"So we don't even need to go to court?"
Brian shook his head. "Nope. They dropped all the charges and agreed to pay our legal costs. Isn't that awesome?"
"Yeah." Frank stood up and started setting up his room for the next day; fresh paper towel over the bench, instruments clean and dry and back in their drawers. "Awesome."
In the mirror, Frank could see Brian deflate, confused. "I thought you'd be happy about this."
Frank stacked the boxes of gloves in their niche by the counter. "I am, man. It's just - I don't know, I thought we'd get to say our piece."
"But now we don't have to. Haywood doesn't have a case at all, Frank, that's what I'm telling you."
Frank nodded, and just concentrated on cleaning the counter until Brian went away. When he looked up, though, Mikey was standing there instead.
"Come out with us tonight."
"Not really in the mood," Frank told him, dumping some dirty sharps in the sterile bin. "And I'm still broke, too."
Mikey followed him out into the main room. "It doesn't have to be anything big, we could just go see a movie or something."
"Yeah, you should come out," Ray chimed in. "You're gonna rot in that apartment, Iero."
"I'm not in the mood," Frank repeated sharply, and gritted his teeth when he felt them exchanging concerned looks behind his back. "Look, can you guys stop acting like I'm gonna fall on the ground and start crying if you look at me wrong? I'm fine. I'm not a fucking china doll, you don't have to keep up this fucking tip-toe act."
"Maybe if you stopped acting like such a bitch, we would," Bob said, rolling his eyes when Ray made a shushing noise at him. "What? He just said he doesn't want us to be nice!"
"What Bob is trying to say is that you don't exactly seem yourself," Brian put in.
"Seems like himself to me," Bob grumbled. "Little pain in the ass."
Brian ignored him. "Frank, do you think maybe you should talk to someone about what happened?"
Frank clenched his hands in his pockets and kept his eyes on the floor, because he felt like if he looked at Brian he might put his fist through his face before he could stop himself. "I said I'm fine. I gotta go."
"Why, you have a busy night of moping ahead of you?" Bob needled him, but Frank ignored him and walked out the door.
"Gerard called Mikey yesterday," Ray reported as they were walking down the street on Sunday. "Apparently Luke is definitely no longer a threat, and you should relax."
Frank squinted in the sun; fumbled his sunglasses out of his pocket and slid them between his eyes and everything else. "I was relaxed, Toro. Then some douchebag came over and started nagging me to take a walk."
"It's good news, though, isn't it?" Ray pressed. "I mean, you don't have to worry anymore."
Frank shrugged. He needed new shoes; he could feel the cracks in the sidewalk through his soles. "Who's worrying? I don't have any problems sleeping at night."
"Or any other time of day." Ray stopped and jerked his head at the store they were passing. "Hey, I just gotta run in here real quick."
"Okay." Frank dug his smokes out of his pocket and lit up. "I'm gonna hang out here, man."
Ray went inside, and Frank lurked by a rotating magazine rack and smoked his cigarette. He counted six people wearing crucifixes, three yarmulkes, two women with crimson dots between their eyes. The air was cold and he jammed his free hand into his pocket, rubbing his fingers together to warm them up.
Someone pushed past him, suddenly, making Frank jump and drop his cigarette. He flailed into the magazine rack, sending it toppling over onto the two dudes on the other side.
"Sorry, man," Frank started, but the bigger of the two dudes got up in his face right away.
"Watch what you're fucking doing, asshole!" he yelled, and Frank saw red, he didn't even know what happened, just that one moment the dude was shouting at him and the next Frank had him up against the wall, his arm twisted behind him, wrist grinding in Frank's fist, and Ray was trying to pull him off.
"Take it easy," he said urgently, yanking on Frank's shoulders until he reluctantly let the dude go and stepped back, curling his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. "Sorry," Ray apologized to the dude, who was all slack-jawed and stupid-looking with surprise. "Come on, Frank, let's get out of here."
Frank let Ray steer him away, then shook his hands off and dug in his pockets for his smokes again. "I didn't need your fucking help."
"He did," Ray said mildly. "I thought you were gonna break the dude's face."
"He started it," Frank muttered, pulling his shoulders up around his ears. He felt like everyone was looking at him; he narrowed his eyes at a hippy-looking chick who held his gaze too long. "Fucking moron."
Ray glanced over at him. "You're kind of an asshole right now, Frank."
"I've always been an asshole," Frank argued. "Where are we even going, anyway?"
"You wanna go someplace in particular?"
"No." Frank dragged on his cigarette; the smoke felt gritty and good in his lungs. "I don't care."
"I'm getting that," said Ray.
