers. "And God willing, we're expecting in January of next year."
The headlines were a bit kinder the following day.
Marron's Mystery Man: Nameless bodyguard who saved the Actress's life ten years ago is now courting the 'Queen of the Night'
Mama Marron: 40-year-old starlet confirms pregnancy with former bodyguard
From Bullets to Babies: The Award for 'Best Achievement in Reproduction' goes to . . .
"See how this works?" Rachel asked Frank as she glanced over his shoulder at the headlines. "You play the game, you get favorable outcomes."
She planted a kiss on his forehead, drawing the glare of Miss Laura Pentecost who was seated across the table.