F*cking Frank Read online

  Joe laughs again and pats me hard on my shoulder. “She really is Frank’s twin.”

  I shrug off his hand and think about the way her rosy lips curled in a sardonic smile, and the black ink that delicately spilled down her shoulder. I rub where my own octopus tattoo sits above my heart.

  F*cking Ass Cart

  WE TOOL AROUND IN THE cart covering a lot of the acreage that is mostly grapes. Sebastian tells us a bunch of stuff I’ll never remember about soil and shit but it’s a nice day and I’m enjoying the ride. Joe asks his usual dumb ass questions about private places on the vineyard to have private time with the “wine ladies,” as he calls them.

  “So that’s the property, and I’m done carting your asses around,” Sebastian says as we pull up to the main buildings.

  “Man, you couldn’t at least use that ass cart to take us back to our shack?” Joe complains and I laugh because it’s barely a quarter of a mile walk.

  I smack the back of his head. “Let’s go inside and drink some fancy monkey wine, dipshit.”

  “Huh, I was thinking about a nap, but I could get day drunk first.”

  He skips into the tasting room and I follow after him, my head shaking. Joe acts like an idiot sometimes but he is most definitely not. I know this trip is a treat for him too. He is his brother’s guardian and carries a lot of responsibilities. Jack, who is almost 18, is on a European trip for the next four months and then will stay with his grandparents until Joe gets back. This is a vacation for Joe who works hard in construction during the day, in addition to playing music with us. I may give him a hard time but I admire him more than I’d ever admit out loud.

  The tasting room is a traditional setup, long bar, stools, water jugs, bowls of pretzels and olives, and rows and rows of wine. To the left of the bar is a gift shop area with all things Thirsty Monkey. Anything from t-shirts to wine openers. There’s a wide selection of jams and shit as well.

  At the bar, Joe has already found a seat and is chatting up one of the women behind the bar. The guy moves quickly and women tend to love him. I take a stool one down from him and he gives me a fake hurt look.

  “I got sprayed for cooties, Frank, you don’t have to sit so far from me.”

  “I’m good, don’t want to get in the way of your ‘game,’” I say as the pretty bartender places a wine glass in front of me.

  “Hey there, Frank?” she asks and I nod. “I’m Colette. Joe here tells me you guys are here for a few months?”

  “Yes, nice to meet you,” I say holding my hand out and she gives it a hearty shake. “We will try to stay out of your way.”

  “You two are no bother at all. Can I start you with our Pinot Gris?” she asks and pours me a healthy amount of wine when I nod.

  Joe and I are about six wines in and probably talking way too loudly when Mikey walks in with a case of wine. I observe her as she walks behind the bar, barely breaking a sweat, places the case on the floor and bends down to unload the wine to a low shelf. My eyes glance over her as she wiggles her ass in our direction.

  “Hey, dicklicks, stop staring at my ass,” she hollers over her shoulder at Joe and I. He is also staring and I punch him in the shoulder.

  “Fuck, man, like I’m not gonna check that out?” he asks, rubbing his shoulder.

  Mikey chuckles as she straightens and heads to us. “You can check it out all you want, Just Joe, but no touching,” she says and gives me a wink. “Fucking Frank, on the other hand, may find himself with consent to touch later, we shall see.”

  Joe is laughing so hard he falls off of his bar stool. “Oh man, I love her, Frank,” he says from the floor. “Mikey, you sure you don’t want someone who experiences joy? Frank here hasn’t smiled since 2015.” He jabs his thumb at me as he sits back down.

  “I love a challenge, and joy is overrated.” Damn. She looks at me and purses her lips. “You guys enjoying my wine?”

  Joe tips his glass to her, takes a huge gulp and says, “The wine is almost as tasty as dat ass.”

  Mikey throws her head back and laughs, looking pretty joyous and carefree. “Oh, Joe, please tell me you are super drunk and that’s not how you normally speak to women.”

  “He is drunk, and it’s also how he always speaks to everyone,” I say dryly. “It’s his charm, apparently.”

  “Aww, are you throwing your pal here under the bus?” she asks.

  “I’m just telling you the truth. Also I don’t throw my friends under clichés.”

  “You two shhhhould jusht get a room already,” Joe slurs. “Ugh, I’m wasted from wine, gonna go nap, Franks and beans.” He stumbles off his stool, salutes everyone in the room and shuffles out.

  “He’s a bit of a lightweight,” I explain. “Joe has a lot going on so when he drinks he’s like a freshman in college on his first bender.”

  “How about you?” Mikey asks tilting her head to examine me. “You look like you can hold your liquor.”

  “I drink enough that I’m no lightweight, but I’m no alcoholic either. Not used to wine so much,” I say feeling the effects of day drinking a bit too. Mikey leans across the bar and eases my glasses off and hands me her glasses from her front pocket. Her eyes are a sparkling blue framed with long lashes, they are startlingly pretty.

  “Let’s switch glasses,” she jokes, crossing her eyes. “Hey, we have the same frames. Phew, Frank, you are blurry.”

  “That’s what near-sightedness and a wicked stigmatism gets you. Blurriness. Are these just for reading? They do literally nothing for me.”

  She nods and puts her own glasses back on. “I need them for all the tiny writing on wine bottles.”

  I smile and hold my hand out for my pair. Not wearing them makes me feel out of control. I hate that feeling. Maybe I did drink too much today. “I may head home and nap too.”

  She hands my glasses back and gives me a half smile. “How about a walk instead?”

  As she comes around from behind the bar, I stand a bit wobbly. Her hands come to my waist, holding me still, her hands are warm and affecting me and my dick. Once I’m stable, she grabs my hand and pulls me out into the bright day.

  “Damn, what time is it?” I ask, feeling disoriented.

  “It’s a little after four o’clock, you okay?”

  I wait a minute for my glasses to darken in the sun, I know, I’m one of those nerds with transitional lenses, but honestly, why buy sunglasses when I’d get the exact same Ray-Ban frames anyway. When they’ve turned into shades I turn to Mikey and lower them.

  “I will be once we get moving. Where are we walking to?”

  “Well Fucking Frank, I thought I’d walk to that little almond orchard over there before I cart your ass back to your cabin so you can sleep it off too.” She points and I squint at the small group of trees.

  “I hate almonds,” I say for no reason at all.

  “Do you like anything?” she asks, teasing me. “I know you’re supposed to be some kind of malcontent but you just seem a bit grumpy. You don’t fool me, Fucking Frank. More like Fluffy Frank, or All the Feels Frank.”

  I grunt because that’s what a grumpy asshole like me does when a gorgeous woman sees right through you.

  We are walking toward the trees and she is still holding my hand, fuck if I’m going to be the one to let go. Seawitch follows along with us and stays at Mikey’s side. Mikey is a few inches shorter than me but pretty tall for a woman. Her hair is in a ponytail and cascades down her back in a riot of dark chestnut curls.

  “I think that sometimes when I’m nice to people they think it’s my default rather than an anomaly. Just because I’m nice to you doesn’t mean I am to anyone else. Sebass tells me you are a bit of a grump too.”

  She shrugs her shoulders. “Guilty. So, when you are not being your surly self, what do you like to do?” she asks.

  “I play music mostly but I also like to eat and read,” I say, ever the conversationalist.

  “Do you always wear Docs in the summer?”

  �
��Do you?”

  “Yep, I’m a year ‘round Doc wearer. In my line of work, I can’t really wear cute sandals or heels. Too much walking and there’s a fair amount of muck involved.” She kicks a pile of muddy leaves as an example. “They make the most sense.”

  “Do you want to make out with me under those trees?” I ask so nonchalantly she stops in her tracks.

  “Sure, Frank, I don’t need to talk and get to know you first, it’s overrated,” she says and pulls me along.

  We continue making small talk about Sonoma weather, dogs, and music until we reach the small orchard. She walks us around in a circle and I want so badly to lean her up against one of the trees and kiss her, but it just feels weird and too quick. I’m beyond attracted to her and I think she feels the same, but I can’t tell 100%, so I keep my hands and lips to myself. I’ll be here for a while so it will either happen or it won’t. Probably be better if it didn’t. Mikey would make an awesome friend, despite the fact that I want to fuck her. Eventually, we sit on a double swing hanging from one of the sturdier trees. We just sit and swing for a bit, enjoying the sounds of everything but our own voices.

  The sun and wine is getting to me and I’m a yawning machine. “Sorry, guess I really need that nap.”

  “Not so much a lightweight, huh?” She teases. “Let’s get your ass to my cart and I’ll drop you.”

  “My ass goes wherever you command,” I say and smile half way.

  “Oh shit, Frank, did you just half smile?” she asks and then gives me a luminous full smile. I’m done for.

  F*cking Mikey Likes It

  SEBASTIAN TREATS US TO A great dinner paired with wine, of course, which both Joe and I have slept off from our afternoon indulgence. In addition to the band, there are the two pourers from the tasting room, Colette, some guy I haven’t officially met yet named Gary, and Mikey. She and Lia became fast friends which was a relief. They have been bonding over Postmodern Jukebox, which is basically what Lia does with rearranging pop and rock songs and singing them in a jazz style. It was something she started doing independently of them but is now obsessed with getting us on it. I don’t see why, she’s super talented and I’m not sure that guy didn’t steal the idea from her. She says it would give us an undeniable boost and then we could do a national tour.

  “So Lia, your new friend here propositioned Frank and me for a three-way today,” Joe says and he’s definitely due for a junk punching.

  Lia’s red lips open in delight and she turns to Mikey. “That would be a hard to resist hot guy sandwich, that’s for sure. You sure you don’t prefer one of them over the other?” she asks and points to me with zero subtlety. “My Frank here is a hard nut to crack but once you do he’s all soft meaty center. Plus you guys look alike. You both have that dark, sexy, broody vibe going for you.”

  I grab my wine and drink it down. This is why I hate to socialize. People talk about me and how I’m really a good person and then I have to disappoint them when they find it’s not the case. I give Lia a look and excuse myself.

  After a satisfyingly long piss, I head back toward the twinkling lights that hang above the long outside table. A hand grabs me before I can breach the wall of shrubs and pulls me behind the main building.

  Before I can get my wits together a warm body presses to me and hands thread into my hair. My eyes focus to find my attacker is Mikey. We make eye contact and she leans up and puts her lips to mine. “Is this okay?” she asks with her lips still affixed to mine.

  I lean back. “I think so,” I say honestly. There’s something about Mikey, something familiar. Maybe Joe’s right, she is eerily similar to me in style. Her hair is down and wild tonight and I brush a tendril from her forehead and lean back in. Why the fuck not?

  We kiss pretty chastely for a bit and I rest my hand at the base of her neck, my fingers brushing her pulse there. She shivers in response and then the kiss changes. We sink in and consume each other, both of us holding on tight.

  After a bit, I rest my forehead to hers. “Hi, Mikey, how are you tonight?” I ask and she huffs out a laugh.

  “Coming on too strong for you, Frank?” she asks and rubs her thumb across my bottom lip, her eyes light up when I bite the tip.

  “Nah, I don’t need to talk or get to know you first, it’s overrated.”

  She smiles and pulls on my hair. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Anything, you seem smart enough to carry a conversation, and not annoying at all.” I lean in and sniff the spot behind her ear—smells like oak barrels—then kiss just below the lobe. “I didn’t hate talking with you today.”

  “Ooh, smooth talker, ‘not annoying,’ ‘didn’t hate it,’ huh?” She grips my hair and pulls my lips back to hers. We make out for a bit longer and I’m sure we are missed but I don’t give a fuck.

  Our embrace is interrupted when Lia calls me, on my phone. I know it’s her because the ringtone is Metallica’s Nothing Else Matters. I draw back a little from Mikey, hoping she isn’t close enough to feel my rock hard dick, to retrieve my phone from my pocket. Before I get a chance to answer, Lia punches me in the shoulder.

  “Fuck, Lia, what the hell?” She looks pissed, and I’m far from happy to be interrupted.

  “Fucking. Frank. You will not ruin this for us.” She stomps her feet while pointing a finger in my face. I hear Mikey chuckle next to me, traitor. “You can’t be your Fucking Frank self, screw with her and then make it all awkward. Just stop.”

  I hold my hands up. “She jumped me, first of all, second, weren’t you just pushing us together not five minutes ago?”

  Lia looks between the two of us, glaring and pointing back and forth. “Fine, be safe, use a condom, and for the love of Frampton, don’t make it awkward.”

  “You are the only one doing that, Li,” I say and gently turn her and escort her back to the table.

  Dessert is served and it’s delicious. The evening is mild, the food, wine, and company are superb and I just locked lips with a gorgeous female version of me. Weird but also a little magical. When we sit back down I take Lia’s seat next to Mikey.

  “That’s some heat you’re packing if what I felt on my hip was an accurate representation,” Mikey says to me in a low voice.

  I smirk at her. “You say whatever you feel like, don’t you?”

  “I have a very low threshold for bullshit, Frank, especially from myself.”

  “I appreciate a woman with standards,” I say.

  “And I appreciate a dude with a big dick,” she says and my aforementioned dick is hard again.

  “Jesus,” I half laugh. “What’s your story? How did you end up here?”

  “I grew up in Petaluma, my mom and dad both worked in the wine industry. Once I was old enough, ten by the way, my parents taught me everything they knew about wine, including tasting it. I loved being outside, liked science and I’m good at it. Got into UC Davis, did an internship at a few wineries, got to know Sebastian and we decided to go into business together. That’s the short version.” She pauses and takes a sip of her wine. “How did you end up here?”

  “Well, I was forged in the bowels of hell, then set free to walk the earth as a mortal when Jupiter aligned with Venus and Mercury was in retrograde,” I say, “then I took a left onto 12 and here I am in Sonoma.”

  Her brows furrow in confusion. “Are you making a joke, Fucking Frank?” she asks. “I was told you don’t joke.”

  “You’ve been told about me?” I tease but am nervous about what my asshole friends have said about me. “Maybe you should form your own opinion.”

  She laughs. “Oh, settle down, I asked Sebastian about you and Lia gave up some interesting tidbits. Something about your protective side and you carrying her 200-pound boyfriend out of a club because he was in the dog house.” She taps her pursed lips and assesses me. “I want to hear about you, tell me your story. It can be short like mine and I’ll get the good parts later.”

  “Fine, I went to high school with Sebass in S
an Francisco and we’ve been friends for a long time, that’s why I put up with his crap and vice versa.” He and I went to the School of the Arts together and he puts his artistic talents to use in his business, the design of this place is great. “I’ve always played music, we had a lot of instruments in my house growing up and I was good at all of them. We also went to high school with Joe. He and I met Lia through Craig’s List, which I’m surprised she hasn’t told you how she got her friends off the classifieds. Been playing with her and the band for a few years, I also do session work so I make a living doing music. Sebass made us an offer we couldn’t refuse for the summer, a steady paying gig with a free place to stay? Hard to turn that down. Love it up here, and San Francisco summers can get tedious and cold, especially where I live by the beach.”

  “Something tells me that’s the long version, and I’m honored you shared with me,” she says, and she’s right. For me, that was an absolute overshare.

  “Can you tell me about your tattoo?” I ask because it’s a safe topic, usually. People ask about my tattoos all the time and I don’t mind telling them why I have stand-up bass on the back of my left bicep, the second refrain from Led Zeppelin’s Kashmir on the right, Carpe Noctem on my lower abdomen, and a birch tree on my calf. Most people don’t see the octopus over my heart but I get comments from other surfers and a few women who have gotten my shirt off.

  I get a confused look. “What tattoo?” she asks clearly feigning ignorance.

  I trail a finger down her bare shoulder. “These fuck hot tentacles. Do they lead to a cephalopod or a kraken?”

  Her top has a high neck so her chest is covered. She turns to face me and pulls on her shirt. I’m able to make out the bulbous head of an octopus right above her heart, eerily similar to mine. I turn to her too and pull my collar down so she can see my matching ink.