The Proposition 5: The Ferro Family (4 page)

Bryan’s false smile vanishes. His voice drops to a deadly whisper. “After I saw my sister making out with some guy Jon knew? Is that what we’re talking about?” Jon goes white. It’s like someone flipped a switch. His jaw drops as his eyes go wide. He tries to interrupt, to say something to his mother, but Bryan doesn’t let him. “I’ll deal with you later,” Bryan snaps at Jon before returning his gaze to Constance.

“You can contest it all you want, but I have a strong feeling you won’t. If the rest of the family supports me, the court will too, and then you’ll have the scandal for nothing. Imagine what the papers would say when they find out the erotic man in Hallie’s book is a Ferro. Imagine what that would do to the family, Aunt Connie. Imagine your name added to the trash that gets printed when they find out about your little secret.”

Constance’s eyes narrow to slits as she steps toward her nephew. “She wouldn’t dare.”

Bryan laughs once. “No, she wouldn’t, but I would. I’ll have reach beyond my grave, I promise you that. If you harm her, your little secret will spread faster than crabs in a whore house.”

Constance scrunches up her nose in disgust. “You defied me.”

“You can’t control me anymore. No one can.” Bryan blinks rapidly and sucks in air. His eyes press closed and he grabs for the dresser by the wall, but he’s too far away.

Jon lunges for him, grabbing his cousin by the shoulder—under his arm—to keep Bryan from crashing to the floor, while his mother does nothing to help. “Come on, Bryan.”

Jon tries to pull Bryan away, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, he shakes off the help and looks his aunt in the eye. “I know what you’re thinking and you’re wrong. Again. Trust me for once, call it a parting gift.”

Constance looks at the will, her angry eyes studying the papers. “She can have whatever is in your accounts and the things you’ve given her, but nothing—not a cent—is coming out of your inheritance.”

“Fine. Sign it.”

“But you don’t have this kind of money, so where is it coming from?” As she speaks, Sean slips back into the room with a tear-streaked Jos in tow.

Bryan is weak and irritated. I know his head is throbbing and from the way he’s blinking, I doubt he can see any longer. Handing me his phone, he tells me to open an app. “Go to the banking app and show it to everyone.”

I do as he asks, and my jaw drops when his accounts open. “Holy shit!”

My outburst shocks Joselyn into action. She rushes over to look at the screen on his phone, then stares at her brother as if she doesn’t know him. “Where did you get that?”

Jon takes the phone and blinks once, trying to hold back a smile before passing it to Sean. His brother looks at it once, impressed, and then hands it to his mother. Constance inhales slowly, puffing up. “Answer her. Is this drug money?”

“Are you fucking serious? No, it’s not drug money. I’ve been high for the past few months because of prescription pain meds, not illegal drugs. What the fuck is wrong with you people? Can’t a guy earn an honest living?”

Jos speaks first. “Yes, but you don’t work.”

Bryan sighs and settles back into the pillow. “I did and I do. I’m a day trader. Flick the screen, it’ll pull up the recent trades.” His twin does as he asks and her eyes get bigger. “I take large sums of money and put them into high risk stocks. When it pans out, I get a small fortune every time.”

“But when it doesn’t, you lose a small fortune.” Jos looks at her brother, while Jon studies the numbers from over her shoulder.

I say softly, “I didn’t know you did that.”

He smiles at me. “I didn’t tell anyone. It’s risky and not exactly an orthodox way of earning a living as far as my family is concerned. I’d rather work smarter, than harder. Plus, this is the only way I could work some days, especially lately.”

A shocked silence settles over the room. Not only is Bryan charming and rich by birth, but he’s more than tripled his fortune and no one knew about it. To them, it looked like the man sitting next to me did nothing but play and have fun.

Bryan pulls me to him until my head rests against his chest. He holds on tight and stares them down. “Sign the will. It’s clearly my money and there is no doubt as to my mental state when this was drafted.”

I look up at him. “When did you decide to leave everything to me?” I know it had to be before the illness.

“The day we broke up. I wanted this money to come at you like a brick to the head. I wanted to ruin whatever happiness you had, to force you to tell your husband who I was and what we did. My intentions weren’t noble, Hallie, so don’t act like they were. I wanted to hurt you as much as you hurt me. I never dreamed I’d been led astray by my best friend,” he gives Jon a harsh glance. “Then when I found out I was sick, I didn’t change it. I had planned on staying away from you, but when you popped up on TV with that book—I couldn’t stay away.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“So, you’re not mad?”

I laugh and hug him hard. When I let go, I look into his eyes. “Losing you was my biggest regret. I’m glad you didn’t stay away. All I want is you, Bryan. You can do anything you want with this money. I don’t need it.”

“Maybe not, but I need for you to take it. I need to have peace of mind when I breathe my last breath, knowing that no matter what trouble comes your way, you have means to escape. Plus it’s a present, so you can’t return it.” He smiles at me, and kisses my cheek.

I feel so awkward. His family is so upset, but there’s no swaying Bryan. I don’t want him fighting with everyone as he slips away. I don’t want him to pass in anger, I try to tell him no again, but before I can speak, his sister takes the will from her aunt and signs it.

“I won’t contest it. It’s yours.” She lets out a shaky breath and adds, “I’m so sorry. Both of you need to know. I had no idea how much she loved you. It didn’t look that way to us. I shouldn’t have done it. God Bryan, I understand if you can’t forgive me. I can’t forgive myself.” Her voice is shaking and her eyes are glassy. Tears will fall in a moment. Jos turns to me. “Hallie, you’re welcome here. I’ll make sure of it, for as long as you want. I’m so sorry.” She chokes up and the last word doesn’t come all the way out, before she turns and races out of the room again. We hear her sobs as she retreats down the hall.

Sean takes the papers from his mother and signs them. “And I thought you were a slacker.” Sean shakes his head, smiling as he leaves the room.

Jon clears his throat, but Bryan doesn’t look at him. “I can’t make up for what I did.”

“No you can’t.” Bryan replies bitterly.

“It wasn’t meant to hurt you. I swear to God, Bryan. I thought she was after your money.”

“We think that of everyone, Jon. I could have easily said the same thing about Cassie way back when. Even now. Money would give her a freedom she doesn’t have. That said, would you rather I kept it from you?”

“I don’t follow.” Jon shakes his head and steps closer.

“You thought something bad about the woman I loved and didn’t bother to tell me your suspicions. Instead, you acted on them without consulting me first. It should have been my choice, my decision—not yours. What even made you think she didn’t care about me?”

Jon looks like he ate a goat and its horns are stuck in his throat. “Bryan, I don’t think it’s worth repeating, not now.”

“I do. Tell me.”

Jon looks at me, but I have no idea what he’s going to say. “I saw her books. They were covered with your name and ‘Mrs. Hallie Ferro.’ That concerned me, but then I overheard her talking to someone, saying that she was dating some rich guy who would give her money whenever she asked.”

My brow crumples. “I never said that.”

“She never asks for money, and never has.” Bryan stares at Jon, perplexed.

“I saw her walk into the locker room and heard her voice. I thought it was her, but I must have been wrong. I wouldn’t have done it on a whim, Bryan. I was certain. And now the only thing I can say is that I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, I feel sick inside. I know what he’s talking about. Maggie and I used to joke about marrying rich men and making them buy us all sorts of expensive things. Jaw trembling, I say, “I did say that.” Everyone looks at me. “It wasn’t about Bryan, though. One of the ways Maggie and I dealt with our pasts was to dream about a future where we had gorgeous husbands with tons of money to take care of us. We’d joke about buying yachts and mansions. She’d add a new wing to her mansion and I’d add another jet to my private fleet. It was a joke. Maggie didn’t even know we were dating. The book you saw was my journal, and I have no idea how you saw it since it was in my locker and not out in the open.”

Jon smiles awkwardly. “I’d rather not say.”

I turn and glance at Bryan. “I never wanted your money. I just wanted you.”

He kisses my forehead and pulls me closer. “I know, baby. I know.” After a moment, he holds a hand out to Jon. “I have her now. Promise me you’ll watch out for her when I’m gone.”

Jon swallows hard and nods before taking his cousin’s hand. Jon shakes and then says, “Fuck it.” He leans into us and embraces us both, smashing us together in a bear hug. When Jon straightens, he rushes out of the room without another word.

That leaves his aunt standing there, the will clutched in her hands. We watch her for a moment. Her back is rigid in her perfectly pressed outfit. When she speaks it sounds like she’s going to sign. “Bryan, I can’t imagine what you’re going through—what you’ve been through. I know I’m responsible for some of the pain that’s bestowed you and for that I apologize, but one misstep does not correct another. I cannot allow this. I’m sorry.” She drops the paper on the bed and walks to the door. Before leaving, she says over her shoulder. “Hallie, make sure he allows the doctors to look him over. Now isn’t the time to argue.”

“Now is the only time you have.” I press my lips together and look after her, mentally pleading with her not to fight with him, not now. The time for fighting is over.

Constance’s cold eyes meet mine, but she doesn’t answer. Instead the older woman pushes through the door and doesn’t look back.

Chapter 8

Bryan doesn’t want the doctors to look him over, so I invite them to camp out in his room until he reluctantly gives permission. I know he doesn’t want to get his hopes up, and doing this is enough to mess with his head horribly. The slightest glimmer of false hope will crush him.

The medical team is wearing street clothes, no scrubs or lab coats on any of the four doctors. The first man is young, maybe thirty with a goatee and a shaved head. There’s an older woman, an oncologist, with a clipboard. While the others speak, asking questions and conferring with one another, she scribbles constantly, saying nothing. When she first arrived, I thought she was their secretary. She nearly bit my head off for that mistake, but in regard to her work, the woman doesn’t talk. She just circles Bryan and jots things down. The third doctor is older, with frizzy white hair sticking off his skull and a quirky plaid shirt and stripe pants clothing combination. He looks like he escaped from the loony bin. They’ve been looking at him for an hour now, but it feels longer. Why does time seem to crawl by when things matter most? Under their inspection, my love is acting like a hurt little boy. I want to wrap my arms around him and throw them out, but this is his last chance, our last chance.

“But if there’s something they can do—”

Bryan’s jaw is locked. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, shirt off, and glares at me. “No one knows what I went through to get this diagnosis in the first place. Sitting here, repeating the process is unnecessary and cruel. I thought you’d understand that.”

“Different eyes might see different things.”

“Different eyes won’t miss the massive tumor in my head, Hallie.” His words are so pointed that my gaze drop to the floor. He softens. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m tired, so tired, and I want to spend what time I have left with you—not them.” He jabs his thumb at Dr. Plaid.

The old guy smiles. “We’re all half dead, Kid. It’s a matter of extending one’s life to make it as enjoyable as possible. Even if we can’t cure you, we can make sure the end is as good as it can be.”

Bryan’s sharp gaze cuts to the man. “Don’t patronize me. It’s easy to say that when there’s nothing wrong with you.”

The old guy laughs and points a tongue depressor at Bryan. “And that’s where you’re wrong, Kid. We don’t all go to group meetings or proudly wear our cancer card on our chests—though I think we should.”

“You have cancer?” Bryan asks, shocked.

The old guy nods. “Yes sir, and it’s gotten to the point that I don’t see patients anymore, but I owed your aunt a favor, so here I am. The best cancer doctor around, and I’m dying of the same damned disease I’ve spent my life curing. Allow my colleague to take a look at you, then we’ll compare and see if there’s something we can do to make your life better—you can bet money on that.” He squeezes Bryan’s shoulder and leaves the room. The other male doctors follow, leaving us with Dr. Scribbles.

She’s older than Dr. Goatee and a lot quieter when she finally speaks. “When you get headaches, where are they? Can you show me?” Bryan points, explaining as best he can. She nods. “Have they always been there?”

He’s silent for a moment, thinking, and then shakes his head. “No, they moved. Originally it felt like a sinus headache that was behind my ears and eyes.”

She nods as she takes in the information, writing, her eyes scanning her notes swiftly as she does so. She asks a few more questions, mostly about time—when did this happen, when did that happen—followed by an exam. She asks questions, poking and prodding, until Bryan is too exhausted to answer. He slumps back into his bed.

She sighs and stares at her papers, and then looks up at Bryan before clutching the papers to her chest. “Let me talk to the others.” She smiles at us and leaves.

When the door clicks shut, I look over at Bryan. I’ve been sitting in a chair across from him. “That was cryptic.”

His arm is draped over his eyes. “Yeah, I thought she was going to bust out a measuring tape and suggest a coffin size.”

“Bryan!”

“She took notes for two hours straight!”