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Nate barks back, “It can’t be. This has nothing to do with me!”
“It’s all explained here, Mr. Smith.” The suit tries to hand Nate the envelope again, but Nate backs off like the thing could hurt him. “You realize speaking to you is sufficient for our purposes, as is leaving this in your house. I’m sorry. I realize this is a trying time for you.”
“Don’t pretend you give a fuck about me or what I’ve been dealing with. I know you don't give a shit. Just take your rent-a-cop and get out.”
The officer tips his head to the side, indicating they should leave. The young man exits the house first, and only the suit remains. The guy is older with a rounded profile backlit by the setting sunbeams shining through the glass door. His jowls say he’s done this before and that he didn’t like doing it then either. Pity mingles with hope in his old, scarred face. His gray hair is clipped so short he might as well be bald.
“I don’t know you from Adam, kid, but I'll tell you something important—fight your battles one at a time. If you try and jump into the ring with all your demons at once, you’ll never make it out alive.”
“Spare me the fatherly advice and get the hell out,” Nate growls. From the way he’s behaving, I think the old guy made a fairly accurate statement.
The suit laughs and shakes his head. “Youth is wasted on the young. You have so many choices here, but you’re running blind.” He glances past Nate and sees me looking through the crack in the door. I startle, but the guy doesn’t give me away. He looks straight at me and says, “There are decisions to be made, and a sounding board is your best option right now. Someone that isn’t knee-deep in this shit, Nathan.”
Nate glances up and softens at that, tucks his hands into the crooks of his elbows. “I didn’t choose this.”
“I know you didn’t, but it happened all the same.” The suit doesn’t say another word. He slips through the door and Nate remains planted in that spot long after he’s gone.
I finally creep out of the bedroom. Nate hasn’t moved. He’s got his feet shoulder width apart, arms folded across his chest, and his stubbled jaw locked tight. He glances over his shoulder, sees me there, and turns slowly. A plastic smile spreads across his beautiful face, marring it with pain. “I lost it, Kerry. I haven’t got a fucking thing left of my past.”
I don’t understand. We’re standing in his house, surrounded by things from his childhood. “What are you talking about?”
Nate gestures toward the envelope on the table. “He owns it and all the contents. I’m not even supposed to be here.” Nate is shaking, whether from fear or anger, I don’t know. He clutches the sides of his head and grits his teeth trying not to scream.
“Who? Nate, what are you talking about?”
He rounds on me, his eyes narrow and screams the words, “He owns this house and always has! It wasn’t my father's house to give to me.”
“Who?”
“That prick who had an affair with my mother.” He says the name through gritted teeth, “Ferro.”
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STRIPPED 2: A Ferro Family Novel
EXCERPT: STRIPPED 2
Chapter 1, Cassie
With Jon’s coat wrapped around my shoulders and the blanket draped over my hips, I watch the two women on stage. Their laughter rings true, and I can’t help feeling envious. Their lives must be so much easier than mine. I haven’t laughed myself sick for a very long time. A combination of tears and terror ward off any moments of pure bliss.
I feel Jon’s gaze on the side of my face. He leans close so we’re nearly cheek-to-cheek and whispers, “As far as I know, they both have a bag of demonic cats living in their brains. That chick,” he nods at Sidney, “confronted my mother.”
My jaw drops and I stare at him, gaping. “No.” The word is drawn out, and my unspoken question hangs in the air—who has the balls to challenge Constance Ferro?
“Yes. That one,” he points to Avery, “she’s still fighting the tide, but refuses to go under.”
“How do you know that?”
He shrugs. “I sense it.” I suspect there's a story behind his comments, but Jon dodges further discussion by joining Trystan by the stage.
