But You Were Wrong {Frankie}

[JENNIE LEIJON]

The move to New York was quickly proving to be the worst decision that she could have possibly made. Was it worth working here, trying to give Dominic the best, but knowing that the Vulpini were in town? The worst part was, was she didn't know who was in town. She managed to gather that the young woman from the previous day was Hannah Vulpini, and of course Frankie. But what about Olivia? Senior? Joel?

And even moreso, Frankie wanted to discuss something. Seeing him had felt like she was standing in front of a firing squad. Taking shots to the heart, and to the head. Of course, she couldn't panic--not with Dom there. The worst part though, was that Dom had been there. He had seen his father, and Frankie had seen him. The cat was out of the bag, and now she had to figure out what to do. Jennie was a smart woman, and she could safely assume that her sickly looking ex-husband wanted to discuss Dominic.

The thought infuriated her. It made her panicked. He would not take her son. He would not be around her son. As as much as she wanted to close the chapter on that, pack up Dom and flee New York--now that Frankie knew Dom existed, everything would change. Even through all the wrong he had done, Frankie deserved answers. And he deserved to be heard. And that's the only reason she had agreed to meet him for coffee. Jennie felt like she was walking to her death, and even though she knew that Frankie wouldn't hurt her, she put a can of mace in her bag, made sure her cellphone was in an easy to grab spot within her purse, and left the house.

Luckily, Dom's babysitter was there, even on short notice and even though she wanted to explain everything to her son--some things were better left unsaid. It took her longer than usual to get ready. She was tempted to go in jeans and a sweatshirt. There was no way that she was trying to impress Frankie, but even so--she wanted him to take a kick to the gut. To realize what he had messed up on, and the fact that she was doing just fine without him. So she settled with a black sweaterdress that hung off of one of her tanned shoulders, and boots that stopped just at her knee. Red lipstick popped amongst the black, and her hair fell in a Veronica Lake-esque coif that swooped and frothed down the side of her face.

Tucked into her dress was her locket, and on the outside hung her Star of David. She wasn't religious, and though she was Jewish by birth, she wasn't practicing. However she still found strength, and comfort with the six pointed star resting against her chest. She clutched to it with one hand as she drove her way to the coffee shop that she and Frankie were supposed to meet at. Jennie had left on time, and wasn't sure if Frankie would be there just yet. She was hoping she would be the first to arrive. Mostly so she could pack down several cups of coffee. Her boots clicked against the tile floor of the shop once she arrived, glancing around to see if he was there.

Her body felt like there was electricity pumping through her veins. He was not going to have her son, he was not going to see her son. Because Dominic was just that--her son. Frankie had just been a sperm donor. He never once tried to fix things, tried to see if she was okay. And that was just fine--he hadn't tried. And she would not let this drug filled man break her son's heart like he had hers.

This was simply a courtesy meeting, and had absolutely nothing to do with Frankie. It had nothing to do with the fact her dress as short enough to be decent, but enough to show the tanned legs that Frankie was fond of. It had nothing to do with the smooth line of her shoulder that peeked out from the loose material of the dress. It had nothing to do with the fact that age and motherhood had only enhanced her features--changing her from a blushing, nervous bride into a woman with strength and power.

Jennie did not need Franki Vulpini in her life, and she was going to put a stop to that. Right here. Right now.

---
ooc; Outfit. And also the song.

[FRANKIE VULPINI]

On a scale of one to Marrying-Jennie-In-The-First-Place, this was an idiot move. He shouldn’t have come. He shouldn’t have ever shook his sister silly, driven to her apartment, and knocked on the door, and he definitely shouldn’t have stuck around when he saw that little kid with his brown hair and big blue eyes and freakish ability to send chills up his spine. The smart thing would have been to turn around and walk right out. Instead, here he was. Sitting in a coffee shop, skinnier than he’d ever been in his life, long-sleeved shirt on to cover his arms, waiting. Waiting for Jennie. Waiting to talk about…his son?

Dominic. Dominic Ezra Leijon. Dominic Ezra Vulpini. Dominic. Dom. Dommy.

The more he said it, the more it sounded like a sentencing. He couldn’t get the eyes out of his head. Or the voice, or the way he’d opened the door and just stared, like Frankie was some sort of Boogie Man or something.

Dominic Ezra Leijon.
He was Jennie’s.
Just Jennie’s. That was it. But there were the eyes…and the skin, and there was just no way in hell he could resemble Frankie’s own baby pictures so exactly without having gotten something from him. He wanted to hate the kid. He wanted visitation rights.

That was why he was here. Visitation, because visitation meant Jennie every other week and really, that was all he wanted. The divorce was messy. He called once, after all was said and done, but her number was changed. He’d been expecting that.

Having made an effort to get here early, Frankie was already seated, two coffees on the table in front of him. She’d be impressed; punctuality was always one of those things he took as a guideline, she as a rule.

Frankie took most things as guidelines—loosely advised.

Two espressos, one with extra sugar. Hopefully she still took it the same. Hopefully he remembered right. Foot tapping, fingers drumming, Frankie looked up when the door bell chimed and trailed his eyes over his ex-wife, who looked none the worse for motherhood. For a moment, he hated himself. The feeling quickly passed when he remembered the truth; she’d cheated too, of course. Just because Dom was his kid didn’t mean shit. She’d done this just as bad as him.

Waving her over, Frankie stood to pull out Jennie’s seat.

“I got you a drink while I was waiting…” nodding at the cup opposite his own seat, Frankie sat again and offered a small smile. He scratched his arm beneath the table and cleared his throat. “So…How you been?”

[JENNIE LEIJON]

How was it that her eyes could drink in the sight of someone like she was dying of thirst--and yet her skin tried to attempt to crawl away at the same time? Frankie looked like a stranger; with his hollow eyes, and sunken cheeks. His hair lifeless with no healthy shine. Frankie was either homeless and starving--or still on drugs. And after meeting Hannah, Jennie was betting the latter. This wasn't the man she had married, and looking into his face now she attempted to find some sort of familiarity of her Frankie poking through. It only came in the form of his manners of him pulling out her chair. Actually being on time was a bit of a surprise.

Slowly she lowered herself into the seat, and crossed one tanned leg over the other as she glanced down to the coffee cup. Her fingers wrapped around the cup, feeling the warmth in her fingertips before she carefully raised it up to her mouth. For all of Frankie's faults, he would never hurt her. He would never put something in her drink. And as the coffee hit her tongue, she couldn't help but let out one of those Jennie sighs. She had many--ones for when she was annoyed. Ones from when she wasn't sure how to answer Dom. One for when she was tired. But this one was one of the sighs of a perfect cup of coffee. Frankie remembered how she liked it.

With that thought, she lowered the cup and forced herself to look back up at Frankie. She wanted to laugh at him, she wanted to scream--but mostly she wanted to cry. Even though the divorce had been messy, and horrible, and left her heartbroken--it hurt in so many ways to see Frankie like this. "I've been great." Her red lips moved carefully, annunciating each word carefully as she always had. Jennie spoke clearly, always. Her voice and lips never leaving out a single letter. Even watching Frankie she was seeing signs of discomfort, and that put her in a better place. She was better off than he was. Perfect.

Jennie didn't need to ask how Frankie was doing. She could see it. Her lips parted for a moment as she was ready to ask anyway. Instead, her blue eyes narrowed and her tongue ran across her teeth quickly before a different sentence came out of her mouth. "You're not getting him." She wanted to say it louder. Dig her nails into the table, and scream it an inch away from his face. She wanted to pour the scalding coffee into his lap, if he thought he could suddenly waltz in and demand his son. Jennie was a typically poised woman, and when comfortable--she could be quite silly. But the idea of someone, anyone trying to take her son had the potential to make her stark-raving mad.

Those pillowy lips curled upwards into a small smile. It didn't reach her eyes--it wasn't the soft smile reserved for Dominic, that had once been all Frankie's. It was cold, clinical, and left her blue eyes looking like a harsh winter. She broke her frosty stare to take another sip of her coffee. Despite her insides turning into chaos goo, her outsides remained calm. Brain working against heart. Tonight would be one of the nights Dom would have to go to bed early, because two minutes with Frankie was already exhausting her. "The divorce finalized years ago, Dominic wasn't born. He has no place in the divorce, and really I think he's better off right now." Each word felt like needles in her throat.

How could she say something like that, to the man she once loved? Easily. A little too easily. "You look like you haven't eaten in weeks, and you expect me to casually hand my son over to you?" Her head turned to the side slightly, thick, curved eyebrows raising upwards. Jennie was beautiful, and she knew it. When she had gotten closer to Frankie, her movements were a little more casual, a little more erratic. But in the time frame that Frankie had been chasing her, she made herself aware of every movement of the lips. Every twitch of the brow, and squint of the eyes. All to throw him off his game--and here she was. Several years later, and doing it again. Only, time had perfected it. Her red nails drummed against the cup gently as she smiled blankly at Frankie, trying to force herself to stare into his sickly face.

---
ooc; Outfit. And also the song.

[FRANKIE VULPINI]

He’d dreamed about her last night. He couldn’t remember it fully, but one thing was for sure; it wasn’t the sort of dream men had about any sort of pretty woman they talked to, and when he woke up for a moment, he’d been frightened and exhilarated all at once. The dream’s contents were a mystery now, and he didn’t plan on thinking on it further. In fact, he intended to forget entirely.

Watching her sip her coffee, the way her perfect red lips curved around the cup’s lid, how her hands held the drink to soak up all the warmth possible, he drank in everything about her he’d subconsciously missed over the years. That sigh. He’d forgotten about that, and the moment she did it again it reclaimed its place on the list of things-to-forget-later, which was the coincidentally identical to the list of things-subconsciously-missed.

Of course she’d been great. Of course she didn’t ask about him. Why would she? It was fairly obvious.

Frankie cleared his throat and sipped his drink, staring. “Relax. I don’t want him.”

And he didn’t. What could he possibly do with a kid? Frankie hated children. Even when they’d been together and happy, he’d avoided any and all talks about raising a family with Jennie, retreating to his cave of “immaturity” every time the topic was brought up. Her smile chilled his spine, and he took another drink to thaw his insides once more. She was right, of course. Dominic was far better off with her, and a small part of him was grateful he’d never been a part of the divorce; Frankie didn’t want to imagine what that would be like, the fighting his father would have spearheaded just to get a chance at the child. It wasn’t an exaggeration. Frankie knew his dad was just the type to win Dom for his son, somehow manage to label Jennie as an unfit mother only to later take him away from Frankie as well, and there was something in Franklin Vulpini Jr. that couldn’t wish an upbringing by his own parents on any other soul.

“Jesus, calm down,” he couldn’t help but chuckle, offering Jennie a slightly smug grin. “I just told you, he’s all yours. Scout’s honor. I just wanna know why you never told me…”

[JENNIE LEIJON]

Frankie's words came as a surprise. He didn't want Dom? The surprise shocked her to her very core, and she was between standing up and leaving the shop--and staying firmly rooted to her seat. Her brows knitted together as she stared at Frankie, trying to understand what he was saying. "Under one condition..."

Jennie was letting her guard down around Frankie, and the idea that the Vulpini siblings now knew Dom existed...it was only a matter of time. "You can't let Senior know about him." There was a reason Frankie and Jennie had gotten married; they tended to have similar thoughts. She was certain that Olivia would be tickled pink at being a grandmother...but the idea of Senior getting those large, meaty hands near her boy made her want to scream.

"I will take Dom, and run if Senior tries to get near him." Jennie threatened, and though she managed to keep her face composed--there was a light waver to her voice, and an intensity to her eyes. To settle her nerves, she raised her coffee back to her lips, letting the hot drink soothe her from inside out. She had planned to come in this one way. Fighting for her son, kick Frankie when he was down, and bolt. But he didn't want Dom. Jennie was torn between being offended, and being relieved. Unless the years had changed Frankie into someone more like Senior, and Frankie was protecting them. Nah. She was definitely overthinking this.

Why didn't she tell Frankie about Dom? Would anything have changed? Maybe they could have worked it out. Maybe Frankie could have gotten clean. But she panicked, and ran. She gave into her parent's idea of marriage, and when it started to fail--she left, rather than try to fix it. Because running was so much easier. "You were on drugs, Frankie. I know you may not care about Dom...but he didn't need to grow up in a household where you were sneaking in women, and shooting up in the bathroom." Her words held a certain venom in them, that was entirely Jennie. She sounded casual, and even a little bit tired. It was the flavor of Jennie's passive-agressiveness, and right now it was the feeling of comfort.

Last night had been difficult for her as well. They were nightmares. Nightmares of things that had been wonderful, and perfect. They were nightmares because they no longer existed. And they were nightmares because the man sitting in front of her was not the man that had been in the dreams last night. "I did what was best for us. Judging by the turnout, I'd say taht I made the right choice." It literally killed something inside of her to see Frankie like that. His clothes hanging off of his skinny body; the way his fingers seemed skeletal. Her red lips pressed together tightly, despite the sting in her eyes. "Would you have stopped all of that if you had known? Don't tell me what you think I want to hear. Tell me the truth. If I had told you I was pregnant, would you have stopped everything?" [/blockquote]

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ooc; Outfit. And also the song.[/color]