❝ I didn't give a damn about anyone in a long time. And then you came along and pretty much blew that plan straight to hell. ❞
in which New York's most wanted man rescues a rich girl who is simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.
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"I think I'll take a rain check on that one."
Frank was resting on the couch, while Tamara and Dave were picking clothes for him to wear. His pain had gone from severe to moderate.
"How about this one?" Dave asked. It was another homemade shirt. This time with 'Anthrax' stitched with a lime green threading.
Tamara held it up to Frank.
"And you said you make these, huh Dave?" Frank asked, raising a brow.
"Yup!"
"I think I'll take a rain check on that one. But they look cool, they just don't fit my style. You sure you don't have anything like just a shirt?"
"Nah. I quit my job at Burger King to focus full time on the music dude. The Burger King polo was about the closest thing I got to smart clothes." He said.
"C'mon Frank. I know you'd suit this one."
"I'm only wearing it if you leave me alone." Frank grumbled.
"That's it, you cranky old man. Wear the shirt." Dave said, enthusiastically.
It was another DIY shirt with the word 'Death to all Nazi Punks!"' stitched in a red threading. Frank stood up and it was tight on his chest.
Tamara's eyes widened, as she looked at him but she quickly shook her head. There were often times where she couldn't stop herself looking at his body. Especially when she was tending to him.
"What's the next move? I'm assuming we just can't live at Joan's place for the next few days."
"You're staying here, and I'm leaving."
Tamara's face fell at the harshness at his voice.
He began to throw his belongings into his overnight bag.
"Going where?" Tamara asked, following after him.
"What is this, twenty one questions? I tell you to stay here, you do what I say. You got that?"
Tamara balled her fists, and felt her nails begin to dig into her skin.
Even Dave caught her eye.
"I'm getting sick of your attitude. I don't appreciate being talked to like that."
Dave's eyes widened. He didn't want to be in the midst of their argument. Frank already was a red light if he was angry. And as nice as Tamara was, she looked like she would stomp someone out if she was mad.
"Guys I think I'm gonna leave. You can keep the shirt Frank. You don't even have to give it back. Okay? Alright, have a good night." Dave said, hurriedly as he grabbed the box of clothes and rushed out of the apartment.
