Frank's P.O.V

  What the hell was I thinking?! Well I know what I was thinking, but I was thinking with the downstairs brain. Endorphins don't suck but why do we have them?! They cause bad situations, like being beaten to a pulp by a complete stranger for example. Endorphins aren't worth a fat lip, concussion and a broken rib. Owww!

  And then there's Gerard. What the fuck am I going to do about that? I well and truly fucked that up. He probably never wants to see me again! And - Oh shit, I have to go back to work in two days. In this state. And if I remember rightly, I have to drive to Texas to look at a new gallery. Maybe I'll miraculously heal quickly. (Well, it would happen in my irrational mind.)  Maybe I should quit. I can't go to work in this state anyway. They had trouble getting over the tattoos, scars will be worse. 'Cause this is going to scar. No offense to Mikey, but he's a twat! What am I saying? I'm being stupid, I can't quit. 

  New subject. How to gain Gerard's trust back. It's a toughy. What the hell am I gonna do? Why do I always fuck my life up? One thing goes right and I manage to do something to make it go wrong. Maybe I've got that self-destructive disease thingy. I subconsciously seek to destroy my life. I should really get that checked out. 

  I can hear Black Flag again. I've really gotta change that ringtone. Oh great, it's my boss.

 "Hello?"

 "Frank, I'm calling to remind you that if you want to get paid you need to be here in 2 days to drive to Texas."

 "Oh my fucking God! FUCK YOU! I QUIT! First I lose my only potential love interest and now I've got a complete cunt like you chewing my ear off. I can't take it anymore!" I threw the phone against the wall and it smashed. I stared for a second. 

  FUCK. What the hell have I just done? Now not only does my rib hurt because the stitches have come undone, but I'm stranded. I kind of forgot that my apartment was attached to the company. Wish I'd realised that one sooner, like before I called him a cunt. Then maybe it would have been salvagable. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn! And now I've got blood on my favourite t-shirt. Double damn with knobs on! Not a good day. 

  Okay, no time like the present. Lets google Boston apartments.

20 minutes later. 

  Right, I like this one. It's almost exactly like my company one. Seeing as I smashed my mobile I guess I'll have to fork out for a hotel phone call. The hits just keep on coming!

  Wait a minute, I'm being a twat again aren't I?

  I decided to follow my new brainwave and typed a different search into google. 15 minutes later I'd found what I was looking for. One bedroom apartment  with ensuite, kitchenette and living space. Communal pool included, $750pcm, 1B, 223 Walnut Street, Albany. 

  If this doesn't show him I'm serious what else can I do?