The Arrangement 16 (6 page)

Pushing up, I get to my feet, careful not to stand in front of the window. Normally I wouldn’t leave at this time of day. There are too many people coming and going, someone might see me. But I’m worried about Sean.

I tap his number into this old phone and wait. It rings forever. No voicemail. No nothing. Weird. I text him and don’t receive a reply.

“Where are you, Sean?” The pit of my stomach sinks and for half a second I think I know where he is, but dismiss the thought. There’s no way he’d be there.

Chapter 10

When I see Peter, he’s in a booth with a cup of coffee in his hand. “Have you eaten?”

I shake my head. “I don’t feel like it.”

“Too bad, I ordered for you.” He grins. “It’ll be out in a second.”

“So asking was meant to do what?”

His smile turns bashful and he sighs. “You’re hard to read, so I tossed out a direct question, which you answered, which is what I figured you’d say. If Sean hasn’t seen you in a couple of days, I seriously doubt you ate, especially with everything that’s been going on. Here it is now.” Peter leans back as several waitresses trail after each other, single file, placing dish after dish on the table.
 

“You ordered everything on the menu?” I salivate as I stare at a stack of pancakes. The scent of bacon hits me and my stomach grumbles.

“I didn’t know what you liked.” Peter says it seriously, which makes me laugh.

“There’s everything, except coffee.”

“Yeah, I only share coffee with Sidney.” He blushes and dips his head, grabbing a plate of eggs.

“Did you just make a dirty joke?” I can’t help it, I smile and it feels good. The muscles feel stiff and unused.

“Perhaps. Eat and let’s talk about Sean.” He points a fork at me and we start to backtrack through his days, trying to figure out what he was doing or where he went.
 

I finally blurt it out, because he’s got to be thinking it, too. “What if Sean went after Marty?”

Peter glances up. “Sean wouldn’t, not in his condition and not without me.”

“He tried to take on Campone alone.”

“He had Bryan.” Peter’s voice becomes stiff. He drops his fork and looks at me. “What do you think is happening?”

“I think Marty has him holed up somewhere. Maybe Sean went after Marty. Maybe Sean found him. We both know Sean isn’t at the top of his game right now. It gave Marty the upper hand. So if Sean’s plan didn’t work out, Marty could be holding him somewhere—waiting for me. He’s been trying to get at me all this time. It’s the perfect bait. He knows I won’t leave Sean. He even told me to work for…” I trail off before I say Miss Black’s name. Something pings in the back of my brain, but I can’t put the pieces together.
 

Peter glazes over it, and leans back in the booth before he shakes his head. “Masterson wouldn’t take the risk.”

“You’re wrong there. He totally would.” My voice has grown soft and I have that spaced out look people get when they’re trying to find the square root of 3.
 

A moment of silence passes and a forkful of pancakes is dangling halfway between the plate and my mouth. Is there a connection somewhere? Did I miss it? Does Marty know Black? He couldn’t.
 

“Care to share?”

“Huh?” I drop my fork and it clatters on the plate, knocking the bits of breakfast loose. They fall on the table.

Peter smiles and leans forward. “You’re on to something and not telling me. Please tell me you’re not as stubborn as Sean.” I laugh without meaning to. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, I’m more stubborn than Sean. And something is bouncing around in my head, but it’s just a feeling. I can’t make a connection.”

Peter extends his hand, gesturing to me to share. “Lay it on me. Maybe we can make the connection together.”

“Marty and my former employer, what if they wanted to get back at me?”

Peter shifts in his seat and leans in close. With a low voice he asks, “The madam? Why would she want to get back at you through Sean?”

“I don’t know. She could have gone straight for me. There were enough times that she could have hurt me if she wanted to.” I’ve latched onto the right combination. I know it. I just can’t see how the whole mess fits together. “You’re right, Peter. Something’s wrong.” Flicking my eyes up to his, I ask, “What’s your mom saying?”

“Nothing. She’s acting like everything is fine, but it’s not because Aunt Lizzie is there. Mom never calls her, not unless there’s some serious stuff going down.”

“So, they know something.”

“I assume they have an idea, yes. The thing is, they won’t show their cards until their hand is played.”

“So, we’ll have to force them to tell us.”

Peter has an incredulous look on his face. “You can’t force Mother to do a damned thing. Where do you think Sean gets it? The plotting and scheming, the secrecy, it’s all part of our mother’s personality. When things get rough, she puts up a barricade and no one will get through.” Peter downs the rest of his orange juice and drops money on the table. “Come on.”

I jump up and follow him outside. When he pushes through the door a gust of wind catches it and nearly smacks me in the face. “Peter!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.” He holds the door for me and then walks next to me as we cross the parking lot to his car. “It’s just that Sean wouldn’t abandon any of us, and we both know something is off, so where would Masterson take him?”

I think for a moment, and then say the only place I can think of, “Captree, but the boat basin is going to be busy now. Marty liked to hang out down there in the winter when it was quiet.”

“Let’s try it anyway. It’s our only lead.” Peter opens a door for me and I slip into his car. It’s a little black coupe with an identity crisis—I can’t tell if it’s an old dude car or a sports car. It’s conflicted, like Peter. He can’t deny he’s a Ferro, but he doesn’t want to be a part of that family. I can tell. He rarely mentions Sidney and the two of them try to keep their distance, but something happens to the family and he’s there. Peter can’t leave them—and neither can I.

Chapter 11

It’s late by the time we make it to the docks. We’ve walked around for a while and asked people if anyone saw Sean down here, or Marty. That tactic isn’t working and it’s getting dark. “Peter, he’s not here. Marty wouldn’t choose a public place like this. I just couldn’t think of any other place he’d hide out.”

At the same time, we both glance up, and across the water to Oak Island and the rows of empty houses. “I bet he’s over there.”

“So, how do we find him?” Peter asks, leaning back against his car. The wind blows and lifts his dark hair off his face, revealing the same intense gaze Sean wears so often. “I don’t know any Girl Scouts selling cookies right now.”

I laugh at him. “Marty isn’t going to open the door for cookies. That’s something a five-year-old would do.”

“Well, I’d get caught pretty quickly then, assuming I ever go for the life of crime. I can’t live without cookies.” Peter sounds completely serious.

Smiling, I stare at the water, watching the setting sun glint off the surface. We’re quiet for a few moments before I ask, “Wait, what did you say?”

“I can’t live without cookies.” Peter offers that crooked grin of his and pushes off his car.
 

“It has been close to two weeks since the shooting. He’ll have to have bought food somewhere.”

Peter shakes his head. “If the guy is holding out in one of those houses, he could have picked one that was stocked. And if the guy is an evil mastermind, he’s not going to come out for food. He would have had it stashed before he went to the concert and revealed himself.”

We talk more, and finally get in the car again, driving up and down the highway. We talk, but it leads to nothing and it’s way past twilight. Peter slams his palms on the steering wheel and swears. There’s that Ferro temper. It’s hard to picture Peter being the guy he used to be, polar opposite of what he is now. It makes me wonder if Sean has a chance to pull his life together too.

I finally blurt out, “I can call him.”

“Who? Marty Masterson?”

“Are you stuck in teacher mode or something? Marty Masterson.” I mimic him and smile. Teasing Peter is fun. “The guy was my friend. We don’t have to use his last name.”

“There’s no way he has his phone on him.” Peter shakes his head as he drives. The water passes swiftly beneath us as we pass over the bridge.

“But I bet he has his phone forwarding to somewhere. If I call him from my phone, he’ll answer. I can find out if he has Sean.” I glance over at Peter. “What other choices do we have?”

“Where’s your phone?”

“Trystan hid it.”
 

Peter glances at me. “I don’t want Scott involved in this and you know if we call him, there’s no way to get rid of him.”

“I know.” I feel horrible about it, but I need the phone. “The other option is to take the job with Black and see what shakes out. If this is leverage, they have me either way.”

“You really think they’re in this together?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t see it, but you’ve spent more time around them than me. I say we try to call Marty first.”

“Let’s do it.”

Chapter 12

Tracking down Trystan isn’t hard. He’s with Jon at the club. When we get there, Trystan lets us in and waits. He acts like it’s totally normal for Peter to be here, driving me around. It’s possible that he’s mad at me, but I can’t tell. Trystan is hard to read when he’s upset. He’s so used to putting on a public mask that it hardly ever comes off. Either way, he’s got to be wondering why Peter is with me.

Peter is tense, though he tries to hide it, and Trystan is lounging in a chair like we’re on a cruise. Peter didn’t tell Trystan much, but he already figured it out. Some of the tabloids claim he’s not that bright, but Trystan hides his intelligence. It’s a card he’ll play last, when everything else has failed. In the meantime, very few people know him at all.

“So what’s the plan? Are you seriously going to let her walk into wherever they’re keeping Sean? If Black’s in on it—”

I stop and stare at him, trying to remember if I ever said her name. I can’t remember mentioning it, so how does he know her name? “Trystan!” I scold; I'm suddenly concerned Black’s reach is further than I dreamed. “Tell me you didn’t!”

“I don’t need hookers, Call Girl.”

Rolling my eyes, I place my hands on my hips and give him the evil eye. “I know you don’t need them, but did you use her services? For anything?”

He looks away and my stomach drops into my shoes. Mouth gaping, Peter intercedes. “Trystan lives here, and if he called for a high-dollar call girl, there is no one else. He would have contacted Black. The reason isn’t important right now. When’s the last time you used her services?” Peter tries to gloss over it, but I can’t stand it.

Trystan tries to get up and walk away without answering, but I catch him by the wrist. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Does it matter?” His gaze is hiding something, humiliation perhaps? His hair falls forward and Trystan leaves it covering his dark eyes.

“Yes, it matters. You’re another connection back to that awful woman. Did she tell you to buddy up to me? Tell me, Trystan, does she have your balls in a glass jar along with the balls of every other man on Long Island?” I’m in his face, hissing the words. Trystan doesn’t walk away or deny it. Instead he just stands there watching me, waiting for me to give up on him. It’s infuriating. “Stop it!” My hand swings and the slap connects with his cheek. I tremble for a second and watch him. He doesn’t fight back, which kills me.

He smiles. “Are you happy now?”

“Trystan, I—”

“Avery, he’s not the one you’re mad at. Let it go.” Peter is standing next to me, ready to pull me away.
 

“But he—”

“Leave it alone. You’re missing pieces of this story—anyone can see that. Trystan isn’t using you, and if he were a repeat customer of a call girl service the press would have picked up on it by now. Let it go. We need to find Sean and we can’t do that with you two fighting, so stop.”

Trystan is smirking. He leans to the side to catch my eye. “I know Pete said to leave it alone, but this really makes me wonder how you could be such a hypocrite. You condemn me so quickly even though you’re on the taking end of this deal. Liars are we, twisting the truth until it suits us best? Life’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

Peter gives Trystan a look that promises a punch in the face if he doesn’t stop. Even so, I can’t leave it alone.
 

“I’m not a liar or a hypocrite. That’s not why I’m upset. It’s because you know Miss Black. Admit it. You’ve met her. There’s no way you haven’t. Then I pour my heart out to you, assuming you have no connection to her and the entire time you already knew her and didn’t correct me. Did you know that she knows Sean, too? Did you know that every time I turn around, I expect to see her there, waiting to pull me back? Did you know I don’t have a choice? She won’t let me leave, Trystan! I’m caught in the middle of her fucking vortex and I can’t get out. But you already know all that don’t you?” Tears are in my eyes and I look away, feeling betrayed. I try to hide it. I can’t fall apart now, no matter what he’s done.

Trystan runs his hands through his hair, revealing his toned midriff, before blurting out, “I use her services once a year. It’s to forget about
her
. How am I supposed to confess something like that, when it’s so damning? Now Pete knows, which means it’s not a secret anymore. It’ll spread and the next time I see Mari, she’ll hate me even more.” He’s smiling like it’s funny, but his words are so somber that I feel my gut twisting inside of me.

Peter watches the two of us closely, but he doesn’t comment. It probably looks like we’re in a relationship, but we’re not. I need friends, I can’t survive without them, and Trystan said he’d always be there for me. Marty uttered the same words and now look what’s happened. Who can I trust?

Trystan slumps down on a beat up couch, while Peter starts to pace the room. Peter stops and glances over at me. Concern etches his face, increasing the depth of the fine worry lines. He thinks he’s going to lose his brother. I can see that fear; I know what he’s thinking because the same thoughts have been filling my mind since Peter surfaced. Peter doesn’t show up without a reason and he tends to bolt as soon as possible. I can’t blame him, not with the Ferro family. It’s no mystery why Sidney isn’t here—Peter’s afraid—and so am I.