Chapter 007: I've Fucking Had It
Chapter 007: I've Fucking Had It
One Month Later Belleville, New Jersey.
In the safety of his comfortable apartment, Frank stared numbly at the empty bottle of Jack Daniel's, a gift tag about its neck reading, "To: Frankie. From: Q. M. & J., A little lift if you ever need it." He tried, drunkenly, to remember why this bottle was special, and why it had the tag on it that it did.
Jack had been in Frank's Skeleton Crew office since mid-August, when he broke the news to Quinn, Mikey, and Jepha about putting the axe on project: "Get Back Mina". He had made his decision with careful consideration, especially with Quinn's account of what he had said to Mina the day Pete came back. At first Frank was surprised and a bit angry, but he knew it was only for the best. His friend's actions had fortified his final say; it was time to move on. It was a hard concept to grasp especially after all the planning the group had done, but again, Frank knew it was for the best.
In an effort to help him officially get over Mina, friends tried to set him up with various women, none ever as stunning or demure as Mina, to whom he always compared them to. After a wild string of blind dates and one-night stands, Frank had had enough. Instead of human contact, he turned to an old, and supposedly dead, habit; drinking. It started with a few drinks on the weekends, then it moved up to getting wasted on work nights so badly he'd have to call in sick the next day. Yet no amount of liquor could wash away Mina from his mind. Even when he was piss drunk, she was all he could think about, her and their non-existent kid. And in the hours that he was sober, all he did was stare at his favorite picture on them on her eighteenth birthday.
The picture showed them as a couple, kissing at an Italian restaurant with what clearly looked like a present from Frank (a Jack Skellington plushy and matching pyjamas) in Mina's lap. She had the only other copy of the picture, but what it's fate was after they broke up, Frank did not know. What he did know however, was that his copy served as the trigger for drinking rituals. That was how his nights usually went, now it wasn't enough anymore.
One Hour Ago
Some people who saw Frank walking past their window and towards the cemetery, would probably have thought he was visiting a deceased relative. Other, more educated individuals, may have guessed that he was going to see Paste, a nickname for his complexion; a pale, pudgy individual who served as the town drug dealer. The twenty-something year-old man pretty much lived on the cemetery property seeing that all he had to do was hop his back-yard fence to get there. Frank knew him from his experimental teenaged years strictly as the only guy who knew exactly what he took and how much.
"Long time no see, Iero." The stringy haired man greeted gruffly at Frank as he came to a full halt before him.
"Yeah, same here, Paste." Frank replied. "Got it?"
"I'm doing great, what about you?" the man named Paste jested, not sensing his old friend's urgency.
"Not now, man- it's gonna be a long night for me. Do you have it?"
"Alright, alright, cool your jets. I got your prescription. Same stuff as before you went all clean on me and more concentrated, like you asked."
"Good. " Frank nodded as he forked over his dues and took the white paper-bag from Paste.
"Any reason...?" Paste gestured at the bag that was now hidden underneath Frank's black hoodie.
"Girl. The girl I can't have. It's a long-ass story and I gotta go Paste. Thanks man and I hope I don't see you." Frank said quickly.
"I get it." Paste nodded, knowing their obscure understanding, "Now, scat, some kids are coming by soon."
Frank managed a small smile before taking to the streets again.
Thirty Minutes Ago
Usually, he drank to the sound of some kind of music for his mood at the time, but not tonight. Usually, he would get smashed with some cheap beer by itself, but not tonight. No, tonight was different. Why? Because all this fucked up shit had to stop. Because tonight the heartache, along with his heart, would finally stop. Here in his Belleville apartment he would take his "little lift" and "prescription" together and hope for the worst.
'For me, it ends tonight.' Frank thought solemnly as he placed the picture back under his pillow and gazed about his room before exiting it to the kitchen.
Around eight twelve in the evening, according to the kitchen clock, Frank picked up the bottle, his vision only slightly impaired, and spoke to Jack.
"Tonight, Jack, we celebrate the end of everything as I know it." He said slowly, his speech slurred to the point of incomprehensible. "And, we've got a nice dose of hero...hero... whatever, to go out with a BANG!" at this he giggled, not even recollecting how he had acquired the narcotic.
None the less, he threw the empty bottle over his shoulder letting it crash against the wall, directly behind him, into millions of little pieces as he picked up the prepared syringe gingerly.
"I love you, Mina." he whispered, gazing at his arm before jabbing the needle in its entirety into his flesh and pumping in the deadly venom.
For a moment he could only feel an intense rush coursing through his veins and all over his body. His heart pounded in his ears as his breathing grew ragged. The dose was stronger than he had thought----
"Tell me why, again, we're giving the invitations out ourselves instead of by mail?" Pete asked as he and Mina cuddled in the back seat of their chauffeured car.
"Because, Mr. Wentz, it's a tradition in my family to personally deliver invitations to guests by hand, if they live close enough." Mina replied grinning. "Besides when was the last time we got to be by ourselves?"
The pair had planned a big, half traditional, half modern wedding at the Grand Ballroom at the Waldorf=Astoria with a guest list to pack the place to its fullest capacity. Such a huge production was something Bert could not handle himself so he had hired a team of experts to help out with everything. For the last month, as the ceremony would take place on the first Friday of November, the couple planned their wedding at break-neck speed, with immense amounts of help from close friends and wedding planners, leaving them almost no alone-time.
"Gotcha, future Mrs. Wentz. And I think it was that week we couldn't leave the hotel in London after our engagement was the last time we were alone without the wedding entourage." he said, a mischevious twinkle alight in his eyes. "You remember that one don't you?"
"How could I forget, it was a whole week's worth of---" was all she could say before bursting out in raucous laughter with Pete.
The couple made their rounds to their friend's homes in New Jersey, including Ray, Bob, Mikey, and Gerard, who's wife was serving as one of Mina's bride's maids. The night was still young as Gerard and Lane waved them off their home property with only one more delivery left to make; Frank's invitation.
Mina had cleared it with Pete at the time they were drawing up the guest list that she and Frank were on good terms again; she just craftily left out the part where they kissed and what they each had thought their future would be like at that time. Pete showed no signs of jealousy or suspicion when all this was mentioned so Mina breathed just a bit easier.
But by the time they came to a stop outside of Frank's apartment building, Mina was secretly hoping that he wouldn't be home like all the others. Sure they were on good terms again, but what if Frank did not want to even think about going to his ex-girlfriend's wedding? Would he pick a fight? She had no time to think of anymore possibilities as Pete had begun to speak.
"Okay, last one and we can go have dinner and catch a movie or something, what do think?" he inquired as they walked together towards Frank's apartment, his arm about her waist.
"Yeah, sure. That'd be great." Mina replied, nervously ringing the doorbell as she spoke.
They stood in the autumn evening, patiently waiting for Frank to answer the door labeled 12-D as the obnoxious chime echoed in their ears. They were disappointed, however when a few moments passed by without so much as any sounds of acknowledgment from the other side.
"That's weird, Lane said he'd be home." Mina muttered, ringing the doorbell once again, bracing herself for its harsh tones.
"Yeah... the lights are on, so he must be." Pete agreed, his eyebrows knitting together.
Pete cast about for a potted plant but found none in which a key would probably be hidden under, but found none. Slightly worried now, Mina tried the door and found it unlocked. Turning the handle and opening the green painted door, light flooded into the hallway.
"Frank?" Mina called into the apartment before stepping in. "Frank, are you home? It's Mina."
They looked at one another confusedly as Pete shut the door behind them.
"Maybe he's sleeping?" Pete suggested as they moved deeper into the apartment and towards, what looked like the kitchen.
"Can't be, he's a light sleeper---" Mina was saying, but stopped when she heard the crunch of glass under her sneaker. Both she and Pete instantly looked to the floor to find the remnants of a broken liquor bottle with a black haired man face-down on the tile.
"Frank?" Mina gasped, kneeling at his side. "Frankie? Frankie!"
Pete rushed forward and turned Frank's body over only to find his eyes rolled to the back of his head, his mouth foaming, and his skin abnormally pale.
"Oh, God!" Mina screamed, backing away from Frank's supine form, pointing with a shaking finger, not at his face, but a his lesser tattooed right forearm where an empty syringe protruded from.
Pete quickly wrenched out the object from Frank's arm and threw it aside as Mina began to wail tearfully. His index and middle finger then flew to Frank's wrist to try and feel a pulse but felt none due to the fact that his own blood was pumping from to his own fingers. He tried putting his ear against Frank's chest as Mina rocked back and forth from her position on the floor, waiting to hear the verdict.
Pete lifted his head up from Frank's chest, fear riding in his voice as he spoke, "Mina he's..."