\u201cI\u2019m home, Mom,\u201d Ferris called as he toed off his shoes in the entrance of his home \u2014 the house, more his mother\u2019s than his own, that he had spent his childhood in. It was a three-story brownstone on a tree-lined block, set snugly between the walls of its neighbors.<\/p>\n
The announcement was unnecessary; Ruth Levinstein knew that her son was home before he had even opened the door. Stanley, an aging, doughy pug, was wagging his tail at her side.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s about time! You didn\u2019t come home last night \u2014 you didn\u2019t even call!\u201d his mother fussed as she set both hands on her hips. Ferris decided not to mention the fact that he was no longer a teenager, nor the fact that he had been much too inebriated to do such a thing.<\/p>\n
\u201cSorry, I stayed the night at the compound,\u201d he explained, fastening his umbrella and placing it in the stand. \u201cAnd then I had an appointment with that broker for the apartment showing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, how did that go?\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cAwful. Another bait and switch. The ones I wanted were \u2018already claimed\u2019 and the places he showed me were overpriced rat holes,\u201d Ferris sighed, rubbing the rain from his hair as he found the sofa. \u201cAt least he showed up, though \u2014 unlike that other guy.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know, bubele, you don\u2019t have to move out,\u201d Ruth said, taking a seat beside her son. \u201cIt was so quiet here when you were at school. It\u2019s nice to have someone in the house again.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ferris took in a slow breath. He knew perfectly well how lonely it had been for her. She had spent nearly two decades with her husband and son and then, suddenly, they were both gone.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know, but I need my own space. You seem to enjoy forgetting this, but\u2026 I\u2019m kind of an adult now.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019ll be an adult when you have children of your own.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo\u2026 never?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ruth smacked her son\u2019s arm \u2014 a little too hard. \u201cOh, no you don\u2019t. You\u2019re going to give me grandchildren. So many of them that I can\u2019t even remember all of their names.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll get right on that,\u201d he grumbled, rubbing his sore arm with a frown.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019d better! Remember, you have that date next Friday I set up with Rosenthal\u2019s daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ferris groaned dramatically. Since his return to Southport, his mother had arranged no less than four dates with young women from the local synagogue.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom. Mother<\/i>. We talked about this.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s just one little date. She\u2019s a very nice girl.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sure she is, but\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cBy the way,\u201d Ruth interrupted, \u201csome flowers arrived this morning. They\u2019re in the kitchen.\u201d<\/p>\n
Momentarily distracted from his mother\u2019s scheming, he turned towards the kitchen, trying to ignore the sick feeling rising in his chest. Sure enough, it was a large bouquet of calla lilies \u2014 about $250 worth, to be exact. Tentatively, he approached to read the tag.<\/p>\n
\u201cDelivery not accepted,\u201d he mumbled. \u201cReturn to sender.\u201d<\/p>\n
That could have gone worse, but not by much.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey\u2019re uh\u2026 they\u2019re for you,\u201d Ferris called back.<\/p>\n
\u201cNice try, bubele, but my name isn\u2019t \u2018Emiklgyf.\u2019 Did you get drunk and send\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. Don\u2019t be silly,\u201d he cut in before she could reveal his shame. \u201cIt must have been a computer error.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, I\u2019ll just pretend they are<\/i> for me, then,\u201d she replied with amusement in her voice.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s the spirit.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ferris welcomed work the next day. Though making ‘house calls’ involved additional commuting and trekking through the rain, he was desperate for a distraction from his mortifying weekend.<\/p>\n
He had secured his position at Sterling LLP before he had graduated, making his transition back to Southport fairly smooth. Of course, with an entry-level position came entry-level tasks — spreadsheets, analyzing databases, and slowly letting his eyes and the computer monitor become a single spiritual entity. He could often see a square of white light even after closing his eyes, its glow saturated with blurry numbers and columns. Any opportunity to visit clients was a breath of fresh air — literally.<\/p>\n
This client was a small business — a bookshop on the east side of town. It would be his first time meeting with the owner and he was determined to make a good impression. On the list of reasons he had been hired at the accounting firm, ‘charisma’ was predictably absent. He wondered, as he struggled to position his umbrella against the wind, how charm came so naturally to Demos.<\/p>\n
That bastard.<\/p>\n
The door chimed as he entered the shop, shutting out the rain as it closed behind him. The interior was warm and narrow, smelling delightfully of old paper and binding.<\/p>\n
A tall black woman stood behind the counter, arranging a set of periodicals in a box. Beside her stood a man, one a few inches shorter and with a smile half as warm.<\/p>\n
“Good afternoon,” Ferris said, approaching the register. “I’m looking for a ‘Mrs. Allen?'”<\/p>\n
“That’s me,” the woman replied, stopping her work to offer him a smile. “You must be from Sterling.”<\/p>\n
“That’s right,” he said, shaking her hand and giving his name. She introduced the man at her side as her husband — his handshake was stiff, pausing to grip Ferris’ unsuspecting knuckles.<\/p>\n
“Oh, you got rained on,” the woman said as they went into a back room.<\/p>\n
“And somehow I survived,” he said before he could stop himself. He immediately clamped his back teeth. This was a client, not a friend. Professional — he had to be professional. Luckily, she laughed, relieving him of his jacket and umbrella before he could protest.<\/p>\n
“Why don’t you sit while I make us some tea. Linus can get all the paperwork for you.”<\/p>\n
Tea — hot tea. The creases in Ferris’ hands immediately began to sweat.<\/p>\n
“No, that’s all right, I don’t really need–“<\/p>\n
“Please,” she interrupted, gesturing to a chair. “I insist.”<\/p>\n
She disappeared into a side room, leaving him frozen in place. His heart seized, jerking beneath his collar like a hooked fish. He could hear the sound of clattering mugs, their ceramic rims bumping against one another.<\/p>\n
“Levinstein,” came a voice at his side, drawing Ferris’ eyes away from the side room. The shop owner’s husband was staring at him, his hand flat on a box of files.<\/p>\n
“What kind of a name is that?” the man asked, his tone more cautious than friendly.<\/p>\n
“It’s, ah,” Ferris said, trying to think over the sound of the faucet. His eyes caught a pine crucifix on the wall above a shelf. “It’s European.”<\/p>\n
“Is that so?” he replied. “Well then, why don’t you have a seat?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ferris swallowed the last trace of moisture in his mouth, adjusting his tie before taking the offered seat. Linus sat across from him, his hands folded. For a minute, neither man spoke. Ferris glanced down at the wooden table; he could feel Linus\u2019 eyes locked on his features. He hadn\u2019t stopped staring.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll just\u2026 take a look at these,\u201d Ferris said, forcing each word from his throat as he opened the file box. He moved without thinking \u2014 there were papers in his hands, but he couldn\u2019t read them. He couldn\u2019t see or hear anything \u2014 only the stove clicking, the gas bursting into a ring of flame. The fire, blue and translucent, shimmered beneath the silver base of the kettle.<\/p>\n
The kettle.<\/p>\n
It took him a moment to realize he wasn\u2019t breathing. He amended this by inhaling, the air dry and prickly on his tongue. The numbers on the page refused to focus, blurring into one another right between his hands.<\/p>\n
\u201cTell me, Mr. Levinstein,\u201d the man said, his voice static. \u201cAre you a god fearing man?\u201d<\/p>\n
He could hear it \u2014 the water beginning to bubble, the beads of perspiration trailing on the smooth, steel surface.<\/p>\n
Ferris finally looked up, his eyes dull and shaking.<\/p>\n
\u201c\u2026What?\u201d<\/p>\n
Linus leaned forward in his seat. \u201cI said\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
Finally, it happened. The whistle erupted like a cry from hell, straightening Ferris\u2019 spine and swarming inside of his head. The noise beat around in his skull, scraping between memories and flashes of white. He could feel it \u2014 his flesh blistering beneath the water, layers of skin peeling over bone and muscle.<\/p>\n
\u201c\u2026Are you a god fearing man?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ferris\u2019 next breath shuddered in. He stared forward, ignoring the sweat on this temples. The document in his hands crinkled under his grip.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
Then, the stove clicked off. The whistle faded, leaving the room silent once more. It was only when his heart slowed that he realized how fast it had been thumping. He released the paper before he could damage it further, letting his fingers roll into fists in his lap. His hands hadn\u2019t stopped trembling.<\/p>\n
\u201cHere you go,\u201d the shop owner said as she returned, setting a plain mug on the table. \u201cI hope you like Darjeeling.\u201d<\/p>\n
Finally able to look away from the man, Ferris let his stare drop to the tea before him.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s fine,\u201d Ferris replied, wondering if his voice was as dusty as it tasted. \u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n
From the edge of his vision, he could see fluorescent light winking off the surface of the kettle, daring him to look a little harder. He shut his eyes, gathering himself before continuing.<\/p>\n
\u201cAll right. Let\u2019s have a look at your records.\u201d<\/p>\n
By the time he left the bookshop, the rain had stopped.<\/p>\n
\u201cA bible,\u201d Ferris hissed into his phone, cupping it against his ear as he walked. \u201cThat asshole gave me a bible.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHa! What are you going to do with it?\u201d came Demos\u2019 voice from the line.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know, prop up a table? Do you want it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhich version is it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFuck if I know,\u201d Ferris muttered, glancing down at the linen-bound book in his hand. \u201cYou expect me to keep track of the million different ways to love Jesus?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSome sects are angrier than others,\u201d Demos mused, his voice tinny through the small speaker. \u201cAnyway, what are your cross streets?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m at 12th and Grand, why?\u201d he answered, momentarily examining his surroundings. The sky was getting dark and the street lights reflected gaudily off of the wet pavement.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh good, you\u2019re not that far,\u201d he said, then proceeded to provide a very specific street address. The location was only blocks from the Giorgetti compound. It was unusual for Demos to do business so close to home. Even so, Ferris didn\u2019t bother asking the reason \u2014 no matter what dubious nonsense his friend wanted to drag him into after a hard day of work, he would come, regardless.<\/p>\n
\u201cI just left a client,\u201d Ferris explained. \u201cI\u2019m not heavy.\u201d<\/p>\n
If Demos expected him to have a gun after a day of assets and liabilities, he would be sorely mistaken.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s fine, just come. Meet me on the 14th floor,\u201d Demos said. \u201cAnd hurry up, I\u2019m getting bored.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAll right, all right. Just paint your nails or something.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHurry up<\/i>.\u201d<\/p>\n
The building was not quite what Ferris had expected. Rather than a shady looking flat, he had found himself in front of an upscale condominium. Whoever they were dealing with was certainly not a two-bit crook. The facade was set in smooth red brick, the ground floor lined with floor-to-ceiling windows. The glass was so clear that he could easily make out the lobby\u2019s layout \u2014 wood paneling covered the walls and dim sconces cast shadows on the flooring below.<\/p>\n
Ferris pushed through the double doors, not making eye contact with the doorman. He had recently learned that the best way to sneak into a tended building was to imagine that he belonged there. This time, it worked. Perhaps his suit and tie, as well as his beeline for the elevator, had helped.<\/p>\n
Demos was, as promised, waiting on the 14th floor. He was standing beside one particular door, both hands folded patiently behind his back.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere you are,\u201d the Italian said, a smile slipping across his features. He didn\u2019t wait for a response, reaching for the steel doorknob and pushing it open.<\/p>\n
Once again, Ferris was surprised. There was no liquor, no cigarette smoke \u2014 not even a table for poker. In fact, there wasn\u2019t a single person or piece of furniture inside the apartment. It was empty, aside from one thing \u2014 a piano.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho are we meeting here?\u201d Ferris asked, his brow knotting as he surveyed the space.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo one,\u201d Demos said, gesturing at the open space. \u201cThis is your new apartment.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ferris stared.<\/p>\n
\u201c\u2026What?\u201d<\/p>\n
Demos glanced back over his shoulder. \u201cYou suck at apartment hunting, so I found this for you. It\u2019s near the compound, so you\u2019ll never be too far.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ferris continued to stare.<\/p>\n
The flat was nothing like the cramped studio apartments he had been viewing. The floor was set with slim oak, corresponding perfectly with the wood and steel in the kitchen. The outer walls were lined with exposed brick and tall windows. Along the back was a sliding door, its glass leading out to a covered terrace.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know you\u2019re fussy about how you set things up, so I thought I\u2019d leave the interior to you,\u201d Demos continued, momentarily breaking Ferris out of his stupor.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen\u2026 then why the piano?\u201d he blurted, unable to think of anything else to say.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo we can play together,\u201d Demos replied casually. \u201cThat\u2019s not optional.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDemos, I\u2026\u201d Ferris finally began. \u201cI can\u2019t accept\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, no you don\u2019t,\u201d he snapped, his eyes narrowing dangerously. \u201cI knew you\u2019d be too stupid and proud to take a free apartment, so you still have to pay rent. Granted, it\u2019s discounted\u2026 a lot. A whole lot. The landlord pays us protection so I got a good deal.\u201d<\/p>\n
Demos waved his hand as he spoke, looking as if he were talking about a new sweater rather than an entire apartment.<\/p>\n
Ferris took a breath through his nose, wordlessly running both hands over his hair.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell?\u201d Demos asked, biting his lower lip. \u201cDo you like it?\u201d<\/p>\n
After a moment, Ferris looked up, his expression softening as he conceded.<\/p>\n
\u201c\u2026It\u2019s perfect,\u201d he said. \u201cIt\u2019s absolutely perfect.\u201d<\/p>\n
Truly, it was. It was everything he\u2019d ever hoped for in a flat \u2014 hoped for, but never expected to have. It killed him how well Demos knew his tastes, from everything to the color scheme and materials, it was as if Ferris had chosen it himself.<\/p>\n
Feeling a tickle in his throat, Ferris covered his mouth with a hand. A snicker came forth, which soon blossomed into a full-fledged laugh. He was suddenly in stitches, laughing whole-heartedly beside his startled companion.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s so funny?\u201d Demos demanded, folding his arms across his chest.<\/p>\n
\u201cNothing. You\u2019re just\u2014\u201c Ferris started, trying to think of the proper word as he held in his laughter. \u201cYou\u2019re insane.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know,\u201d he replied with a shrug.<\/p>\n
Once he had wrested back control of his emotions, Ferris cleared his throat. He took one more look along the walls before returning his attention to Demos.<\/p>\n
\u201c\u2026Thank you,\u201d Ferris said, wishing that he was better at expressing himself \u2014 wishing that he could think of something more meaningful to say.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t mention it,\u201d Demos replied, regaining his smile. \u201cCome on, let\u2019s go get some coffee and look through furniture catalogues. I have some in the car.\u201d<\/p>\n
Despite his inadequate show of gratitude, Ferris knew \u2014 he knew that Demos understood perfectly.<\/p>\n
\u201cSounds great.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
\u201cI\u2019m home, Mom,\u201d Ferris called as he toed off his shoes in the entrance of his home \u2014 the house, more his mother\u2019s than his own, that he had spent his childhood in. It was a three-story brownstone on a tree-lined block, set snugly between the walls of its neighbors. The announcement was unnecessary; Ruth […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-231","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fishbones-book-02"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p4oWx8-3J","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/231","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=231"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/231\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":589,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/231\/revisions\/589"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=231"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=231"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=231"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}