In Loving Memory, Frank Warren

Chapter 5: Beautiful

"Man, this is living," Dean sighed as he stretched out on Frank's good lounger. The lights of The Grand winked at them and Frank had not felt happier in a long time. "I wish I didn't have to work on my day off. Billionaires." He grimaced and kicked off his shoes.

"Earlier you said boxing was all power, physical and mental. Most people don't get the mental part." His head rolled to the side so he could look at Frank. "What made you think any of it requires higher brain function?"

"I said it was a beautiful display of physical and mental power," Frank corrected. "Isn't it obvious how much is mental? I mean, with all the ducking and weaving, watching your opponent, trying to feint, and, uh, tactics." It was not often Frank ran out of words when he wanted them. Of course it would happen with the one person he wanted to impress.

"When you box competitively there are a lot of tactics. You don't just climb in the ring and try to lay out the other guy. Unless you're Mike Tyson."

"Okay, I know that name," Frank chuckled.

"And beautiful, huh? Nobody says it's beautiful. Well, maybe my old trainer. But then it was more like: Beauty of a right hook, Dean. Gave him a beautiful shiner." He gestured with the full beer held in his right hand.

"Sounds like he was right out of Rocky," Frank commented.

"Pretty much," Dean agreed with a chuckle. "I did mention I'm well acquainted with raw meat, right?"

The reference forced another chuckle from Frank.

"Is this what it takes?" Dean chuckled with him. "I have to talk about raw meat to make you laugh? Man, you are weird."

The concept only raw meat could break a laugh from him struck Frank as funny. More than funny. Absolutely hysterical. He laughed so hard he couldn't breathe and tears came to his eyes. Then he was in a tough spot because he needed to breathe and there were tears running down his cheeks.

"H-help," he choked.

"Whoa." Dean leaped to his feet with the same grace and speed he had shown in the ring. "Hey, easy. It wasn't 'die laughing' funny." Hands rested on his shoulders and squeezed gently. "Come on, deep breath. Force it in."

Frank did as he was told and the fit passed. His chest ached and his cheeks were wet, however. Wiping down his face he nodded his thanks. Dean returned to the lounger.

"Guess you're going to have to work your way up to a full laugh. Baby steps." Dean shook a finger at him. "Don't you die on me, the pizza isn't here yet."

Another unexpected laugh erupted but at least it was short. "You're buying."

"Not if you die. I'm robbing your wallet."

What was wrong with him? It was not hysterical, side-splitting funny. None of it. But a fit of giggles took hold and Frank could not shake them off. Strangely, he did not want to either. He liked feeling silly and giggling like a schoolgirl. The way Dean's eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed made Frank feel at home. All of the worry lines faded from Dean's forehead and the warm light in those green eyes returned.

"Oh, ow." The smile dropped, replaced by a grimace as Dean rolled his head while rubbing at one shoulder.

After a couple of quick breaths Frank felt he could talk without breaking into a fresh fit of giggles. "What is it? Pull a muscle in the fight?"

"Probably." Another grimace as Dean rolled his shoulder. "Hopefully it's just pulled. Might be a tear. Damn, I thought I was holding back too."

"What can I do?" A mental inventory raced through his head. "I'm pretty sure I have a heating pad."