{"id":815,"date":"2021-09-29T17:15:17","date_gmt":"2021-09-29T17:15:17","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/?p=815"},"modified":"2021-10-06T17:19:13","modified_gmt":"2021-10-06T17:19:13","slug":"fishbones-book-ii-chapter-41-over","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/2021\/09\/fishbones-book-ii-chapter-41-over\/","title":{"rendered":"Fishbones Book II \u2013 Chapter 41: Over"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

\"\"
Illustration by Eyugho<\/a><\/p>\n

There were times Ferris forgot he was employed. So much of his life was occupied with Demos, with his family. Yet those moments barely felt real as he sat in his office chair, his eyes straining over a spreadsheet with far too many tabs and columns. The workday was nearly over and most of his team had already departed.<\/p>\n

But it was never long until the Ghost wedged back into his consciousness.<\/p>\n

Ferris\u2019 phone rang only once before he snapped it open. Somehow, at the sound of Demos\u2019 voice, the spreadsheets faded into the background. A bad dream with bad formulas.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you want to come over tonight?\u201d Demos asked. Ferris could hear the click of a lighter. \u201cTo the compound.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ferris let out a short breath. \u201cI told Mom I\u2019d stop by the house to water the plants and shit. She\u2019s visiting aunt Deb again.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ruth had been visiting her sister more often as of late. Ferris found it a good thing, as the more company his mother had, the happier she seemed to be.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can come along if you want,\u201d Ferris said. \u201cBut it won\u2019t be very exciting.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was a pause on the line and Ferris could practically hear Demos raising his eyebrows. \u201cWe\u2019ll have the place to ourselves?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh come on,\u201d Ferris said with a scoff. \u201cIt\u2019s my mom\u2019s<\/i> house.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou used to live there, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUsed<\/i> to,\u201d Ferris muttered. \u201cSo, are you coming?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSounds thrilling. I\u2019m in.\u201d<\/p>\n

#<\/p>\n

His mother had a lot more plants than Ferris had remembered. He tested the soil of each and every one, gauging the dryness with his fingers and calculating the appropriate level of substrate moisture versus intensity of sunlight, pot material, and general humidity. Much to Demos\u2019 dismay.<\/p>\n

By the time Ferris had finished, Demos was halfway through a shower he had chosen to take, insisting it was preferable to watching him \u201cfuss over leaves or whatever.\u201d The sound of running water was still going strong, leaving Ferris on his own. He glanced down at the list his mother had left him, his eyes trailing down to the second item\u2014unchecked.<\/p>\n

Clear out your closet.<\/i><\/p>\n

He sighed, tacking the list back to the refrigerator and making his way upstairs. His mother had asked him repeatedly to remove some of the old things he had been storing in his room. Ferris\u2019 argument that she had an entire three-story brownstone to herself while he had only a two-bedroom apartment that he shared with another man had sadly made no difference.<\/p>\n

Soon he was seated on his old bedroom floor, flanked by stacks of boxes. Each one recounting a period of his youth, like layers of geological strata narrating the history of a slice of rock. He had devised four working piles: trash, donate, take home, and leave in the closet and hope mom doesn\u2019t notice.<\/p>\n

He dug through old schoolwork and music sheets, thumbing through a stack of photographs that had been secured with a rubber band. Just as he moved to set it aside, his thumb stopped on a single photo.<\/p>\n

There he was, a teenager in a suit and tie\u2014standing beside his father the evening after his high school graduation. Harold was beaming. Proud. It was one of the last photos they had taken together. The usual pain that invaded his chest at these times was absent. Perhaps his heart was showing mercy. Or maybe the joy of that moment overshadowed the hurt.<\/p>\n

If his father saw him now, like this, what would he think?<\/p>\n

Would he still be proud?<\/p>\n

One afternoon came back to him, a moment in the car. He could still see his father\u2019s face in his mind as he spoke\u2014smiling. A backdrop of mottled autumn leaves through the car windows. \u201cKiddo, really. It\u2019s okay if you\u2019re gay. I mean, as long as he’s Jewish.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

A quiet smile found Ferris\u2019 face as he ran his thumb over the corner of the matte photo.<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry, Dad,\u201d he whispered. \u201cHe\u2019s Catholic.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s in the box?\u201d came Demos\u2019 voice from the doorway. Ferris glanced up to see him re-dressed, running his fingers through his damp hair.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh\u2014\u201c Ferris set the photos aside, frowning at the box in question. \u201cLike, five menorahs I got as bar mitzvah presents. My aunts and uncles aren\u2019t\u2014uh, creative gifters.\u201d<\/p>\n

Demos slumped down beside him, crossing his legs over the wooden floor. \u201cAre you going to use all five?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess if I feel like burning the place down one day.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, warn me before you do that. I still have stuff to live for.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ferris looked over with a raised brow. \u201cStuff?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou<\/i>, you idiot,\u201d Demos said with a sigh. He reached down, lacing his fingers with Ferris\u2019. \u201cI want to live for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

For a moment Ferris didn\u2019t speak, simply watching his partner with a quiet smile. His hand tightened, his fingers curling around Demos\u2019 without any intention of letting go.<\/p>\n

Demos returned the smile. \u201cSomething on your mind?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah. I think I\u2014\u201c Ferris paused, averting his eyes toward the stack of old photos. \u201cI think I want to tell Mom. About us.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n

\u201cI need to tell somebody,\u201d Ferris said before he could protest. \u201cIt\u2019s killing me. I\u2019m\u2014\u201c He let out a soft breath, his eyes tightening as he struggled to find the right words. \u201cI\u2019m just\u2014really happy.\u201d<\/p>\n

Demos\u2019 eyes softened and Ferris could feel his fingers clench back.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t think she\u2019ll be upset?\u201d he said softly.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, she\u2019s always wanted grandkids,\u201d Ferris said with a shrug. \u201cBut I guess she\u2019ll just have to deal.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you want me to be there?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d Ferris cringed at the thought. \u201cNo<\/i>\u2014she\u2019s just going to drag you into the kitchen to shove every family recipe she\u2019s ever used into your arms and then trick you into planning some kind of extravagant wedding.\u201d<\/p>\n

A light laugh escaped Demos\u2019 lips. \u201cThat doesn\u2019t sound so bad.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019d\u2014\u201c Ferris froze in place. \u201cYou\u2019d want to?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, sure,\u201d Demos said, tucking some hair behind his ear. \u201cI know we couldn\u2019t. I know it\u2019s not an option. But it\u2019s nice to think about, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

A sudden heat found Ferris\u2019 face and he looked away, hoping it wasn\u2019t noticeable. \u201cUh\u2014yeah.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCan we stay here tonight?\u201d Demos asked. His head bumped gently onto Ferris\u2019 shoulder, leaning into him.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you don\u2019t mind both of us cramming onto this mattress.\u201d Ferris gestured behind them to the full size bed that was tucked against the wall. It was an awkward size for two\u2014not quite a twin and not quite a queen.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe used to, remember?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I was a little shorter,\u201d Ferris said. \u201cThough\u2014you\u2019re about the same size as when you were twelve.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFuck you,\u201d Demos said, elbowing him in the side. \u201cMh\u2014let\u2019s get drunk and watch a movie.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOn Manischewitz?\u201d Ferris said, his tone dry. \u201cBecause that\u2019s all Mom has.\u201d<\/p>\n

Demos waved a dismissive hand. \u201cUgh, fine. Let\u2019s just make out then.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, I see. Kissing me is your second choice? Your Plan B?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh my god,\u201d Demos muttered as he dragged Ferris in closer. \u201cShut up.\u201d<\/p>\n

Whatever Ferris was about to say was cut off by the kiss. He couldn\u2019t recall just how many times he had pictured it in that very room, nor how many times he had suppressed the thought. But he could never have imagined how right it seemed\u2014how perfect those fingers felt wrapped between his own.<\/p>\n

Ferris would never know exactly what his father would have thought of him now. But something told him he would give that smile he often did. The one that meant everything would be okay.<\/p>\n

Something told him he would have been proud.<\/p>\n

Continue reading<\/a> (Patreon\/18+ only)<\/p>\n

#<\/p>\n

This was the second, and hopefully the last time that Ferris had stepped foot in the Looking Glass. He and Demos had first visited in search of the ex-Chief Blakely, a venture that had proved fruitless in the end. But the venue was different now.<\/p>\n

Gone was the crowd, the dancers, the flashing lights and pounding bass. The Marianis had emptied the strip club for this meeting, leaving the entire floor eerily quiet. Dim. They had been ushered into a back room with a long table surrounded by executive chairs\u2014supposedly a board room. Still, Ferris found himself hesitant to touch literally any surface he came across.<\/p>\n

At the head of the table sat Bruno Mariani, a man Ferris hadn\u2019t seen since their meeting at the butcher shop. Last summer\u2014it felt like ages ago. A few things had changed. Namely, Demos was no longer a kid tagging along in his grandfather\u2019s shadow. He was a made man, and had earned his seat at this table.<\/p>\n

Bruno was accompanied by a half dozen of his men, one for each Giorgetti present. To an outsider, it might have looked like an even arrangement. But Ferris knew better.<\/p>\n

There was something awkward about the opening formalities. The offering of drinks, the passive aggressive remarks from the Marianis and the not-so-subtle arrogance from the opposite end of the table. But it didn\u2019t take long for Bruno to get to the point.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen Sandro never came home, you denied your involvement.\u201d Bruno tapped his cigarette against a glass ashtray, keeping his eyes on Gino. \u201cSo what lie do you have for us this time, Blue? Now that Aldo is gone, too?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI made the call,\u201d Victor said. Every eye in the room fell on the man as he spoke, his voice even\u2014measured. \u201cAldo took two of our own. Will was our doctor for decades, Bruno. One we made a significant investment in. And Salvatore was a made man. It wasn\u2019t something we could just let go.\u201d<\/p>\n

Bruno gave a low grunt, occupying his hands by taking a drag of his cigarette.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you had insisted on protecting DeSimone,\u201d Gino said. \u201cYou know what that would have meant. For both of us.\u201d<\/p>\n

A cloud of smoke obscured Bruno\u2019s face as he exhaled, a dour sigh followed by silence. Ferris could see the man\u2019s eyes flickering as he digested Gino\u2019s words. Such a thing would have led to a flat out war between the families\u2014much like the one the Marianis had barely survived only five years prior. And Ferris could tell, just from Bruno\u2019s expression, that the DeSimone brothers weren\u2019t worth a war.<\/p>\n

Finally, Bruno crushed out his dying cigarette with a snort. \u201cFine.\u201d He glanced up, his eyes meeting Gino\u2019s. \u201cThis is over.\u201d<\/p>\n

No further words were exchanged. No nods, no gestures. As bitter as Bruno seemed to be, it looked like he knew there was nothing else to be said.<\/p>\n

Bruno\u2019s men stood to escort the Giorgettis from the room, leaving the aging caporegime alone with his scotch glass and his ashtray.<\/p>\n

Only a minute passed before the doors were thrown open once again. Bruno didn\u2019t look up from his second cigarette, only flicking the lighter as the doors clacked shut.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat was it?\u201d Alonzo snapped, his hands balling into fists. \u201cYou just rolled over like a coward? I expected more from you, Bruno.\u201d<\/p>\n

Slowly, the man slid his lighter back into his suit pocket. \u201cBold of you to show your face with your brother so near.\u201d<\/p>\n

Alonzo only sneered. \u201cHe\u2019s no brother of mine.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you\u2019re in no position to be shitting on my decisions,\u201d Bruno said, leaning back in his chair.<\/p>\n

\u201cI came to you because I thought you were better.\u201d Alonzo\u2019s hands slapped flat onto the table as he leaned in, teeth grit and eyes burning. \u201cI thought you had the balls that Gino was missing. Looks like you\u2019re just as impotent as he is.\u201d<\/p>\n

Bruno observed the man before him, then flicked ash from his cigarette. \u201cYou haven\u2019t got shit on the Giorgettis now. What good are you supposed to be?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n

\u201cConsider yourself lucky. I\u2019m this<\/i> close to getting rid of you.\u201d Bruno\u2019s voice had darkened, a near rumble in the dim room. \u201cJust like he did.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI<\/i> got rid of him<\/i>!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFunny.\u201d A wry grin found Bruno\u2019s face. \u201cThat\u2019s not what I heard.\u201d<\/p>\n

For a moment Alonzo only breathed, each suck of air audible through his shuddering throat.<\/p>\n

\u201cI may not be useful to you\u2014\u201c The edge of Alonzo\u2019s lip curled, an upsetting smile behind slow, shaky words. \u201cBut you can still be useful to me.\u201d<\/p>\n

The gunshot was suppressed, but still pierced the air like a needle through cloth. Bruno\u2019s cigarette dropped, ash scattering over the table as the man\u2019s body slumped\u2014head rolling back against the seat. A blotch of red pooled on the white fabric of his shirt, spreading over the site where his heart sat.<\/p>\n

Alonzo slipped the handgun back into his jacket as he rounded the table. For a while he only watched the man die\u2014patchy, labored breaths through a shrinking throat. Bruno\u2019s eyes shook, glazing as he made his very last gasp, the very last beat of his heart, then stilled.<\/p>\n

The thin smile held fast on Alonzo\u2019s lips. He reached back into his jacket, this time pulling out a different item. This was no gun, no weapon. It was only a silk handkerchief, one of the purest, most impenetrable blue. It held no adornments, only two simple initials stitched tight into one corner. GG.<\/p>\n

The cloth draped over Bruno\u2019s face, obscuring his wide, unmoving eyes\u2014lips that were already losing color.<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry, Bruno.\u201d Alonzo turned, adjusting the cuff of his jacket. His smile widened, set deep\u2014a grim cut beneath the glint of his eyes. \u201cIt\u2019s not over yet.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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