Secrets and Lies 5 (The Ferro Family)

T
his book is
a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2016 by H.M. Ward

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form.

LAREE BAILEY PRESS

First Edition: JUNE 2016

N
ate stops talking
. It’s like he’s overloaded and ready to blow. “I’m sorry, Kerry," he says, already heading out of the house. "I need some air.” He grabs a sweatshirt and tugs it over his head as he exits, slamming the front door behind him before I can reply.

Which leaves me standing in his home, alone. What kind of fucktard would swoop in and steal his house? Right after his father dies? I frown and consider doing something bad. Well, it’d be good for Nate, but a horrible invasion of his privacy. Since he’s walked out on me twice now, I’m in a bit of a pissy mood myself. So what the hell, right?

I wander into the kitchen where he had those papers. I know exactly what I’m going to do, assuming I can find them. The kitchen is just as we left it, with my little Victoria’s Secret bag still under the table. The streetlamp switches on outside the window, its light spilling over the floor and painting the grayish tiles a pukey puce.

Where did he put them? I walk by the counters, dragging my fingers along the tiled top. Nate isn’t a pack rat. There’s hardly anything out of place. No pile of papers, no car keys. There's no sign of the satchel I’ve seen him carry into work. It’s just lots of white tiles, a Keurig, and a microwave. Nate’s neat. That’s interesting. His paintings don’t seem to be created by someone who owns a label maker. I step into the hallway and study a canvas. Nate's art is wild, capturing a longing for freedom that inspires me to run down the street barefoot, arms spread wide, feeling the sun on my face, laughing while the wind tugs my hair. It’s a compelling piece. It evokes the same feelings that swirl inside my chest late at night when I’m lying in bed alone—a longing to be free, to let life take me wherever it wants.

That’s the catch 22. I did that. I spread my arms wide and, smiling like a dope, I leaned back, trusting life to find me and whisk me away to a cooler existence. Instead, I got dropped on my ass. Hard. Life’s a bitch. I’m starting to think that if you want something to go a certain way, well then, you better be ready to do whatever it takes to get what you want. Blowing around with the breeze left me naked and alone. It’s not a good place to be. It’s not the adventure I expected when I left home.

Things with Nate have been intense. From square one, the guy called me to him like a siren. I have a feeling—no, I'm damned certain—that hanging around Nate will burn me up. He’s too distant, too closed off. Not to mention he’s the forbidden, high-hanging fruit only crazy girls would jump for. Am I that girl? I don’t know anymore.

Once I’d thought I was a sweet girl—the girl next door—the one you could rely on. I was prudent and even-tempered. I was quick to smile and quick to forgive. I didn’t want to fight. Arguments were unpredictable. They could skitter out of control for weeks on end, minor battles becoming full-fledged, friendship decimating wars. Maybe I was a coward. I don’t know. I didn’t believe I had to fight so hard every day to have a life that didn’t suck. Apparently, blowing with the breeze is for pussies. I’m done letting the pieces fall where they may. I’m getting a bigass machete and whacking the pieces I want. If they don’t hit the mark, I’ll kick them into place.

It’s a little unnerving. I've changed over the past few weeks. My mind was a bag of cats, chaos and kitty litter flying all over the place. Now it’s sharp, focused, and pissed. I want to win every battle and crush every uprising. There is no war. Not anymore.

I suck in a deep breath and march my newly found backbone into Nate’s bedroom. This is his fault. He left a crazy chick in his house. Alone. What did he think I would do? Go home? Psh. I laugh to myself.

“Yeah, right.”

The old me would have moped away feeling rejected.

The new me won't take this shit and sure as hell won't watch Nate get sucker-punched by life again. Kerry is going to fix it. Wahoo! I’m talking about myself in the third person. I’m either insanely confident or about to do something really dumb. Maybe I'll do both.

I open his top dresser drawer and, stuffed on the side against the wood, is the letter. I pull the envelope from its hiding spot and draw the paper out, scanning it for the information I hoped would be printed there.

A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. I smack the letter against my palm and say to myself, “Bingo. Kerry’s got this.”

A
fter using
my phone to take a photo of the address and phone number, I grab my extravagant mall purchase and make a plan. I can’t meet with anyone important wearing sweats, but my other clothing option is even less appropriate than gym clothes. I have half a mind to wear the lingerie anyway—I really don’t want to return the thing—but I need clothes. Real ones.

Cash in hand, I'm heading through the mall toward an actual clothing store when I see Carter standing in the doorway of Best Buy. I saunter over with a grin on my face and say, “Hey. What are you doing?”

Carter startles and then looks over at me. “Trying to pick one of these fitness trackers. How about you?” He’s got a Fitbit in his hand, turning it over to look at the back and examine the band.

“Shopping," I motion to my outfit. "A girl needs more than sweats.”

Carter nods absentmindedly and tips the thing forward, causing the watch face to light up. “Clock.”

“Hey, that’s cool. I need to get one of those. I miss having a watch. I know I have a phone, but it’s not the same thing. I thought about getting a $5 Scooby Doo watch until I could afford one I want, but didn’t want to waste money, you know?”

He nods slowly, his eyes still glued to the Fitbit’s big glass face. “Yeah, I totally understand.”

“Well, I need to run. I have a few more stores to hit. I’ll see you later.”

Carter places his hand on my wrist as I turn away, stopping me. “Meet me in the food court in an hour.”

Cryptic much? Smiling, I shake my head. “Why? What’s in an hour?”

“Nothing. Just meet me there. I’ll buy you lunch—you can’t say no! We just made up, and this is an extension of my friendship.” Carter pushes his dark hair out of his eyes and bumps me with his shoulder. “Come on, Kerry. You need to eat. So do I. Stop in the food court.”

“All right. Thank you.” This feels like a handout, and I’m not a fan. At the same time, I’m starving. I’m kind of thirsty, too. “See you then.”

A
fter rummaging
through clearance racks at three different stores and an embarrassing incident involving my ass and a pair of skinny jeans, my new wardrobe is complete. The bags hanging from my arm contain garments appropriate for both class or a club, but the big-ticket most expensive outfit is the black suit jacket and matching tulip skirt. I even found stockings to wear with it. I hate stockings. They itch, roll in all the wrong places, and pick up runs way too fast. But for my plan they're a necessary evil.

With my shopping complete, I head to the food court. Carter is sitting at a table in the center of a throng of people. Behind me, a whistle blasts a warning pitch. A little train carrying squealing children passes by the outer edge of the seating area, its few adult passengers seeming like they’d rather be anywhere else. The perky music fades as the train disappears around the corner.

“Hey.” I plop my bags down on the table and grin at him. “Long time no see. Did you pick a Fitbit?”

He nods. “I did.”

“Awesome. Which one did you get?”

Carter pulls up the bag and takes out the box, pushing it across the table toward me. It’s the one with the honking big watch face that lights up when you tip it. Carter stands and starts telling me all the things it can do while we get in line to buy our food. I pick Nathan’s because it’s cheap. Two hot dogs, drinks, and fries for under $10 is a good deal.

When we sit down again, I put the Fitbit on the table in front of him. “It’s cool.”

“You like it?”

I slather my fries with ketchup and stuff two in my face. “Yeah. It’s practical and nice looking. Good combo.”

He puts mustard on his dog and takes a bite before saying, “Good, it’s yours.”

I choke and blink at him. “What?”

“I got it for you. You said you needed a watch, and I thought you’d like this one. I acted like an ass, and you were still really patient with me. For a dumb guy gift, it’s not bad, right?”

“No, it’s not bad.” Awh, shit. I try to avoid accepting the gift, but the way he said that makes it difficult to do without making it personal. “Carter, this is really nice, but it’s too much.”

“Kerry, we’re friends, and I wanted to do this for you. I’m not taking it back.” He doesn’t look at me, keeping those dark eyes trained on his plate.

I grumble in my head, not stupid enough to grumble out loud. I can’t say no. I know that, but it’s still a huge present. It cost more than my entire wardrobe—the entirety of which, minus a few sweat suits, is contained in the bag at my feet. Ugh. I manage a grateful smile and catch his eye. “This is really nice of you, Carter. I love it. Thanks.”

He lights up and starts telling me more about all the different things it does. Over the course of the meal, I have the new Fitbit strapped to my wrist and the app added to my phone. I pretend I’m excited, that things won’t be weird between us after this, but I know that the tip of the crazy iceberg has a Fitbit on top.

W
hen I get back
to campus, I run up the stairs to my dorm room to grab my keys. When I yank the door open, I freeze. I didn’t think Mom and Matt would hang around and wait for me. Why are they still here?

My mother is sitting on my bed watching TV with my ex-boyfriend cuddled in her lap. The whole situation has a weird Oedipus vibe about it. She sits up, straightening her blouse and pushing Matt away. “Kerry.”

Blink stupid! Move your feet. Grab your shit, and get the hell out. “Hey. I’m not staying here, and neither are you guys. When I come back, I want you both gone.”

“Kerry Anne Hill!” Mom stands and attempts to use that tone that made me pee my pants when I was five. She steps toward me. “You will sit down and speak to us respectfully.”

I snort. “That’s not going to happen. You’re trespassing. Get out.” I walk over to my closet and pull open the door. There’s a tall dresser inside on the left. I tug open the top drawer and fish out my keys. Palming them, I turn on my heel to leave.

Mom steps in front of me preventing me from running away again. “I’m not trespassing. I paid for this room, as I paid for your tuition. If you don’t behave like a civilized adult, I won’t pay another cent.” Her lip forms a thin line as she stares me down. It’s not like her to make a stand—not one as ballsy as this.

“Really?" I lift a brow at her. "You stole my boyfriend, and, because I’m not okay with it, you’re going to steal my education too? Great. Is there anything else you feel like stealing from me?”

“Kerry, you sound like a spoiled brat.”

“I’m what you made me.”

“Kerry—” Matt stands and tries to jump in, but as soon as my eyes meet his, he can sense the verbal castration dancing on the tip of my tongue and backs off, hands up, palms toward me.

Mom huffs, “You don’t know what it’s like to—”

“To what, Mom? To be betrayed by someone you loved your entire life? To have her stab you in the back as soon as you’re out of sight? To know your boyfriend was in on it? To find out he never loved you at all? What don’t I know? Tell me! Dear God, please explain to me how this is anything but a betrayal. I want to know. If I could fathom it, I could forgive you, but for the life of me I can’t understand. And it’s overwhelming to lose my boyfriend and my mother all at once, so unless you have some earth-shattering news I'm not yet aware of, get the hell out and never come back.”

My face scrunches up as my anger bleeds into pain. Tears prickle my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. She’ll never see me weak again. I shoulder my way past her and slam the door behind me. It takes every ounce of strength I have within me not to stop. My heart tears from my chest, stealing my breath. My stomach churns like I ate nails, each one piercing me from within. I knew I’d lose her eventually, but I thought it would be by death’s cold hand. I never expected her to walk away from me willingly. But she did. And that’s where I am. She’s dead to me. Gone. By her choice.

I
don't remember getting
on the bus or driving out of the dorm parking lot. As if waking from a dream, I wake up with the steering wheel clutched in my hands and the bus hauling ass down the street. The traffic light turns red, and I’m so spaced I nearly miss it. At the last second, I slam on the brake and feel the back end try to skid around. The raccoon comes flying up the aisle, cursing me out with that rabid chittering he does. His back slams into the panel blocking off the stairwell, his little hind feet drooping down over his head. I manage to regain control, and we stop just before the intersection. Eyes wide, I glance down at the little beast, nearly in tears.

When his ass flops to the side, and he falls over, I start laughing. The raccoon rights himself and hisses at me on his way back to his seat.

“You little bastard! You should thank me. You were almost road kill.” When I glance up, there’s a cop standing at the door of my bus. “Awh, shit!”

I pull the lever and open the door. He has an incredulous look on his face as he peers into the stairwell. “Ma'am, do you know why I pulled you over?”

Uhhh. Say what now? I nod like I noticed and pulled over on purpose. Then I glance around for his car and flashing lights. How’d I miss that? I should be able to see a big fat cop car, but I don’t.

“I’m not sure,” I say.

“You nearly blew that red light.”

“But I didn’t.”

He’s not amused. His young face has a spattering of freckles across his nose like he’s been in the sun all day. “I’ll need to see your license and registration.”

I stare at him. Something’s wrong here. “Where’s your car?”

The cop straightens and climbs into the bus. “I asked for your license, ma'am. Now.”

I study his uniform. Something seems out of place. The light flips green, and the cars behind me honk before going around. Why would they honk at a cop? I look at him again. His uniform is off. Something is missing, but I can’t figure out what. It’s dark blue with the city seal on his arm, name across his breast, buttons, pleats, and radio. Beating stick on his side, and the cop cap. I’m still staring, wondering what’s off when a familiar voice calls from the left lane.

“Hey, Kerry! Let’s race for pinks!” Josh shouts at me, revving his engine loudly.

I glare at him like he’s nut. “I’m kinda busy here.”

The top on his convertible is down. He pushes up on the seat to see past me, and then makes a face. “What, are you giving rides now?”

“No! It’s a cop, so cut it out.” I turn and look at the officer.

“Ma'am,” he says with a scolding tone, still holding out his hand for my license.

After the light changes, Josh peels out and pulls over on the shoulder in front of my bus. He gets out of his car, and I nearly have a stroke. The cop is going to shoot him in the face. This is bad. Walking up behind a cop is bad. I glance at the officer again and suddenly realize why he looks different. He has no gun. My eyes flick up to his face.

“What are you?”

“Kerry,” Josh chides, standing in the bottom of the stairwell, leaning on both railings, “that’s a really rude question.”

The man startles and turns, his expression souring. “Josh Gallub, move along.”

“Or what? You’ll throw your keys at me? Kerry, I'd like to introduce you to Kevin Rickets, with the campus police. You’re not currently on campus, so you don’t have to stay here. Actually, Officer Rickets should walk away now.”

Kevin scowls at Josh. “Mr. Gallub, you’re out of line.”

Josh snorts, climbing the stairs to get in his face. “No, Kevin, you are. In fact, I have no idea how you pulled her over in the first place. You can’t do a damn thing over here, and you know it. Get lost.”

The cop—I mean campus cop—seems to be well acquainted with Josh. “Have some respect, Mr. Gallub. I can make your life hell.” The guy swaps spots with Josh and steps off the bus. He turns on the sidewalk and points up at me. “Both of you.”

“What, are you going to ticket me to death?”

“I can ticket her, too!” He points at me, seeming too pissed off.

“Josh, I can’t afford tickets and points on my license.”

He laughs. “It’s not a real ticket. He’s not a real cop. The worst he can do is charge you $35 and throw his keys at you.”

“Really?” I blink, stunned by this turn of events. “Then why’d he pull me over?”

“Why’d you stop?” Josh has an incredulous smile on his face.

“I didn’t.” I search the sidewalk for Kevin and frown watching him walk back to a bike at the back corner of the bus. I didn’t see it before. “You’re on a bike?”

Josh tries not to laugh while speaking from lips that really want to twist into a full-wattage smile. “You got tricked, Kerry. He was probably asking for your license so he could stalk you.”

“I don’t do that!” Kevin yells from the back of the bus as he mounts his bicycle. He pulls away, jabbing his finger at Josh while spewing threats.

I blink, stunned, and when I look up to meet Josh's eyes, all the emotion I've been holding back—all the hurt, betrayal, and rejection—surfaces in a flash flood. My lower lip begins to wobble, and my eyes fill with tears.

Josh's smug smile drops to the floor. His hands fly up as he tries to back down the stairs before I start bawling. “No way. I just happened to be here. Don’t thank me!” He’s at the bottom of the stairwell, about to walk away when I start sobbing. And it’s the worst kind. I sound like I’m being choked, and the word 'bub' repeats over and over as I try to stop the sobs.

“Don’t call me, Bub, babe.” Josh sucks in a deep breath and climbs back up the stairs.

Twin rivers of tears stain my face even though I keep wiping them away. I can’t stop the convulsive wails escaping my chest. I feel like I've been wrenched in two. I rest my head on the steering wheel and hide my face.

Josh puts a hand on my shoulder. “I’m going to regret this, but move over. I’m driving.”

I manage to slide my sobbing body into a seat near the front. The raccoon is still pissed at me for body slamming his ass into the dashboard and lets me know it by snarling at me around the corner of his seat. It makes me cry more. My brain automatically takes the critter’s hissy fit as rejection. Even animals hate me. I’m the anti-Snow White. I start sobbing again.

Josh jerks the bus into motion and maneuvers it down a side street, where he parks, cuts the engine and walks back to me. Standing in the aisle, he looks down at me. “So, how was your day?”

I don’t respond. I have my face in my hands, and my head is forward, hidden. Shame looks bad on me. I feel sick inside.

Josh slides into the seat next to me and throws his arm around my shoulder. “Kerry, there are two rules in life. The first is no one can tear you down without your permission. The second is the most important.” When he doesn’t offer it right away, I turn to peek at him through my hair.

“What’s the other?”

“When you get kicked in the balls, you gotta kick back. You’re no one's bitch, and you never will be. You’re not the kind of girl that goes down after one shot. I wish you were.” He smirks at his innuendo.

“Assface.”

“There’s my girl.” Josh tips his head to the side, trying to catch my eye. When he does, I'm surprised to see the concern on his face. This guy only cares about himself. Why, then, did he leave his convertible parked on the side of a busy road to sit on a stinky bus with me and a rabid raccoon?

“Thanks.” I manage to steady my breathing, but the stream of tears doesn't stop. “I’m sorry.” I swat at my eyes, feeling like an idiot. I hate crying in front of people.

Josh reaches into his pocket and fishes out a handkerchief. “Here.”

I glance at it and sit up a little straighter. “Really? You carry a handkerchief?”

“Think about it—I come across a crying woman with battered self-esteem desperately needing someone strong and handsome to cling to. I offer my hanky, and things get freaky. Angry sex is amazing.” He smiles at me, and I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

I dab my eyes with the clean, white fabric, but the tears keep streaming. Josh shifts his weight and pulls my head against his shoulder. “Take a moment. I’ll beat the world away for you.”

I nestle my head into the spot between his shoulder and his neck, dabbing my tears before they roll down my cheeks. I stare at the names written on the back of the seat in front of me wondering if their lives suck as badly as mine does.

After a little bit, Josh clears his throat and says, “I can kick his ass if you want.”

I smirk and shake my head. “It’s not a him. Well, not entirely.”

“So it’s, like, a hermaphrodite or what?”

That makes me laugh. “No, it’s my mom.”

I tell him what happened, leaving nothing out. I realize it’s like inviting an elephant into my tent, and once he’s in, there’s no getting him out—but I trust him. I don’t know why, but I do. When I finish my horrible story, I don’t look at him. I stay where I am, staring at the seatback. “I can’t undo any of this. I’m not the one who broke it. If it was just Matt, fine—couples break up—but add in Mom and I just can’t…” The word hangs in the air. I can’t accept it. I can’t deal with it. I can’t condone it. I can’t believe it. I just can’t—to all of it.

Josh shifts his weight under me, sits up, and looks at me. I mean really looks at me. When he speaks, my eyes drift and lock with his. “Then don’t. The ball is in their court. You said your piece. Leave it alone. Let it simmer and wait for the embers to die.”

“And then what? Take Mom back like nothing ever happened?”

“Life’s not that easy, Kerry, but anything worth having doesn’t come easy, does it?” His perfect hair is styled away from his face, and I notice a scar above his eyebrow—like there had been a piercing there at one time. His eyes dip to my lips before flicking back to lock with mine. He watches me carefully, moving slowly. My heart is hammering, and I feel trapped. I wanted a committed relationship when I met Matt. Now I don’t want a relationship at all. I need someone to hold me and fuck me hard—I had that with Nate, but he ran off again. Then there’s this ass of a man always there, openly wanting me from day one—and I keep blowing him off. He’s an arrogant asshole who’s just trying to get laid. He said that. I know that. At the same time, he’s the only person who’s been truthful with me from the beginning. That’s just my luck. The self-professing ass is the one I end up in a relationship with, spilling my guts.

Josh leans in, slowly, carefully, like I might spook and run off. Right before his lips are on mine, he stops, watching me from beneath lowered lashes. I feel his breath on my skin, and it’s hard not to touch him.

There’s one thing holding me in place, keeping me from moving forward. Beth. I can’t do this to her.

Josh seems to be fighting the same battle. He suddenly tips his head, making the possibility of a kiss non-existent, and laughs bitterly. “Why didn’t I meet you first?”

“If you had, I wouldn’t have spoken to you, never mind admitted I was attracted to you.”

He flashes a smile at me as he lifts his face. “Really? How attracted?”

“Enough to consider doing something I shouldn’t.”

His smile falls. He presses his eyes closed and sits back, slamming his head against the high-backed bus seat. “I promised her I wouldn’t, and I don’t break my promises.”