Ten Dollar Drinks
DAPHNE
DOMINION NIGHTCLUB, SEATTLE
SATURDAY
We’re tucked away in a corner of the lounge, surrounded by shadows and dim lights.
We opted to stay here for drinks, mostly because Frankie said they do a hell of a dirty martini, but I can’t deny the place has some great atmosphere.
It’s got a very secluded, mysterious vibe, but despite that there’s a surprisingly good view of all the sweaty, leather-clad bodies grinding on the dance floor.
After getting over my initial shock, I realized it shouldn’t surprise me that Frankie’s running this workshop. He’s always been a great teacher, even helped me pass 12th grade English by the skin of my teeth.
“So, I have to know… How did you get into all of this?” He asks.
There’s a moment where I contemplate telling him an ex-boyfriend introduced me, or that I read about it in a romance book, but I can’t bring myself to weave the lie.
“I googled you,” I confess, my cheeks burning. “A while back. I, uh… wanted to see what my old friend was up to, and there you were, writing papers on the stuff.”
“Can I ask which one you found?”
It’s a little embarrassing to admit, but it’s not like I can just toss the rest of this martini back and tell him it was nice talking to him.
“The one on Total Power Exchange.”
“Wow, that’s quite the leap. You know, in my experience most people start by finding some pictures, or accidentally stumbling on it in a movie or something, but you dove right into the ‘dry academic literature’ side of things right off the bat!”
“I guess so, yeah.”
That night, I found myself exploring my body in a way I hadn’t done since before Violet.
It’s hard to get back in touch with your sexuality when you’re raising a kid, and dealing with postpartum bullshit— and that’s on top of touring, recording, press junkets, and all the other demands that come along with this career.
Discovering kink helped me take hold of my pleasure, and that was empowering as hell.
“So, what did you think?”
“Of the article?”
He nods.
I can feel my skin prickling beneath my clothes as his eyes dance over me.
“I thought it was powerful, and I learned a lot. To be honest, I didn’t know kink really went beyond whips and chains before that.”
“Is tonight your first time practicing then?”
“That’s a little personal,” I snort.
He shrugs.
“Feel free to tell me to shut up any time.”
Am I really ready to talk about my sex life with the man whose heart I shattered?
“I mean, I’ve had a couple of boyfriends blindfold me, tie me up, stuff like that, but nothing like what you described. The more I read about all of this stuff, the more it gave me a new outlook on sex and intimacy. It’s stupid, but I even made a fuck it list.”
“A fuck it list?” Frankie chuckles. “Is that what it sounds like?”
Do you ever have those moments where you say something so idiotic you feel the air get sucked out of the room?
That was supposed to be a secret; it’s one of the many reasons I don’t leave my phone unattended, or let anyone look at my notes app.
Not only does it have secret song lyrics and potential album titles, it’s also got the list of all the things I want to… experience.
“Sorry, I think the bartender was a little heavy-handed with this drink.”
I take another sip because nothing fixes an embarrassing blunder quite like more alcohol.
“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Frankie assures me with a warm smile. “I was just curious.”
“No, it’s…” I take a deep breath, holding it for a few anxious seconds before letting go. “Tonight was supposed to be about blowing off steam, and now I’m embarrassing myself in front of—”
He cuts me off with a wave of his hand.
“The first rule you need to learn about kink is that nothing is embarrassing. I’ve been asked every question you could possibly think of, and I’m sure I asked other people even worse when I was starting out.”
Even when we were teenagers, and I was nothing but a ball of hormonal angst and chaos, Frankie could soothe me by just being around. He’s always had a quiet spirit. Solid. He knows who he is and stands firm in it.
Me? I’m still figuring it out most of the time.
“Okay, great.” I lean forward. “So how did you find out about this stuff?”
He stares into his whiskey for a moment, contemplative, like he’s fishing for the answer at the bottom of the glass.
“I didn’t know how to cope with my PTSD.
I hated my body, I hated the scars from the accident, and I was high all the time.
Hell, I almost flunked out of grad school…
Everything had changed and I couldn’t contend with any of it.
I was angry. At myself, at the ambulance for not getting there in time, at the fucking tree I crashed into. ”
He grimaces.
“And at God. I was furious at Him. I needed someone to be responsible, and it was easy to say God just sat back and let it all happen. It really shook my faith.”
I knew about the accident, and his mom’s death, but I didn’t know about the fallout. That’s the thing about looking at survival from the outside, people don’t always see how hard it is to dig yourself out of the pit.
“After I had Violet, I fell into this black hole that felt impossible to get out of. All of a sudden I had this tiny person who needed everything from me, all the time. I remember walking around thinking, is this it? Is this the magical thing people mean when they talk about motherhood? I’d look at old pictures, wondering what the fuck happened to the light in my eyes— and then I’d feel so guilty and that cycle would just repeat.
It’s not the same as what you went through, but I just wanted to say I think I get it. ”
Frankie nods silently, his sad eyes on mine. Fuck, I can feel myself going red.
“God, I totally made that about me, sorry.”
“No, you’re empathizing,” he chuckles. “It’s normal.”
I smile, resisting the urge to reach over and….
“Tell me more— I mean, if you want to.”
He nods, taking a final swig of his drink before signaling for another.
“Well, it was the perfect storm really. I was depressed, anxious, trying to stay off drugs, pretty much at the end of my rope. I knew if I didn’t find an outlet, I was gonna backslide, or worse.
One night, I was flipping through the channels and— wait, have you ever seen Secretary?
Maggie Gyllenhaal and James Spader? This won’t make much sense if you haven’t. ”
I nod, and Frankie grins.
I watched it for the first time about six months ago when I was out of town for a show. It was one of the hottest things I’d ever seen, but by the end of the movie, I was weeping.
“It flicked a switch in my brain; I was immediately fascinated. I changed my dissertation topic the next day and dove right into research. Night after night of scouring every place I could think of for information, then before long that wasn’t enough.
I needed to experience some of it myself.
” He sighs, leaning back in his seat. “The first time someone tied me up and hit me with a flogger, I couldn’t stop crying.
All of these feelings were coming to the surface, you know?
Shame, anger, sadness, rage, along with all that pain— but peel that all away and what was left?
Freedom. Once I dropped all of that weight I had been carrying, I realized just how badly I wanted to live. ”
I can feel my martini creeping back up my throat as the realization dawns on me.
“You were suicidal,” I whisper.
“For a while, yeah,” Frankie murmurs. “It’s like I said, the crash took everything.”
He must have been so alone, and I had no idea.
“Frankie, I’m so sorry.”
He reaches over, gently squeezing my hand.
“Hey, it’s fine. I’m still here. I’m writing a book about it all, actually.”
“You are?”
I remember in English class, we’d have to write these critical essays analyzing a book or a play. I never understood why, and I was terrible at figuring out what to put down on paper. Not Frankie. He could pull anything apart, and tell you everything about it as he put it back together again.
“Yeah, but enough about me. What I’m getting at is I understand why you’d want to come to a place like this and blow off some steam.”
I roll my eyes, leaning back in my seat.
“No kidding, especially after the bomb that got dropped on me last week.”
“The bar stuff getting to you?”
“No, it’s…”
How do I say this without sounding insane?
“Parents?”
“No, didn’t you hear? I’m banishing them away on vacation. No meddling.”
“Alright then, no parents so… Is the bar haunted?”
I choke on my drink.
“Haunted?! Why would it be haunted?”
He shrugs, a playful little glint in his eyes.
“I’m just listing off possibilities, from most to least likely. My buddy Logan believes in ghosts, won’t shut up about them actually. He was talking about starting a YouTube channel. Actually, if we start some rumors we could totally prank him.”
Frankie stretches one arm over the top of the booth, puffing his chest out a little. He seems much more confident than he was the other day, but it’s not arrogance. It’s comfort, in his body and himself in general. And in the fact that this is his space, where I am but a humble guest.
It’s kind of hot.
“Well, unfortunately for your friend, it’s not haunted.” I take another generous gulp of my drink, relishing the way the gin stings the back of my throat. “There was a condition in the will. A big fucking condition.”
“A condition for…?”
I sigh.
“Well, Joe definitely wants me to have the bar, that much is clear, but I don’t get to take over until I turn 37.”
“Okay.” His brows knit together in confusion. “That doesn’t sound too—”
“I haven’t gotten to the fucked up part yet.”
This is going to sound crazy no matter how I slice it. I’ve had the week to think about things, and I’m not going back on what I told that lawyer.
“I have to get married.”
Frankie stops mid-sip, glass still raised in front of his face, and stares.
“Fuck off.”