The Proposition 1: The Ferro Family (The Proposition: The Ferro Family) (2 page)

On the way to the cemetery, Neil turns on talk radio. He listens to weird stuff—well, stations that I think are weird (nonstop POTUS anyone?)—and right then it’s women’s programming. They’re discussing some new book that they couldn’t get enough of. It’s evocative and filled with steamy sex, enough to curl the announcer’s toes, or so she says.

Neil reaches forward and turns it off. “Great. More literary trash. Just what the world needs.”

I nod absentmindedly and draw lines on the steamy window, which is probably driving Neil nuts, but he doesn’t say anything. The sky looks like it’s about to open up. Big gray clouds completely block the sun and there are no blue scraps of sky showing. It’s getting dark, fast. Neil leans forward toward the windshield. “This trip might have to be a quick one, Hallie.”

I nod slowly as the car turns into the
cemetery. The grass is bright green and seems to go on forever. There are too many perfectly straight rows to count. Alphanumeric codes are nailed onto trees on little plastic squares, directing us through the mass of graves and around to the newer section in the back.

Neil stops next to
a headstone with my last name spelled out in large letters: RAYMOND.

My stomach sinks. Seeing your last name on a tombstone does things to a person. Normal people don’t think about their mortality or death, but seeing something like that makes you ponder it. Add in the freshly turned earth and I feel sick. Mentally, I scold myself. This is what I wanted for Dad. I wanted to lay him to rest here, but I couldn’t afford it. Neil has given the most
generous gift imaginable and I’m afraid to get out of the car. I take a deep breath, worried that Neil is going to rush me, but he says nothing. After turning off the engine, he pockets his keys and waits for me.

My
phone chimes with Maggie’s ringtone. Maggie Chichilad is my best friend, and has been trying to get a hold of me all day. For the past week, she’s tried to take me out every night and every night I’ve declined. I can’t bear to talk to her now, so I get out and slam the door behind me to seal in the sound.

One thing at a time Hallie. You can do this.

Although I walk next to Neil, I feel alone. It doesn’t matter that we’ve been dating for years or that he knows me inside out. Everyone handles death alone. A shoulder to cry on is nice once I accept the inevitable, but I don’t want to accept this. I can’t believe Dad is gone. Every day passes like the one before, with me sitting on that chair, hoping that this whole thing was just some horrible mistake.
No, Hallie, that wasn’t your dad on the lawn, he’s fine
. We all laugh and go inside the house that he still owns. I still have a place to rest my head. My memories still echo in the halls of that house, loud and clear, because I have a home if only in my mind.

So I sit and stare at nothing, day after day, waiting to understand a
divine joke that I cannot possibly perceive, because no matter what the truth is, it’s too hard to accept. There’s no way that Dad would have left me like this, not after everything I’d been through before he adopted me. Ghosts from that time of my life had fallen silent, but now they’re stretching their claws and crawling out from between every mental crevice in my mind. The past and the present blur together in a wash of apathy and agony. Numbness consumes me until I don’t feel anything at all.

So it surprises me that my nose registers the
crisp air and that my skin feels the slick wet drops that fall from the frozen heavens and splatter on my cheeks. As I step toward the fresh grave, I wish that we could have given him a burial, that I could have saved him from being abandoned and forgotten. But I couldn’t. And if it weren’t for Neil, Dad wouldn’t be here at all.

Reaching for Neil’s hand, I tangle our fingers together and swallow the lump in my throat. “I’
ll pay you back for this.” I know how much it cost, how much he spent. Before this happened, I thought funerals were a part of life, that everyone had one. It wasn’t until I was the only surviving heir that I learned the reality of the situation.

Neil
squeezes my hand. I feel his eyes on the side of my face. “Don’t even think about that, Hallie. I wish I could have done more, but this wiped me out. We’re going to be eating hot dogs for a while.”

“
I’d eat dirt if I had to.”

“Well that’s good, because there’s probably a lot of dirt in the cheap
wieners.” He leans in and kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll give you a minute. Come back to the car when you’re ready.” Neil walks away, leaving me staring at my father’s new home.

The wind picks up and blows the little jagged crystals of
precipitation harder. Each drop feels like a tiny razor as it hits my skin. I have no idea how long I stand there. It feels too long, but not hardly long enough. I stare at Dad’s headstone and try to accept that this is where he’ll be from now on. I’ve not given much thought to an afterlife, but even if there is one, it still means that I’m here by myself for a while. I shudder and hold my arms around my middle, hoping that Dad isn’t really in the cold ground, all alone. I couldn’t bear that, and yet, I have to.

His voice echoes in my ears like a distant song. He’d tell me
not to stand here and weep. He’d tell me things that would make me smile and tell me that we could get
through anything. And that’s the problem—the eradication of ‘we.’ With him, nothing could stop me. I planned to take the world by storm and achieve awesome things. But on my own, I have no idea how weak I am or how fast I will fade into nothing.

At that moment, I have no fu
ture. There’s no picture of the life ahead of me or what I will become. My future has been wiped clean and I have to begin again.

I lay next to Neil, facing away from him. We haven’t been together since before the funeral. Sex doesn’t sound appealing right now, and I don’t really care why I feel that way. My assumption has been that I’ll feel like it when I’m ready.

Neil hasn’t pressured me, but I know things can’t stay like this. He scoots up behind me
in the bed, pressing his body against mine, and whispers in my ear, “It’s Friday.”

Friday is our
sex day. Neither of us has to be anywhere in the morning and so it was dubbed as the most logical day of the week to be together. It’s not romantic, but I don’t mind. Actually, I had liked that it was time for just the two of us, no matter what was going on. Since Neil likes to plan everything, it’s a double bonus for him. Sometimes he plans things, little romantic gestures, and I can tell that he’s been thinking about being with me for days. It’s sweet, really. Maybe it’s a little OCD, but since I tend to fly by the seat of my pants, it works. Neil brings order to my chaos.

His breath hits my ear in a warm wave.
“I don’t want to pressure you, but sometimes the best way to get on with life is to resume your regular activities. We could try it, Hallie.” He strokes the hair away from my face so he can see me better.

I don’t feel like being with him right now
, but I don’t really feel anything. Maybe it’s not a bad idea. Relationships are give and take, and besides, I can’t leave Neil alone forever. He was there for me and I need to be there for him.

Saying nothing, I
roll over to face him. It’s nonverbal permission for him to proceed. Neil strips me silently, but I feel more like a patient than his lover. He says sweet things as his hands rove over my body and he covers me in kisses, before settling between my legs. Rocking slowly, Neil does what he always does.

My body responds, I’m wet, but I don’t feel anything. I know he’s there and touching me. The sensation of his hands on my bare skin registers, but that’s all it does. So,
I stare blankly and look away, wishing that I could lose myself and become so overrun with lusty thoughts that my mind would pull out of this eternal nosedive.

Although Neil
does the right things, and touches the right places, my body doesn’t flare to life. It’s not enough to pull my mind back from the dark places that consume my soul. Neil’s body is slick as he develops a rhythm, slamming into me over and over again, finally tensing as he comes. I hold onto him tight and stare into the darkness, wondering if he can pull me back from the abyss.

I’m sinking, I can’t feel anything,
and I know that it’s getting worse. Apathy is taking hold and I can’t shake it off. Neil kisses my cheek and gets up from the bed. A second later the shower turns on. He’ll expect me to join him, but I don’t move.

I lay there feeling the same as before—nothing.

Sleep doesn’t come easily, but when it does I’m sucked into the past. Bryan’s strong arms are around me, his voice whispers sweetly in my ear as he does things to me that make me forget myself. Those hot lips press a trail of kisses down the back of my neck. His voice isn’t an echo, it’s real. For a few hours I’m lost in the past, doing things that I haven’t done since. Bryan’s mouth is hot and moist, making my body rage with lust.

“Tell me what you want, Hallie. Say it.” Bryan
’s breaths are hot and heavy in my ear. He has me pinned to my bed with his hands holding down my wrists. He presses his mouth to the spot on my back that makes my hips move on their own. Gasping, I moan his name, and tell him. I say words that I’ve never said since.

I feel Bryan’s
smile on my skin, as he holds me down, pressing my breasts into the mattress. Releasing my wrists, he uses his body to hold me still and reaches around and touches between my legs, stroking me until my bottom is writhing wildly on the bed, demanding more. I’m a mess of nerves and lust, wanting to be touched, wanting him inside of me. I beg him, saying his name over and over again.

I wake up gasping and
clutching the sheets in my fists. My body is covered in sweat and for a second, I’m horrified. I press my eyes shut and cover my face with my arm. It was only a dream. My mind is stuck in the past, even Neil couldn’t fault me for that, but it doesn’t make me feel better. These dreams resurface at the strangest times, and they’re making me feel guilty.

Sitting up, I rub my face and reach for my phone. There’
re a ton of missed calls and messages. I’ve gotten into the habit of not answering my phone. Most are from Maggie, but there’s one from a number that I don’t recognize. Pulling my knees into my chest, I listen to the message.

“Hello, this is Cecily Varden from Varden Agency in New York. I’d like to speak with you about
representation. Please call me at your earliest convenience.”

I pull the phone away from my head and stare at it. What
the hell was that about? She must have gotten the wrong number. I don’t think twice about it. No New York City agent would be calling me. The thought is laughable. I roll out of bed and pad to the bathroom. I have to face the day sometime and I refuse to sit in the recliner again. Maggie’s texts about big-ass-itis made me laugh, but in the back of my mind, I wonder if it’s true. Either way, I’ll switch to some form of mourning that won’t increase my jean size. Like running, or walking a little faster than leisurely. That sounds better.

After brushing my teeth and pulling my hair into a pon
ytail, I head to the kitchen. The scent of cinnamon hits me hard and my stomach churns.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Neil gives me a peck on the cheek. He says it like I’ve been
snoozing a lot, which is totally wrong. I never sleep anymore. I just close my eyes and lay there.

“Hey,” I say and look for the source of the heav
enly smell. “Are those cinnamon rolls?”

“Damn straight,”
Maggie says and steps into the room with a bakery box on her hip. Neil rolls his eyes. He doesn’t like her very much. Something about Maggie being a bad influence and all that. “Do I know you or what?”

I offer a weak smile. “Which bakery?”

“Psh, A&G. Like I’d get you stuff from anywhere else. Please.” Maggie sits down at the little table at the same time as I do, and shoves the box my way. “I didn’t know what you were in the mood for, so I got all of your favorite things.”

I open the lid and get
treated to the scent of powdered sugar, yeast, and cinnamon. It’s a box filled with my favorite confections. I lift out a little round ball of dough that’s wrapped in plastic. “You got me a bump of dough?” I can’t help but smile. The woman bought me raw pizza dough and threw it in the box with cookies and cinnamon rolls.

“Yeah. We’re going to
eat everything in that box and then make some sausage bread, the kind your dad used to make. You’ll probably cry and then laugh, because the first time we made it, well, you remember…”

“Yeah, even the dog wouldn’t eat it.”

“Yup, there was that.” Maggie smiles at me and doesn’t say anything for a few moments. “So, when were you going to tell me?”

I glance at Neil and get no reaction from him. “Tell you what?”

“Tell you what?” She mocks and cocks her head at me. “Like you don’t know. Funny, Hallie. Come on, I thought you told me everything, but I had no idea!” Maggie is all smiles and reaches across the table to touch my hand like I should know what she’s talking about, but I don’t.

I glance up at Neil. “A little help? What the heck is she talking about?” My mouth opens and I take a big bit
e of a cinnamon muffin, and instantly wish I had a glass of milk.

Neil rolls his eyes. “Some
tawdry woman with your name wrote a romance book.” He gestures to Maggie while standing next to me. “She thinks you did it.”

I choke and drop the muffin. “What?” No
, no no. It’s not possible.

Maggie
reads me better than Neil. Her suspicions are confirmed, but Neil still doesn’t know. Winking at me, Maggie amends her statement. “Okay, fine. I guess not, but that would have been cool. I almost knew a celebrity.” She changes the subject until Neil leaves the room a few moments later. Maggie is Neil repellent, so it never takes very long. He lingers long enough to eat a chocolate cigar and then says he has to run errands and disappears.

It isn’t until his car starts outside that
Maggie gives me a candid look. “So, spill.”

My heart is racing way too fast. There is no way in Hell that they’re talking about my book, but that would explain the agent’s call this morning, and I did write a really
raunchy book. A chill works its way down my spine, until I can barely keep my butt in the chair. Glancing over at her out of the corner of my eye, I say, “It can’t be mine.”

“When did you write a book?”

Screw that! What the hell were the odds that anyone would even find it, never mind read it? Like one in a zillion. A few days after I posted the book, it helped me feel better, but it certainly didn’t have the effect I hoped for—I needed something cathartic, to mark the end of one life and the beginning of the next—so I left the story there, floating in the abyss. I never expected anyone to actually read it.

I jump up from my chair and open my laptop.
Maggie watches over my shoulder as I pull up the account. No one finds books on here. There are literally millions of stories, poems, and an endless array of writers who are way more talented than me. My book should have been buried at the bottom, and never seen by anyone. But when the screen loads, I see it. The stats are in front of my face, but I still can’t believe it. “Oh. My. God.”

Maggie
is standing next to me with her arms folded over her chest. Her eyes grow wide before she finally blinks. “I take it that you didn’t tell anyone? Because Neil is going to fall out of his ivory tower when he realizes that this slutty author is you.”

I glance at
Maggie with panic in my eyes. “I can’t tell him. Maggie—it’s not even about him.”

She smiles at me, knowingly. “I figured that. He’s too uptight to do kinky stuff like that.” She sits next to me.

My face flames red and I look away. “You read it?”

She laughs and sits down in her chair
, opposite me again. “Hallie, everyone’s read it. It’s been all over the place. All the talk shows are gushing about it. It’s so sexy, so heartfelt, so emotional. It’s like crack. People can’t get enough. And it looks like millions of people have read it already according to the stats over there.” She leans across and points at the screen.

“
Maggie, how do I hide this from Neil? I can’t tell him that I wrote this. You know he’s going to freak out. The whole damn book is about losing control. He’ll think I’m the poster child for evil.” I’m close to hyperventilating, but it’s because of so much more. It’s not just about losing control of emotions and my life, it’s the sexual acts described in there that will have him irate. I’m glad I held back and didn’t write about everything Bryan and I did back then, but it doesn’t matter—not to Neil. He’s going to stroke out.

Maggie
doesn’t know about my relationship with Bryan. No one does. It’s a secret that I’ve kept for this long and I’m not telling people now. Bryan had so much pressure on him from his family and I didn’t want the scrutiny. Our relationship burned hot and fast. Passion like that isn’t sustainable, or at least that’s what I tell myself when I think of him. We parted ways after a heated argument.

If Neil finds out, it’ll crush him, and make me look like one of those brainless Ferro-wife wannabes.
That family brings a shitload of trouble with them. Up until now, no one has figured it out. Blinking rapidly, I look away from her. “Neil can’t think, he can’t—”

“Hallie,
” she tips her head to the side, like she can tell that I’m not telling her something. A sympathetic look crosses her face. “You can’t hide this part of you from him, and you shouldn’t have to.”

“I
’m not hiding. The woman in that book, well, she isn’t me anymore.” Those kind of desires don’t dictate my actions the way they did in the past.

Things with Bryan were
scorching hot, but it’s impossible to live that way. When passion dominates reason, well, what kind of person does that? Besides, Neil’s views on sex are more comfortable, more accepted. No one would look at me weird for saying I like missionary position, but some of the things I did with Bryan—some of the things in that book—oh God. What the hell made someone read it? At least I had enough wits about me to change his name. Now, the only person who knows it’s about Bryan Ferro is me, and well, Bryan, assuming he reads smutty chick books posted on Padpress, a free site filled with mostly fan fiction.

Mag bumps me with her elbow, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“When did you do those things? It seems so strange. I mean, you’re so sweet and pretty. I’m the freaky one and I would have never thought—”

I cut her off. “
Maggie, please. I have a good thing with Neil. I can’t lose him. I can’t…” I choke on the last word.

Maggie
scoots her chair closer to mine and smiles at me. “I’m not saying a thing and don’t worry. You won’t lose him, sweetie. This is what you do. Tell him that it’s fiction, totally made up and that the mind wanders down weird paths when it’s distressed. He’ll write it off.”

“Are you sure?”
As I look into her big green eyes, I see so much. A lifetime of giggles and tears. She’s always been there for me and if her life wasn’t such a train wreck, she would have been there when Dad died. She would have let me cry on her shoulder, but things didn’t turn out that way.

“Yeah, as long as he doesn’t know that you’re writing about something that really happened, you’re fine.
Knowing Neil, he’ll grumble, but it’ll blow over. Besides, he has it good with you. He won’t want to lose you over something like this.”

Looking at my hands, I shake my head
, but I’m not so sure. We’re very different and this is one of those times that it becomes glaringly obvious. “No, he doesn’t. If anything, Neil has the short end of the stick. I’ve got nothing. I don’t know why he’s still with me.”

“Are you kidding? That bastard is lucky to have you. Y
ou’re awesome, and someone worth keeping will be there for you whether it rains shit or daisies.” Mag is a colorful person. She’s dressed like a giant crayon with bright red hair, a black corset and skirt, with rainbow stockings coupled with black shitkickers. There’s a new blue strip of hair that keeps falling in her eyes. She blows it back with her lips and spits on me a little. Covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes go wide. “Ohmygawd. I’m so sorry!”

Smiling softly, I wipe my face off. “You are so eloquent.”

“One of us has to be.” She grins wildly and leans in, waggling her eyebrows. “So, who was this mystery guy?”