Seamus still hadn\u2019t come home. Nearly a day had passed without a trace of him and Ferris had been left alone to chafe in the living room. He sat slumped on the sofa, still wearing the ruined dress shirt, still dabbing blood from his lip. His nose had refused to stop bleeding through the night. He was fairly certain the sun had risen, but was too weary to open the windows.<\/p>\n
Ferris tossed the red-stained tissue toward the wastebasket, missing by a mile.<\/p>\n
\u201cFuck.\u201d He dragged a hand down his face. Last night had started so well. How could it have ended like this?<\/p>\n
His phone buzzed on the coffee table, the screen glowing with a single text message.<\/p>\n
Seamus Aston – 1:33am: ran into some old m8s in town be home tomoro prbly ill miss u<\/i><\/p>\n
Well, at least Seamus had had a nice evening. Where Ferris normally would have been glad to have him out of the house, it had been oddly quiet without him. It was probably for the best \u2014 Ferris didn\u2019t want anyone to see him in such a frightfully pathetic state.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Just as he moved to set the phone down, it hummed once more, the ringtone loud enough to startle him into a higher state of consciousness. He blinked hard, staring at the name on the screen. It was Alex.<\/p>\n
He tapped to answer, his throat dry as he spoke. \u201cHello?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHi, Ferris.\u201d It really was her. Her tone, however, was unusually curt. In the background he could hear the faint hum of voices and flatware. She must have been out somewhere.<\/p>\n
\u201cAlex.\u201d He sat upright, attempting to shake the grogginess from his voice. \u201cI\u2014 I didn\u2019t think you\u2019d want to talk to me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t,\u201d she said, then paused. \u201cI\u2019m mad. But as mad as I am, I want to give you a chance to explain yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ferris opened his mouth, then held it. This was it, wasn\u2019t it? This was where he was supposed to tell the truth. This was the moment he\u2019d be honest with her, explaining that he truly had known Aldo, that he\u2019d thrown him onto a table in the back of a butcher shop \u2014 that the man blamed him and Demos for the death of his brother.<\/p>\n
That Ferris had helped bury the body somewhere upstate.<\/p>\n
Ferris closed his mouth, then swallowed. He couldn\u2019t tell her, not the truth \u2014 not that<\/i> truth. Alex was a good person, a normal person. She would never look at him the same way, if ever again. Their relationship would end faster than she could hit \u2018end\u2019 on the call.<\/p>\n
\u201cI took a self defense class a few years ago.\u201d The words tasted sour on his tongue. \u201cWhen he pulled that knife on you, I just \u2014 I went crazy, I guess. I didn\u2019t mean to scare you.\u201d<\/p>\n
The line fell silent for a weighted moment. \u201cSelf defense class?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ferris\u2019 fingers dug into the back of his skull. \u201cYeah, I got picked on in high school. I thought I should learn.\u201d<\/p>\n
His lie was poor at best. Demos would have been able to think of a better one.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat wasn\u2019t you on the ground.\u201d Alex\u2019s voice was soft and low, a lingering fog across the line. \u201cThat was someone else \u2014 someone I didn\u2019t like.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d Ferris stared at the wood floor, his eyes tracing over the thin grain. \u201cThat was me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNothing. Look, I\u2019m sorry. I guess I got carried away.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s one way of putting it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ferris forced a laugh.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd who\u2014 or what, is Fishbones?\u201d Alex said.<\/p>\n
\u201cI really don\u2019t know. He said all kinds of weird stuff. Maybe he was drunk.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou swear you\u2019ve never met him before?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI swear.\u201d Each syllable stung, two shots in his hollow chest. The skin over his palms prickled \u2014 hot, as if he\u2019d grabbed a handful of white desert sand. As tempting as it was to ask \u201cSo, did you buy my lie?,\u201d<\/i> Ferris had to salvage the conversation.<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t mean to ruin your night,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
She sighed, her breath fuzzy through the receiver. \u201cActually, you\u2014 well, it was one of the best nights I\u2019ve ever had. I\u2019m sorry I stormed off.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t have to\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cJust let me be sorry, okay?\u201d<\/p>\n
He smiled, closing his eyes. \u201cOf course. So we\u2019re cool, right?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m<\/i> cool. I don\u2019t know what you<\/i> are.\u201d It seemed she was back to her usual self.<\/p>\n
Ferris shifted on the sofa, gathering whatever courage he had in the pit of his stomach. \u201cDid you\u2014 did you still want to spend your birthday with me? Tomorrow?\u201d<\/p>\n
She didn\u2019t answer immediately, leaving only the sound of pouring coffee and muffled conversation. \u201cActually, I was thinking tonight. I\u2019m at the diner near your place.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNow?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah. Is that invitation still open?\u201d<\/p>\n
His eyes drifted up, bleary as he scanned the room. Bloody tissues littered the floor and it seemed he had consumed a drink or two the previous night. He had neglected showering, his hands still covered in scuffs, stale clothing clinging to his frame. His vision finally focused, falling on a framed photo on the bureau \u2014 it was of him and Demos from a day trip to Rawson Beach. Another one caught his eye from the refrigerator, a shot of the same pasty Italian tacked on with a magnet.<\/p>\n
The Ghost had left traces of himself all over the apartment \u2014 pictures, hair products, abandoned issues of Vogue Italia. Knives.<\/p>\n
Ferris swallowed. \u201cYeah. Yeah, of course. Yes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay.\u201d He swore he could hear her smile. \u201cBe there in a few.\u201d<\/p>\n
The moment the call ended, Ferris sprung from the sofa. He staggered, fumbling to unbutton the red-stained shirt and nearly tripping on a bottle that had been discarded on the floor. The diner was only a few blocks away, giving him a grand total of ten minutes before Alex rolled in to the national disaster his apartment had become. It was probably for the best she hadn\u2019t come last night; he\u2019d been too preoccupied with the gala to think of un-Demosing his flat.<\/p>\n
Trash was thrown into appropriate bins and photos were stuffed into the bottom of a drawer. His shower was three minutes long, just enough to rinse the blood and sweat from his skin.\u00a0 <\/span>A fresh shirt was buttoned up, crooked, then buttoned once more. This had to go well. She was giving him a chance, one that might not come again.<\/p>\n He eyed his watch for the fifth time; she would be at his door within seconds. There was one last thing he had to hide. Ferris turned the dinosaur tooth over in his hands, ensuring the silver wrapping was perfectly creased and taped. If anything could distract her from the fact that he\u2019d pummeled a guy into turkey stuffing on the street, it was this \u2014 her birthday gift. Just as he slipped it into his pocket, there was a sound at the door. Knocking.<\/p>\n Ferris took in a hard breath, held it, then opened the door.<\/p>\n \u201cAlex.\u201d He exhaled. \u201cHi.\u201d<\/p>\n Her smile faltered at the sight of him. \u201cAre you out of breath?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat? No. I mean, maybe. Just\u2014 just chasing the dog. I had to chase him out of the, uh, the kitchen.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh yeah, Stanley.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d Ferris managed a tight laugh. \u201cStan.\u201d<\/p>\n They stood in the doorway for a moment before Alex lifted her brow.<\/p>\n \u201cYou do have an apartment in there, right?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAn apart\u2014 oh, yes. Right. Of course.\u201d<\/p>\n He held the door open, allowing her to step inside. She couldn\u2019t smell the alcohol, could she? He\u2019d only had a couple. Maybe she\u2019d notice the scent of bloody tissues, or that unwashed shirt \u2014 or self-pity. Did self-pity have a smell?<\/p>\n Ferris rubbed the back of his neck. \u201cI\u2019m sorry if\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n Her hands were on his collar before he could finish his sentence, dragging him down into a kiss. All thoughts of lies, miscellaneous smells, and his wretched apartment vanished as he closed his eyes. His hands found her waist, then her back, fingers curling in the soft fabric of her blouse. Just as he began to tilt his head, she paused.<\/p>\n He blinked. \u201cWhat\u2019s\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n \u201cYou have a piano.\u201d Alex was staring over his shoulder.<\/p>\n \u201cI do.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou play violin and<\/i> piano?\u201d<\/p>\n He glanced back at the instrument in question, wishing it had been small enough to hide. \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen why do you\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n \u201cIt came with the apartment.\u201d<\/p>\n Alex peered at him, then back at the gleaming black monstrosity. \u201cI don\u2019t think that\u2019s\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n \u201cOh, I promised I\u2019d play for you, didn\u2019t I? Violin.\u201d<\/p>\n His distraction worked magnificently. All thoughts of the piano seemed to vanish from her mind. Her expression brightened, eyes fastened to his own.<\/p>\n \u201cYes. Yes, you definitely did.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAll right,\u201d he said, leading her toward the bedroom with both hands. \u201cI\u2019ll play. Then we can make out some more.\u201d<\/p>\n Alex scoffed. \u201cOnly if you play well. If you suck it\u2019ll ruin the mood.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat if I\u2019m mediocre? Or just so-so.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI guess we could make out. But I won\u2019t be into it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFair enough.\u201d<\/p>\n The bedroom door closed with a click. It seemed he had successfully drawn her attention away from the living room, from the accursed piano, and that their plans were finally coming together. They were alone.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, there\u2019s Stanley! Aw, were you sleeping on the bed, buddy? Did we wake you up?\u201d<\/p>\n Ferris sighed. \u201cGreat.\u201d<\/p>\n #<\/p>\n The bed was warm. Ferris came to slowly, images from his dreams ebbing, mingling with the waking world. Visions of planets, pavement, all red \u2014 vivid, then gone. The room was still dark, with only a faint electronic glow in the corner of his eye. His arm shifted, tingling, still asleep as he felt over the covers. There was no one beside him.<\/p>\n It was only when he pushed himself onto his elbows that he noticed Alex. All he could see was her back, a silhouette sitting on the edge of the bed. A glare illuminated her edges \u2014 the phone screen. She was holding a phone.<\/p>\n His phone.<\/p>\n \u201cAlex.\u201d<\/p>\n She didn\u2019t respond to his voice. Her figure remained hunched, perfectly still as she stared at the device in her hand. Ferris couldn\u2019t bring himself to move either, trying to ignore the sickness that had crept up through his bones. Something wasn\u2019t right.<\/p>\n The bed was no longer warm.<\/p>\n \u201cSo.\u201d She was whispering. \u201cYou don\u2019t know who Fishbones is?\u201d<\/p>\n She tossed the phone to the rumpled sheets, its glow blinding him in the black room. Ferris\u2019 eyes stung, slowly adjusting to the light. He clutched the cell phone. There were texts on the screen \u2014 five of them.<\/p>\n Demos Giorgetti – 1:14am: you okay?<\/i><\/p>\n Demos Giorgetti – 1:53am: fish come on<\/i><\/p>\n Demos Giorgetti – 1:53am: god i find out you beat the shit out of aldo and then you dont text me all day<\/i><\/p>\n Demos Giorgetti – 3:01am: CALL ME<\/i><\/p>\n Demos Giorgetti – 5:48am: WAKE UP<\/i><\/p>\n The words burned into his vision. He forgot to take in his next breath, frozen in place as he stared at the plain, damning lines in his own hand. No \u2014 not now, not like this.<\/p>\n \u201cYou swear?\u201d She was speaking again \u2014 another question she knew the answer to. She had always known.<\/p>\n There was nothing he could say, not even her name. He lay mute, mouth dry, unable to think of a single word he could respond with. He couldn\u2019t distract her this time. He couldn\u2019t lie.<\/p>\n She spoke again, her expression hidden in the darkness of the room. \u201cYou really do think I\u2019m stupid.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d He stared down at the sheets, a child caught redhanded.<\/p>\n \u201cI gave you so many chances, Ferris. More than\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n \u201cMore than I deserved.\u201d<\/p>\n Her voice hadn\u2019t risen. She remained just above a whisper, simmering. Somehow, Ferris would have preferred yelling. Yelling would be easy to read \u2014 it would suit what he had done. This, this soft tone, was more than he could bear. Why was she still sitting there? Why hadn\u2019t she left?<\/p>\n \u201cI want to know,\u201d she said, \u201chow close you are.\u201d<\/p>\n He glanced back up. \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou and him.\u201d Alex gestured to the phone.<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019re best friends. We\u2019ve\u2014 we\u2019ve known each other since we were kids.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWere you ever more than friends?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat? No.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHave you ever wanted to be?\u201d<\/p>\n Ferris swallowed. His throat was swollen, raw. The chill in the air was overwhelming, drawing a wave of goosebumps up his arms. \u201cWhy are you asking me this?\u201d<\/p>\n She looked away, toward the window. The sun was starting to rise. Hints of light leaked in through the window blinds, faint bars of gold and black.<\/p>\n \u201cI saw his photo in the newspaper,\u201d Alex said. \u201cYou were never very good at lying, but I believed you. I believed you because I wanted to, because I liked you. With you I\u2014 I was happy, and I didn\u2019t want to lose that. So I lied to myself, the same way you lied to me.\u201d<\/p>\n Ferris closed his eyes, swallowing the apology in his throat. Sorry<\/i> had no meaning here.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd the same way you\u2019re lying to yourself,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n He blinked. \u201cTo myself?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ll figure it out. But right now, this can go two ways.\u201d She set the phone on the nightstand, out of view. \u201cI can leave, or I can finally hear the truth.\u201d<\/p>\n Ferris watched her face, the wary crease in her eyes and slight part of her mouth as she breathed. The truth \u2014 it was buried in him, an old wooden chest filled to the brim with faded pictures and nightmares, blood-stained, rotting. It was wrapped in chains, coiled with a thousand rusted locks. Its weight made him sick, made every step heavy and his breath weak. Still, he kept it down, right there beneath his bones. He didn\u2019t want to bring it forth, to acknowledge it, but\u2014<\/p>\n Even more, he didn\u2019t want her to leave.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s up to you,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n \u201cAll right.\u201d He opened his eyes, letting them adjust to the dim light. \u201cI\u2019ll tell you.\u201d<\/p>\n The bed shifted, and for a moment he feared she would go. When he glanced up, he realized she had only straightened herself, her eyes set straight on his own.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s your relationship with the Giorgettis?\u201d<\/p>\n Ferris pushed himself up, the sheets draping from his sides. \u201cI am<\/i> involved with them \u2014 with their business.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat kind of business do\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n \u201cYou know I can\u2019t say.\u201d<\/p>\n Luckily, she let the question go. They both knew the answer, whether they liked it or not.<\/p>\n \u201cJust how involved are you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMore than you\u2019d like.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHave you\u2014\u201c She paused, twisting one hand in the other. \u201cHave you ever killed someone?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d For the first time that morning, there was a lightness in his chest. No.<\/i> It was the truth; he had never killed someone. It was only thanks to Demos he could say so. Alex seemed relieved as well, the tense lock in her fingers relaxing.<\/p>\n \u201cThis isn\u2019t you, Ferris. There\u2019s a lot I don\u2019t know about you, but\u2014 but I know you\u2019re a good person. You got caught up in all of this, somehow, but it isn\u2019t where you belong.\u201d<\/p>\n Her hand found his arm, warm against his skin. She held him, fingers squeezing, showing just how much she believed her own words to be true. It was painful, the way she looked at him \u2014 with hope, with faith. She couldn\u2019t possibly know how wrong she was, how he\u2019d never felt more satisfied, more at home than when he was at Demos\u2019 side.<\/p>\n \u201cNo, Alex.\u201d Ferris shook his head. \u201cIt is me. And it is where I belong.\u201d<\/p>\n His answer seemed to cut her, yet Alex hand held even tighter.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s not too late to end this. You can leave.\u201d<\/p>\n Leave. The word brought a tide of images, of that morning on the train, the years that followed \u2014 the hole in his chest, the perpetual, constant state of emptiness, of hunger. He remembered when spring came, that warm, wet spring. How he\u2019d run to the church, how his entire body had felt as if it were on fire when Demos was finally in his arms \u2014 how he\u2019d said his name, Fishbones<\/i>.<\/p>\n \u201cI tried that once.\u201d Ferris struggled to keep his voice steady. \u201cI can\u2019t ever do it again.\u201d<\/p>\n The room was quiet for a while. They both knew what was coming and held to the silence, keeping it for as long as they could. Finally, she spoke.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, I can.\u201d Her fingers lowered, linking with his. \u201cI like you so much. I almost loved you, but\u2014 but I can\u2019t. I can\u2019t do this.\u201d<\/p>\n The rims of her eyes were wet, reddened as she held his hand.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry, Ferris.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAlex, I\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n A bulk of words had caught in his throat. He struggled to keep it in, the begging, the pleading. It would be so easy to fight this, to say anything he could to keep her there. I need you. I don\u2019t want you to go. Please don\u2019t go. <\/i>Ferris\u2019 teeth clenched. There was a difference, there always had been \u2014 a difference between what he wanted to say and what he should.<\/p>\n For once, he would say the right thing.<\/p>\n \u201cI understand.\u201d<\/p>\n He didn\u2019t watch what happened next, only feeling her hand slip from his. She kissed the corner of his mouth. Her weight left the bed and then, seconds later, he heard the door click. He could no longer hear her breathe, nor could he feel the warmth of her body. There wasn\u2019t a sound in the room, only the indifferent hum of the air conditioner. He was alone.<\/p>\n It took a while for him to place his feet on the floor. His legs felt heavier, lagging as he made his way across the bedroom. It was only a sharp poke at the bottom of his heel that gave him pause \u2014 it was his jeans, the ones he had worn yesterday. Ferris crouched, fishing a small, wrapped box from the rumpled pocket. The silver wrapping had been scuffed by his foot, the tape peeling from the fold.<\/p>\n He slumped to the floor, his back dipping against the unmade bed. Ferris cradled his forehead in his hand, staring at the box with weary eyes.<\/p>\n It was her birthday, wasn\u2019t it?<\/p>\n \u201cShit.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Seamus still hadn\u2019t come home. Nearly a day had passed without a trace of him and Ferris had been left alone to chafe in the living room. He sat slumped on the sofa, still wearing the ruined dress shirt, still dabbing blood from his lip. His nose had refused to stop bleeding through the night. 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