Life Before Damaged, Vol. 9: The Ferro Family (3 page)

I
stand there shaking
, lost between a world that I thought was vacant and meaningless. But as it comes apart around me, I feel like I’m being torn in half. He can’t do this. He can’t go to jail and take the blame for me. If it weren’t for me, there wouldn’t have been a rave.

I'm torn between wanting to hate him and panicking at the thought of not seeing him anymore. I’m caught in an emotional freefall as my convictions tell me I can’t let him take the blame for something I did. My morals swirl rapidly in my mind, forming a twister of thoughts and reasons why he can’t do this. But the main words repeating in the rush are these:

Don’t leave me.

He's almost reached his bike. If he gets to it, he'll ride off, and I'll never see him again. I run. My feet slap hard against the pavement as I rush at him. “Stop! Wait!”

By the time I get to the bike, he’s already straddled it and has the key in the ignition. He looks up at me.

I speak without thinking. “Wh-why would you do something like that? I need you, Pete. Don't do this! We made a deal. You can’t break it. What'll happen to me?” My mind is going over the implications. If he goes through with this, if he breaks the deal we made—I don’t know what his mother will do.

Pete stops and gives me a small smile. It’s not genuine. It doesn’t reach his eyes like it does when we’re dancing. “You'll be fine, Gina. I told you I was going to fix things for you. Can you believe I actually managed to outwit my mother? I convinced her to transfer ownership of the company to me now instead of waiting for our wedding day. Granz Textiles is mine. All along, she only wanted the patent, so I sold it to Ferro Corp. By tomorrow, the company will be back in your father's hands. As for your criminal file, I destroyed it. There is no way to prove you're linked to the rave anymore. Besides, once they have my confession, they won’t need to arrest anyone else. Sending a Ferro to jail will be more than enough to appease the masses. Lord knows there's enough venom toward our family after Sean's trial. I couldn’t care less about going to jail, and my family’s reputation is the least of my worries. The Ferro name is tarnished no matter what I do.”

His logic makes no fucking sense. “Then why did you ever agree to our engagement in the first place? Why are you doing this now?”

“Can’t you see? It’s always been about you, Gina. Right from the start, every dumbass thing I’ve said, every cruel thing I’ve done, it was all to protect you.” He sits on his bike and holds out the helmet and jacket. "Come with me. Let me hold you one last time."

I want to. I want to so much, but the questions run wild in my head, clouding my thoughts. “Since when?” I’m afraid to ask the full question, scared the reporters will jump out and have their story and this farce will end. I swallow hard, unable to look him in the eye.

“You want to know when I realized I was falling in love with you?" I nod. Pete’s eyebrows come together in the middle, creating a cute little crinkle that I want to smooth out with my fingers. Understanding comes over his face and when he replies there is no bluster left in his voice--only sadness. It’s the look that comes with remembering something bittersweet. "You started something in me on the first day we met, but it was really the morning when I woke up with you in my bed, in my arms. The morning we went riding on my bike for the first time. That’s when I knew.”

That was the morning after the Jenny fiasco. The day after Anthony cheated on me. But that can’t be right. He had me in his bed, practically naked, and he still pushed me away. I shake my head so slightly it’s barely noticeable.

His eyes are pleading, like believing him is the most important thing ever. I want to believe him, but the risks are too high. I stare at the jacket and helmet, desperately wanting to get on that bike, to hold on tight and never let go. I want so badly to have my Happily Ever After with someone who will love me with all his heart, someone who will put me first and see only me. Can I trust Pete to be that person? I start to lift my trembling hands, ready to take the leap of faith, but a little voice inside stops me.

He’s not in love with you. Ferros are incapable of love.

The spell breaks and I drop my hands. I can’t.

He sees me as that silly girl who still believes Prince Charming will sweep me off my feet and ride off into the sunset. The time for fairytales is over.

"Why tell me now? If it's been that long, why didn't you say anything sooner? Why the games? Why did you keep on pushing me away?"

"Come back with me, and I'll tell you everything. Please come home with me, Gina. Don’t go in there." Pete is pleading with me, his voice stern, but obviously worried.

I turn to look back at the club, where warmth and friendship are waiting for me. I can’t see what he’s telling me. I don’t see how they’re bad, using me, or anything else. It’s a place to dance and laugh. It’s a place that makes me happy filled with people who care about me.

I push the jacket and the helmet away from me, shaking my head. “I can't trust my feelings when I'm around you. I need space and some time to think. I'm sorry, Peter. I’ll be back later tonight, and I promise we’ll talk. Will you wait up for me?” I place a hand on his cheek, and he leans in just a tiny bit and closes his eyes.

"Of course I will. Go in there and have fun, but be careful."

"I will."

I take a step back and break the contact between us. Pete puts on his jacket and helmet. After lowering his visor, he revs up the engine and takes off. I stand in the cold parking lot, watching his taillight disappear into the night until I can no longer hear the roar of his bike.

W
alking back
to the club takes forever. It feels like I fell down a wormhole and got spit out in Jersey. Pete’s words swirl together in my head until I feel like it may explode. I tug on the door, but it won’t open. It's locked. There are cars in the parking lot, so the club should be open. I knock a couple of times, peeking in through the window. I bounce up and down on the balls of my feet and rub my arms some more, in between knocks. Philip's handsome face peers through the glass door. He smiles warmly at me before unlocking and opening the door.

I step inside into a rush of heat, but I don’t feel any warmer. My skin is still pebbled with goose bumps and no matter how much I rub my arms, the heat won't reach my bones. It feels like I'm in shock. Philip takes me into a brief, friendly hug, but that's all I get. No tingles, no giddiness. Maybe I'm still just too numb after everything that just happened with Peter.

Philip cups my face with his hands and searches my eyes. I want to look away, but I can't. Guilt at how we parted the last time forces me to make eye-contact with him. I just hope I'm not misleading him again. I'm not going back to his place tonight after all.

“I’m so glad you were able to make it, Gina. You look frozen. Did you walk all the way here from Ferro's house without a coat?”

I force a smile at Philip, shaking my head. “No, I drove.” I look down at my left shoulder. “Trying not to let anything touch this. Hurts like a bitch.”

Philip takes in my new ink job. “Wow! It looks amazing. Come on in and warm up. The guys are here and can’t wait to see you again.” Philip locks the door behind me and places a hand on my lower back, escorting me inside.

I wander into the club, still dazed and confuzzled by Pete’s outburst outside. It’s like walking through thick fog. You only notice things once they are in your face. There's no music. In fact, the club is empty, save Philip and his skydiving crew. They sit around a table, playing poker and smoking cigars while Ricky busily mixes drinks and loads them on a tray.

“Oh, hell yeah! The pussy has arrived.” Zeke, Philip's disturbingly gross friend, seems much too enthusiastic at my arrival. I suppress a disgusted shiver when I hear his voice. He puts both hands behind his head, props his feet on the table and balances back on the two hind legs of his chair. He winks at me and makes a disgusting, suggestive flicking gesture with his pierced tongue. I hope never to be alone in a room with that guy. I’d mace him in the face.

Philip’s grip on my back tightens, and he leans in close to say, “Don’t mind Zeke, he’s being a prick as usual tonight.”

I wave toward the table, “Hey, guys! Good to see you again.” I answer back lightly. I don’t want Zeke to see just how much he gets to me. Most of the guys acknowledge me with brief waves and mumbles.

Zeke, however, looks at me intently, overtly checking me out from head to toe. “Oh, I’ll be seeing much more of you later, babe.” He points toward all of the guys sitting at the table, calling their attention to him. “I call first fuck!”

“Zeke! If you don’t shut the fuck up now, you're outta here. Got it?” Philip's tone is threatening. He wraps a protective arm around my waist and pulls me in close. Funky weirdo-vibes are setting off every alarm I have and sending chills down my neck. I touch it gently and feel the hairs standing on end. Peter freaked me out with his warnings, and this is just me acting on his paranoia. Zeke scares me, but as long as Philip and Ricky are here I'm safe. I peel Philip’s arm off of my back and politely excuse myself to go to the bar, where my good friend is still busy filling up the guys’ orders.

“Gina? What the hell are you doing here?” Ricky whisper-yells the moment I get close to the bar. He deposits the last glass on the tray and starts to wipe down the bar with a rag.

“Philip asked me to come over. Why is this place closed tonight?"

"Because sometimes we close, Gina. It's my club, and if I decide to close it one night so my friends can hold a private meeting that's my prerogative." His reply takes me aback. I've never seen him anything but happy and welcoming. He's usually the human equivalent of a Chihuahua, always bouncing around.

"What’s wrong, Ricky? Why are you so upset? I thought you’d be happy to see me, not pissed. What gives?”

Ricky shakes his head. “Never mind. Could you bring this tray over to the guys? Thanks, doll.” His voice is detached, not the usual boisterous, energetic Ricky that I’ve come to know. Chills creep up my spine. There’s something eerily wrong here.

I nod, give Ricky a weak smile and take the tray. I walk around the table, each one of the guys retrieving their drink as I pass. As I walk past Philip, he gives my backside a little pat. It's supposed to feel fun and flirty, especially considering this is why I agreed to see him in the first place. I wanted to push Pete out of my heart by replacing him with Philip, but this only feels dirty--especially after Zeke’s earlier comments and Pete’s warning. I don’t say anything and just keep smiling.

After I finish serving the drinks, Philip pats his lap, inviting me to sit. There isn’t any room for an extra chair at the table. I hesitate. I can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right, and suddenly regret having come in at all.

I'm acting crazy. This is Philip Gambino. He's my fun, cute, thrill-seeking, sweet, caring man. He's my Mr. Right. Damn the Ferros and their trust issues. I shake off the feeling and sit crosswise on Philip’s lap. His hand rests midway up my jean-clad thigh.

I sit in silence, watching the guys play poker, drinking, smoking their cigars and passing newspapers around. My mind starts to wander.

Pete loves me. After everything we've been through, how can I believe him? Most importantly, how can I forgive him for all the times he's hurt me. Will he be able to stop sleeping around if we’re together or will the other women always be there, a distraction to spice up his boring love life? He already tried to convince me that love kills lust and Anthony shared what a horrible lover I am.

Still, he’s sacrificing himself--his freedom, his fortune, his entire family’s reputation—to protect me. Is it out of love or to ease his conscience? Part of the blame is mine, but he destroyed that evidence. Pete is guilty of many things, but so am I. He's giving me back my freedom, my life, my family's name and company, while he condemns himself to a lifetime in prison over what? A few shed tears and my bruised ego? That can't be right.

My mind goes in circles for a while, and no matter what thoughts occur, it comes down to one thing:

I can't let him do this.

I need to hear him out, and the only way is to go back to him, now. Tomorrow will be too late, and I'll regret it forever. If he's lying, I'm going to lose it, but if he's telling the truth, we could have a shot at being happy together.

A voice inside of me is quick to reply, but what about all those other women? The woman from earlier is still very fresh in my mind, but he never once mentioned her. There are too many questions with no answers. I'll never know if I don't give him a chance to explain his side of the story. I need to leave. Now. I have to stop Pete from turning himself in.

I start to stand up, but Philip pulls me back down on his lap, taking me by surprise. “Where do you think you're going?” He says teasingly, spreading his hand over my stomach. His touch is unwelcome, and his fingers feel like little spiders crawling all over my skin.

“I’m sorry. I know I only just got here, but I’m feeling guilty for taking one of the Ferro cars without asking. Mrs. Ferro is probably going to have my head if I don’t bring it back. I really need to go. Guilty conscience and all, you know me, Sergeant Buzzkill!”

The men all burst out laughing. My joke wasn’t that funny. All eyes are on me, including Philip’s. The look he gives me is bizarre. “Forget about that witch," Phillip says, holding me tighter. "Stay and have a bit of fun with us.”

The way he looks at me is all sorts of wrong. It’s suggestive, and those little spiders of his dancing up and down my sides make me feel a bit sick to my stomach. I wriggle around a bit on his lap to get off, but he holds me close, digging his fingers into me. Now I’m starting to freak out. I don’t like feeling trapped.

“No, really, Philip.” I look over toward Ricky and see him watching us, an angry scowl on his face, but he doesn't move to do anything about it. I give him a quick ‘help me’ look, but he just turns his back and starts to dust off the bottles behind the bar.

Philip slips a hand under my shirt, working his way up toward my breasts. His other hand creeps up my thigh. I cross my legs to keep him out of unwanted territory, but that doesn’t stop him from roaming upwards.

“Here’s how things usually go down, Gina. During our meetings we have some paid female entertainment, but tonight, tag, you’re it. So, you’re going to be a good little girl, and you’re going to make sure we all leave here very happy men.” Philip’s voice is unrecognizable. It’s cold and threatening, and any trace of the gentleman I’ve come to know is gone.

I laugh nervously, thinking this is some sick joke. “What?”

His hand covers my breast and squeezes. My face burns bright red as embarrassment and fear drip through my stomach like acid.

“It’s no big deal, Gina.”

They use prostitutes. Oh my god. This can’t be real. Mr. Gambino is a trustworthy politician whose spotless reputation is the key to his success. He’s one of the biggest anti-corruption advocates around. How can his son be like this?

Ice water runs through my veins. I look around the table, finding all eyes on me--ravenous, greedy eyes telling me I’m the biggest fool around and I’m in a shitstorm of trouble. My heart is pounding, and my palms are sweaty. I wiggle around some more, trying to pry Philip’s hands off of me, but he just presses me up against his crotch. I feel him, so hard beneath me and, this time, I feel like I may actually be sick.

“It’s time someone taught the Ferros a lesson, don't you think? They cannot just take what belongs to others. You were mine, Gina, or at least you were going to be mine. We would have been the perfect couple, but Ferro just steps in and claims you for himself.” He tsks his tongue in disapproval. He manages to place a hand over one of my breasts and squeezes, painfully hard. I let out a painful cry, and the guys just chuckle. I look over at Ricky once more, but he’s still ignoring us, dusting his damn bottles.

“I’m surprised he chose you out of all of his sluts. There’s not much to hold onto here, is there? But still, pussy is pussy.” Philip looks toward Zeke. “Sorry dude, I get first fuck this time around. You’ll have to wait your turn.”

“RICKY!” I call out. This is his club, and he’s my friend. There’s no way he’ll let them hurt me. He’ll help me. He’ll fight them off, he’ll call the cops, he’ll...

“Dammit, doll! I don’t like this, but we all have to make sacrifices to get by. I’m sorry. I’ll leave you guys to do your thing. Don’t forget to lock up before you go, and clean up your mess this time.”

...he’ll hand me over to a gang of rapists and turn his back on me.