Chapter Twenty-Four

Frank and Beans Support Group

Vince

Work was unbearable, and I didn’t even really know why.

It wasn’t because I was so exhausted that I was nearly delirious. It wasn’t because I couldn’t do a single sit-up during my workout, my stomach muscles too sore from fucking Crossbody like an animal all night.

We didn’t speak. We didn’t look each other in the eyes. I looked at him, though. I watched him worriedly when I first saw him in the backstage area, wanting to make sure he was okay.

To anyone but me, he appeared completely fine. Normal. But I could see the slight stiffness in his legs. I noticed the wince he tried to hide when he carefully perched on the end of the couch—something he hardly ever did—to eat. And he didn’t go on the treadmill at all, which relieved me.

He looked as tired as I felt, but there was this subtle air of serenity around him all day. He seemed more relaxed than he’d ever been at work before. He actually smiled at some of the others. I heard him chuckle while talking to Carl.

And there was something wrong with me, because a weak hint of jealousy had curled through my gut. He never smiled at me, not really. He’d never laughed—a real, genuine laugh—while talking to me.

Which I shouldn’t have fucking cared about. I’d never cared about it before. I’d had absolutely no interest in making Crossbody smile or laugh. I’d had no interest in talking to him or interacting with him in any way.

The next day, I was feeling a little more settled after getting some sleep. More normal. We didn’t speak again, at all. A few times I could’ve sworn I felt his eyes on me, but when I glanced up he was never looking in my direction.

He had his match with Carl that night, and I watched from the backstage area, stiff and tense with my arms crossed as I stared down into the arena. But he seemed fine, on good form. There was no hesitancy or stiffness that would signal he was still sore from our night. I had my match with Heidi on Friday, so that mostly distracted me for the bulk of the day, but by Saturday I was growing tense, and I couldn’t even pinpoint exactly why.

My mood gradually grew darker and darker over the course of the weekend. I was irritable, on edge. I slept badly, I was restless all the time, and the longer Crossbody went without so much as looking in my direction, the angrier I got.

Which wasn’t fair, I knew. It wasn’t fair at all. I’d been the one to repeatedly state that last Tuesday at the motel was a one-time thing, never to happen again. He was just doing what we’d agreed. I shouldn’t have wanted him to look at me. I shouldn’t have wanted to talk to him.

I definitely shouldn’t have wanted to fuck him again.

It definitely shouldn’t have been all I could think about.

By Monday, I was so tense it felt like I was about to snap. Dan was wary when he approached me in the backstage area and quietly asked whether I’d be attending Holt’s support group for victims of Frank and Beans. I nodded absently, not giving it much thought, and followed him across the room, trying not to stare as we passed Crossbody jogging on the treadmill.

As Dan pushed open the door leading down to the arena, I couldn’t stop myself glancing back, just in time to see Crossbody’s golden ponytail swish through the air as he whipped his head back to face the wall.

He’d looked at me too.

I almost stopped and asked if he was coming down to the arena, but the words got clogged in my throat. I followed Dan without saying anything.

“Do you think we should tell everyone?” he asked me in a hoarse murmur as we walked down the metal staircase.

“Tell them what?” I muttered back woodenly, still preoccupied by Crossbody.

And his ass in those tiny shorts. The ass I’d spent an entire night inside.

“About what happened.” Dan audibly swallowed. “About Frank and Beans’ house.”

That managed to distract me, a shudder running down my spine. “But then you’d have to explain why we went there in the first place. Does Rafe want everyone knowing he got mugged by them?”

Dan sighed. “That’s true. No, he doesn’t. He’s not coming.”

“I don’t really want everyone knowing I walked out of that place without my pants,” I croaked, shivering again as I remembered that terrible, horrifying night.

The sand pit. The motel art. The paintballs. My poor nuts.

“We made a pact, man,” I croaked with a hint of panic. “No one can ever know. No one.”

“Okay. I won’t say a word, bro,” Dan said solemnly, then glanced over at me with a tiny, worried frown. “You okay? You’ve seemed kinda off this week.”

“I’m fine.” I resisted the urge to glance back up the staircase. “Do you know if everyone is coming to this?”

Dan shrugged. “Most of us, I think.”

“But not all?”

“Dunno. I mean, I’m sure every single one of us has at least one horror story about those two.”

“Yeah.” I chewed on my lip, following him into the arena.

Holt and Taylor had set up a circle of chairs in the empty space between the bar and the ring. Mads, Susan and Kenneth were already sitting down. Gabe and Biff were sipping coffee and talking to Holt. Kit was over by the bar, carefully counting the number of donuts in the two boxes resting there.

I glanced up at the windows overlooking the arena from the backstage area, but obviously couldn’t see anything from here.

“Good morning!” Taylor said cheerfully when he spotted us. “Help yourself to a donut and take a seat.”

I wasn’t hungry, so I dropped into a chair as Dan wandered over to join Kit, who seemed to be guarding the donut boxes and making sure everyone only took one. Tapping my foot restlessly, I shifted around to glance up at the windows again.

“No need to panic!” I heard Corey’s deep, smooth voice and tinkling laugh as he sat gracefully in the empty seat beside me and declared, “I’m here.”

I managed a stiff smile, drumming my fingers on the beaker in my hands. My knee started to bounce, until Corey laid a big hand on it and gently squeezed.

“Don’t be nervous, darling,” he murmured. “You’re in a safe space here. Group therapy is a wonderful way to…” He inhaled loudly through his nose, then let out the breath in a slow, drawn-out stream that I assumed was meant to be calming. “Clear the blockage causing tension inside you from the actions of our former colleagues. Let you purge it and move on, knowing you have support behind you.”

“Yep,” I said tightly, my other knee starting to bounce.

“Which reminds me.” He leaned in closer as I tensed. “I’d like to hold your and Crossbody’s first session next Monday, after the shows are over. I was hoping we could do it this week, but I’ll be very busy welcoming the new wrestlers and starting my rehearsals with Beast.”

My gut bottomed out. Something almost like excitement cut through my dark mood, tendrils of anticipation creeping in and making my pulse race.

I’d forgotten about the stupid therapy sessions. I still didn’t want to do them, but…

He’d have to talk to me. He’d have to look at me. Acknowledge me.

“Okay.” I gave Corey a brief nod. “Next Monday’s fine.”

He looked surprised that I’d agreed so readily, but his face broke into a big smile, tusks jutting up. “Wonderful. I’ll let Crossbody know.”

“Is he coming?” I heard myself quickly ask. “To this?”

“I don’t think so.” Corey crossed his legs and smoothed down his baby pink palazzo pants. “He was one of the fortunate ones. Didn’t have much interaction with them.” He leaned in closer again and lowered his voice. “Being so close to Dan, I assume you know about poor Rafe’s… incident with Frank and Beans?”

Oh yes. I fucking knew. It was the reason I’d ended up getting shot in the testicle with a paintball and losing my favourite pair of pants.

“Yeah,” I said in a strained voice, resisting the urge to reach down and cup my nuts protectively.

“I was utterly appalled when Holt told me. Outraged. That we welcomed them into the bosom of our family for so many years, when they are capable of such…” Corey waved a hand, searching for the most dramatic word. “ Malevolence.”

“They’re thieving assholes,” I muttered, picturing my jeans being torn apart so they could get the zipper and… what? I still didn’t know why they’d wanted my fucking zipper.

“The incident won’t be coming up today,” Corey told me primly. “Rafe has expressed his desire for it not to be discussed. Poor boy. Maybe I should offer him some therapy sessions too. Let him work through it. Process it in a healthy manner.”

I didn’t know Rafe all that well, but I was pretty sure he’d hate that as much as Crossbody and I were going to hate whatever Corey had in store for us.

Dan sat down on my other side eating a jelly donut, and Corey immediately leaned across my lap to squeeze his knee meaningfully.

“Dan, please let Rafe know that I’m here for him,” he murmured, then sat back and placed a hand over his chest. “Frankly, I feel partially responsible. When Holt asked for my opinion about hiring Frank and Beans all those years ago, I gave my enthusiastic assent. I saw promise, but I failed to see the… insidious darkness lurking just beneath the surface.”

As he shuddered dramatically, Dan and I shared a quick look.

“Um, thanks,” he said hesitantly. “But Rafe’s fine. He’s good.”

I was pretty sure Dan and I were more traumatised by what had happened at that house than Rafe was from being mugged by them.

“He’s putting on a brave front,” Corey insisted, leaning back in to grasp Dan’s arm and give it a little shake, sending jelly from his donut splatting onto the floor.

“I don’t think he is,” Dan said in mild alarm. “He’d tell me if it was bothering him.”

Corey sighed, leaning back. “I do wish he was coming today.”

“He’d hate it,” Dan said flatly. “Like, fuckin’ hate it hate it.”

“And why do you think that is?” Corey asked in what I assumed was meant to be a thoughtful, professorial tone. I sighed, getting a hint of what to expect next week.

“Okay, folks.” Holt’s voice saved Dan from having to think of an answer, which he looked pretty nervous about, and I glanced up to see that almost all the seats were filled.

All of the wrestlers aside from Crossbody and Brian were here. So was Larkin, although he just looked eager to hear all the gossip rather than haunted by anything Frank and Beans had done. Even Paxton, our camera operator, was here. And Tommy the maintenance guy, as well as Frances the janitor and Harriet who worked the bar.

“So much pain,” Corey murmured throatily beside me. “So much suffering. Whose lives did these… unscrupulous marauders not adversely touch among us?”

“Not Crossbody’s, obviously,” I couldn’t help but mutter, slouching lower in my seat. “Seeing as he’s not here.”

“Our High Lord is a very private person,” Corey said in a hushed voice. “Even if he did have stories to tell, he wouldn’t tell them here. I’m always trying to get him to open up more.”

What did that mean? Had Crossbody been through some bad stuff? What bad stuff? And why did I suddenly care?

No, wait, I didn’t . I didn’t care. It wasn’t as though I suddenly liked him as a person, just because I’d spent an entire night having the best sex of my life with him.

They were separate things. Totally unrelated.

“I want to reassure all of you,” Holt was saying, “that this is a safe space. This is just somewhere for you to… share any feelings you might have about our former colleagues, Frank and Beans.”

Dan tensed up beside me. Corey sighed in disappointment and shook his head, dramatically covering his eyes. Paxton actually shuddered in horror, as if just hearing their names was affecting him.

“They were certainly… a challenge to work with,” Holt said. “A very unique pair. Fucking amazing performers, don’t get me wrong, but possibly not the most pleasant folks to work with. So let’s talk about that. Would anyone like to start?”

“I’ll start,” Paxton said instantly, shooting up out of his chair. “They used to sneak under the seats during the shows and try to tie off sections of my smoke tendrils with hair bands. Like they were trying to… steal actual bits of me? It freaked me the fuck out. When I confronted them, Frank just said they wanted to see if it would be like someone tying an elastic band around their finger until the finger fell off or something.” He shuddered. “What the fuck?”

Tommy the maintenance guy patted his back as Paxton sat back down, protectively gathering up the smoke tendrils emerging from under his shirt and stroking them soothingly.

Holt cleared his throat, looking mildly ill. “Right. Well, that was… unsettling. Anyone else?”

Harriet, who worked behind the bar, spoke up. “I once caught them trying to sneak pieces of cut-up hotdogs into all the booze.”

Holt slowly turned to stare at her. “Excuse me?”

She nodded. “They said it would be better for everyone if all the spirits were hotdog-flavoured. I didn’t know if that was a threat or not, you know? But I obviously told them they couldn’t.”

“Did they stop?” Taylor asked, sounding morbidly curious.

“Only when I promised to keep a bottle of hotdog-infused vodka behind the bar for them.”

“Please tell me that has since been removed from the premises,” Holt said in a strangled voice. “And hopefully destroyed.”

“I think they took it with them when they left,” Harriet said doubtfully. “It was just gone one day.”

“Well, that’s someone else’s problem now,” Holt said hurriedly, waving a hand. “Who else? This is good. Let’s get all this… weird-ass shit out there so we never have to think about it again.”

The next ten minutes was spent with people blurting out the creepy, unsettling and sometimes horrifying encounters they’d had with Frank and Beans over the years.

“They went through a phase of trying to lick my wings all the time,” Kit told us. “Said they believed it would give them the power of flight.”

“I once caught them doing some kind of ritual with a pentagram made of hotdogs.” Tommy looked haunted.

“They stole my fucking head and drew a dick on my cheek,” Dan gritted out.

“There was also the time they stole your head and gave you a bob,” I reminded him solemnly.

On my other side, Corey made a little sound of distress and pressed a hand to his chest. “It’s just unfathomable.”

Almost every single person in the circle had shared at least one horrifying story of Frank and Beans by the time Holt glanced at his watch a while later.

“Okay, let’s wrap it up there for this week. The new talent will be arriving soon.”

“ Excellent first session, everyone,” Corey declared, rising from his seat. “We saw some real breakthroughs here today. Some real moments .”

He raised his hand and clenched it into a fist as he looked around the circle, making sure to meet the eyes of every single person.

“Let’s harness that pain. Let’s use it to fuel us. Let’s”—he smacked his fist into his other palm—“become stronger from it. Together. As a family.”

Holt cleared his throat. “Uh, yes. That. Well said, Corey. You should all…” He waved at us vaguely. “Go and do that. The thing Corey said. Thanks, everyone.”