Book II – Chapter 11: Fortunate

Posted On May 20, 2015

Morning came slowly. The alarm chanted its grating song beside Ferris’ ear, rousing him abruptly enough to elbow Demos in the cheek.

“Ow, fuck.” Demos groaned into his pillow before flopping an arm over his eyes. Though the sunlight was filtered by the curtains, it was still much too bright for the Ghost.

“God,” Demos said, his voice dry. “Give me another hour.”

Ferris was already getting dressed, his belt clicking as he slid it through the loops. “We don’t have an hour. Unless you want to skip the meeting with Ellen?”

Demos gave another dramatic groan.

“I hope you added ‘sloth’ to your confessions back at that church,” Ferris said.

“You’re a sloth.”

Somehow, the pair managed to make it downstairs before noon. They had agreed to meet the chairwoman in one of the casino’s many restaurants. Unfortunately, she had chosen the Italian one.

“It’s dry,” Demos said, picking apart a sfogliatella with weary fingers. “And the filling is too sweet.”

Ferris rubbed his temples. “Would you just shut up and drink your latte?”

“This isn’t a latte. It’s like 80% foam. They don’t even know the difference between a cappuccino and a—“

“It’s too early for this shit, Demos.”

Gina looked up from her bellini, looking considerably more refreshed than the two men. “He’s right. And you would agree if you ordered something.”

“He doesn’t eat much in the mornings,” Demos said, pushing a lock of hair from his eyes. This excursion, short as it was, seemed to have affected the two cousins. Ferris couldn’t remember the last time Gina had agreed with Demos about anything, including breakfast. The pastry continued to be accosted at the hands of the Italian, falling into leaf-like flakes of dough and sweet ricotta.

“Coffee’s fine.” Ferris took a long drink, allowing the black, bitter liquid to slap him back into the waking-world. He exhaled. It was the perfect start to a perfect morning.

“And anyway,” Demos said, turning his spoon to allow a dollop of foam to slump back into his cup. “I don’t see you giving Gina any crap about how early it is. She’s already drinking.”

Gina’s dark-eyed glare drifted to her cousin. “I don’t half-ass brunch.”

The touching family exchange was interrupted by the arrival of three figures. Ellen Hill stood flanked by Don and a younger woman, their attire a fitting business casual.

“Enjoying the coffee?” Ellen said, seating herself at the long table.

Demos spoke first. “It’s a bit—“

“It’s great, thank you,” Ferris said before Demos could dig them into an even deeper hole. “Did you have a chance to discuss our proposition?”

“I brought it up at the council meeting, yes.”

Gina watched the woman from across the table, her features perfectly collected. “And how was it received?”

“There was some opposition, of course,” Ellen said. “But, overall, we agreed that you are the lesser of two evils.”

“We’re flattered.” Demos folded his hands on the table. “If it’s convenient for you to come to Southport, we can have a demonstration ready for you by next week.”

“Ah, getting right to the point today. I like that.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to waste a busy woman’s time.”

Ellen gave a tart smile. “All right then, I’ll have Don contact Ferris in a few days. And you had better impress me.”

“We wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise,” Gina said, her hand extended. Ellen responded with a firm handshake, then turned to offer Demos her palm. For only a second, the Italian paused, gathering every ounce of will to hide his surprise. Only a thin smile surfaced on his face as he shook her hand, making sure to match the strength in her grip.

“We’ll see about that,” Ellen said, then glanced to Ferris. “Are we still on for next month?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, this busy woman has a round of golf to attend to.”

The two women stood, leaving Don alone with the Giorgettis. He waited for a nearby family to pass, ensuring their conversation would remain private.

“Looks like one of our guests ran off without paying,” he said, his eyes low. “Shame.”

Ferris briefly shut his eyes. He had been so close to forgetting about the previous night. “We’ll deduct it from your quote.”

“Fair enough,” Don said, then nodded at the trio before standing to follow the chairwoman. Once the group was out of sight, Demos reached for Gina’s bellini. Before she could protest, he had tilted his head back, downing the remainder of the cocktail in one swallow.

“I don’t understand,” he said, setting the glass down with a clink, “how such a small woman manages to be so scary.”

Ferris managed his first smile of the day. “I could say the same about you.”

They waited until they reached the parking lot before making their first phone call. Demos had lit a cigarette, pacing past the car as he spoke in hushed tones to his uncle.

“Well, yes and no,” he said. “They’re legit, they wouldn’t agree to a tax. Well, we did, but—“

Demos listened, his eyes screwing shut.

“Yes. An exchange. They said they’d consider a— yes, consider. Sticks. I told them we could have a demo ready by next week.”

There was another pause as Demos waited for his uncle’s reply. He took a long, slow drag from his cigarette, though the gesture failed to mask the defeat in his features. His lips parted, smoke drifting past his cheek as he gazed at the dark pavement. Finally, he answered.

“Yes.”

There was a beep as the call ended. Demos hastily stuffed his phone into his pocket, refusing to make eye contact with his companions as he got into the passenger seat. The door shut with a slam. Ferris and Gina glanced at one another before joining him in the car.

They had already made it to the highway before Ferris dared speak.

“What did he say?”

Demos flicked his spent cigarette out the window, keeping his attention on the passing trees.

“‘…Is that the best you could do?’”

Realizing Demos had no intention of looking his way, Ferris forced his eyes back on the road. At his side, he could hear his friend slumping in the leather seat.

“No one could have done any better,” Ferris said. “You know she wouldn’t have gone down without a fight.”

“It wasn’t even my idea. It was Gina’s.” Demos’ voice was weak, fogging the glass as he spoke. “I blew it.”

“Victor’s always been tough on you. He’s just trying to push you, you know that.”

“Yeah,” Demos said, though he didn’t sound convinced. “I know.”

 “Sit up, Demos,” came Gina’s voice from the backseat.

“What?”

“You’re a man, not a child.”

Demos straightened himself, if only to glance back at the woman berating him from the backseat.

“What do you—“

“You’re young, you’re small, and you’re not even a full Italian. And yet you have a seat at the table. Tell me how you managed that.”

“I—“

“Stai zitto. I’ll tell you. It’s because of Zio — of Victor. He crushes you. He gives you painful, filthy work. And you — you always do it. You do it and you do it well. He doesn’t leave a hair’s breadth for anyone to question you. How do you think they would look at you if you were favored? If you had it easy? How would the other men see you?”

Demos had nothing to say, only staring at his cousin with tight-lidded eyes.

“So sit up,” she said. “And think about how fortunate you are.”

The car was silent. It only took a moment for Demos to turn back in his seat, his chest rising as he took in a slow breath. Though he spoke not a word, the stretch of his back said all it needed to.

It was dark out by the time Ferris got home. He could hear his dog scuffling behind the door as he unlocked it and mentally prepared himself for the onslaught. Once inside, Ferris struggled to remove his shoes while Stanley bounced and pawed as much as his fat haunches would allow. There was a note tacked to the refrigerator, the cursive handwriting instantly recognizable.

Bubele,

I took Stanley for a couple walks, it’s very obvious he misses me. I’m not sure why you thought you should take him if you’re going to be so busy! Sadie told me you had another date with her daughter. Why didn’t you say anything? It’s because you hate admitting when I’m right! Well, I was right, and you owe me an apology. We’re going to have a long talk about this. Also, I left some brisket in the refrigerator for you, just heat it up in the oven. But you don’t deserve it!

Love,

Mom

Ferris rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Great.”

His email wasn’t any more comforting and Ferris found himself staring at the ten different messages that had wedged themselves in his inbox. Each one was from his supervisor.

“For Christ’s sake,” he said to himself as he pulled out his phone. “Hi Youssef. No, I got your emails. I was— now? It’s Sunday night and I just— all right.”

His hand went to the desk, absently feeling over the wood until he found a pen. The writing utensil flipped from one testy finger to another as he listened to his supervisor’s excuse.

“No, I understand.” Ferris finally noticed his own fidgeting and slapped the pen still beneath his palm. “When do you need them by? Okay, I’ll get right on it. See you tomorrow.”

He winced as he shut his phone. Even after burying a body in the dark woods of upstate New York, he still lacked a spine.

By the time he slumped into bed, he was too terrified to look at the clock. Whatever ungodly hour it was, he was certain he wouldn’t be getting enough sleep before work. He ignored the aches and knots in his shoulders, burying his face in a pillow in a desperate bid for sleep.

Only a few minutes passed before his phone began to ring. His hand flopped over the nightstand until he found it and he stared at the screen with bleary eyes.

Unknown Number

With a semi-conscious mutter, he rejected the call. He had barely rolled back over before it started to ring again. Rage began to overpower exhaustion and it was only on the fourth call that he actually answered.

“Stop fucking calling me!”

“Fer, sweetheart, don’t be like that.”

“Seamus.” Ferris pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to push back his headache. “Perfect.”

“I hope I didn’t wake you.”

Ferris’ eyes drifted to the clock beside his bed. 4am.

“Not at all. Now what the fuck do you want? And where are you calling from?”

“A pay phone.”

An ugly picture began to paint itself in Ferris’ head. Seamus using a pay phone meant two things, the first being he had somehow lost his cell phone. The second was the unsurprising fact that the Brit was out and about on a Sunday night in some godforsaken part of town. Ferris paused before speaking, absolutely certain he wouldn’t like the answer.

“And where is this pay phone?”

“The police station on 36^th and 9^th.”

“God damnit.” Ferris groaned. “Please don’t say you need bail.”

“Nah, they let me out. But I lost my wallet in the fight. Hard to catch a train without a pass, you know?”

Ferris didn’t press further, unsure if he wanted to know what ‘the fight’ was, or whether Seamus had started it or not. He made one more glance at the clock, noticing the digital numbers had grown even more blurry.

“Seamus, I want you to know something.”

“Yes, Ferret?”

“Are you listening?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Because I hate you. I hate you more right now than I have ever hated a living person.”

He could hear Seamus laugh through the thin speaker of his phone. “So, see you in a bit?”

“Yeah. Give me thirty minutes.”

“Cheers!”

Exactly half an hour had passed when Ferris arrived on the appointed street corner, dressed in a pair of old jeans and a half-zipped hoodie that was one size too large.

“You couldn’t wear something nicer for our date?” Seamus asked, his split lip spreading into a grin.

“There’s no one on a 4am subway ride I’m trying to impress,” Ferris said. “And you’re one to talk, you look like a bear tried to eat you. And succeeded.”

Seamus was, in fact, standing in considerably worse shape than his friend. His eyelid had swollen to the approximate size and color of a plum and streaks of blood had smeared across his shirt. Red had also stained his fat lip, though it apparently didn’t hurt enough to keep Seamus from smoking.

“I kicked that bear’s arse.” Seamus crushed out his cigarette stub with the toe of his shoe. “He had it coming.”

Ferris sighed. “Well, come on. Let’s get your dumb ass home.”

“Ah, about that.”

“What?”

“The girlfriend, er, ex-girlfriend, kicked me out. You’ve got a sofa, yeah?”

Ferris let out the longest groan of his life. He’d known this would happen and cursed himself for not expecting it sooner. Seamus, as always, had impeccable timing. Without a word, Ferris turned and began to walk toward the subway entrance.

“Oi, wait up!” Seamus scrambled to follow, nearly tripping over his own feet. “Is that a yes? Fer, come on.”

It was ten minutes before a train showed up and, fortunately, there were very few souls in the car to witness the sorry pair. Ferris slumped in his seat, wishing the fluorescent lights weren’t quite so strong. He was fairly certain his eyes were flushed with red.

“Do you really need to sit so close?” Ferris said, bumping Seamus’ knee with his own. “There’s plenty of room.”

“It’s for your own good. Got to protect my mate from late-night thieves.”

Ferris glanced sideways at an old man snoring against the window, several seats down from a woman on her way home from a night shift.

“Right. I feel much safer now.”

Seamus grinned. The slight movement stirred his wound, sending a trail of red down his chin and onto his collar. Ferris frowned, then fished in his pocket for a tissue.

“Come here,” he said, wiping the blood from his friend’s lip. “Can’t have you looking like a jackass on the train.”

Once his work was done, Ferris examined his companion with a squint.

“No, wait, that’s just your regular face.”

“You didn’t answer me, you know. It’s all right if I crash with you for a bit?”

Ferris balled the bloody tissue inside another. “Fine. But this is short-term, you got it? I’m not looking for a roommate.”

“But we’d be brilliant together.” Seamus wrapped a tight arm around his friend’s shoulder. “You and me, like a sitcom.”

“More like a horror movie. What happened to you, anyway? I thought you’d stopped fighting.”

For just a moment, Seamus’ smile flattered. “Ah, well. Caught the lady cheating — yelled at the bloke. He hit me, I hit him, you know how it goes.”

Tunnel lights flashed past the windows as the train slipped further uptown. The passenger mumbled something in his sleep, curling closer to the ledge. Ferris’ scowl faded and, for a second, he forgot to be angry.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t—“

“S’all right. I was too good for her anyway.”

“You’re too good for everyone, Seamus.”

Seamus’ toothy grin returned and he ruffled the top of his friend’s head. “Even you?”

“Especially me.”