"Oh, I don't care if the sun don't shine! I get my lovin' in the evening time, when I'm with my baby! Mm mm mm, mm, mm, mmm! That's when we kiss and kiss and kiss! And then we kiss some more! Don't ask how many times we kiss- Mm mm mm mmmm?"

I was leaned against the wall of the skinny hallway between the bathroom and office. Inside the bathroom, Paulie was singing to himself and it sounded like he was washing off his make-up, the water of the sink running full blast. Splashing interrupted his singing every now and then.

"Baby, baby, baby!" he sang to no particular tune, then I heard him smacking the wall.

What in the world was this? I started giggling. He sounded so happy.

The sounds of water stopped and the door clicked unlocked. It opened and I peered inside. He was grabbing his suit bag off of the high purse hook on the wall, which contained his white organza dress. He was dressed handsomely in a long, tan trench coat and smart singularly creased black pants. His shiny black oxfords clicked on the tile as he walked around.

"Oh, hi," he sang to me, his grin wide.

Then I noticed his pupils. Oh. My smile dropped away from my face.

"What's wrong, darlin'?" he beamed, staring at me.

"Nothing. Go home." I gave him the cold shoulder, bumping him as I entered the bathroom. I turned on the sink, doing my best to ignore him. He was like the elephant in the room now. With a click of my little purse, I had the key to the maintenance closet where we kept our personal things in my hand. Focusing on my task, I tried to pretend he wasn't there the best I could.

He was high and I wanted nothing to do with him when he was high. Hadn't he learned anything? Betrayal was filling my veins like fast moving water. On such a happy day, too. Why?

"But I don't want to go home."

"Go home."

I removed my suitcase bag from the closet and pushed open the metal clasps. From it, I robotically took out a little blue washcloth and ran it under the faucet, getting a good soak. I could sense his presence over my shoulder. My eyes flicked to the mirror and I could see him there, exactly where I thought he'd be. He was still smiling, but his eyes looked a bit troubled.

"Why?" he had the audacity to ask.

"Because you're fucking high. I don't want Cha Cha to see you like this."

"He won't notice-"

"Oh, you did not," I sighed in broiling rage, trying to keep it down in my stomach, staring at him full on in the mirror now. My washcloth was abandoned in the sink. Our eyes locked on each other. His smile still did not waver. It felt so grossly inappropriate. Disgustingly awkward.

I turned to him, my eyes boring into him like twin drills. He seemed to shrink a little bit. "You think the kid can't tell if you're high? Does coke make you stupid? Wait, don't answer that."

"It was just a couple of bumps."

"Fuck you."

"Georgina."

"Fuck you!"

I turned off the sink, gathered up my things. I'd change later, when he wasn't here. I couldn't be around him anymore. How dare he. How dare he do this after what happened at that club, after what happened at my apartment! Pressing my bag to my body, I made my way to the closet, throwing it on the floor and slamming the door. He jumped a bit in the mirror at the sound and a feeling of gladness flowed through me. Feeling good that he was scared. Damn right!

"Sober up, Paulie," I spat, not looking at him huddled against the wall.

Knowing it would make him jump again, I slammed the door behind me. Out in the hallway now, I was so angry I didn't know what to do with myself. So in a rage, I punched the damn wall with all of my strength. But the next instant I was screaming in pain.

I'd punched the wall with the hand wearing my engagement ring.

"Ow, Jesus! Oww, oww, fuck! Jee-zuuuss!" I cried, holding my fist in my hand. It felt like my finger was in a goddamn vice. "Ahhh oww ow!" My body slumped against the wall.

"Shit! Are you okay?!"

My head slid to the side where the voice came from. A handsome blonde head was looking at me, blue-green eyes full of concern. His large, comforting hand found my back.

"Did you turn your ankle? What happened? Let me see."

Frankie.

"No, no! I punched the wall and fuck... My goddamned finger! My finger!"

"Oh no! Let me see it!"

Breathing raggedly in my tears, I offered him my fist which was still in a tight ball, too painful to uncurl.

"Oh, that looks tender. It might swell. We gotta get that ring off before it has a chance to. Can you help me with that?" His eyes looked like two tropical pools of care. I wanted to obey so badly, staring into his eyes. But the pain.

"I don't know...I don't know..."

"Oh wait, I know. That doctor. He's still here at the bar. You know how he always used to go home really late. He's talking to Carl right now. He'll know what to do."

That doctor. My heart sank.

"What...doctor?"

"Luciano. I know how you and him...I remember. But he's the only guy who would know what to do. What if your finger's broken? Can you move it?" He looked deeply apologetic. I wanted to lean on him and cry at these ideas.

"I don't know..." Any attempt to move my finger was met with nerve shattering pain down my hand. "Goddammit it hurts... Frankie..." Tears started to fall down my face despite myself. Shaking, I didn't want to become a blubbering mess, especially not in front of that fucking doctor.

That fucking doctor who tried to drag me over the bar, trying to say I was a whore because he perceived me to be gay or a transvestite. That doctor who tried to do god knows what to me because I wasn't human to him, didn't have feelings. No. No, I didn't want to go anywhere near him!

"I'll be right next to you. Carl will be right there. It's safe. He won't do anything to you, we'll make sure. Come on, we gotta get that finger checked out, get that ring off. I swear he won't hurt you. I promise on my life." Frankie looked at me with begging. His arm went around my back, supporting me even though there was nothing wrong with my legs. I sniffed hard, choking on my sniffle.

"It will be alright," he said quietly to me, full of love. His warm lips were on my cheek and I blushed, hanging my head. "Come on."

I nodded in surrender, and he led me, holding me close and walking with me like I was some lame bodied Princess.

"What's all this?"

Luciano looked delighted. It made me sick to my stomach.

"Hey doc. We had a bit of an accident. Need you to look at something. Do you mind?"

Frankie was smiling at him like everything was no big deal, but my insides were at war. Pretending nothing had happened between Luciano and us. Like we forgave him. I wanted to flee, but my finger. My goddamned finger. My pink insides were trembling in upset, disturbance. Everything inside me didn't want him to think we had forgiven him.

Reluctantly, I let Frankie pick up my fist and bring it towards him.

"The lady's finger, huh? Yeah, I can see that from here. Let me look see." He gestured for my hand to come closer with a beckoning of his own. His other flicked out his glasses from his pocket, putting them on. I laid it gingerly on the bar as Frankie lowered me to the stool next to Luciano's, then sat next to mine, looking on.

"Lovely ring, that," Luciano said, his lower lip extending a little in his concentration. I was absolutely disgusted. "What is that, sapphires and...and?"

"They're diamonds," Frankie piped up beside me, "blue and white."

My eyes bugged and I turned them away from Luciano who was still inspecting my ring at the moment. They were all diamonds?! Frankie smiled secretly at me. My mouth parted. I wanted to say so much, but I couldn't in front of Luciano. He didn't know the purpose of the ring, didn't know we were engaged. There was no way I'd tell him, him being a friend of Frankie's family and everything else. Who knew who he'd tell, among other things.

"We gotta get that ring off first. There's already some bruising. Might swell. It's a shame."

More gently than I ever thought he'd be capable of, he started to unfurl my fingers by first taking my hand in his. Each finger uncurled by his lead. Wincing in a grimace, I observed the last finger, the one with my ring, still curled tightly. Without the others around it, it felt very funny. Not normal at all. A little numb. Fuck.

"Hope it will be okay. It's a true shame, you being a piano player. I love it when you play," Luciano said in hush, almost to himself if not entirely so. A creeped out feeling descended into my belly, making me want to squirm. My eyes flicked to Frankie again. My heart jumped, seeing he was already staring at my face. He looked so sad. I couldn't stand it, just his look. I started crying again.

"Oh, hey. It will be quite alright. Don't worry about it. Here." Luciano was fussing around his suit jacket's front pocket now. In no time flat he'd brought out a purply red silk handkerchief. Revoltingly, he gestured this at me, offering it to me to wipe my tears. Unable to control myself, I shook my head, the feeling in my belly turning into a free fall in this mistake, this negative show of my feelings.

"Oh, now," he sighed. He frowned, his old eyes looking regretful, wide and dead.

"I'll take it," Frankie said quickly, grasping the handkerchief and making it into a point on his fingers. Before I could protest further, he was wiping my eyes carefully. Conflicted, I could only sit still and allow him. On the one hand, it was Frankie wiping my eyes and on the other it was Luciano's handkerchief. It just made me weep harder, the tears coming slowly.

"That must really hurt. Okay, here we go. One, two-"

"What-"

I shrieked as the most pain I'd felt in a long time rushed up my hand, instantly crumpling me over in my seat.

Strong arms caught me and wrenched me back in place against the bar, wrapped around me, gripping violently. Electricity flowed through me, prickling from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. Everything was alert like a switch had been thrown. Fear flooded and I fought against the arms, blinded to everything but my instinct. My uninjured fist swung out, meeting nothing, and I started to panic and squirm in these arms.

Luciano!

"Georgina!"

The arms tightened around me and I cried out, trying to wrench myself free. The pain in my hand blocked my vision, I couldn't see anyone, just pain. Just these tight, violent arms around me. Attacking me!

"Georgina! It's okay! It's okay!"

A desperate voice filled my head and my breathing came heavy, choking me. It felt like there were hands around my neck!

"No, no, no!" I was shrieking, not in control anymore.

"Carl!"

"I got her!"

Another pair of arms was around me and the fear flew up inside, my eyes going wide.

"No, no, no!" Screaming.

"Get your hands off her! Stop it!"

"But-!"

"Stop it! It's your hands!"

My breath came like an animal, my heart beating so fast it wanted to burst. The room was spinning. The pressures of the arms faded and I burst into sobs, released, gasping for air like a fish out of water. I gulped the air, but none of it seemed to be able to meet my lungs-

"Get her some water! What are you doing?! Fuck, I'll do it myself! Move!"

"Georgina...?" This voice was cautious, terrified, a whisper.

"That was quite a reaction. Now let me see that finger. I won't touch it, promise."

"...Georgina?"

The sounds of water running filled my ears and my uninjured hand scrabbled at my knee to try to get a grip, to try to get some air. A paper crunching sound came close to my ear and I winced violently away from it.

"Take the bag. Breathe."

This voice.

"That's it. Take it. Breathe into it."

I began to pump into the bag, my head swirling like an independent entity to the world. Hot air met my lungs and my head felt like a balloon bobbing up and down.

"Yeah, that's going to swell. You got some tape? Something stiff, like, what do you have in a bar? Toothpicks? You wouldn't happen to have a tongue depressor? Popsicle stick? I want to make a splint. Might be a strain. Look at it. That's a strain and a pretty big bruise."

That voice belonged to Luciano.

Fuzzily, things began to leak back into my consciousness. My eyes flashed, spots appearing in my vision.

"You okay, Georgina?" The desperate voice from before, the yelling one at everybody. It was soft and feminine with masculine undertones. Too high for a man, really. I could only breathe into the bag in response.

"Are you okay?" Frankie. This one was Frankie. And the other one was...

Paulie swooped around me, unmistakable even in my tear filled eyes. He was leaned down to me, stooped, staring at me. "It's going to be okay," he said in his too high voice, still sounding desperate, but forcibly calmed. Calming me. Paulie...

"A popsicle stick! Perfect!"

"It's a stirring stick."

"Whatever. Now, look at me. I'm going to splint your hand up. Look at my face. Don't look at your hand. Don't look at it, okay?"

Luciano was talking to me. But I didn't want to look at him, wouldn't. There was a long pause, the only sounds came from my paper bag still pumping away, but slower in pace now.

"...I guess that's okay, too. Just don't look at your hand. Now, I'm going to count down, but I'm not going to surprise you again."

A meek hand took mine, lowering my paper bag from my mouth, then folded over it. Knowing Luciano was on my other side I allowed this. He counted down and I pinched shut my eyes, the pain buzzing up my hand again and again as he worked. The kind hand gripping my other never unclenched, keeping it safe. Keeping me safe. I just cried, breathed. Tried to make sense of everything, put everything back into their places as the pain settled in and became numb.

About an hour later, we were still gathered around the bar. But now, my hand was splinted in makeshift clear tape and wooden stirrer sticks, a bar cloth full of ice draped on it. Luciano had assured that should be fine, that he'd be back anyway so if I needed a replacement splint he'd do it for me free of charge. He looked really awkward, kept scratching his head. Finally, he looked into my eyes.

"Look, I'm real sorry. Real, real sorry. I was drunk. Real drunk. I couldn't tell which way was up. I didn't know what I was doing. I'd never hurt you or anybody. I'm sorry. I've been trying to get my act together, you know? Trying not to drink so much." He looked sheepish, but he didn't stop looking into my eyes as he apologized as sincerely as I ever saw anyone apologize.

I swallowed. I wasn't ready to forgive him. The idea made me shudder inside. But a tiny bit of me, the shameful side, was offering a response. A dreaded knowing.

"I know... I know what it's like to have a- a problem."

His eyes took on a small brightness behind them at this. I closed my eyes so I didn't have to see his gladness and breathed out slowly.

"Are you in a lot of pain? I can write you a prescription for some painkillers. Not a lot of them, maybe a week's worth if you need them."

I looked at him full on. He was giving me a small smile, a hopeful one. What did he want from me? I didn't change my neutral expression.

"No, I'll go to the pharmacy, get something over the counter." I shifted to gazing at my hand in the splint he'd made. It seemed to have been made with such care. It made me feel disgusting, like ants were crawling all over my skin.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

My eyes trailed to a little up the bar, where Frankie was doing some cleaning even though he was the owner. It warmed my heart even though Luciano was talking to me.

"Okay. Well, I'll be off, then. You take care of that finger. Good night."

"Night."

He got up, taking his hat off the bar. I watched him put it on, saw him turn away. He didn't look back at me. Secretly I felt relieved, so many different feelings making me sick to my stomach. He said something to Frankie as he passed by and he nodded in return, smiling. It made me involuntarily squint.

As soon as the door closed behind him, I brought my splinted hand up to the bar. Silently, I began to undo the splint, peeling the tape, not giving a fuck about the pain. I threw it behind the bar, my expression unchanging. Bare now, I thrust the ice pack on my skin and pinched my eyes. Fuck Luciano's splint. Fuck Luciano.

"Hey."

My head whipped around. Standing behind me, unnoticed, was Paulie drinking a gin and tonic.

"You took off your splint." He leaned down, getting it off the floor. With relief, I saw him put it in the little trash bin. He came back, resuming drinking. The ice clinked in his drink as he tipped it back. It went down again, and he stirred the lime slice in it with too much attention with his finger. "I don't blame you, really. I wouldn't want to wear it either."

I looked down at my knees, remembering what had caused me to punch my fist into the wall in the first place. Strangely, I didn't feel any more anger at him. Not after...

"You told them to let me go."

The ice in the glass clinked again closer to me. The glass thunked onto the bar. Paulie's breath came long and slow with it.

"Yeah," he whispered. Suddenly, he was leaned next to me on his elbows, his head level to mine and very close by. "You didn't tell him, did you?" His voice was slightly scolding, like a disappointed parent.

"Tell him what?"

"Don't play with me. Not about this. You didn't tell him about the rapes."

I pressed my lips together, my legs squeezing closed involuntarily at this.

"You're marrying him. He has to know."

I looked at the floor.

"Look at me. This is serious. He's going to ask you about tonight, about when you were screaming. It looked very irrational, crazy. You should have seen his face. He was terrified. He's never seen that before. You need to explain it to him, about how people grabbing you like that reminds you of those guys."

I bit my lips, avoiding him, shaking my head.

"Don't be a child."

"I'm not being a child."

"It looks like you're being a child."

"It was because of...Luciano. Not Frankie."

"I know."

"Do you, really?" I turned my head to him now. He was looking at me with soft eyes, understanding. I breathed out.

He nodded, closing his eyes and taking a deep, surrendering breath in our closeness. "Yeah, I do. I've been working here for a long time, you know that. Been grabbed. People have touched me in places where the sun don't shine, too. It's part of the job. You get scared of them. What Luciano did was really wrong, one of the epic ones. I get how scared you are of him. Especially with what happened to you under that bridge. You have to tell Frankie. He's the one who doesn't understand. You need to tell him. He deserves to know."

"I've told him a little bit about it before, but..." I leaned over on my knees, propping my chin up with my elbow. My hand zinged painfully as my injured wrist flopped by mistake over my leg now without the splint.

"Then you need to tell him the full truth. How you feel about all of it. His face. God. That boy does not understand. He's scared."

"Okay."

"Okay... Look, can I drive you home or something?"

"No. You're drunk."

"Yeah..."

"I'll get a cab for us, but you have to carry my stuff."

"Alright."

Frankie was looking at us, giving us a small smile. It made me nervous, knowing now what I had to do. But how was I supposed to do it? I never wanted to tell anybody. It made me feel sick to my stomach. Made me shiver.

Instead, I got up as causally as I could and followed Paulie around the bar where we swung around, going towards the bathroom storage closet to get our stuff to go home.