Book II – Chapter 19: Gala

Posted On January 2, 2016

Ferris had never seen his apartment so clean. Even on the day he had first moved in, when the space held nothing but a piano and a bare mattress, the floor hadn’t been quite so polished. He could nearly see his reflection in the wood, a wide-eyed face staring back at him from the gleaming surface.

“Seamus?” he asked for some reason, as Seamus was seated directly in front of him.

“Clean enough for you, Fer?”

“I think—“ Ferris rubbed the back of his neck. “I think this is clean enough for a surgery. Who did this?”

Seamus clutched his chest. “Oh, right in the heart. It was me, you bloody idiot.”

Ferris took a moment to digest what he’d heard. Everything was in its place — every dish, book, and rug was perfectly arranged. The countertops sparkled without a speck of dust to be seen. Ferris was certain there was more lint on his shirt than there was in the entire apartment. Even Stanley was seated properly in his dog bed, a black bowtie set neatly around his neck.

“You did this.”

“You hit your head on the way in?” Seamus tapped his own skull. “I said it was me. You asked me to.”

“I didn’t think you’d—“

“Want me to fuck it up again?” Seamus lifted a couch pillow, aiming it at a row of picture frames.

Ferris waved both hands. “No! No, it’s fine. It’s great. I-I’m just a little surprised, that’s all.”

“I can be good,” Seamus said. “Sometimes. I like living with you, mate. Didn’t want to lose the flat.”

Seamus’ voice quieted, low enough that he was practically speaking to himself. “Or you.”

“Seamus, you—“

A bark of laughter cut Ferris off. “So it’s good enough? Let’s get a drink, then.”

“I can’t.”

“Oh, what now?”

“I’ve got a—“ Ferris glanced down at the envelope in his hands. The Gala. “A thing. Tonight.”

“With that nerd you’re dating?”

“Hey, shut up. Ah, actually, I need you out of the house tonight. I said I’d finally show her my place.”

“Are you two gonna fuck all over my freshly waxed floor?”

“It’s my floor, and that’s— that’s rude. Don’t ask that.”

Seamus grinned. “So where am I going? If you want me back in the morning, I’ll need motel money.”

“Fine, fine.” Ferris fumbled with his wallet, pulling out a handful of bills. “Do whatever dumb shit you want. Just don’t get into any fights.”

“What do you care if—“

“I care.” He slapped the bills into Seamus’ hand. “And I don’t want to pick your drunk ass up at the police station again.”

Seamus counted his spoils, his tongue sticking out like a child’s. “Deal.”

Ferris was already in his bedroom, tearing apart his closet in search of the tuxedo he hadn’t worn in years. A tuxedo — was that the right thing to wear? He found himself wishing, for once, that Demos was there to dress him.

“You promise we’ll have a pint tomorrow?” Seamus called from the other room.

“Yes, yes. I promise we’ll go,” came Ferris’ panic-laced voice in response. “Now where the fuck is my bowtie?”

#

The museum looked different at night. The high glass walls of the planetarium, normally bright with sunshine, were now speckled with reflections of camera flashes. In the wide space where visitors usually passed were rows of tables, each adorned with tea lights and centerpieces of frost-white orchids. Planets and other heavenly bodies hung overhead, bright against the soft blue light of the hall. The ceiling seemed so dark, and so far, and from every direction came the vivid hum of chatter. It was otherworldly. Ferris felt small, adrift, as if the moon above his head really was within reach.

Demos would have loved this.

A flurry of camera shutters told Ferris another celebrity had just walked by. He recognized the actress from the corner of his eye, one who had starred in a recent television drama his mother had been watching. What was her name, again?

“Ferris, I got it,” came Alex’s voice from his side. “I got her business card.”

She was beaming, a victorious flush across her cheeks. Just as the museum looked different, so did she. Her hair had been done up, with only wisps of bangs left to frame her face. A vintage dress hugged her waistline, then blossomed past her hips to trail the floor. It was a deep, dark blue, making her a perfect fit among the moons and stars. She held the card with two hands, as if its weight were simply too much to bear with one.

Ferris smiled at her. “The lady from NASA?”

“An astronaut, Ferris. A fucking astronaut! And she majored in biochemistry, and she wants to read my thesis. Can you believe this?”

Without warning, he plucked the card from her hands. “Let me see.”

“Hey!”

He turned just in time to avoid her grasp. “Wow, no kidding. A real astronaut.”

“Oh my god, you’re going to crease it.”

“Ah, right. Then it won’t work anymore.” He made another turn, studying the tiny print as she clambered to reach over his arm.

“I swear I will murder you in front of all of these people, Ferris.” Though her words were stern, the laugh that followed called her bluff.

“Here.” He took her hand, placing the card in her palm with a tap. “I hope you and your astronaut wife are very happy together.”

Alex swatted the top of his head. “Shut up.”

He laughed, attempting to smooth his hair. “No, really. That’s amazing, Alex. I’m glad you came tonight.”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. I wish you’d given me more than a few hours notice, though. You’re lucky I had this dress.”

“Well, I’m lucky this tux still fits. I can’t even remember the last time I had a violin recital.”

“You promised you’d play for me when we see your apartment tonight, right?”

“Oh god dammit, you remembered. Do I have to wear the tuxedo, too?”

Alex folded her arms. “I think I deserve the full experience, don’t you?”

“Fine, I’ll call up a conductor and the whole strings— wait, you know what, we need percussion and woodwinds, too. Let’s make it a party.”

“How about you stop being a moron and dance with me?” Alex cocked her head toward the dance floor.

“I’ll dance with you, but I won’t stop being a moron.”

She took him by the hands, leading him through the crowd. “Fine.”

“Also, I don’t know how to dance.”

“That’s fine, too. I’ll show you how.”

“Ah,” he said as she positioned his hand on her waist. “Great.”

Ferris had heard the singer before, on the radio. She sang in rich, low tones, just above the trill of the piano and steady tugs of bass strings. Her voice was from another time, another place, from the smell of Havana cigars and lowball tumblers. Alex led him, slowly, lacing her fingers with his.

“Now your left foot.” She smiled. “Okay, you lead.”

“We’re going to die.”

“Just don’t take us into traffic and we’ll be fine.”

He took a breath, resisting the urge to watch his feet. “Don’t give me any ideas.”

“You know, you still haven’t told me how you got these tickets.” Alex took advantage of their positions, holding eye contact. “They’re not stolen, are they?”

Ferris laughed. “Of course not.”

Were they?

He thought for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of the truth. “Well, to be honest, they’re from Demos.”

Alex blinked. “What?”

“He wanted to— oh, isn’t that the mayor? I didn’t know he was coming tonight.”

“What do you mean, Demos?” Alex said, ignoring his failed diversion. “Last time I checked, he works in a restaurant.”

“Restaurant management.”

Alex frowned. “Of one restaurant.”

“He has connections.”

“Connections? With who, the Queen of England?”

Ferris faltered as his shoulder bumped a neighboring guest. “Ah, aren’t you supposed to be teaching me how to dance?”

“Ferris.”

“I’m doing a bad job, aren’t I?” he said. “Maybe I need another drink.”

Alex exhaled, settling her chin on his shoulder. She closed her eyes, letting her voice fall against his ear.

“You’re doing just fine.”

He nudged his temple against hers, grateful that he’d seemingly dodged a bullet. Something told him, however, she wouldn’t let this slide again.

As the third song neared its end, he found they had drifted to the edge of the dance floor. It was quieter there. The crowd felt miles away, congregated near the stage to focus on the fifth speech that night.

Ferris glanced up. “Look, it’s Mars.”

Suspended just above their heads was the planet, burning red against the high ceiling. It was a familiar color, the rust on warehouse chain-link, day-old blood stains on a white shirt — the color of that tie Demos always wore. It was an aggressive color, demanding attention like a gem in a crown. It felt good to look at it.

“The god of war,” Alex said, wistful.

“How romantic.”

She called his bluff, pulling him down into a kiss. She smelled like jasmine and tasted like champagne. Yet, somehow, all he could see was that color. That perfect, scorching red.

#

It was past eleven when they left the museum. Limousines lined the block, waiting to take the more prestigious guests back to their hotels and after-parties. Alex was precariously balanced between Ferris and a Corinthian column, having attempted to get her ticket’s worth in wine before deciding ten minutes ago it was a bad idea. Her cheeks were pink in the warm night air, contrasting the deep blue of her dress.

“Which way is your apartment?” She bumped her glasses with her wrist, attempting to straighten them. “Let’s take a cab.”

He raised a brow as he helped her down the wide steps. “In a hurry?”

“You know science gets me hot.”

“Yeah, science,” he said. “And enough champagne to drown a horse.”

“Where do you get these awful metaphors?”

As he opened his mouth to respond with yet another awful metaphor, he paused. He saw it, from the corner of his eye, a dozen steps down and briefly illuminated in a limousine headlight — a familiar profile, one he’d seen just that afternoon. Ferris swallowed whatever he’d meant to say, securing his hold over Alex’s shoulder. It couldn’t have been him. Why now, why here?

What was Aldo doing at the Museum Gala?

When Ferris looked back, the figure had sunk into the inky shadows beyond the ledge. No, there wasn’t one figure. Two — there were two men there. Ferris took in a hard breath before leading Alex in the opposite direction.

“Ferris?” Alex laughed. “Aren’t the cabs down there?”

“It’s too crowded. We can get one at the end of the block, okay?”

The lights and flashes faded as they made their way down the street. Ferris glanced back as they turned the corner, scanning the sidewalk for anyone who might be following them. Once the museum was out of sight, so too was the thrum of people. The side street was quieter, with only a 24-hour laundromat glowing open across the road. It was then Ferris regretted his decision to leave the crowd. In his attempt to avoid Aldo, he had subsequently isolated them on a dark city block.

“Alex, are you—“

“Hey,” called a voice from behind. “It’s Fishbones.”

Ferris closed his eyes. He’d been hoping he was wrong, that it wasn’t Aldo he’d seen at the bottom of the museum steps, that he’d made nothing but a silly mistake. There was, however, no mistaking that voice. It was Aldo.

The two men stepped up on either side of the couple, hands stuffed into their pockets.

“Look at you,” Aldo said. “All dressed up.”

“I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else,” Ferris said, his teeth clenched shut.

“Nah, we know that face. Don’t we, Lou?”

The other man patted Ferris’ lapel. “Sure do. Though I’m surprised to see a lady on your arm. Thought you and the Ghost—“

“Excuse us,” Ferris said, swatting the hand away. “It’s late.”

Lou feigned a frown. “Now don’t be like that, Fish. Why don’t you introduce us to—“

Before Ferris could stop her, Alex pushed herself upright. “Hey, he said he doesn’t know you. Leave us alone.”

“Alex!”

“Your date’s a fuckin’ liar, honey. He’s got a track record of it.”

“Hey, you can’t talk to him like that.” Alex had stepped forward, pushing her face up into Aldo’s. “Or me.”

Ferris could feel his guts doubling up, contracting just below his lungs. He wasn’t sure if it was the amount she’d had to drink, or if it was just her personality, but whatever the reason, it was going to get them both killed.

“Alex. Alex, no. Don’t—“

Lou stopped him in mid-step, an arm wrapped tight around his elbow. Aldo, on the other hand, hadn’t looked away from Alex. The two were staring each other down, the track suit and the evening gown inches apart.

“And what’re you going to do about it?”

“I’m gonna call the police, that’s what. You can’t just harass people on the street like—“

It was then the pocket knife came out. The blade straightened with a click, the steel glinting under the lamplight. It was a flash, a gleam of white braced just below Alex’s chin. Ferris could see the tip brush her jaw — her mouth, parted, as she took in a breath.

The rubber band holding Ferris’ insides together snapped. There was the sound of bone splintering, a groan as Lou’s spine struck the brick wall behind him. Ferris hit Aldo like a train, grasping his wrists, throwing him back into the lamppost with a metallic clang. The knife handle shuddered in the man’s white-knuckled grasp, but still he refused to let go. Ferris would just have to make him.

Joints twisted and cracked, arms shaking as they attempted to gain the upper hand. Ferris pulled back his hand, fingers tight, thumb wrapped over his knuckles — a brick, just as Sergio had shown him. Sweat flew as the fist hit Aldo’s jaw, skin scraped red. The lamppost reverberated as the man’s skull bounced from the pole, rattling the black shadows beneath them.

Aldo recovered — much faster than Ferris had hoped. Bone hit bone, flesh swelling as the two went at each other on the gum-stained concrete. Ferris’ tuxedo collar ripped, much more easily than fabric with such a price tag should have. That taste filled his mouth, the familiar sensation of musty copper and warm fluid. He could see blood dotted across Aldo’s chin, a constellation of red over a lazy five o’clock shadow.

They hit the ground, Aldo’s back cracking on the pavement. The knife clattered from his open palm. Ferris kept his opponent pinned, elbow digging across his collar as he felt over the sidewalk for the weapon. His fingers brushed the warm handle. In a second, the blade met the skin on Aldo’s throat, close enough for a sound, clean shave.

Ferris’ eyes darted sideways, burning under the shadows of his face. Lou was still clutching his ribs, several of which seemed to be broken.

“Leave.”

Lou was frozen on the spot, staring at the knife as it pressed deeper against Aldo’s throat. The skin puckered before a fine red droplet broke free onto the rim. Ferris returned his attention to Aldo.

“Tell your buddy to go.”

Aldo let out the breath he’d been holding, air wheezing through his bruised lungs. “Lou, go on.”

There was a shuffle, hesitant, before Lou’s footsteps thumped off in the opposite direction. Aldo was alone now, his limbs crushed beneath the force of the man above him. The light was blocked by Ferris’ body, leaving the man’s expression lost in darkness.

“You picked a fine fucking time to settle your shit with me.” Ferris was panting. A trail of blood had run from his nose along his upper lip, dripping spots onto Aldo’s cheek. “This was so close to being a magical evening, Aldo.”

Past his back, Ferris could hear Alex — the panic in her breath, the scratch of her shoes as she shifted. There was nothing more he could do to Aldo — not here, and not now.

“I’m going to let you up,” he said, inches from Aldo’s ear. “You’re going to tell her to have a nice night, and then you’re going to walk away.”

His grip on the knife tightened, fingers creaking.

“And if I ever see you near her again, I’ll bury this knife so deep in your body the coroner will never find it.” Ferris swallowed, his breath raw in his throat. “Got it?”

Aldo nodded, a faint gesture against the pressure of the blade.

The shadow swept from Aldo’s body as Ferris straightened himself. Aldo staggered, hands flat on the sidewalk, before managing to stand. He glanced up at Alex, who stared back at him with wide eyes.

“Have a— a nice night, Miss.”

She continued to stare, unmoving as they watched the man hobble past. His feet scraped over the pavement, leaving a shaky trail as he slipped out of the lamplight. It was only when the street was silent, when Ferris and Alex were the only souls left, that she spoke.

“God, are you okay?” she asked, finally breaking out of her stupor to reach for him. Her fingers brushed his cheek, pulling back when he winced.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re—“

“Really, Alex. I’m fine.”

“Ferris.” Her voice was weak. “We need to talk.”

He avoided eye contact, wiping his wrist over his bloodied upper lip. “I don’t think—“

“No, you’re not getting out of this one.” Her tone had changed drastically, shifting from concern to ire. “What— what the fuck was that? Who were they? Who’s Fish?”

“I don’t know.”

“God dammit, Ferris. Stop. Stop lying to me!”

As Alex’s voice rose, Ferris’ softened. He spoke under his breath, eyes locked on the blood smeared over his hand. “Alex, this isn’t the time.”

“Then when is? It’s never the time, is it? You must think I’m an idiot. A huge fucking idiot!”

“I don’t—“

“I can’t deal with this right now.”

Ferris’ heart began to hammer below his sternum. There was no lying his way out of this. There was nothing he could say to salvage this, no excuse that could undo what she’d seen.

“Okay. Okay, fine. I’ll take you home, and we can—“

She tore her hand from his, giving him a glare. “I can walk myself home.”

“Alex, I—“

In an instant, he forgot what he’d meant to say. He could only stare at her back as she left, her dress drifting past a blotch of red on the sidewalk.

“I…”

Ferris’ eyes fell to the knife in his hand. That was right — he was still holding it. He sniffed, once, attempting in vain to keep the blood from his lip. It was no use. It slipped down the corner of his mouth, following the curve of his chin before leaving one more drop on the collar of his shirt. It was there, again, the red on white.

That color that was so familiar.