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Sean’s phone rings in his pocket. He lifts it to his ear and listens, then says, “It’s just us. No, Pete's at Sidney’s and Jon is God knows where, but he's not here. It’s just us. Yeah, bikes. Take the back way out of here and we'll meet up with you.” They say a few more words and Sean disconnects.
“No one else is here?” I ask, confused. “How can that be?”
“Between business and pleasure most of the family is usually away. I wouldn’t come here either, but I thought there was a remote chance you might show up, so I came. We need to move. This is a lot more complicated.” Sean looks over at me and takes my hand, pulling me through the grouping of rooms that looks like one of the Ferro boys' residences. There are books scattered about, and posh, manly finishes on the walls.
Before we know it, we’re at a small door. Sean shoves through and in a second we’re outside in the crisp morning air. Marty is standing there, as is a girl that I’ve not seen before. She’s my height and weight, wearing leather jacket. Long brown hair flows down her back. Marty tosses a set of keys to Sean. There are a pair of motorcycles parked right by the back door.
Marty watches me carefully. “Are you ready to go? I’m going to take her out the front route, you guys go the other way. With the helmets and leather, in the early morning sun, maybe they won’t be able to tell it’s not you.”
This is wrong, it’s so incredibly wrong. Shivers take hold of me and I can’t shake it off. I pull my hand away from Sean’s, demanding an explanation. “You have to tell me. What’s going on? Why are they still chasing us?”
Sean’s chest expands as he sucks in a short breath and glances down at his hands. Our fingers are intertwined, his hand holding mine.
He looks back at Marty, who gives a visual no. “Don’t say it.” Marty looks over at me with so much empathy in his eyes, I can’t stand it. I don’t know how anything could possibly be this wrong, but whatever Sean wants to tell me is important. “Sean, we need to go.”
But Sean remains glancing at his hand that’s holding mine. “The reason why Campone wanted those papers had little to do with the ledger. There was something else in there, something else that your mother was hiding. It meant enough to her that she spent her entire life running and looking over her shoulder. She knew he’d find her one day, and take back what was his. The ledgers were a cover, and the reason why you attracted so much attention. It became less obvious when Campone died. I thought they wanted me. It wasn’t until Marty shed light on things that I realized what we were really up against.”
My throat is dry but I managed to ask, “What do you mean?”
Marty interrupts, “Don’t—”
But Sean doesn’t listen. “During the reading of Campone’s last will and testament, your name came up.”
I stare at Sean, gaping. “What? Why would I be in his will? That doesn’t make any sense. I don’t understand what you’re saying? The ledgers make sense, but not this. You're saying they want me.”
The two of them seem to understand something that I don’t. Marty waves his hands over his face and groans as he turns around. The woman standing with him says nothing, although I can tell she cares about him.
Sean swallows hard and looks down at our hands. He turns toward me and says the last thing that I expect to hear. “Victor Campone was your father.”
“No, I don’t believe you.” I pull my hand away from his, trying to back up, but Sean won’t let go.
“That’s why he showed up.” Sean explains, jabbing his thumb at Marty. “That’s how Campone’s men know for certain—it was in his will. It was also made known that Victor had more than one child. You have a brother that’s hunting you. He doesn’t want to share Victor’s assets. Things turned on their heads overnight. Victor Junior’s in charge of Campone’s men. The ledgers we have will give us some leverage, assuming we can get out of here before whatever happens, happens. Marty knows that there is a bomb that is supposed to go off around sunrise. They wanted all the Ferros to be in the house, but it just so happened that everyone is away. They thought you would come here because of me. That was part of the reason why I wanted to make the separation between the two of us. We need to move.”
I can’t move though. I feel like I’ve been sucker punched and my legs are failing me. They buckle under and I start to go down. Sean reaches for me and holds me up, smashing me into his chest, hugging me hard. I ramble, protesting, “That can’t be. I can’t be his kid, that’s wrong. I look like my father. Everyone said growing up that I look like my father. They didn’t mean Victor Campone, they meant my dad. Sean, Marty’s wrong, he has to be wrong.”
Marty and Sean look at each other, and then back at me. I can’t fathom this, even the suggestion of being that man’s daughter, having his blood running through my veins, makes me sick. Being hunted for it, that it’s the kind of family I came from, and that it’s the kind of woman I’m becoming. It scares the hell out of me. Sean takes hold of my shoulders and pushes the hair back from my face. Looking into my eyes, he says, “You are who you are. Your father doesn’t matter. We need to go, and I’ll be there for you, no matter what.”
Marty takes action before Sean does. He tosses a leather jacket to Sean and another to me. “Come on, let’s go.” Marty puts the key in the ignition and turns it over.
Sean bounces his motorcycle and turns the engine over before nodding at me to jump on the back. I swing my leg over and hop up. I wrap my arms around his waist. It brings back memories of the night we first met, of me jumping on the back of his old bike as we chased my crappy car down Deer Park Ave. “This will out run anything. Hold on tight and don’t fall off.” I nod, mortified.
“Split up. Let’s go as far from here as possible. Head to Oak Island. It’s a pain in the ass to get to, but we can hide the bikes in the shrubs and take a boat across the water to get there before it’s breakfast time. No one will see us. I think it’s the best bet. The only variable is Black. She’s still random, a wildcard.” The other woman mounts the back of Marty’s bike, and pulls on the helmet, fastening the strap under her chin. When she pulls down the visor, the tinting obscures her face and it becomes difficult to tell us apart.
We all do the same, and get ready to drive away. Marty kicks his bike into gear and flies down the driveway, turning in front of the house to take the main road out of here. Sean kicks his bike into gear and revs his engine, ready to fly out of here when his phone rings. The Bluetooth inside his helmet automatically picks up.
“It is far too early in the day to have to deal with those annoying toys.”
It’s Constance. Sean remains frozen in place. He replies, “Mother, where are you?”
Just as she is about to reply, a deafening sound comes from the back of the mansion. The unmistakable sound of glass exploding and landing on cement fills our ears. A few moments later, a second explosion rocks the mansion, crumbling the walls outside of Sean’s rooms. The area we were just in a few minutes ago is engulfed in smoke. Shrapnel is flying everywhere, as wood splinters and metal torques. There’s a third blast and the front door explodes outward.
Sean and I stare unable to move, wide-eyed. We both heard it, we both know—Constance is still inside.
THE ARRANGEMENT 19
*****
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*****
SNEAK PEEK
LIFE BEFORE DAMAGED
Vol. 1
THE PRESENT
~PETER~
Sidney nervously twists her engagement ring on her finger and looks up at me. In that soft voice, the one she uses when she’s worried, she asks, “What’d you find?”
The pit of my stomach has been in freefall all day, ever since I opened that last box. It was hers—Gina’s. After everything we went through, I never realized Gina kept a journal, an account of everything, including vivid descriptions of the man I once was. Sidney knows about my
reputation, but what was printed in the tabloids and what’s written in these diaries are two very different stories.
It’s strange being in love again. I thought I’d die alone. After I lost Gina, I had no aspirations, no hope. Then Sidney changed my life. Holding these books makes me feel my old self, still there, buried deep within. All the rage, the fights, the never-ending line of women who would do anything to fuck me—in these pages, the memories are vivid. As each remembered moment blurs by, I feel the impact, the void of who I was screaming out from deep within. But that period of my life is over, lost to the past, and I force the echoes of who I was to be quiet once more.
Truth be told, I don’t miss that life, but I worry about what will happen when Sidney discovers who I was, what I was. Sidney thinks the best of me. She sees me as the English professor, the poet. But deep within, I’m not him. This part of my past lurks within me still. It reared its ugly head when Sidney’s ex tried to hurt her. I made him pay for that. My violence was justified, but it doesn’t matter. At the end of the day—even though I changed my name—I’m still Pete Ferro.
Glancing at the journals in my hands, I make the choice. She needs to know. If Sidney is marrying me, she needs to see the good and the bad. Reading it from a tabloid isn’t enough. Swallowing hard, I cross the room clutching the books tightly.
I look around the little house Sean gave us, thinking, yet again, how perfect it is—right down to the custom made perch for Mr. Turkey. Sean acts so stoic that I think he doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything, then he does something like this. I can’t figure him out. When I see Sean and think of his life, I wonder how similar we really are; I wonder if the only reason that I’m different is because I pretend to be.
Is that all it takes to change? Maybe I’m not different after all, maybe I just want to be. A different last name, a different life—one that isn’t etched with scars and faded dreams. When I look at Sidney I feel alive again. The ghost of who I was disappears and I’m real—every wish, every dream able to come true and it’s all because of her. Showing these journals to her could destroy us, but hearing the truth about me from someone else would be so much worse. I won’t take that chance.
Sidney is sitting on the bed, solemnly waiting for me to speak, as if she can sense the weight on my soul. I’d thought my soul was irretrievably lost until Sidney sat down at my table and flashed that beautiful smile. Thank God for her.
“Sidney?” Although I try, I can’t hide my feelings from her, I never could.
“Peter, what is it?”
I sit down facing her, making the bed dip beneath my weight, and place the books on the comforter between us. “While I was going through my old things, I found these—they’re Gina’s journals.” My voice catches and I look everywhere except at Sidney. Sucking in air, I push through. I need to say this before the hole in my chest consumes me. It’s growing, adding pressure that wasn’t there a moment ago. It scolds me, urging silence.
She won’t understand, a voice says in the back of my mind. It latches onto times that I tried to tell the truth and it bit me on the ass. Ice forms, freezing my skin from the inside out, until I shiver.
Sidney places her palm on my hand. It’s warm and steady, firm and fragile. She looks up at me with those dark eyes and I want to melt into her. I want to shove these in the trash and run, but I can’t. No matter how hard I try, I can’t change who I was—who I am.
She has to know.
I manage a half-smile as I look down at her. “While I was unpacking, I found a few old boxes that I never opened after the last move. They were relics from an old life, a past that I didn’t want to remember.” I pause, trying to muster the strength to say the rest and hand over the books. My jaw tightens as if my body knows this is the fastest way to kill our relationship, but my heart protests. It speaks, forcing the words over my lips, “When I opened it today, I found these books. They’re Gina’s journals.”
Sidney’s mouth drops, forming a little O, as a whirlwind of emotions play across her face. Her grip on my hand tightens as she leans in. “Oh, my God. Peter, I’m so sorry. That must have been hard.” She reaches forward, taking my other hand, trying to comfort me, but that’s the last thing I want right now.
Tipping her head to mine, our foreheads touch. I still, holding her hands, breathing her in, allowing myself to get intoxicated with her scent—her touch. A smile plays on her lips and one of her hands reaches around my neck. She rests her wrist on my shoulder while her fingers play with the hair at the nape of my neck. It’s a Sidney motion of kindness, something that makes me want to pull her to my chest and never let go.
Ever since she found out that I was a Ferro, and about Gina, she’s been nothing but kind. With the upcoming wedding, Sidney didn’t even ask me to drop Gina’s last name. She would take it if I asked her to, I know she would. Sidney understands loss in a way that many can’t. That’s why withholding this part of my life from her isn’t right. I don’t deserve her.
This is my chance, I know it. It could backfire horribly, and yet, it feels right. Pulling back, I shove my hands through my hair and let out a rush of air. “The thing is, these diaries are about me, about who I was before we met. The guy in the papers doesn’t hold a torch to the asshole I used to be, and Sidney, he’s still here.” Leaning in toward the books, I tap one of the covers. “This guy is still part of me.”
