Secrets and Lies 5 (The Ferro Family) (5 page)

I
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the engine to the bus and walk down the stairs. The raccoon—I need to name him since he doesn’t appear interested in relocating to a different burnt out vehicle—runs between my ankles and darts off toward the neighbor's trash cans, hissing as his big booty bounces away into the night.

When I get to the front porch, Nate pulls open the door. He’s wearing the same outfit from earlier, the tight t-shirt and jeans. The sweater is gone. His feet are bare, and there’s a heavy dusting of stubble on his cheeks. He’s beautiful.

As I approach him, an awkward feeling slinks down my spine. I’ve never gone to a guy for a booty call before. This is weird. Sex usually just happens. It’s not planned like this. I feel my lips twisting in time with my stomach as I try to act casual. I can do this.

The garbage cans at the curb down the block suddenly ring out like a gong. We both glance down there and see a raccoon pawing through the trash under the streetlight. Nate gives me a look. “Is that your pet?”

“No, he came with the bus.”

Nate glances at the yellow bus and tries not to laugh. “Got it. Rabid raccoon was nesting in the classy vehicle.” His lips tug up then go straight a few times before he starts to laugh.

“Don’t ask about the bus. You don’t want to know.”

“Was that on purpose?” He points at it.

“God, no! Who would intentionally buy a bus?” I make a face and shove past him into the house. Now he’s laughing harder.

Nate shuts the front door and follows me into the kitchen where I put my purse on the counter. The awkwardness melts with the sound of his laughter.

“I thought you were a little crazy.”

“Bus crazy is WAY crazy. Not to be confused with slightly nuts. There’s a big difference.” I slide up on the kitchen table and dangle my legs off the side. I’m wearing a pair of $5 jeans and a $3 t-shirt, both triple clearance items from Sears. My hair is in a ponytail, and I’m finally not wearing sweats in front of this guy.

He seems to notice the new clothes. “I like this.” He comes over to the table, stopping in front of me, keeping a space between us.

“I went shopping.”

“I remember.” A sexy grin plays across his lips.

“Ah, yes, well, that particular outfit was returned so I could afford to buy pants and such.”

“And such?” He places his hands on the table on either side of my hips and leans in. “What would that entail?”

Does he know about the meeting with Ferro? God, just say it! If he knows, why is he toying with me? If he doesn’t know, I don’t want to tell him.

I press my lips together and speak slowly. “Panties. Bras. Things that most people don’t see.”

His eyes drop to the table and when he glances up, those blue eyes lock with mine. He leans in and presses a whisper of a kiss on my lips, then pulls away, teasing. “Most people.”

I mimic him, leaning forward, giving him a feather soft kiss and then pulling back. “Some people see them.”

He arches a brow at me. “People?”

“Yeah, you know. Emily, Beth, you, and me. Maybe a few other guys. People.” I’m teasing him, and I love it. I lean forward, getting close enough to kiss him, and linger. His breath is warm, rushing over my lips in short, shallow bursts. “Is that a problem, Professor?”

He watches my lips for a moment, then leans in, and, just when I think he’s going to kiss me, he takes my bottom lip between his teeth and nips. I gasp and pull back. His hands are suddenly behind me, pressing me forward, crushing us together. “I don’t like to share.”

“So Carter is a problem?”

“Yes.”

“And Emily.”

“Emily doesn’t do girls. I heard you two at the bar, remember? You both think stairs are scary.”

A coy smile tugs at my lips. “And Josh? What about him?”

“Josh?” He pulls away. His hands are suddenly gone from my back and concern lines his face. “Josh Gallub? You know him?” Nate steps back and things go from very sexy to ice cold.

“Yeah, I know him. He’s Beth’s brother. She’s my best friend.”

Nathan nods, avoiding my gaze. “Right. I remember seeing you with her. I didn’t realize Beth was his sister.”

“I was teasing, Nate. The guy likes me, but he wants a fuckbuddy.”

He turns and those sapphire eyes pin me in place. “And you don’t?”

“It’s not like that. He’s not my type.”

Nate watches me carefully, debating something. Worry pinches his brow. “You should be careful around him.”

I roll my eyes without meaning to and slip off the edge of the table. I go to his fridge and rummage for a drink, but it’s still empty. “I’m careful around everyone.”

“That’s not what I mean. The guy has a record.”

“So what?” I straighten and close the fridge, then turn to look at him. “Are you going to tell me who I can be friends with now? Or is this your way of asking me to go steady?” I flash a smile his way, but Nate isn’t deterred.

“Kerry, he’s dangerous.”

“Yeah, right.”

“No, I’m serious. Please listen—”

I huff out an aggravated sigh and start ticking off fingers. “One, no one likes him. Two he’s an arrogant prick—I agree with you there. Three, aside from stealing Carter’s girlfriend, he seems like a nice guy.”

“He’s not.” Nate enunciates the last word with a finality in his voice that sounds too close to condescension.

“Whatever. How do you know anyway?” I feel suddenly defensive and shove past him. “You don’t know him.”

He trails behind me. “And you do? Kerry, did he tell you?”

“He didn’t have to tell me anything.”

“Then he’s a coward because you deserve to know the truth.” His hand lands on my shoulder, and he spins me around. We’re face to face. “Kerry, there was an incident.”

I shove him off and plan on storming away, but Nate grabs my wrist. I drop my head and give him a look that says this topic is closed as I rant about why it’s unfair. “There’s always some reason to point a finger at someone and say they’re no good. You don’t even know him—”

Nate firmly places both of his strong hands on my shoulders and looks me in the eye. “Kerry, he raped a girl.”

W
ith 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.

Trystan Scott—blue-eyed heartthrob, sex on a stick, and all around ladies man—pushes back into the dark leather chair, worry pinching the tanned skin between his eyebrows. Dark hair falls into his eyes as he claws the arm of his seat, backing away from the crazy chick making herself at home in his lap.

Sidney and Avery stand arm in arm in mirrored poses, their opposite hands on their hips. Avery calls out, “Hey, little bro Ferro.” She laughs and says to Sidney, “He’s not very little is he?”

Sidney shakes her head and giggles. “I’ve heard nothing about him is little.”

Peter, who had been standing quietly behind me, is suddenly across the room and marching up the steps. “Hey!”

Sidney smiles at him as he crosses the stage and wraps her arms around his waist. “Girls like to talk, and it’s hard to avoid hearing rumors since people ask me way too frequently about you.”

Peter’s eyes turn into beach balls, and he nearly chokes. “Excuse me? Where do people ask you these things?”

She shrugs, ticking off a list on her fingers. “At the market, at school, in the ladies room.” She looks over at Avery. “Do they bug you about Sean?”

“They think I’m a hooker, so I’m invisible.” Avery picks at a spot of glitter on her arm. “Besides, my profession doesn't exactly make me a credible source. Who cares if Sean's call girl said he’s huge?”

Everyone stops and gawks at her. Bryan stops teasing Trystan to give his full attention to Avery. “He hired you?”

Stunned faces snap to hers, but Avery's expression remains placid as if she’s accepted it and moved on. In the echoing silence, a needle could drop and sound like a grenade.

Jon practically growls, “I don’t know why anyone is shocked. We are talking about Sean.” He seems pissed, and shoots a quick glance at me from the corner of his eye, then moves across the room to sit by Trystan.

There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Based on the facial expressions of the people here with me, I'd guess it’s contagious—we all feel it.

I keep my eyes down, but I hate that Jon said it. I hate the way no one tries to protect her. Strength on the outside is just that—outside. It doesn’t keep the world from trampling your heart.

I find my voice, “She’s more than that, you know.” The words spill out, and once I start I can’t stop. I jump up, dropping the jacket and blanket behind me. I pad toward him, standing there covered in glitter, my corset hoisting my breasts to my throat and my thong revealing my entire backside.

Jon realizes how it sounded and attempts to correct, but he’s already flown that thought into a mountainside. “I know, but—”

“No little girl says, ‘I want to be a stripper when I grow up.’ Not one of us would sell sex if there’d been another way to survive. Every single woman who works here has the same story—fucked up life, no money, and no hope. Don’t you dare damn her for it! If you do, you’re damning me, too, and I refuse to accept your pity, or whatever the hell this is.” I’m in his face, an inch from his nose, breathing hard. It looks like I’m going to pop out of my corset every time I breathe. Mounds of flesh swell well above the low neckline, glittering like twin disco balls.

I expect him to look at me, but he doesn’t. Jon presses his lips together, letting his silence build between us while the others stare in shock. When his blue gaze lifts to meet mine, he tips his head to the side. No trace of a smile softens his lips. Nothing subdues his sharp look. “You don’t know Sean. He’d show up with a corpse if it suited him.”

Something inside me snaps. I straighten, laughing bitterly. “You’re an asshole.”

“No, I’m not. I’m just saying—”

“Shut up, man. She hears exactly what you’re saying.” Trystan peers around the girl in his lap, forgetting his own awkward situation for the moment. The girl sits perfectly still, but I can see her thoughts running wild behind her eyes.

Jon growls, “No, she doesn’t. This isn’t about any of you. It’s about my brother and me.” There’s obviously a huge rift between Jon and Sean, but he’s poking a bear with Pixy Stix. What does he think is going to happen?

“It might also be about your apparent distaste for working girls.” Avery folds her arms over her chest and juts one hip to the side, glaring at him. “So, Little Ferro, spill it. Did your first hooker mistreat you? Or was it one of your strippers?”

Jon’s body tenses and he sits so still he might explode. It’s the moment of utter silence before a bomb detonates and blasts everything around it to bits. One of his fingers presses into the chair, and I see something flash across his face. It’s raw, a wound that’s still weeping.

He’s quiet for a moment, swallows hard, then stands and walks into the office. The door closes soundlessly behind him. Something happened to him. I’m sure of that. Someone hurt him badly.

Apparently Avery senses it too because she slips off the edge of the stage and rushes toward me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

I glance at the closed door and then back to her pale face. “Neither did I. I’m not sure any of us did.”

I feel like a fucking idiot walking away to hide in the office. I’m not a kid anymore. This shit shouldn’t bother me, but it’s always lurking—ready to rear its fuck-ugly face when I least expect it. Of course they all think I had hookers and strippers. I’m not a priest. I’m a Ferro. I live up to my reputation and then some. But that’s not what made me back down. I know I don’t see things accurately at times. I know my past taints my vision, clouds it, and makes me respond in the worst possible ways.

I sit down at the desk and stare at the packet of papers. I wonder if I’m reacting to Sean or my past. How can I protect Cass when I can’t even deal with this?

There’s a knock on my door, and before I can answer, Avery steps inside.

“Hey," she says, "I didn’t mean to do that.” She's standing there, her long brown hair sweeping over her shoulders and a somber expression on her face. She steps around the door, pushing it shut behind her with the heel of her foot. No shoes.

“You didn’t do anything.” I’m not telling her shit. She’ll report back to Sean, and I don’t want him involved in this. His chance to intercede is long gone.

I shuffle through the stack of papers on the desk, ignoring Sean’s envelope. I’ll look at it when she leaves.

“Maybe not, but it seemed like I found a sore spot and ripped it wide open.”

I act like it doesn’t matter. I’m not telling her shit. “I misspoke. Cassie is hurting. It was reasonable to assume I insulted all of you.”

Avery stops in front of my desk, turns to a ninety-degree angle from me, and rests her denim-clad hip against it. She folds her arms loosely across her chest. “We’re all hurting.”

I glance up at her. Is that a hint? Is something going on with my brother? “Sean included?”

Her eyes dart to the side. She pushes off the desk and looks at a picture of the club on the wall. All the dancers are standing with the bouncers and the former owner, posing as if it were a yearbook picture. “You don’t know him anymore, do you?”

“There’s nothing about him that’s worth knowing.” I sound like a cold motherfucker, like I don't give a shit about my brother, but the tightening sensation in my chest tells me otherwise. The growing unease in my stomach, the way it twists like it’s filled with shards of glass, reminds me of something I don’t want to admit. I suppress it with one swift blow, forcing my emotions back down where they belong. “Maybe you don’t know, so I’ll tell you the drive-by version. Sean thinks I’m a piece of shit stuck to his shoe. No one willingly walks through shit, Avery. He’s here to save his ass. It has nothing to do with me.”

“You don’t know him.”

I appreciate the audacity of this woman. This is the first conversation we’ve had, beyond initial pleasantries, and she’s picking a fight? I lean back in my chair and look at her. She’s smart. I'd bet anything that she’s scanning that picture for Cassie’s face. It’s not there. Cass always dodges pictures, probably because of her ex.

I roll my eyes and sit up quickly, reshuffling papers that don’t need it. “I don’t want to know him. There’s nothing there worth saving, no way we’ll ever be anything but blood. I don’t give a shit what he does or if someone puts a bullet in his head. Actually, I’ve been waiting for it to happen. Between his past and the shitstorm in the press, it’s only a matter of time. I wouldn’t get too attached, Avery.” It’s a dick thing to say, but this conversation is over.

She takes the hint and heads to the door. Her hand rests on the knob for a second then she looks over her shoulder at me. “Too late. I’m already attached.” She smiles sadly, watching me until I meet her eyes. “And no matter what you think, Sean cares about you. I see it in his eyes. I hear it in his voice when he talks about you. Think what you want, but take it from someone who knows what it’s like to be utterly alone—Sean’s here out of more than loyalty. You’re more than blood to him. I’ll see you around.” She walks through the door without waiting for a reply.