The Arrangement, Vol. 20: The Ferro Family (3 page)

I
haven’t slept
for nearly a week. Every time I close my eyes, I dream of Sean. Our last few days play on a loop in my subconscious. I see his face, the hurt in his eyes, immediately followed by a double gunshot. I wake up covered in sweat, ready to scream. Heart pounding, I throw off the blankets.

Mel is sleeping across from me. She’s got one eye open and her hand wrapped around a knife.

“Go back to sleep.”

“I can’t.” Rubbing my face, I stretch and throw my legs over the side of the bed. “I keep seeing his face. The last things he heard weren’t good.” I get up and pull on a pair of jeans and throw my hair into a ponytail.

Mel groans and pulls the pillow over her head. “Not again.”

“I need to run. I have to clear my head.”

“You’re trying to kill me.” Mel throws her pillow and sits up. “We’ve slept for a total of five hours in four days, and you spend most of your awake time working out.”

“So I don’t flip out! Pick one, Mel, crazy Avery or buff Avery.”

“Shoot me.” Mel flops back on her bed.

We’ve been staying at Gabe’s nephew’s house on Long Island. He lives a few blocks from the cemetery where my parents rest. I pull a sweatshirt over my head and gesture for the knife.

“Just give it to me. I can go on a run and make it back fine.”

“Really?” Mel arches a dark brow at me. “You’ve got not one but two psychos trying to find you, and today is the funeral of New York’s most hated woman. You seriously expect me to let you go out alone?”

“No. I’m saying that I can go out alone. Whatever is going to happen, will happen anyway.”

“Not while I’m there. Give me a minute.”

“Yeah, sure.” I don’t want to argue with her. Since Mel told me about Miss Black’s main business, she’s had this haunted look in her eyes. It’s like she helped facilitate evil things and there’s no way to wash the blood off her hands. Innocent women are gone, possibly dead, and she had a part in it. It’s not her fault, but I understand her horror. I wonder what nefarious thing my actions set in motion.

The TV clicks on in the kitchen. Gabe’s nephew is up and getting ready for work. The loudest news story all week has been about the body on the beach. They haven’t released the name yet, but I already know who it is. I’ve tried to reach Peter and Jon, but they’ve gone dark. I haven’t heard a peep from Marty or Trystan either.

“I can’t wait anymore,” I call out to Mel. “I’m going to lose it. I’ll be out front.”

“Fine, be right there.” Mel is so grouchy.

I walk past our host. He’s wearing a tattered red robe the color of dried blood. His hair is sticking up like he didn’t sleep at all, and he’s holding a newspaper in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other.

“Morning.”

“Hey, Avery. Is Mel going with you?” I nod. “I can wait with you until she gets ready.” He drops his things and is ready to stand.

“I’ll be right out front. Really, it’s fine. You can see me through the window. I won’t leave without her.”

“Uncle Gabe will kick my ass if you do.”

“I’m not leaving, Tim. I’ll see you tonight. Maybe I’ll cook something.”

He laughs. I’ve been cooking non-stop since I got here. Tim’s house is stuffed with lasagna, ziti, meatballs, and enough sauce to cause a tidal wave.

“Anything you want, Avery. Feel free to make pancakes.”

“Yeah, you just don’t want meatballs for breakfast.”

“Does anyone?” Mel asks blurry-eyed from the doorway behind me. “Shit, I need coffee.” She makes a beeline for the pot. “Go stretch. I’ll be right there.”

I nod. Mel isn’t a morning person. “See you later, Tim.” I push through the backdoor and start my day.

I
’m pushing myself harder
, trying to ignore the burn in my lungs and the pain in my side. I want to feel nothing. I want to feel numb from head to toe; my broken, dying heart reminds me of everything I’ve lost every time it beats. I can’t face the world without him, I won’t.

I’ll never come to terms with losing Sean.

I’ll never move on.

There are few people in my life that have left such a dramatic impression on me. For better or worse, and I prefer to think Sean was for the better, he pushed me, pulled me, and tried to meet me where I was. He tried to be what I needed. And failed. I failed.

I’ve lost everything and everyone dear to me.

The girl running at my heels is watching me, torn between two worlds. If Mel hands me over to Black, she’ll be an instant millionaire--everything she ever wanted delivered on a silver platter. If she protects me, she gets nothing but honor. Honor doesn’t buy much these days. I’ve slept with one eye open since she told me about what Black really does. Mel’s confession should have convinced me she was on my side.

But it didn’t.

It convinced me Gabe is truly a good guy, but it proved that I don’t know Mel as well as I thought I did.

‘Surviving justifies everything.’ That’s her mantra, her motto. So, why not trade me in for a new life? Her old life is worth peanuts in comparison.

Meanwhile, as I try to wrap my brain around that, I think about Black’s empty promises. I wonder what she’s set up and what would have happened if I’d said yes. Power, money, and everything I could possibly want--if I’d only do this one last thing? She was pushing me so hard to become a madam, but then what? What actually would have been the next step for me?

That's the trap. It’s the way Black makes me feel empowered. She planted ideas in my head and I thought I could handle it. I wanted to handle it, but Sean made me back away. I wonder if he knew he was saving me. I wonder if he knew, in the end, he’d die because of me.

It’s my fault his life ended violently.

It’s my fault he never found peace.

NO.

I push harder, running ahead without waiting for Mel. I hear her gasping behind me.

“Fuck me sideways, Avery! It’s uphill and 5 a.m. This bitch is gonna die. Slow the fuck down!”

But I don’t. I push harder, faster, taking longer strides. My feet pound the pavement and it feels good. I want to hurt; I want the pain. It’s the only way I can tell I’m still alive.

I stop short, horrified. Mel crashes into me and then collapses spread-eagle on the well-manicured lawn to my right. We’re running in a subdivision that disguises the hell these people live through day in and day out. The pretty grass hides their dead souls, trapped in the constant craze of wanting more--of needing whatever’s next.

I don’t need anything. Except Sean.

And I thought he was messed up.

Without him, I’m doing the same thing--hurting myself to feel something. I’m walking the tightrope and know it’s only a matter of time until I fall. I welcome the rush and crash of pain at the bottom. Bending at the waist, I grip my knees and try to catch my breath. I don’t let Mel know what I was thinking.

“Get up,” I huff, trying to straighten. A cramp pulls me back down, breathing like an overweight porn star.

Sucking. Air. Gonna. Pass. Out.

“I’m gonna roll over and rip up this guy's grass. Make it a blanket and go to sleep. It’s so nice and cool under my gluteus maximus.”

“You’re such a dork,” I say, laughing. “Say it like you mean it.”

“The grass feels good on my ass!” Mel laughs and starts coughing.

“You should make that a thing and sell Sexy Sod on QVC. Only three easy payments of $19.95 and you, too, could have a sexy grassy ass.”

“De nada.”

Her sudden Spanish makes me laugh harder. The stitch in my side grows as I scold her. “I didn’t say gracias! I said grassy ass! You giant dork!”

“You still laughed.” Her smile fades as she stares at the early morning sky. “Did you ever think your life would come to this? I knew I was in for some messed up shit, but now I’m an informant to a fucking FBI agent.”

I straighten and push my sweaty hair out of my face. “Yeah, every little girl dreams of being sucked into the sex industry when she’s five. It’s what we all strive for.”

“I knew I’d have a rough life,” Mel continues without laughing. “You can’t torch your demons and, where I come from, demons never die. They’re always there, trying to pull you back. I refuse to go back to that. That’s my vice; that’s my downfall.”

We stay still and silent in the grass, watching the cars as they travel up and down the street. I notice a white van turn the corner and my stomach dips. It feels suspicious. Mel ignores it.

“It doesn’t have to be. You choose what you do and who you’ll be. Your past shapes you, but it can’t hold you unless you let it.”

Mel snorts. “So says the girl trying to induce a heart attack during a jog.”

“Loss is different. It opens a hole into the soul letting anything rush in or out. Darkness and light collide together and life turns gray; grief isn’t clearly defined.”

“I know,” Mel says carefully. “That’s why I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Fuck. I dart upright and see the van parked a few doors down, idling. My eyes cut over to her.

“What’d you do?” I’m ready to run, but when I glance the other way, there’s another car parked at the side of the street, waiting. “Mel. What’d you do?”

“Surviving justifies anything.” Mel sits up and looks squarely into my eyes. “I just hope I did the right thing. Either way, it’s too late to go back now.”

Shit. I take off at a full run, wishing I hadn’t pushed myself so hard. The van doors open and a few guys jump out the back. They’re wearing polo shirts and khaki pants. What the fuck? I feel like the nerd crew from a techie store is chasing me. Glancing over my shoulder, I can see they’re gaining. Their freaky-long limbs give them a huge advantage.

“Please,” a speedy geek calls out to me, “wait a second!” He gasps and yells, “Miss Smith, please wait!”

At that name, every broken piece of my heart falls to the ground. My body freezes and my feet won’t move. I’m standing in the middle of a tree-lined suburban street, gasping, too afraid to turn around. The one guy is close to me, but he doesn’t come closer.

“Miss Smith, if you--”

“Don’t,” I snap. It’s one word, a clear warning.

I’m going to lose it. No one calls me that--no one except Sean. The name does something to me. I can feel my sanity slip away and melt into hysteria. Sean is gone. These people are hoping to trap me with sweet pet names they overheard.

My fingers tap my hips anxiously, and I suck in the morning air, letting it fill my lungs. I feel a piece of me, something inside my brain--the part that holds back the crazy impulses--straining under the massive pressure. It’s like a floodgate ready to burst. It can’t hold the tidal wave of crazy back anymore.

I swear to God that I can hear it straining, creaking and cracking under the pressure.

“I’m sorry that I had to call you that, but you wouldn’t have stopped otherwise.” His voice is deep, sincere, and slightly winded.

CREAK.

“Go away. Leave me alone.” I refuse to turn. Something is back there. They know something and I’m not going to make it through this. Whatever is in that van, I don’t want to see it. Mel was muttering about choosing the right thing. I wonder if she knows how close I am to having a mental break down.

“I can’t. I’m sorry, but I need you to come with me.” He reaches his hand out toward me.

I stiffen and add another step between us. He drops back to his former position.

My stomach is in knots, twisting and turning, anticipating the horror that’s to come. If Sean’s body is in there, if I have to see his dead body…

CRACK.

I visibly shiver, but I’m not cold. It feels like someone walked over my grave. It’s the bone-chilling sensation that accompanies dread. It’s flowing through me, freezing me from the inside out. My hands dart instinctively up to rub warmth back into my arms, but it doesn’t help.

“There’s no way in Hell I’m going with you.” My voice is deeper this time, my eyes narrowed to slits, and I glance nervously over my shoulder. “Turn around and walk away.”

The guy is young, possibly younger than me. That’s weird. He doesn’t look like the thug type. The guy next to him--a blonde with a goatee--reaches into his pocket. I round on them suddenly thinking he has a gun.

Goatee guy pulls a red piece of plastic from his pocket, shakes it, and pulls the cap off before sticking it in his mouth. He inhales sheepishly, takes the inhaler away from his lips, and smiles at me.

Asthmatic thugs. What the hell?

“Avery, please walk back with me. I’ll tell the van to stay there.” The leader resumes his negotiation.

“No way,” I say, shaking my head and taking another step backward. “I won't willingly jump into the back of a windowless van. If Vic wants to talk to me, tell him to come over here.” It has to be him. Or Black. It has to be someone Mel doesn’t want to work with for her to say those things.

I glance around, looking for the traitor. She’s gone. People suck.

The guys are glancing at each other. It seems like they don’t know what to say. Goatee Guy steps toward me. I step back. He takes another baby step, speaking in a soothing voice.

“The thing is, it’s not safe outside for either of you. If you’d come closer, you could see.”

“Yeah right,” I say with a bitter laugh. “I’m sure the inside of your kidnap mobile is filled with puppies, right? And candy? No, thank you. Keep driving, pervs.”

“Do we look like henchmen?” Goatee Guy rolls his eyes and gestures to his companions. “Do you seriously think we’re used to chasing strange women down the street and trying to get them into a van? We suck at it! This is our only attempt at this and you’re not listening!” The guy seems ready to stomp his foot.

He lets out a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose as he gestures with his other hand for his companions to flank me. They do, but by now I’m confident I could easily outrun them all.

“You’re insane. Go get in your van and drive off a bridge. Leave me alone!” I’m yelling and stepping backward. I’m too loud. People are going to look.

Everyone realizes I’m going to take off at the same time. I whirl around and launch my body forward, and slam into a hard chest. One of the guys snuck up behind me. He wraps his arms around me, squeezing tight, but it’s not a restraint--it’s more of a hug. He buries his face in my hair and whispers in my ear.

“We have unfinished business, Miss Smith. Why do you always have to be such a pain in the ass?”

I pull back enough to see his face, but I already know who is holding me.

“Sean.”