Post by Deleted on Oct 24, 2022 15:34:42 GMT -5
The Penthouse
Woolworth Tower
Tribeca - New York City
Since the night Easton Alexander kidnapped Frankie to force my hand, I’ve felt guilty. Admittedly, its kept me away from OCW pretty much ever since. I want him with me as much as humanly possible because he’s my favorite person on the entire planet and not a soul compares. No, I did not make Easton’s choice for him. I did not make Tyler’s choice to betray me and sellout my son for him. I did, however, allow Frankie in that position. Hell, it’s not even the first time I’ve inadvertently put him into a position to get hurt. From the hijacking, to the attack on our old house in Connecticut to his kidnapping, all of those in one way or another are entirely on me. Those are my failures as a young father. I do not wish to absolve myself for my own mistakes, for they are many- though I am still learning on the job. Frankie is a great kid that will grow up to be an even better man despite my flaws. Despite my failures in parenting. Despite all of the horror that he’s been through in his short almost 12 years of existence.
Francis Robert Duke is the single greatest thing to ever happen to me. The billions in inheritance, the accolades, the world title, my face on pay per view posters and advertising, my name on marquees for wrestling, for television shows, for movies. The cars, the homes, the superyacht, the businesses. None of it means jack shit compared to him. If I went flat broke tomorrow and lost everything, him being my son makes me the richest man in the world ten times over.
It’s a busy week in the House of Duke. We have OCW in Montreal for Face/Off. We leave Wednesday for the four day Tara Fenix Charity Event in Hawaii being produced by Lions Guard where I’ll also be providing color commentary. Then the very next day is Massacre in (gag) Key West. In the midst of all of that, Frankie turns 12 on Friday.
While Hawaii is a great place to celebrate a birthday, it’s certainly not what I wanted. Instead, we’ll celebrate his birthday this weekend and I might be even more excited about it than he is. Corey is coming.
I repeat.
COREY! IS! COMING!
Yeah, I know you don’t know him and that’s a bit of a travesty to be honest. He’s been my brother, my best friend, the godfather to Frankie, my ally, my tag team championship partner and also an adversary. Together, with Dolly Waters, the three of us are the Trinity. Dolly regrettably couldn’t make it this weekend. Corey though, I haven’t seen him in far too long and the stars just aligned to make today - Saturday - the main event of Frankie’s 12th birthday celebration, all the more sweeter.
“I’m still mad we’re not going to the Yankee game,” says Frankie before shoving a fork full of scrambled eggs into his mouth.
“You just went to Phillies Padres last night,” I remind him. “Schedule just didn’t work out this year.”
“We’re down two games to none,” he says sadly. “They need me to rally back.”
“You realize the Yankees are the Evil Empire, right?” I ask him.
“That’s just jealousy,” he says. “All of baseball looks at our 27 trophies with envy in their eyes.”
“The ‘Stro’s are gonna sweep ‘em anyway,” I prod the young man. He’s Brooklyn born and bred. He lives and breathes the Yankee blue pinstripes. I guess none of us are perfect.
“When you’re old and in diapers, I’ll remember you said this,” he jokes… probably.
“Tell us about your Rays,” Berta chimes in as she cleans up the breakfast bar.
“Don’t make me fire you,” I joke to her.
“HA!” she cackles. “Where would I find another job in this city cooking and cleaning for the disgustingly rich?”
“Don’t quit,” I laugh. “Lauren hates cleaning anything.”
“Where is Blondie anyway?” she asks.
“In the shower.”
“Perfect,” Berta says as she starts out of the kitchen. “Time to flush the toilet.”
As Berta makes her exit, the doorbell rings.
“Oh my god!” I blurt out excitedly.
“COREY!” Frankie shouts as he hops down off his barstool.
Excitedly, he and I both bolt from the kitchen toward the family room. It’s almost a race to get to the door but I have a trick up my sleeve. I’m a lot bigger than he is. Racing through the family room, I give the boy a light shove and he spills against the couch and bounces to the floor.
“Cheater!” he cries out as I open the door.
Standing on the other side is my friend, my brother, and my once upon a time almost lover, Corey Smith. We kissed once, decided there was no spark much to the chagrin of the millions of fans shipping us for one reason or another.
“BROTHER!” I shout as I just about tackle him right there in the hallway before planting a sloppy wet kiss on his cheek.
“Now that’s a warm welcome,” Corey jokes as I usher him in.
“Hey Corey,” Frankie says in a sad tone of voice.
“Why so glum, chum?” Corey asks of him.
“Jerk face shoved me onto the sofa so I couldn’t answer the door,” he answers.
“You tripped!”
“Bull…”
“Well that’s my story and I’m sticking to it,” I joke.
“So what’s it like being 12?” Corey asks him.
“I have no idea,” Frankie replies. “I’ll let you know on Friday.”
“Okay screw all this and come with me,” Frankie insists as he grabs Corey by his hand and pulls him through the house. No doubt, it’s game time. It’s one of the things he and Corey bonded over. It’s the thing that he and I bonded over when I met the little tike. Up in Frankie’s room, we power up the Playstation.
“I’m not playing that!” I yell out as Frankie selects Red Dead 2.
“Why not?” Corey asks. “It’s a fun game.”
“It’s a fuckin great game,” I agree. “Just…”
“He’s mourning his horse again,” Frankie adds.
“You lost another horse?” Corey asks while trying to cover up his laugh.
“That little fucker killed him!” I protest defensively as I point to Frankie.
“You were too slow!” he defends.
“Trigger was a good horse and you killed him in cold blood!”
“You were in my way, Dad.”
“You coulda went around, instead you rode up and shot Trigger in the head like a little bitch!” I proclaim.
“You’re the one crying over a video game horse,” he zings me.
“He does have a point,” Corey agrees.
"We done beating the dead horse?" Frankie quips. "I'd like to play now."
“Well you two play,” I say to them with a roll of my eyes and hiding my laughter. “Frankie is that your laptop on the floor?”
“Yeah,” he answers.
“I need to check something,” I say as I bend forward and reach for it.
“No!” he blurts out and hits the deck, covering the computer with his whole body.
For a moment, I just stare down at him. Then I feel Corey’s eyes looking at me, so I look back at him.
“Only reason someone is that protective is when…” Corey begins.
“They’re hiding something,” I finish. Just like old times.
Frankie cranes his neck to look at his godfather. “Y tu Corey?”
“Give it to me,” I say sternly.
“I… I really don’t wanna do that,” Frankie says, still laying on his computer.
“Frankie, now,” I say to him.
Red faced, he hesitates before leaning off and standing up while picking the laptop from the floor.
“I just want you to know,” Frankie begins. “That you gotta catch me,” he says as he bolts for the door.
Reacting quickly, I grab him by the collar of his shirt at the back of his neck. His legs keep going forward and he kicks them out from underneath himself and lands on his ass. Losing his grip on the laptop it soars through the air and Corey catches it.
“The battle is lost,” Frankie sighs under his breath.
Corey hands me the laptop and I open it up. To my horror, a porn tab is open.
“Frankie what the hell man?” I ask.
“Oh man,” Corey says, trying and failing to hide his smile.
“Am I in trouble?” Frankie asks.
“Yes,” I answer quickly. “Well… no. I dunno.”
“You didn’t have a failsafe?” Corey asks incredulously.
“I thought I had more time,” I say with a deep sigh. “I’m not ready for this.”
Closing the laptop, I stand up and exit Frankie’s bedroom, sure to take the computer with me.
“Where you going?” Corey calls after me.
“I have no idea,” I answer as I round the corner. Seconds later, I end up in my bedroom where I can hear Lauren finishing up in the bathroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I open up Frankie’s laptop again and sigh once more at the sight of porn on an 11 year old boys screen. Instinctively, I pull out my phone and call my dad.
It rings once before I remember that he’s gone.
This is uncharted territory for me. What the hell does a 23 year old say to an 11 year old boy about watching, or not watching, porn?
For the first time in a very long time, I feel alone. I know its a bit melodramatic, but I can’t help it. I don’t think there are many 23 year olds with almost 12 year old sons, adopted or otherwise. I have no idea how to navigate this part of Frankie growing up and admittedly, tears escape from my eyes.
“Hey,” Lauren says from behind me.
I turn ever so slightly to see Lauren in the flesh. Just the flesh. Butt ass naked from head to toe. Normally, I’d spring to life but… this is not one of those times.
“Jesus,” she says as she’s drying her hair and spies the laptop. “Resorting to porn now? You could’ve just came into the shower with me.”
“It’s Frankie’s,” I say sadly. She suddenly stops toweling her hair. “This is your fault ya know?”
“What?” she asks defensively. “How the hell am I at fault for him watching porn?”
“Because you were showing him sideboob to distract him so that you could beat him in some damn video game,” I argue.
“Oh my God,” she says suddenly. “You think he jerks off thinking of me?”
“Lauren!”
“What!? It’s a legitimate question!”
“I don’t really want to think about him jerking off to anything thank you very much,” I say as I close the laptop and lay back across the bed. My wonderful, beautiful, fucking irritating wife lays beside me and kisses me on the cheek.
“What were you doing at his age?” she asks.
For a moment I just look at her as she looks at me with her head propped up against her hand.
“This isn’t about me,” I tell her with a slight smile. “It’s about him.”
“What did your dad tell you?” she asks.
“About masturbation?” I ask for clarification. “Nothing. He never taught me anything about that part of growing up.”
“Well,” she says as she leans toward me. She lifts my t-shirt and kisses my lower abdomen just above the waistband of my sweats. “Now’s your chance to be better than him.”
“I was born better than him,” I say somewhat defensively. Lauren tugs at my waistband and kisses me lower. “Stop that!”
“Stop what?” she kisses as low as she possibly can without revealing the family jewels.
“Tryna seduce me,” I say reluctantly.
“Is it working?” she asks after giving the lowest part of my abdomen a lick.
“No,” I lie and roll over on my stomach.
“Ugggh,” she sighs. “What the fuck.”
“Later. I have serious dad stuff right now,” I remind her.
“We wouldn’t even be in this position if you ever learned how to keep it in your pants,” she says in protest.
…
“...What?”
“You’re the reason he even exists…”
“He’s adopted dumbass,” I remind her. “Do you know many 23 year olds with 12 year old sons?”
“Ohhh,” she remembers. “Right.”
“I don’t even know what to say to him,” I say defeatedly as once again, a tear falls from my eye.
“It’s just masturbation,” she says with a feeble attempt at easing my mind. “Everyone does it.”
“I don’t,” I argue.
“Only because I won’t let you,” she retorts. “If I did, you would. Like a lot.”
“True enough,” I say with a sigh.
“It’s mine now,” she says matter of factly.
“I’ll be back,” I say with a sigh.
Slowly, I make my way back to Frankie’s bedroom. On my way, I consider how to approach the subject and rehearse in my head what I’ll say and how I’ll say it. None of it sounds good internally. Taking a deep breath, I enter his bedroom and Corey immediately pauses the game.
“Hey!” Frankie yelps.
“Warden’s here,” Corey says to him.
Frankie looks up at me from his position lying chest down on the floor.
“Corey, can I have a minute?” I ask.
Corey says nothing as he stands up and walks toward me. Pausing beside me, he slaps his hand on my shoulder before making his exit, closing the door behind him.
“Can we talk?” I ask of my eldest son.
“I don’t think I have a choice, do I?” he asks.
“No,” I answer him as I start to nervously pace his room. “I really don’t know where to start.”
“Can I make a suggestion?” he asks.
“I mean at this point, I’ll take a bullet in the head because I’d much rather have that than have this conversation.”
“Can you just… talk to me like before?”
“Before what?” I ask, stopping my pacing.
“Before you were my dad, you were like a big brother,” he reminds me. “Maybe try that.”
“Are you suggesting that so that I won’t yell?” I ask.
“Little bit,” he replies.
“Okay,” I relent as I approach his sofa and plop down. He jumps to his feet and sits the other end with his chin resting on one knee. “I wasn’t gonna scream and yell anyway.”
“Am I in trouble?” he asks in a very worried tone of voice.
“Nah, you’re not in trouble,” I admit to him as yet again a few tears escape my eyes. “I just… I’m not ready for you to grow up yet. I mean, you still wear Spiderman underwear for hells sake.”
“And Batman,” he reminds me, causing me to chuckle.
“I mean it’s natural,” I say, almost more to myself than to him. “It’s just part of growing up.”
“Are you more mad about the porn? Or the… you know?” he asks.
“I’m…” I hesitate. “I’m not mad about either. I mean, it’s illegal as all hell for you to be looking at porn.”
“Really?” he asks as if he’s totally unaware.
“Why are you looking at that stuff?” I ask him. “Like… what triggered it?”
“I dunno,” he answers quietly. “It just… started happening.”
“How long?”
He looks at me with a suspicious eye.
“I mean how long ago did you start… you know-ing?” I clarify.
“Like a few months,” he answers. “Not very long.”
“And you immediately jumped into porn?”
“Like a week later,” he answers.
“You know I can’t condone you watching that stuff, right?” I ask him. To which he nods. “But you’re a smart kid so you’ll find a way. What I am gonna do is have software installed so that you can’t get to harmful places. You can’t contact anyone online, they can’t contact you.
“So, if you’re gonna look at that stuff, you’re gonna do it from the safety and privacy of your bedroom. Again, I’m not condoning it, but if you’re gonna do it, I’m making certain you do it safely.”
“Yes sir,” he says quietly.
“Why aren’t you embarrassed?” I ask of the young boy.
“Because it’s you,” he answers. “I’ve always been comfortable talking to you about anything.”
Heart smile. As a father, that’s your biggest fear. That your kid is afraid to talk to you about things, big or small.
“I guess it’s enough that I’m embarrassed enough for the both of us,” I say aloud to myself.
“Why are you embarrassed?” he inquires and I look over at him.
“Masturbation isn’t exactly the easiest thing to talk about with an 11 year old boy,” I admit to him.
“Would talking about it with an 11 year old girl be easier?” he asks.
“No, that would far and away be a lot worse.”
“Then I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news,” he says and I look at him once more. “Caty will be 11 in about nine and a half years so you get to have this conversation again with her... and with Talon. Two for one special.”
“Like hell I will,” I tell him quickly. “Caty has Liz and she has Lauren. I’m not touching that one when the time comes.”
He chuckles to himself.
“Do you have any questions?”
“Maybe,” he answers with some hesitation.
“Fire away,” I tell him. “Ask me anything.”
“How old were you?” he asks.
“Ummm,” I hesitate. Not out of reluctance to answer, to be clear. “Younger than you.”
“How young?” he asks.
“I think I was nine, maybe ten.”
“Do you still?” he asks.
“Uhhhhhhhh,” shit. How do I answer this?
“Honestly,” he says, almost as if he read my mind. Intuitive little dick.
“Not anymore,” I answer reluctantly.
“How come?”
“Your mom won’t let me,” I say to him while trying not to smile.
“Eww,” he laughs. “How come when I do it there’s no… stuff… I mean like in the videos?”
“That’ll come,” Jesus Thad! Facepalm! “Ehh poor choice of words. Probably got another year yet before that happens. Tell me when you do though, because when that day…”
Screeeeeech! Slam those brakes, Thad!
“Comes?” he asks, trying very hard not to laugh.
“God dammit Frankie,” I chuckle aloud. “Yeah. Do you really want Berta picking up your crusty socks?”
“Ewww,” he says again with a laugh.
“You really want her knowing that you’re playing with your…”
“Dad!” he shouts as he jumps forward and places his hands over my mouth.
“We’ll figure something else out for that,” I say after prying his hands from my mouth. “Oh my God! Frankie, did you wash your hands?”
“Ummmmmm.”
“FRANKIE!?”
“I’m just kidding! Of course I did!” he laughs.
“Don’t… do that!”
“That was hard to pass up,” he says brilliantly. He’s learned way too much from me. “You’re really not mad?”
“Don’t like the porn one bit,” I tell him freely. “But…”
“Good, because I thought I was gonna have a lot of time on my hands,” he says… again, brilliantly.
“Frankie…”
“But in a fine stroke of diplomacy…”
“Francis Robert! Go take your shower,” I instruct him in an attempt to get him to stop making intentional euphemisms.
Jumping off the couch he starts for his door before I grab him by his arm.
“I know you’ve been too cool to hug me for like eight months but…” he cuts me off by wrapping his arms around me. With a deep sigh of relief, I hug him back. Tightly.
“I love you Dad,” he whispers in my ear.
“Love you too,” I say to him as he starts back toward his door.
“I’ll be coming back before you know it,” he calls back to me.
“Jesus Christ he’s a monster,” I mutter under my breath.