F*cking Frank Read online

  F*cking Frank

  Copyright © 2018 Jen Luerssen

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a piece of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Publisher: LuerssenPerson

  [email protected]

  Proofreading:

  Love Infinity Proofreading

  Formatting:

  Type A Formatting

  Cover Design:

  Just Write. Creations

  Photo:

  Christopher Correia

  Cover Model:

  Taylor Scott

  Contents

  F*CKING FRANK

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Jen’s Other Books

  To all you grumpy fuckers.

  F*cking Frank

  MY NAME IS FRANK FONTANA, my friends call me ‘Fucking Frank.’ They all think it’s funny and I don’t give a shit. I just want to live my life with as little interference from people as possible. People suck and I don’t care for the fucking majority of them. Took me a while to accept that I’d have to have some friends, so I picked the ones that asked the minimum amount of questions and that were the least irritating. I’m a grumpy asshole and they all put up with me for some reason. If they have the patience for me then the least I can do is be there for them.

  My favorite person is Lia. She sings and I play stand up bass in her back up band. She always says it’s one band but she’s wrong, no one comes to see me, Joe, or Andrew, that’s for damn sure. We are interchangeable, she’s not. I’ll admit I had some feelings for Lia for a little while, but she’s all married up and happy with Javier and he’s okay. He makes her happy and that’s all I can ask for.

  I’m no monk, but I like to have a steady woman if I’m going to be fucking someone. I’m no romantic either, but I do okay with the ladies and prefer serial monogamy to one-night stands. Lia likes to worry about me and set me up, and I let her because it’s easier than fucking fighting it.

  Last week she set me up with one of her co-workers at the writing place where she works. When I say she set me up, I mean it. She asked me to go to lunch at one of my favorite places, The Hard Knox Café. I got there early and the minute I sat down she texted me telling me she couldn’t make it but she sent her friend, Millie, who was free and hungry. Not the least bit obvious at all.

  Millie was nice and pretty, and way too sweet for the likes of me. She and I enjoyed fried chicken and waffles in mostly awkward silence until a guy started harassing one of the waiters. I got in his face and he left. I told her I was sorry that Lia thought I’d be a good lunch date, she knows better. Millie laughed and said I wasn’t all that bad but she knew why Lia called me “Fucking” Frank now. I gave Lia shit for that one, and she promised to lay off, but I know it’s a lie. She’s way too happy to not want all her friends to feel the same. Plus, me paired off would, ideally, make me easier to live with.

  My problem is I always fall for the wrong woman. I’m the fucking king of unrequited feelings. For once I’d like to fall in love with someone who felt the same—I know—Fucking Frank wants to fall in love. I’m human, get over it. Maybe it would make me considerably less angry and maybe a tad less bitter.

  Our band, Lia and the Licks are playing a gig at one of our favorite local bars, Ireland’s 32, here in San Francisco. Yeah, I live in San Francisco, land of the pretentious hipster fucks and entitled tech douchebags. Alas, I was born here and my parents are way back hippies that have made a small mint with their natural foods store in Noe Valley, so it is home and although it’s not what it used to be, it’s still a pretty cool town. I live out by Ocean Beach so there are generally fewer assholes out that far, but sometimes even they make it out there.

  Lia is belting out her jazzy version of Sorry by Justin Beiber. I know, that fucking j-hole. I put up with it because she sings like an angel and makes whatever fucking ridiculous song sound like a jazz classic. I like it more when we do a rock or heavy metal classic, but hey, it’s a job. It’s a pretty good-sized crowd for a Thursday, and I’m in a groove tonight. You might say I’m in half a good mood. Our friend Paul made a joke about meerkats and I laughed. Everyone stared at me like I killed a kitten. I mean, I laugh sometimes.

  There’s a woman sitting at the bar making ‘take me home’ eyes at me and I’m considering it. Lately, things have been not horrible. My apartment is rent controlled and I got a new roommate and he pays most of the rent and is rarely there. The surf has been great, and I booked us a five-month gig playing in Sonoma for the summer and fall. We leave tomorrow and I’ll admit I’m slightly excited.

  It took some convincing the rest of the band, but my friend and owner of the winery, Sebastian, offered us two cottages on the property. Joe and I will stay in one, Lia will have the other and Javier will come when he can. Andrew is married with a kid so he and his wife, Jen, rented a place nearby. Sebastian also asked us to help with the crush in the fall. It’s something anyone who lives in the Bay Area should do at least one season. It’s crazy hard work but a lot of fun harvesting grapes and getting them on their way to wine.

  Between playing for The Licks and my session work as a guitarist, bassist, and drummer, music is my full-time job. I’ve never wanted to do anything else. I finally was able to quit my barista job at the Bitter Bean last year. I’m content for once in my life.

  I throw a chin lift at the woman making eyes and she gives me a sweet smile. We finish up our set and I walk over to her. The bartender knows me so he drops my whiskey on the rocks with a twist of lime in front of me with a nod.

  “Thanks, Terry,” I say and turn to the woman and sip my drink. “Enjoy the show?”

  “I sure did. I really liked your fingering technique,” she says and winks. Like I haven’t heard that one before.

  “Oh yeah?” I narrow my eyes at her. “What did you like about it?” I ask.

  She smirks a
nd says, “The way you plucked those strings, gentle but assertive.”

  “So, you’re wondering if maybe I could stroke your clit with my fingering technique and then fuck me?”

  She sputters and fails to come back with anything so I walk away. I don’t have time for people who can’t back up their bullshit. She was flirting and throwing out innuendos and sometimes I just want to cut the shit and just put it out there. Maybe it’s a little too much, but it works on occasion when I find someone who’s not lying to themselves.

  I find a seat next to Andrew. He and I get along because he’s a man of few words, and since he’s married he’s a good wingman.

  “You boys all packed for our grape adventure?” Lia drapes her arms over our shoulders.

  “I’m never calling it that, but yes, Jen and Mae are all ready to go,” Andrew says.

  “Fucking Frank, we need to get you some sweet Sonoma ass while we’re there,” Lia says and I glare at her.

  “It’s a job Lia, not a singles mixer,” I say, knowing she won’t leave me alone and this trip is going to be torture.

  “Oh boo, Frankenstein, you need your noodle toodled.” I swear I don’t understand half of what she says most of the time but she’ll drop everything to take a friend to a doctor’s appointment or bring you donuts and tacos when you’re sick or feeling down. Lia is loyal, funny, smart, and I’m probably always going to be a little in love with her. I’d do anything for her and we are always going to be just friends. I was sure hung up on her for a bit there, pathetic I know.

  When I was a about ten, my parents had a partner in their shop, Kale, yep, his name was fucking Kale. After two years of working side by side with my parents, he left them, emptying out the safe and registers without a word. Fortunately, he was found a few weeks later in Hawaii and was arrested for various crimes, not the least of which was my robbing my parents. Kale taught me a lesson I’ll never forget. People suck, or most people do. But the most important lesson was to choose your friends carefully and do not trust easily. Even my ten-year-old self knew that Kale was shady. He wasn’t loyal, even when he was helping my parents. I witnessed him giving free wheatgrass shots to hot women, throwing mail away so he didn’t have to deal with it, and I even saw him go into a fucking Whole Foods once. Not. Loyal.

  So, despite the fact that Lia, Andrew, and especially Joe, can irritate me, they are true friends to me. How do I know this? I’ve watched them, observed their behavior, told them benign secrets to see if they’d tell. Not one of them failed. Call me an asshole for testing my friends, fuck if I care, at least I know who’s got my back. Sure, they are all flawed, especially Joe, but they all would go far out of their way for me, and even though I know I grate on them, (they call me Fucking Frank for fuck’s sake) they know they can rely on me too. I’d lay my life down for any one of them, well maybe not Joe, but I’d at least push him out of the way.

  “Please stop talking,” I say, rubbing my face with my hands. “I’m an adult and can take care of my own dick.”

  Lia pretend pouts, then turns to Joe on the other side of Andrew. “How about you Joe-Broseph? You going to make sweet love to some gorgeous tourists among the grapes, under the stars?”

  Joe clinks his beer to Lia’s whiskey, chuckling. “If you mean am I going to fuck some hot wasted ladies bent over a grapevine or in the back of a rented limo, then yes.”

  Lia high fives him and we all down our drinks and head back to stage.

  F*cking Sonoma

  I LOVE TO DRIVE. SPECIFICALLY, I love to drive my 1972 El Camino. It’s shiny black and in perfect shape. My bass fits in the truck bed and only seats two so I can be picky about who rides with me. My mechanic fully restored it and was able to install a decent stereo system with satellite radio and a USB port for my phone.

  The drive to Sonoma is beautiful, especially in the spring. It’s still pretty green and there are fields of flowers among grape vines. The traffic isn’t too bad this morning as Joe and I head to the Thirsty Monkey winery this fine Friday morning. When we pull into the long driveway, I get a sort of hopeful feeling, it’s unusual and a little unwelcome. I rarely ever feel hopeful. It goes against my pessimistic nature.

  Sebastian is outside with his dog, Seawitch, a dumb fucking name for a dog, but he also named his winery the Thirsty Monkey, so he’s clearly an idiot. Seawitch is gorgeous with her red coat and white speckled chest. When she meets us at the car and I bend to scratch her behind the ears, she rewards me with a nose nudge to the balls and a hand lick.

  “Hey there, Witchie,” I say and head to her owner to greet him with a slap on the back. “Sebass.”

  “Fucking Frank, Joe, welcome to the Monkey.” He slaps my back and shakes Joe’s hand. “You guys want a tour first or do you want to head to the shack to get settled?”

  “I’m nervous that you call it a shack, but let’s head there first and drop off our shit,” I say.

  “Okay, head down this drive here and I’ll follow you in the golf cart,” Sebastian says and we head down the dusty drive.

  The shack isn’t really that bad, it’s a small two bedroom cottage with an open kitchen and living room and a bathroom. It’s perfect for Joe and I and since it’s temporary I could live with worse, like if I had to share a bedroom with Joe. He and I unpack while Sebass prattles on about the party he’s throwing tomorrow where we’ll make our debut as the winery’s house band for the summer. Once we’re settled, we head back to the main building in the golf cart, my legs dangling off the back seat.

  The main building is long and cavernous, like most wineries. It’s made of rustic, exposed stone and is cool on the inside and smells musty mixed with the tang of wine in the air. Seawitch follows us everywhere and settles at my feet whenever we stop to look at something interesting to Sebastian while he gives us a tour. We meet two of the wine pourers in the tasting room and several other employees along the way. I remember zero names, figuring I’ll learn them eventually.

  He takes us into a large, long room with barrels and barrels of wine. The walls are lined with endless racks of wine bottles. There’s a woman on a ladder with her back to us pulling bottles out and placing them back in. She is tall but still needs to stand on her tiptoes on the top of the ladder to reach the bottles she’s working with.

  “Hey, Mikey, careful on that ladder,” Sebass calls to her in a greeting.

  “Suck my dick, Sebastian,” she calls back and I like her instantly. “I’m not the one who fell off a ladder and a golf cart last week.”

  She looks at home standing on the ladder in tight jeans, Doc Martens and a white tank. Her dark, curly hair is in a ponytail and when she turns my heart drops. I’ve met women who were stunning, shit, I work with a woman who is beautiful, but this woman, fuck. I spy lines of a tattoo spilling down her bare shoulder and I step in to get a better look. They are tentacles, goddammit. When I step forward she notices me and smirks.

  “Well fuck, Sebass, why didn’t you mention you were with people? I wouldn’t have sexually harassed you so blatantly.” She steps down from the ladder and pushes her black glasses up her nose.

  “Holy fuck nuts, she’s a female Frank,” Joe whispers next to me. He’s not too far off, as I am wearing jeans, Docs and a white tee also. I run a hand through my hair then push my identical black glasses up my nose.

  She thrusts her hand out to me. “I’m Mikey, who the fuck are you? You’re hot.”

  I laugh in a forced breath of air. Where has this woman been all of my life? It feels like we’ve met before.

  “This is Fucking Frank Fontana and Joe Davis. They are in the band I hired for the season,” Sebass interrupts.

  I take her offered hand and we shake heartily with firm grips. Yeah, I like her. Shit.

  “Fucking Frank eh? Is that a descriptor or a hobby?” she asks and I’m a total goner. “Hey, Joe. You don’t fuck?”

  He takes her offered hand with both of his and steps in to her. This pisses me off. “I sure do, but it goes without sayin
g, so I’m just Joe.” He winks at her and I want to kill him.

  “Well, I’m Mikey, I’m the winemaker. Welcome to the Monkey, Fucking Frank and Just Joe,” she laughs maniacally. “Sounds like a ménage book I’d like to be a part of.”

  I don’t know what the hell is happening but everything she says is mesmerizing me. This is a possible dangerous development to this adventure.

  Joe laughs again and the asshat has the nerve waggle his eyebrows at her. “I’m always up for a three-way sandwich, not sure I’d like one with this lug, but I can be sexually adventurous.”

  “Stop talking now, Joe,” I warn him. “It’s nice to meet you, Mikey.”

  “If you’re done harassing me and my friends, we will leave you to it and continue out to the vineyard,” Sebass says.

  She gives him a one finger salute as we turn to leave. “Sure thing salty Sebastian, I look forward to harassing you soon, Frank.”

  I shake my head in amusement and follow Joe and Sebastian out.

  “She’s something,” I mention nonchalantly.

  Sebass rubs his beard and smiles wryly. “That she is. Fortunately, her oenology skills are stellar. I tried to get her to tone it down for clients, but obviously she does what she wants. Makes the best Pinot Noir I’ve ever tasted so it’s a small sacrifice to put up with her unconventional attitude.”

  “I admire that in a woman,” Joe says and again I want to punch him in his dick. “Judging by the way Fucking Frank here was drooling over her though, I will only admire her from afar—his evil glare is calling dibs right now.”

  I grunt at him not sure why I’m relieved by him stating he won’t go after her. It would be a bad idea for me too. “There is no such thing as dibs on a person, Joe, we’ve talked about this. She doesn’t need the hassle from either of us if she’s producing all the wine here. Let’s leave her the fuck alone.”

  “She lives on property too, so this place is her life. It’s rare that she’s not working day or night. This industry is male dominated so she feels like she has to work three times as hard to be taken seriously. Her wines have won us awards and she’s one of the top winemakers in Sonoma County.” Sebass obviously admires her and I like her even more. “Good luck getting her to go out with you. She is picky and pretty much hates everyone.”