Code of Honor

by Missy Johnson

  The cool morning air hits my face as I jog over to Washington Square Park. Apparently the park is a popular place to run. Men, women, and people with dogs jog around the park, each lost in their own thoughts. Me, I’m running to forget. I run because when I do I focus on only that. It’s the only time in my life when nothing else matters.

  My heart thuds in my head as one foot then the other hits the pavement over and over again. I could run for hours, and that morning I do. When I finally keel over, my body unable to handle any more punishment.

  I take a few minutes to catch my breath before making my way back home. In an odd way, I feel more energized than a full night’s sleep could ever have given me.

  Chapter 14

  Lucy

  After class, I head home, angry that it’s been all day and I’ve still heard nothing from him. No missed calls, texts…hell, I even checked my email. I can’t believe what an asshole he’s turned out to be.

  I toss my bag on the floor and flick off my shoes. As frustrated as I am, I do get it. I’ve spent my life trying to break away from my father. Pietro’s spent his trying to repay what he feels he owes. I’m angry with him, and with myself for letting this happen, and I’m angry at my dad.

  My phone vibrates just as I throw my frozen dinner in the microwave. I lunge across the counter to where I’d tossed it, next to my keys. It’s him. My heart pounds as I read the text.

  Pietro: I never wanted to hurt you. You have no idea how much I want to be with you, but it will never work.

  I sigh and press CALL. I refuse to have this argument again through fucking texts. He answers right away.

  “Lucy,” he says. I close my eyes. I don’t want to think about how much I love hearing my name fall from those lips. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to talk to me.”

  “I’m not sure I do,” I admit. I’m already regretting the call. What difference is it going to make? “I have no idea why I even called.”

  “I’m glad you did,” he offers. “I’ve wanted to call, but I thought you might want space.”

  “That’s the problem, Pietro.” I laugh, running my hand through my hair. He still just doesn’t get it.

  “I don’t want space. I want you.” I end the call and throw the phone on the sofa, angry that I was first to break—and annoyed that nothing has been resolved.

  I need to talk to someone, and the only person I can think of is Bella, who is notoriously hard to get ahold of these days. I call her number, praying she answers. When she does, I almost cry with relief.

  “Hey, lovely. What’s up?” She sounds concerned. Just the sound of her voice makes me feel better. I feel less alone knowing she’s there for me.

  “Just homesick, I guess,” I say, smiling through tears. “I guess being over here is harder than I thought it would be.”

  “You’ve always got me. Just a phone call away.”

  “Except you rarely answer these days.”

  I giggle.

  “Shit, sorry about that. I guess I have been spending more time than usual with Ryan.”

  “I still can’t believe you’re on week six with the same boy,” I tease. “And you’re not even sick of him yet.”

  “Not even close, Luce.” I love how happy she sounds and it makes me second-guess spoiling her mood with all my problems. “Anytime you need to talk, text me saying it’s urgent and I’ll be on the phone that very second, okay?”

  “Thanks, Bell. You’re a great friend.”

  —

  Should I call him? No. Fuck him. Why should I be the one to cave? Again. He’s the one acting like a child. I’ll wait for him to come crawling back to me, no matter how excruciating the wait will be.

  What if he doesn’t come back?

  I don’t even want to think about that, suddenly terrified that we’ve ruined our friendship.

  I occupy myself for the rest of the day by cleaning the apartment and shopping. Afterward, I stand back and survey my work. I’ve never seen my fridge so full of this much food I’ll probably never eat. I reach for a packet of goat cheese and make a face. That’s what I get for shopping to drown my emotions. I don’t even like goat cheese.

  When I’ve run out of things to do, I turn on the TV and park myself in front of it. There’s nothing worth watching, and I soon find myself thinking about our night together. Everything about him was amazing, from the way he kissed me to the way I felt when he was inside of me.

  My face heats as I think about how hard he had me come. I’ve never been able to achieve anything like that on my own, which makes me wonder if I’d been doing it wrong all this time.

  Sighing, I try to ignore the emptiness in my chest. Thinking about him isn’t going to help get me through the next few days. I need to block him from my mind and focus on what’s important: my dancing. I don’t have time for guys anyway. The more I say it, the more I begin to believe it. There is no room for boyfriends in this profession. All my time and focus needs to be on ballet, and a boyfriend would compromise that.

  In the end, I’d have to choose between him and ballet because there isn’t room for both.

  Chapter 15

  Pietro

  A twinge of guilt washes over me when Stefanni’s name flashes on my screen. I’d made it clear to her that I’m only interested in friendship with her, but she just won’t let up. I’m at the point where I think it’s best for both of us if I avoid her.

  The worst part is having to find myself another coffee shop to spend my days in. The only other one near the studio is one I’m afraid Lucy will go into because it’s literally right across the street.

  After watching Lucy go into the studio, I walk up to the coffee shop to check it out. Once inside, I see it’s actually pretty nicely positioned for what I need to do. Not only that, but there’s a back door that exits onto the street behind. If I see her coming across the street, I can make a fast getaway.

  Satisfied, I order a coffee and pancakes, and then take a seat near the back. I pull out my laptop and get to work.

  It’s close to five when I finally finish for the day. Closing my laptop, I watch as students begin to leave the studio. Lucy is one of the last to leave. She’s holding her phone. Texting, maybe? I eye my phone, hoping to see it light up with a message, and when it doesn’t, a wave of disappointment hits me.

  Why should she have to contact me? I’m obviously the one with the problem.

  I watch her as she crosses the street and enters her building. Slowly, I gather my things and pay up my tab. I don’t want to go home, and it’s starting to rain. Without thinking, I walk into the first bar I pass, and order myself a Scotch. The bartender pours my drink, then pushes it across the bar to me. I sit down on the stool and down the drink in one gulp.

  “Hit me again,” I mutter. I’m so frustrated with myself and the only way I can think to deal with this right now is with alcohol. After my second shot, I’m already pretty tipsy. I don’t drink that much, so when my aim is to get drunk, it’s a pretty short process. By my third round I’m starting to see double. I glance at my phone and realize I’ve been sitting there for over an hour. Shit, where did that time go? My inability to process time makes me question whether I’ve only had the three drinks. I slide off the stool, deciding it’s best for me to go home and sleep it off.

  Outside, my phone rings. My stomach lurches and I answer, convinced that it’s Lucy. I don’t even consider what kind of impression me being drunk will leave on her, because I’m so desperate to hear her voice.

  “Lucy?” I gasp into the phone.

  “What? Pietro, it’s Giovanni. What’s wrong with you?”

  “Oh, shit. I thought you were someone else,” I mutter. I stop and lean against the wall, rubbing my head. I don’t want to speak to Giovanni right now. Only Lucy. “Um, I have to go.”

  “Hold up, you’re not going anywhere. Is Lucy all right? Why did you think I’d be Lucy?” he asks me, confused.

  “I thought she might call,” I mutter, vaguely aware that
I should get off the phone as fast as possible.

  The state I’m in, who knows what I’ll let slip?

  “Did you need me for something?” I ask, trying to shift the conversation.

  “Need something? Pietro, what I need is someone I can trust to look after my daughter. You’re obviously drunk. How can you keep an eye on her safety when you can barely talk?”

  “I can talk just fine,” I retort, slowly dragging each word out. “After watching her all day, and ensuring she got home safely I had a few drinks to unwind. I didn’t realize that would be such a problem.”

  “It’s a problem when it interferes with what I’m paying you for,” Giovanni growls. I swallow a laugh. He seriously expects me to watch her twenty-four hours a day? He’s being ridiculous. “Go home and sleep it off, Pietro. I’ll call you tomorrow when you’re lucid.”

  Annoyed, I shove my phone back in my pocket and continue my stagger home. Who the hell does he think he is? Part of me wants to call him back and tell him exactly what Lucy and I have been up to, but I’m not that stupid or drunk.

  As I near Lucy’s building, my heart pounds. I’m ten seconds away from walking up there and pounding on her door, begging forgiveness. But I don’t. What stops me is I don’t want her to see me like this. I’m a mess.

  Snap the fuck out of this miserable hole you’re digging yourself into. You want things to change? Man up and change them.

  Chapter 16

  Lucy

  “I’m the worst friend,” Bella announces dramatically when I pick up the phone. Chuckling, I wander over to the balcony and open the door. My iced tea in one hand and the phone in the other, I sit down, the concrete cold on my legs.

  “No, you’re not. At least you finally called me back.” I giggle. “Things still going well, I’m guessing?”

  “Too well,” she replies, her voice glum. “I’m waiting for things to go wrong, Luce. They have to. They always do.” She sighs. “He’s probably a serial killer or something.”

  “Or maybe you’ve finally found a decent guy?” I suggest, taking a sip of my drink.

  “Maybe. Okay. What’s new with you?” she asks.

  Do I tell her? I take a deep breath. I need to tell someone.

  “Bell, everything is a mess.” I groan. I don’t even know where to begin.

  “Are you okay? What’s happened?” she asks, her voice full of alarm.

  “Pietro.”

  “Pietro?” she repeats, confused.

  “Yes. He came to town for a few days and we kind of hooked up—”

  “You kind of hooked up?” Bella screams. Laughing, I lift the phone away from my ear until her voice returns to normal. “What the hell does that mean? Explain, Lucy. Details!”

  “You’ve been so hard to get ahold of that Pietro has been there for me since I moved here. We talk nearly every night, text all the time. We flirt.”

  “You flirt? Holy hell, Luce. That man is a god. You slept with him? Is he, you know, well equipped?”

  “Bella,” I gasp, laughing. “Some things are off-limits, even for you. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. We argued about my dad. He left and I haven’t heard from him since. I think it freaked him out when I told him I was a virgin.”

  “You told him that? Never tell them that, Luce.” Bella groans.

  “I told him after,” I say defensively.

  “That’s even worse!” Bella sighs. “Okay. What do you want? A relationship? Some fun? Do you like him?”

  “Yes,” I admit. “I like him a lot and the thought of him not being in my life is something I can’t think about. But my dad—”

  “Is the relationship you, Pietro, and your dad?” she cuts in.

  “No,” I say, and laugh, screwing up my nose.

  “Then I don’t give two fucks what your dad thinks. If you like Pietro, then tell him. Be honest. I’m the queen of fucking up relationships and trust me, the best way to do that is to avoid the truth.”

  “I guess you’re right,” I mumble.

  If only talking to him didn’t feel so terrifying. What if he totally rejects me? Rubbing my forehead, I sigh. Why does this all have to be so hard?

  “Worst case, you could always make the guy jealous by flirting with one of the guys in your dance class,” Bella teases.

  “But then I’d have to tell him about it, or he’d never know.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s true. Hey, maybe I could let it slip to him?”

  “No, stay out of it, Bells. I don’t need this any messier than it already is.”

  “Glad that’s what you think my help would do,” she says, feigning hurt. “I have to go, but I’ll call you tomorrow and see how you’re doing, okay? Don’t sit around pining for him. Keep yourself occupied.”

  “Okay.” I sigh. Easier said than done.

  —

  I managed to distract myself for the rest of the night with bad movies and junk food, but I’m paying for it now. I’ve just finished what was easily the most intense session in my life. I pack my things into my bag, just as my phone rings.

  “You are not going to believe this, Luce!”

  “What?” I ask, more curious than concerned. Bella has a habit of being overenthusiastic. I’m half expecting her to announce that her favorite lip gloss company has released another color.

  “So, I was so angry for you that I went to talk to Pietro—”

  “You what?” I screech, stopping in my tracks. Embarrassed, I glance around the half-empty hallways of the studios before lowering my voice. “Bell, why the fuck would you do that?”

  “Because he’s being a twat,” she announces triumphantly. “Now, shut up and listen to me. I get to your place and he’s not there. Neither is your dad. So, I ask your cook where I can find Pietro and he tells me he overheard a conversation between your dad and—”

  “Bell,” I interrupt with a laugh. “Does this have a point?”

  “New York,” she spits out. “He’s in New York.”

  The blood drains from my face.

  “He came back?” I mumble.

  “No, Luce. He’s been there the whole time. Apparently, it was the only way your dad would let you go—if Pietro was over there too, keeping an eye on you.”

  “No, he would’ve told me. He came to visit, for fuck’s sake. And my dad can be overprotective, but he wouldn’t do that.”

  Even as I say the words I know how stupid I sound. This is exactly something my dad would do.

  “Are you kidding me? This has Giovanni written all over it,” Bella says, echoing my thoughts.

  “I gotta go. I’ll call you later, okay?”

  I need time to think. I end the call and shove my phone in my pocket and lean against the wall just outside the studio. He’s been here this whole time. I glance up and down the crowded street. Is he watching me now? I shiver—both turned on and disgusted at the thought.

  Holding tightly on to my bag, I make my way across the street to my apartment. I’m so angry with my father, it’s taking all my energy not to call him up and abuse him. But that would ruin everything. No, it’s better he doesn’t know that I know, especially with the plan I have forming in my head. I smile as I unlock my door, a shiver of excitement racing down my spine. My father ordered him to watch over me. I’ll give him something to watch.

  This is going to be fun.

  Chapter 17

  Pietro

  All week I’ve done my best to distance myself from her, and while I know it’s for the best, it’s tearing me apart. She’s tried calling and texting, all of which I’ve deleted. I watch her every day, and it kills me to see her looking so sad.

  I’ve been sitting in the same spot for the last hour, staring at the blank TV. A half-full glass of Scotch remains in my hand, untouched. I don’t want alcohol. I want her. Standing up, I walk over to the window. I glance across to her apartment and stare at the thin stream of light escaping from the sides of her blinds. She’s in the living room. Her bedroom and bathroom are both dark.


  The light in her bedroom flicks on and I watch with interest as she wanders over to the window. She looks out. I can make out her face but not her expression. I can’t tell what she’s thinking. The blinds rise higher as she reaches out to open the window. My throat tightens as her hands lift to the top of her shirt. Slowly, she undoes each button. I can’t look away, and even if I wanted to I couldn’t. What the fuck is she doing? The shirt comes off, and she stands there, her hair blowing softly in the wind. As her hands disappear behind her back I’m ready to explode. When her bra falls away from her perfect breasts it’s all I can do not to storm over there and slam down that fucking blind, and then kiss some sense into her. Hasn’t she got any idea how many men might be watching her right now? Men who, seeing her perfect curves and beautifully rounded breasts, are probably on the verge of jacking off to thoughts of her?

  Men like—me?

  I back away from the window. I can’t do this anymore. Every glance at her—especially now—is torture, and I’ve put myself through enough of it over the years. I walk back over to my chair and pick up the Scotch, slamming it down my throat.

  Tonight I drink to forget.

  —

  “Mama!” I yell as the shot rings out. I swear her eyes meet mine as she falls. I saw the moment life slipped away from her. I saw everything. I’m frozen on the spot, unable to move. This can’t be happening.

  The killer, hearing my screams, turns to me, his eyes meeting mine for a split second. I memorize his face, swearing to myself that I will never forget it until the day I die.

  The moment passes and he runs. I hear the sound of a car revving to life, then he’s gone. Running to the front, I curse myself for not writing down the plate number. My mind is so clouded I can’t even remember the color. The only thing I remember for sure is those cold, calculating eyes.

  I find Dad first, lying in a pool of blood in the doorway. My heart pounds as I bend over and look for a pulse. Nothing. He’s gone. I force myself to move into the kitchen, where my mother lies, though I already know she’s gone.