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The Arrangement 19(6)

By:H.M. Ward


"What the hell, dude?" He drops his hands from his face, glaring at Sean.

"Do you like the car?" Sean is too Sean-ish to deal with them. His tone is beyond exasperated.

"Fuck yeah." Both guys reply in unison.

"I'll let you take it for a drive if you agree to do me one little favor." Sean looks at the four kids, scanning their eyes for signs of coherency. The chick sitting on the curb doesn't look up, but I can tell she's having a WTF moment. The guys are too pumped to notice how weird this is.

"Sure, man. Whatever you want."

"Good. Take the car some place with no cameras, beat the shit out of it, and leave it there. No cops and you can't get caught." Sean points at the girl on the curb. "I strongly suggest that girl drives, since she's the only one of you that's still sober."

Everyone in the little group turns and looks at the girl. She has long blue hair tucked beneath a black barrette. She's suddenly staring at her feet so intently her gaze could burn holes straight through them. Sean's right, she's not stoned, just pretending to be.

"Why would you think--" Sean cuts her off.

"Seriously? Are you going to let one of them drive? You'll end up falling off the bridge. I'd find that an unpleasant experience." She looks up and smiles.

"Hey, don't I know you?"

"It's unlikely." Sean's voice is flat.

The girl's gaze drifts over Sean's abs peeking through the bottom of his tiny tee and then over to me. She frowns and looks at the car.

"Why do you want to wreck it? It's a sweet ride." Sean sighs and pulls a lump of cash out of his pocket.

"No questions. Take this and buy a station wagon or something. It's win-win--your friends will follow you around because you have the wheels, you won't have to smoke that shit, and they won't care." He holds out a wad of hundred dollar bills that could easily be three grand. The girl isn't stupid though. She looks over at me, and I wonder if this is a good idea.

"What if they get caught?" He looks at me like I have bricks in my brain.

"Then Jon says he lent it to them. Since he can't remember where he put the damn thing, he won't say it was stolen." He turns back to the chick. "But it's better if you don't get caught."

"So why trash it then?" I ask even though I shouldn't.

"So Jon can't get into more trouble when he finds it." Sean looks back at the girl. "Do we have a deal?"

She takes the money and smiles, before bending down to pick up the fallen keys. The guys she's with pump their fists and holler, "Shotgun!"

They slip inside, and she starts the engine. As she revs the engine, they roll the windows down, and I can hear them yelling as she speeds away, "To the Batcave!"

"I don't want them to get in trouble," I say, looking over at Sean.

"As long as they don't knock over a liquor store, I think they'll be fine. No one is looking for the car, except Jon, and honestly it's possible that he's forgotten. It's been a while since I took it." I smile and fall into step with him.

"I can't believe you did that."

"I can't believe Jon never goes in the shed."         

     



 

We both smile a little and start walking toward the water. We need to walk down a few dunes to get to the boat. It's better to do it in a spot where there are other people. Most of the male runners around us shuck their shirts, so Sean blends in a bit more if we're walking among them. As we pass a trashcan, he pulls off his shirt and tosses it in. I've got my bare-chested man back.

As the sun creeps higher in the sky, the morning light paints the clouds orange and pink. I breathe in deeply, enjoying the sea spray and the wind in my hair as I walk hand in hand with Sean. I wish I could freeze time and keep things like this, locked in this moment when it's just him and me, neither of us consumed by grief or heartache.

That thought solidifies something, a nagging sensation that didn't materialize until now. It's clear--there's only one path that leads to Sean's happiness, and this isn't it.





CHAPTER 7





When we arrive at Marty's house, it's empty. Sean and I both stuff our faces with leftovers from the refrigerator and then head for the couch. Sean sits down and pats the seat next to him. I stare at his hand, at the way he touches the seat, and think about his mother's lifeless arm, her body blown to pieces. It could have been Sean. The only reason he's still alive right now is because of Marty. Sean wouldn't have been in the mansion if it weren't for me. I'm going to get him killed. Sean glances up at me with those beautiful blue eyes.

"Stop thinking so much." Smirking, I sit down and tuck my leg under my butt, before leaning into him.

"Easy to say, not so easy to do."

We sit there in silence, and before I know what happens, I'm in the black room again. The smoke forms little black clouds that engulf me whole. I can't see. I'm stuck, and then I hear his voice. It sounds like he's far away, but I see his hand--I see that ring flashing in front of my eyes. I reach out and take it.

Gripping Sean's arm, I try to pull him to safety, but there is nowhere safe. I'm holding a severed hand, still dripping with blood. A scream rips through me, and I'm awake.

Sitting up, I gasp and look around. Sean isn't next to me anymore.

"Oh, God."

I throw my legs on the floor and rub my face. I stay like that for a moment, willing my heart to slow, when I hear the creak of wood floorboards. It could be a floorboard on the back porch. My spine goes straight, and my eyes widen. I get up and rush over to the wall, careful not to make a sound.

I don't see Sean, just Marty's granny furniture. I slide along the wall until I'm in a tiny kitchen. The back door is open, swinging gently in the wind, its window curtain flapping. The sound comes a second time. It's closer, louder.

I can't see anyone. It has to be Sean, but the way my body reacts makes me think it isn't. As I inch closer to the window that overlooks the porch, I hold my breath. As I inch up to peer out the window, a voice booms behind me.

"What the hell are you doing?" Marty laughs and steps toward me. I scream like someone stuck a fork in my eye and fall on my ass.

"Marty? When did you get here?"

"Uh, last night. You slept for nearly twenty-four hours straight, princess."

Confused, I look out the window. It's sunrise. Did I seriously sleep that long?

"Really?"

"Yeah, but don't worry about it. You were run ragged. You could probably sleep for a week."

As Marty talks, I look him over. He's more tan than usual, and he's wearing tight black jeans and a fitted pocket t-shirt. His sandy hair is getting longer, so he's slicked it back. He would look kinda nice if he weren't a freaking hit-man.

"Don't give me that look." He scolds, wagging a finger at me before sitting on a counter top.

"Like what? Like you lie too much or like I slept next to you, poured my heart out, and have no idea who you really are? 'Cuz they both suck." Marty rolls his eyes. He slides off the counter.

"Go chew some Midol, princess. We can't all be as forthright as you are. Oh wait, that's right--you lie like a dog, too. Not to mention that you're rather smelly. If you don't mind, shower, then we can fight."

"I hate you." I say the words without feeling, not meaning them. It's more like I hate the fact that I still like him, that I still care about him.

He walks into a hallway, plucks a towel from a closet and hurls it at my head.

"Yeah, yeah. Tell me something I don't know. I put fresh clothes in the bathroom for you."

Tucking the towel under my arm, I shove past him. Marty stops me with his arm and looks down at me. His hair falls forward, softening his features.         

     



 

"I'm glad you're safe."

I look up at him and want to cry. I want to tell him the same thing, but I can't. My throat gets clogged with insults and nasty things to throw in his face for lying to me all this time.

"Avery, it's okay that you're mad. I don't expect you to forgive me."

He puts his hand on my shoulder, and I lose it. Sobs bubble up from deep inside me, and I fall apart. Tears roll down my cheeks as I stand there blubbering.

"I can't do this! It was bad enough finding out that asshole Victor Campone is my father, but I have a brother too! And he doesn't want to meet me and see how his little sis has been all these years, no! He wants to put a bullet in my head! And when they can't get at me, they strike at those around me. I shouldn't be here, Marty. You'll end up with your throat cut, and--" The snotty crying has gotten so bad that my speech is no longer intelligible.

Marty steps in and wraps his arms around me. He holds me like that until I glance up and see Sean in the living room. I jump back like we were doing something wrong. I wipe the tears from my face and rush past him. When I get to the bathroom, I turn on the shower and cry, not even feeling the water cascade down my body.

They're risking everything for me, and there's no way to ditch either of them. I could run, sneak away in the middle of the night, but Sean will come looking and Marty will help him. I need to do something drastic, something that will make Sean walk away from me.

As I stand there, finally done crying, the hot water easing my sore body, an idea forms. It's horribly cruel and completely final, but it will get Sean to walk away and not look back.