The Arrangement 16 Read online

  Sean was acting smitten before the concert. I knew he was worried that someone would try to hurt me. In so many ways he’s been right about everything. I was wrong and naïve. I made promises and then broke them. I said I’d be there for him and I wasn’t. Guilt twists inside of me until I’m ready to puke on the lawn. I was the worst kind of friend to him. I didn’t keep my word. I promised him that I wanted all of him, the dark, the light, and the monster within. He finally trusted me and gave himself to me, and I couldn’t handle it. He was right to hide from me, to push me away. He knew that his demons were bigger than I’d known.

  But now, nearly losing him, I can’t bear to think of my life without him. The fact that he’s so broken, so miserable that he needs to exert control over a woman to get off frightens me. What happens when that’s not enough anymore? That was the reason I backed off, the reason I left him. It felt like I was feeding his darkness instead of saving him from it. I wanted to be the one who brought him through the darkness and back into the light.

  I wanted to save him. I still do.

  Easy, Avery. He’s still breathing. That’s enough for tonight—he’s alive. Be thankful for what you have. Stay in the moment.

  Stay in the moment. I’ve said that to myself so many times. When life is ready to crush me, when the massive hammer is hanging over my head, I tell myself to live breath by breath. It works, but it’s a painful way to live. Sometimes it seems like a happy ending isn’t something I’ll get. My cards weren’t dealt that way, but I won’t be given more than I can handle. I can handle this. I can get through this.

  I stare blankly for hours, watching the sunrise over the houses until streaks of pink and gold mingle together and chase away the inky night. When the first ray of light hits my face, I want to cry. Trystan’s words come back and I realize how much I’ve lost tonight.

  Pushing up, I decide to go peek in a window. The grass under my feet crunches as I peer into my old home. It’s empty. The house sits silently reminding me of better times. This place was my anchor in the storm, and now I have none. As I walk around to the back, an idea forms. I have nowhere to live. I can’t go back to the dorm. There’s nowhere to sleep and I’m not safe going to any of my usual spots. No one will look for me here, not inside the house.

  Before I have time to think about it, my fist smashes through a pane of glass in the kitchen door. I reach in and unlock it, slipping inside before anyone notices me.

  I refuse to drift anymore. I refuse to accept this is my life and I have nothing to show for it.

  Padding inside, I watch as the morning sun pierces through the blinds, displaying shafts of light on the carpet. The house looks the same as it did when my parents were here. The last owners didn’t even change the wallpaper. I wander into the empty living room and sit down. It’s not long before I lie on my back and stare at the ceiling.

  Closing my eyes, I call out to her, even though I know she can’t hear me, “Mom, I need you.”

  The stillness of the house cocoons me until I fall asleep.

  Chapter 5

  No one knows where I am and I keep it that way. Trystan still has my cell phone, so no one can track me. The closest they’ll get is the train station and I could have gone anywhere from there. It’s nightfall by the time I wake up. My face is patterned on one side from the carpet pile. I rub it out and stretch, looking at the clock on the microwave. The dried blood on my clothing cracks and makes my skin itch and I’m so thirsty I could drink a cow. I’d give anything for a glass of cold milk right now. My throat is so dry it feels like I swallowed a flamethrower.

  Blinking slowly, it dawns on me—they left the power on. Maybe the water is on too. Pushing up, I pad down the hallway to my old bathroom and turn the faucet. I expect it to do nothing, but cold, clear water comes pouring out. Yes! After leaning forward, I gulp greedily until my cracked lips no longer sting and my parched throat feels better.

  I straighten and look into the mirror in the darkness. A golden streetlight casts a halo on top of my frizzy brown head, and in that moment I look so old. Gazing into the glass, I stare watching my reflection—seeing my mother’s face appear, happy and content. Her voice chimes in the back of my mind like a faded memory, half forgotten. I can’t quite hear it anymore; I can’t remember the way she spoke or that thick Long Island accent. It’s vanishing. I’m losing her. The vision fades back into my haggard appearance and I turn away.

  I want to see Sean, but I can’t go anywhere looking like this. I need money. I refuse to call Black, even though I know she’ll give it to me. I want to avoid that day as long as possible. As it is, I’m sure Gabe is out looking for her investment. I bet she kills Marty if the cops don’t find him—maybe they already have. My stomach aches as my heart twists. I can’t stand this, what Marty did.

  After wandering into the kitchen, I sit down on the only chair left in the house. The metal seat is cold and hard, but I don’t care. I lean back and stretch, arching my spine and staring at the cupboards. Mom had climbed up onto a stepstool to clean the upper cabinets so many times. She’d tell me it was a breeding ground for dirt. I stare at that spot, gazing at the wooden doors and the soffits above. They’ve not lived here for a while, but there’s no dust up there. It makes me lean forward and look closer. Maybe the old owners cleaned it, but that’s not why I’m staring. The upper cabinets are made of wood paneling, a remnant from an old kitchen. The last cupboard hangs at the end of a run of cabinets, jutting out slightly from the rest. It’s the style from the time the house was built. I keep staring, not understanding what I’m seeing that bothers me. Something’s not right.

  The need to touch the panel overcomes me. I slide my chair over to the spot, feeling my mother calling my name as I do so. My skin prickles as the pads of my fingers touch the spot she touched so many times before. I slide my fingertips across the wood, feeling one bump after another. When my hand is at the end of the cabinet I slide it over the molding on the corner. I do it again, then once more. I laugh at myself for being silly. It’s like I want to hug this thing. The compulsion to run my palm over the wood strikes me again, so I humor myself and do it one last time. I’m ready to step off the chair, but the panel under my hand shifts slightly.

  “Mom, what did you do?” As I say the words, I press my palm on the wood and shift it, making it slide out on one end. It barely moves, but it’s enough that I don’t need more prodding. Grabbing the trim on the piece of paneling now sticking off the side of the cabinet, I pull hard. The piece moves and opens, revealing a hiding place in the top of the cabinet. I stare, awestruck.

  Behind the panel, under layers of dust, are old wine bottles, papers, and a coffee can. I shift through things instantly recognizing my mother’s handwriting. Stuffed in a mason jar, I find a letter sealed in an envelope that was never mailed. I take the note and break the seal, instantly feeling my mother’s soft touch on my shoulder.

  It’s her handwriting. My eyes scan the words:

  My dearest,

  I don’t know if you’ll ever find this, but if so it means it’s too late for me. I’m so sorry, my love. Take what’s here and don’t let them find her. I’m so sorry, my love. Please forgive me.

  At first I’m shocked to see her handwriting, but my surprise won’t lift. Her words seem panicked and her normally elegant handwriting seems messy and hastily written. The letter was meant for someone else, because I don’t know what she means. I assumed it was written to Daddy, making the ‘her’ in the note me.

  I turn the paper over, hoping for more on the back, but there’s nothing. Quickly, I grab the rest of the jars and cans from the space and shove it shut. Sitting on the living room floor, I empty each can, one by one. There are no more letters to explain, only jars full of money and a set of fake IDs, one with my mother’s picture. She looks like me. This must have been taken years before they died, maybe even before I was born. I blink at it, not knowing what to think.

  “Mom, what is this?” I shuffle through more papers,
and when I open the last envelope I gasp. It’s stuffed with one hundred dollar bills. I pull a few out and look at them. They’re the old style, but they’re real. There must be a few thousand dollars here, easy.

  Why didn’t she tell me about this? Did she ever try? I think about catching her on the step stool, and she always had a rag in her hand, balanced over that spot, but the contents look as if they’ve sat untouched for ages.

  I don’t know what to think. My first reaction is to talk to Sean—he’d know what to do—what this stuff means. I feel overwhelmed. My mother hid this, and from the looks of it, Daddy didn’t know. This letter is addressed to him.

  I have to spend some of the money. I can’t walk around like this covered in a ripped costume stained with blood. I still have Trystan’s jacket, but it won’t distract people from blood, even in Babylon. I need to blend. Stuffing one of the bills into my pocket, I decide to walk down the street to the little line of shops. I have to buy some clothes and I need to try to see Sean. I need to tell him I’ve been an ass, but I’m done now. The manhunt for Marty probably ended already. For once, we’re safe.

  Chapter 6

  I know how to be frugal when needed, mom taught me well. A couple of hours later, I’m walking purposefully through the hospital lobby and wondering how far I’ll get before someone interferes. There’s not a Ferro in sight and Trystan is gone.

  I walk into the elevator like I know what I’m doing. Sean must have been admitted last night. I just hope he’s still here. I get off at the fourth floor and attempt to walk past the desk when a nurse stops me.

  “Excuse me, dear, do you have permission to be here?” The nurse is middle aged with bags under her eyes from a lifetime of working the nightshift.

  I walk over to her, ready to cry. The lump in my throat tightens. “I think so. Sean Ferro is on this floor, right?” When she only stares at me with those dark brown eyes, I stammer on, making it up as I go. “Peter called and told me what happened. He said I could come down now. Do I have the right time? Unless, oh God, has something gone wrong?” I start shaking and cover my mouth to muffle a sob.

  The nurse comes around the counter. She drapes an arm over my shoulder. “No, honey, I didn’t mean to frighten you. He’s stable, but he’s not on this floor anymore. They moved him to the east wing on five. Would you like me to take you to him? His mother may still be there. She was here earlier.”

  “Constance was here?” The nurse nods and starts walking me toward the elevator. “Martha, I’ll be right back,” she calls to another nurse.

  When the elevator doors slip shut behind us she says, “It’s terrible that no one knew the truth all these years. What that man must have lived through.” She shakes her head. “It’s clear that you’re a friend of the family, because no one calls Pete Ferro, Peter.”

  “I am. Actually, Sean and I were engaged.” I tell her the truth because it’s pressing on me so hard that I might burst. “I broke it off with him and then this happened.”

  The nurse’s jaw drops. For a second, she does nothing. Then, suddenly, I’m in a bear hug and smashed against her soft body. “Oh, honey! The guilt you must feel. I can’t even imagine it.” She prattles on about how it’s not my fault and that there’s a chance for every couple, something about stars, and I zone out because it’s all a lie. Everything she assumes is wrong.

  I’m silent, wiping tears that roll down my cheeks until we stop in front of his door. The name plaque says S Ferr. She smirks at me. “We took off the last letter so people would leave him alone.” When I don’t reach for the handle, she prompts me. “Go on honey.”

  I lift my hand, but it trembles. My fingers rest on the lever, but don’t push down. I can’t. “What if he doesn’t want to see me?”

  “What if, is a horrible question. Besides, the only way to find out the real answer is to walk into that room. If you want, I’ll wait right here, but I don’t think he’ll protest—not with the amount of medicine he’s had. That bullet skimmed his rib and dislodged a chunk of bone. They spent the better part of the morning in surgery removing the shard so it didn’t puncture his lung. He’s a lucky man—in regard to that, anyway. Go on in and I’ll wait here in case he throws you out.”

  “Really?” She shouldn’t be talking to me. I’m not family and I doubt my name is on his papers. For some reason, this woman is being kind to me—me, Avery Nobody, in my jeans and T-shirt, with Trystan’s leather jacket over my arm. I don’t look like a Ferro. I don’t look like anyone who could know him, but she’s kind to me regardless.

  “Of course, honey. People act real odd after being through something like that, so give him time. A near miss changes people.”

  I offer a half smile. “Nothing changes Sean.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. That bullet changes everything. You’ll see. Go on, I’ll wait.” I don’t know what she means, but I need to talk to him. I need to tell him that I’m sorry, that I should have stood by him.

  I crack the door and peer through. There’s a dim light glowing, casting shadows on his face. Sean’s eyes flutter open and lock on mine. He watches me, saying nothing. My heart pounds harder as I open the door all the way and step inside. “May I come in?”

  Sean’s gaze flicks to the nurse in the hallway and then back to me. He nods once and lifts a hand, indicating that I should come in and sit across from his bed.

  “See, I told you. Whatever quarrel you had is over. Go make up with your man and put that ring back on your finger. Some people never get a second chance. You two are lucky.” She closes the door and as soon as it clicks shut, I want to race over to Sean and wrap my arms around him. I was so scared he was gone. The shot still rings in my ears and the whole horrific thing replays behind my eyes over and over again.

  Sean is in a hospital robe with an IV in his arm. His dark hair is messy, but those blue eyes are alert and cautious. “Sit.” His voice is scratchy, like he needs water.

  I take the seat opposite him. The words and fears I’d been holding in come rushing out. “I’m so glad you’re all right. When I heard the shot, I thought he hit me, but then you didn’t move. I thought he killed you. Sean, things are so complicated, but I know I want you in my life. If you’ve given up on us, I’ll walk out that door and never bother you again, but if for some reason you haven’t, if you still love me,” pressing my lips together, I get out of my chair and go and kneel next to his bed, “I want to be with you.”

  We’re both quiet for a moment. Despite his stern gaze, I manage to say the rest, “Do you love me? After everything I put us through, and all the promises I broke, I can only beg. I deserted you when you finally trusted me. Sean, I was so scared, but last night frightened me more. I want you on any level you’ll have me. I can’t live without you, don’t you see? You’re my other half.” Tears are streaming down my face as I speak and my voice becomes softer and softer, but Sean doesn’t answer. His dark piercing gaze remains fixated on mine, harsh and unrelenting.

  Continuing, I say, “This was my fault and you were trying. I just didn’t know what to do—that day in the box, the way you seemed gone. It scared me. I won’t lie to you—it was the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me. The only thing that frightened me more was seeing you fall last night. I thought you were gone forever. A life without you is impossible. Please tell me that I haven’t lost you. Sean, please say something. Either way, put me out of my misery.” I squeeze his hand and begin to withdraw mine when he clasps it, holding on tightly.

  “It’s my fault. He’s gone, Avery. I fucked up.” Sean tilts his head back into the pillows and looks up at the ceiling. “I didn’t think I was capable of fucking things up like this, but it’s beyond that. I’m so far gone they should have left me to bleed out on the stage floor. I deserve it. There’s nothing that will make up for this.”

  “What are you talking about? Sean…” I get up and sit on the edge of the bed, thinking he’s not as coherent as I thought he was. I examine his face for signs of a
head injury, but don’t see one. My fingers take hold of his sheet. I pull it down slowly, waiting for him to stop me, but he doesn’t.

  Sean tries to take a deep breath and winces. That’s when he looks at me and I freeze. “Go ahead and look. That’s what you want, right? To see if I’m disgusting on the outside now, too.”

  “Sean!” I can’t believe he said that.

  He lifts his robe revealing himself along with a bandaged torso. “I survived and he died—it’s so wrong.” He drops the robe and for a moment I’m afraid. Sean doesn’t sound right. He’s lucid, but his voice is off. “The fucking bullet misses me, but it didn’t miss him. I had a plan, but that asshole didn’t give me the chance and the gun. He fucking had the gun.” Sean’s big blue eyes meet mine. “Tell me you didn’t give it to him. Please, tell me that it wasn’t you.”

  Bryan, we’re talking about Bryan. I don’t understand anything he just said except for the gun. I took it from the cabin. I was afraid they’d find the pilot I killed and blame Sean, so I kept it. I lied to his face over and over again. That gun shot Amanda. That gun was tied to so many bad things, but when Bryan asked for it he told me he had a plan. He also said he wouldn’t tell Sean he had it.

  Swallowing hard, I say, “Bryan told you?” Oh shit. I stiffen and try to back away, but Sean grabs my wrist.

  “I knew Bryan asked for it. Pete asked for it too, but things were better my way. I knew what I was doing, Avery. I trusted you and you gave the gun to him? Fuck. I knew how to live with the scorn and the public ready to tear me apart, but not this. I can’t endure this. Avery, they think Bryan did it—they think he killed Amanda. Mother came by a few moments ago and told me everything; so don’t pretend that I can’t handle it. Don’t handle me with kid gloves and come in here pretending to want to patch things up when you’re really here to see if it’s true.”