Manwhore 3 (A Ferro Family Short Story) (2 page)

My gaze is on the sidewalk, noticing the splotches of water that fall from the sky. It’s raining. I step toward the curb with the intention of hailing a cab when a black Bentley pulls up in front of me. The window slides down part way. Sean sits inside concealed in shadows.

“Are you looking for trouble, Miss Driskill?” His voice is flat, lifeless. It’s as if with every passing day, there’s less and less of him.

“It depends. Are you trouble, Mr. Ferro?” I lean in toward the window and catch his eyes. They’re vacant, hollow

He ignores the question. Instead, he lets his eyes sweep over me before saying, “Nice coat.”

I smirk and straighten. Pulling at the lapel, I twirl to show it off. “It is, actually, very warm and soft.” He doesn’t smile. I get serious. “Actually I came here to give it back to you.”

“Lies don’t become you, Miss Driskill.” The raindrops grow bigger until it’s pouring. I start to pull my arms out of the long coat, getting ready to shove it through the window when he suddenly opens the door. “Come inside, and keep the coat. I wouldn't want to win this court case because Cunning lost his prodigy.”

Shocked, I stand there for a moment. Water pours off my hair and drips into my eyes and mouth. He thinks I’m smart? The man who believes he’s smarter than God said I’m a prodigy.

“Don’t look so shocked, Paige. We both know what you are.”

That sounds like an insult. “What would that be, Sean?” I step toward the car, drenched, with his coat hanging over my arm.

“You’re willing to do whatever it takes to survive, to win, to live. It’s a trait that doesn’t remain neatly in the center of a compartment in your mind. It affects everything you do. Even right now, you’re trying to discern whether or not to accept a ride. You know you can’t find a cab.”

“Actually, I’m trying to decide why you’re following me. You said I was a deviant, and you wouldn’t ever do what I did, yet here you are. Did you change your mind?” I place my hand on the roof of the car as I speak, leaning in close enough to drip on his designer suit.

His jaw tightens at the suggestion, and those dark lashes lower to the pavement. When he looks into my face once more, there’s a plastic smile on his mouth. “Far from it. I realized I have a piece of trash, and I’m trying to decide how to part with it.” He reaches down and lifts something off the seat next to him. The gems catch my eye, and I realize it’s my collar. The band twists and I can see the embossing on the inside of the leather: PAIGE DRISKILL ~ CLUB NOIR.

Don’t react. I chant the words over and over again to prevent myself from lunging for the collar. I remain in place, dripping on a billionaire, and getting wetter by the moment.

He twists the band between his fingers and looks at it. “The fact that I know you’re smart isn’t the issue here. No, my thought is singular. The question is, can David Cunning win my case without you? My thoughts on the matter are clear.” He smirks, and those eyes connect with mine, making my stomach plummet to the pavement. “It would be a shame if this were to turn up at your office.”

I work my jaw and let out a crazy sounding laugh. “What do you want?”

Sean steps out of the car, into the rain. His dark hair is instantly wet and hanging in his eyes. He leans in, close enough to touch without touching, and speaks next to my ear. “When I decide, I’ll let you know.” He pulls back a little bit and looks at me. It’s as if he wants to say something, but he’s conflicted.

There’s a war raging inside of him. I can see it. His walls are thick and hardening. Sean Ferro will be a devastatingly ruthless man when this is over. The worst part is that I’m the one who made it happen.

When he speaks again, his voice is softer. “I’ll be in touch.” The last word purses his lips so that they nearly touch mine. In the cold rain, I can sense his warm lips. I almost lean in, but I’m afraid.

What have I done?

T
he trial drags
on and every day my stomach is in knots waiting for him to expose me. David is the king of black and white. There is no room for anything like Club Noir in his office. No explanation could make him understand, so I remain silent, waiting.

Sean’s demeanor becomes colder in court. I don’t even need to draw attention to it anymore. He’s becoming the monster I painted him to be—sitting there stoic and calloused. When we show pictures of his dead wife, he doesn’t cry, look away, or show any signs of remorse. David uses Sean’s apathy, drawing attention to it. He’s not the only one. The press is there every day, and they never give up.

Sean has a never-ending stream of people who swear at him and curse him as he comes down the steps of the courthouse every day. Tonight, I remain on the top steps watching him descend. They hurl insults along with malicious words. New Yorkers aren’t kind people to begin with, and Sean has crawled under their skin. They think he’s a killer, that he brutally murdered his pregnant wife and called 911 while laughing about it. I may have leaked that part. It was the nail in the coffin of his public perception.

As Sean’s feet shuffle down the steps, he stops. David is speaking to a reporter and can’t turn to look, but I can. An older man yells at him, his reddened face haggard as he yells. Sean’s spine is straight, and he doesn’t flinch. He stands there taking the verbal assault. His jaw is locked, almost defiantly so. His hands hang by his sides, and his fingers rest against his suit pants. The hand closest to me, the hand that’s turned away from the crowd, presses into his leg for a moment. It’s the only sign this man has affected Sean in any way.

When I get home later, I push the door open and stand on the threshold. Jess is belting out Abba at the top of her lungs while dancing around the apartment with headphones on. Her eyes are closed, and she’s a dancing queen. I wish I could forget reality that easily. Maybe I need more Abba.

Or maybe not. I close the door and stand in the hallway staring at the knob. My life is a black hole. It sucks everything to oblivion. I’m so turned around I no longer know what to do. It’s almost midnight. I’ve been shuffling through files and looking at papers for David all night. I’m seeing double and ready to pass out.

I press my back against the wall and slide down to the floor. I stick my feet out in front of me and kick off my heels. I watch at the stairwell for a while, not thinking anything until two feet stop in front of me. Shiny expensive shoes by that new guy—I’m blanking on his name. When I glance up, I nearly choke. “Sean?”

He stands there, still wearing his suit from court. His dark hair is hanging in his eyes like he was pulling at it for hours. The dark circles under his eyes that have grown too big to go unnoticed. His hands are by his sides. He flexes his fingers once, then twice, and clears his throat before he speaks. “I’ve changed my mind.”

I
’m still sitting
on the floor, legs crossed at the ankles, and looking up at him. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

Jess belts out from behind the door, “I’m the dancing quee-bfff!” There’s a series of thuds as she falls to the floor. I pinch the bridge of my nose and try not to laugh. I’d ask if she’s okay, but she’s already singing again and jumping around the room.

The guy below us is banging on the ceiling and yelling, “Shut the fuck up!”

I look up at Sean with tired eyes and take a deep breath before pushing my hair out of my face. “Listen, I’m no longer interested. As you can see, I need to keep my roommate from getting evicted for being young, free, and way older than seventeen. I’m living with the dancing queen. She’s kind of a pain in the ass, and I’m not in an Abba mood or I’d be on the other side of the door.”

Sean presses his lips together as if he’s trying not to laugh. “I can see that.”

I give him a look. “Bite me.”

“I already offered. You said you’d rather help out your friend. Have a good night.” He turns and heads for the stairs.

Before he’s down the first step, I call out, “Who was that man?”

He stops and looks over at me. “Amanda’s father.” There’s no further explanation. He just turns and vanishes down the staircase.

“Wait, what?” I scurry to my feet, scooping up my shoes and bag, before rushing after him. “Sean, hang on a second.” I’m a flight above him and see his dark head bobbing down the flight below. One more and he’s out the door.

No wonder why he came looking for me tonight. His own father-in-law publicly accused him of murder. I slip as I round the landing and catch myself before I fall on my butt. I make a weird strangled sound before I right myself. Sean stops and looks up. He stands perfectly still, and those bright blue eyes look up at me. His lips are parted the tiniest amount as if he wants to speak. His strong hands grip the banister harder making his fingertips turn red. He closes his eyes and turns his face to the side for a moment, working his jaw. When he opens those dark lashes, he drops his hand from the railing and continues down the staircase.

“Sean!” I call after him and fly down the stairs, but he’s too far ahead of me.

He disappears through the door before I reach the ground floor. Panting, I shove out the glass door and onto the sidewalk. My stockings cling to the pavement as I take a few steps in each direction, trying to see where he went. There are too many people, even now. New York never sleeps. It’s always running, always bustling. Yellow cabs blur by as the sound of the city fills my head. I walk down the block and try to see if he’s on foot, but Sean probably ducked into his car and took off.

Today was one of the worst days of his life. Tomorrow won’t be better. Sean knows that. It’s why he was here, and I turned him away. I press my fingers to my forehead to ward off a headache and dip my head.

A hand touches my shoulder lightly and jerks me from my thoughts. I scream like a crazy woman and round on my assailant with my heels aimed at his face. A strong arm juts up and blocks me before my heel connects with his temple. Breathing hard, I stand there staring into Sean’s face.

He opens his mouth and then shuts it again. He does it several times before he says, “I can’t go home. I can’t. Not today. Not ever again. If I walk away from this, I’m leaving New York. I’ll never come back.”

I watch his lips move and notice that he’s pulled his tie loose from around his neck. Stubble dusts his normally clean-shaven face, and his eyes look weary. I nod and lower my gaze to the sidewalk. “I can understand that.”

“Come with me. Tell me what you know—how you live with it. You started to, and I told you to stop. I judged you when I should have been listening.” He’s watching me so intently that the pit of my stomach drops.

Just then, a woman walks by and spits on Sean. She keeps walking and screams, “Monster!”

Sean removes his handkerchief from his breast pocket and wipes it away. He doesn’t seem phased, but I know he isn’t unaffected. “Don’t pity me.”

“I don’t. I agreed with her at one point.”

“And now—?”

Inhaling sharply, I blurt out the thoughts I’ve wanted to say for so long. “Now I wonder what I would have done if they'd said I’d killed my mother. I wonder how I would have survived if they thought my hands were covered in her blood because I hurt her, if they hadn’t realized I tried to help even though it was too late. Now I realize what I’ve done. There’s only one monster standing here, Sean, and it isn’t you.”

His castle keep is built, and sealed. There’s no light in his eyes, not anymore. Sean holds out his hand. “There’s a hotel not too far from here. Come with me.”

I
remain
in the bar until Sean finishes checking into a room, and then meet him there. No one can see us together. I have something he needs, I’m just not certain I want him to try it out on me. Once Sean understands what I’m about to tell him, he will be truly frightening.

I raise my hand to knock on the door, but it swings open before I make a sound. Sean is standing there in his dark pants and a white dress shirt unbuttoned at the neck, the tie long removed. One hand holds a crystal glass with amber liquid while the other holds the door open. “Come in.”

I pass under his arm, wishing my racing heart would slow down. My palms are sweaty, and I can’t swallow. Nervously, I glance around the room. It’s large, with a big four-poster bed overlooking the city from behind wraparound picture windows and a little balcony. There’s an enormous white marble bathroom off the bedroom with a tub and a separate shower.

I pull off my heels and pad over to the windows in my ripped stockings. The city always looks so peaceful from up high. I press my fingers against the cold glass and look down.

I feel Sean behind me. His presence is unmistakable because it’s both alluring and frightening at the same time. “Tell me what to do.”

I turn and look up at him. His body is tense, with every muscle corded tight. “I can’t. It doesn’t work that way, Sean. You have to find it—something that makes you feel free and in control. It’s not going to be something we’ve already done, or you’d know. It’s going to be something different every time, something I wouldn’t want to face in the daylight, never mind at night.”

“Explain.” He sets the glass down on top of the bar, and then walks over to me. He takes my hands and pulls me toward the bed.

I move slowly, one foot and then the other. “I don’t know how it works, but when I was with you the other day—it was like that. It freed me for a while. It’s almost as if your fear fed my peace.”

“It’s a parasite relationship.” He rubs his thumbs over the back of my hands, down by my wrists. He glances up at me from under his lashes, wanting to hear more.

“In some ways, yes, I guess it is. What I did to you—it was something you didn’t want. If you hadn't been chained, what would you have done?”

He blinks and drops my hands, ready to step away, but I reach out and take hold of his wrists. “You know, so tell me. You had a clear thought—something that wasn’t kosher.”

He pulls away and turns his back on me. “It was far past kosher, farther from sane than anything I’ve ever thought before. It was an image, something that I couldn’t do to anyone, especially not you.”