Filthy Storm

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

FRANKIE

"I BROUGHT YOU some beef jerky so you'll have some snack later," Frankie said as she unpacked some food from her bag. "There's some Doritos too, a slice of vanilla cake from the diner, and I also bought you some hair ties for your hair—"

Ezra Vuitton held up a hand to cut her off, his long blonde hair framing his sharply defined features. Unlike Frankie's bright energy that drew anyone in from a five-mile radius, Ezra was the complete opposite. He was straightforward, rough and had a deep, gravelly voice that was like a chilly cloak to her ears.

It was an unfortunate difference when she and her father looked exactly the same — same hair, bright blue eyes, straight pointy nose and slightly plump upper lips.

"How are you holding up?"

Frankie pursed her lips, her eyes roaming the entirety of the correctional facility's visiting area. There were fewer visitors than usual. A young woman was sitting with a middle-aged man at the far corner, her shoulders shook as tears streamed down her cheeks.

She recalled her own self in a similar position three years ago. Lost and without any relative to rely on, she had asked her father so many times why he did what he did, why did they have to sit there with so many guards around them as if they were a threat to humanity. Perhaps it was true to his father, but she was in denial then.

But unlike the man in front of that young woman across from her, Ezra didn't show any remorse and told her, 'bring your life together since you're on you own now' like he wasn't leaving his daughter alone in a town they only moved in five months prior.

Frankie swallowed the growing bile in her throat. "All good. I'm looking at another job that may or may not have better pay than the diner." She shrugged in nonchalance. "I met someone who's working there."

"Is it a boy?"

She paused as she looked up at her father's eyes laser-focused on her. "It is. What about it?"

Ezra let out a deep-seated sigh and placed his palms on the table. "I'll tell you to be careful, but you already know that, don't you?" He gestured to the items around him. "You don't have to bring anything every time you visit. I need bail money, not a survival kit."

Frankie stopped unpacking and stared at him. His scathing eyebrows taunting her, the coolness of his facial features contradicting the fire in his words. She blew out a breath.
"Fine then. I'll take these with me, but keep the hair tie."

Jutting her chin, she began putting the food back to her bag, completely ignoring her arrogant father. "You can go now. I'll bail you out when I have the money."

It was a long moment— as she awkwardly repacked the groceries while Ezra was watching on from his stoic sitting position— before he stood up and walked back to the cell without another word.

Frankie's knees gave out as the guard escorted him out of her sight. She let out a frustrated, minuscule groan. "Why did he have to be so difficult?"

• • •

AFTER PACKING UP, she walked out of the facility and blew out a breath. When she knew she was calm enough to form a coherent sentence, Frankie pulled out her phone and the calling card, then dialed the number written on it.

It took three rings and five foot taps before the person on the other end answered.

"Adam speaking."

She let out a low, surprised chuckle. "Aren't you a formal fellow?"

"Frankie?" She could hear the smile in his voice. "Hey... how are you doing?"

She stepped back as an elderly couple walked by, then put her hand inside the pocket of her trench coat. "Good. You?"

"I'm okay." There was a long pause before Adam spoke again, "Seeing that you just used your Adam's Fun Services card, I'm assuming that everything isn't as all right as you said?"

"Technically, you're not seeing me physically at the moment." Frankie sighed, her hand closing into a fist against the fabric of her coat. She was being obvious by being curt. "Uh, look. I don't want to cut to the chase this quick, but is your... is The Plaza hotel in need of another staff?"

Her eyes shut closed as she waited for Adam's answer. Asking a favor wasn't her biggest strength. She'd rather suffer than having to owe someone. It only happens that her father was her weakest spot.

Ezra might seem like a not-so-ideal father to some, but he took care of her in the ways he only knew how, and for her, that was enough. Having only one job when she was already struggling to keep a roof above her head wouldn't suffice to be able to release him out of prison.

"I'm sorry, Frankie. We're in full capacity at the moment," Adam explained carefully. Her heart dropped down to her stomach. "However, I can call you when someone canceled and you can handle their shift. A part-time thing. What's your schedule in the diner?"

A giddy scream bubbled up inside her as it registered what he said. "Five PM to eleven. I have a total of twenty-one days vacation in a year though, so I can take some time off every now and then until a vacancy is available...? Sounds like a plan, right?"

"And I see that you haven't used all your twenty-one days up." Adam laughed lightly. "That's brilliant. I'll inform you in advance. Talk soon?"

"Absolutely." A smile brightened Frankie's features. "I truly appreciate this, Adam. Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. Wait until I actually bring you here as one of the staff first."

They exchanged their goodbyes and as they hang up, Frankie lifted her face to the sky and stared anxiously to the endless distance, the corner of her mouth lifting into a small curve

"Oh, the joy of being a lowly peasant."