The Secret Arrangement

by Vanessa Waltz

  “Uh-huh.”

  “They still don't know who you are, but if you ask me it’s a matter of time before they find out.”

  “You can’t tell the media anything. I’m serious, Natalie. It’ll put everything in jeopardy. Tell Ben not to say anything, either.”

  “I would never do that! Are you crazy?”

  “They might offer you lots of money.”

  “I don’t care. There’s no way I’d cave, but someone else who knows you might.”

  “Like who?” As far as I was concerned, there was no one else who knew me. I never talked about my personal life to anyone. If they asked my coworkers at the soup kitchen, all they could get from them is the city where I lived. “Listen, I’ve got to go. The car will pick us up soon. I’ll text you when I land in Chicago.”

  “All right. Good luck.”

  I hung up the phone and clenched it in my palm, wiping my other hand on my jeans. Luke was silent the whole ride to the airport. I kept looking at him, wanting to confess my fear of meeting his father, but the whitened look on his face stopped me. I didn’t want to make him feel worse, so I didn't say a word.

  He barely spoke during the flight. His red-rimmed eyes stared straight ahead. I wanted to help him, but there was nothing I could say. So, I sat next to him and held his hand.

  We were exhausted when the plane landed, but Luke told me we would head to the hospice. In the back of my mind, I thought we were playing right into his father’s hands. Wasn’t it unreasonable to expect Luke and I to hurry over there after a ten-hour flight? Whatever, it wasn’t my call.

  It looked more like a vacation home than a hospice. There were atriums containing all different flora, regionally specific and temperature controlled. Workers pushed dying men and women in wheelchairs through them. The floors and walls exuded an aura of comfort, but underneath it all was the faint stench of cleaning supplies—of hospitals and death. Death lingered in this quiet place, and all of its bright walls and colorful paintings couldn't overshadow the dark gloom lingering in the halls.

  No wonder he’s miserable. No one wants to die in a place like this.

  I thought about it for a moment. Where would I like to die? Probably in the comfort of my apartment, with Natalie nearby. Yes, people wanted to be with their families when they died. Didn’t they?

  I looked at Luke, who strode through with a look of perfect indifference. It was plain he couldn't care less about his father. Who would he want to be with?

  He gave me a quick smile, and my heart did a backflip.

  “Don’t look so nervous, Jess.’ It’ll be okay. Well, actually, it might not be.”

  Thanks for the vote of confidence.

  We were meeting with the nurse charged with Giacomo's case. I imagined that she would be strung out with stress at all the unreasonable demands Luke's father made of her, but she turned out to be a chipper forty-something-year-old woman.

  “Mr. Pardini, it’s great to meet you.”

  He nodded. “How is he?”

  “He keeps us busy,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes. “Visitors keep him in good spirits.”

  “Visitors?” Luke raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes. His nephews visit every month.”

  I tried not to whimper as Luke crushed the bones of my hand. What did it mean?

  “He’ll be so glad to see you. He talks about you all the time.”

  Probably to complain about him.

  “Oh, I’m sure.”

  The nurse’s smile faltered at the tone of his voice, but she recovered. “Well, it’s this way.”

  She opened the door for us, and I swallowed hard as I walked through first.

  An aged man sat upright on a hospital bed. He was so thin that thick round bruises covered his arms like a dark disease. I stood in the room, breathless as I took in all the tubes and instruments humming, keeping him alive. I was astonished at how similar they looked. Though his body was wasted, his face held the vestiges of great looks. His icy eyes, sharp and alert, cut through me as if he could see through my disguise. I trembled as his lips pulled into a grin, his eyes skull-like.

  “Hi Dad,” Luke said as he approached the bed. “This is my girlfriend, Jessica.”

  Somehow, my mouth spasmed into something resembling a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Luke tells me that your parents are dentists. Do they approve of you flying around with a man you barely know?”

  So, he was getting right to it. Fine. Bring it on.

  “Dad,” Luke said in a sharp voice.

  I held up a hand. “No, it’s fine. Your dad is just trying to protect you. It’s a valid question.” I smiled at Giacomo. “The answer is, I don’t know. I don’t talk to them anymore.”

  “Ah!” he yelled in triumph. “I see. My son is the same way; he only talks to me when he wants more money—or when he wants to discuss work.”

  Why would he want to call you? All you do is make him feel like crap.

  Despite himself, Luke’s cheeks flushed pink. “What do you think all these visits from my cousins are for? Do you think they’re doing it out of the kindness of their hearts?”

  I wanted to kick Luke’s leg.

  Why is he antagonizing him?

  He gave a hollow laugh as his father’s face went purple. I clenched my hands into fists and watched the volley of insults back and forth like a tennis match. This couldn’t be going any worse.

  “At least they don’t treat me like a checkbook,” he spat. “Do you think I can’t see through you and that bitch standing over there?”

  My leg twitched, and I glanced at Luke’s white face. Shit. It was too late; Giacomo had noticed the exchange and his eyes narrowed.

  “Dad—apologize now,” he said through his teeth.

  “Or what?” He grinned, knowing full well he alone held all the power, that his son could do nothing. “You’re pathetic. I knew from the second I saw those tabloid photos that this was a fraud.”

  Oh, shit. It was all unraveling. I turned to Luke in a voice I hoped was innocent. “What’s he talking about?”

  Giacomo gave me a nasty look. “So, how much is he paying you? I don’t think he ever paid any of the whores he left with in those clubs.”

  “Shut the hell up!”

  His father looked startled at his son’s outburst. “You’ll never get what you want from me. I won’t allow it!”

  I wanted to bend over and throw up on the pristine floor. His whole body trembled as he stood over the bed. I sprang forward, convinced that he would reach over and strangle his father.

  “Go to hell, Dad.”

  He spoke with such quiet venom I flinched, afraid of the poison infecting his voice. I turned around as Luke stormed out of the room, indifferent to his father’s yells and my pleas.

  When the door swung shut, I wheeled back to him, unable to keep the disgust out of my tone. “What’s wrong with you?”

  He pushed himself up on his pillows, giving me a look of justified anger. “I know what you’re both doing. What, am I supposed to be pleased that my son is trying to scam me with a hooker?”

  He was a jerk, but he was still nothing compared to the abuse I had experienced. Giacomo Pardini was child’s play. I kept my face neutral, refusing to allow his insults to harm me.

  “I love your son.”

  I felt my face grow hot. I hadn't meant to say that—it came out. There was a ringing in my ears, and I licked my dry lips. Giacomo's face was stony, but I forced myself to continue. "I fell in love with him because he's the only one who understands me. He gets it."

  He eyed me and his voice rose with contempt. “Are you that stupid? He may have convinced you otherwise, but you’re just another broad for him to fool around with. What the hell does a middle class woman from suburbia have in common with my son?”

  His barbs sunk deep into my flesh, stinging me. "We met in a support group for children with parents like you."

  I was pleased that Giacomo flinched as though my wor
ds had hurt him.

  “Do you know what Luke thinks about you? He thinks you made his mother commit suicide. Now, you’re trying to bully me because treating people like shit takes the edge off hating yourself. You make me sick—”

  His eyes went wide, and he grabbed the edge of his hospital bed, looking like he wanted to climb out of it so he could kill me. "You shut your mouth about things you don't understand." He clenched his teeth, and his thin arms trembled with the energy of keeping himself upright.

  His voice cracked with emotion. The wind knocked out of me. I couldn’t look away from the electricity in his eyes.

  For a moment, he looked like he wanted to scream, and then the words burst from his mouth as though he had been dying to say them for years. "I did everything I could for that woman. Therapists, psychiatrists and all of that bullshit—Luke never knew. I hid it from him. Don't you dare accuse me of trying to harm my wife. I loved her. She wanted to die, and there was nothing I could do to fix it."

  Was this true? Was this a manipulation or did Luke really have the wrong side of the story? My heart thudded against my chest.

  “What about when you sent him away after his mother’s death to live with strangers? I suppose you did that to protect him?”

  “You’re damn right, it was. Do you think I wanted him around my vulture in-laws? I didn’t want him to witness all the fighting over the money and the disgusting lawsuits filed against me. When she died, their cash flow ended, and they weren’t happy.” Giacomo sunk into his pillows, looking very much like a tired, old man. “He needed to grow up away from all this madness. I wanted a normal life for Luke, but he turned out to be just like the rest of them.”

  What followed Giacomo's voice was a ringing silence. I stood stock-still, unable to believe what I was hearing. Everything Luke said about him made me hate him before laying eyes on him, and yet he said things that made me question what Luke told me.

  “He didn’t turn out like the rest of them. You damaged him. What he needed was his father, not to be sent over the ocean to a strange place while he grieved for his dead mother.”

  He sat up again with renewed vigor, spittle drizzling his chin as he screamed at me. “Everything I did was for my son—everything! You don’t know what it’s like to watch your own brother and your son fight over your corpse like dogs!”

  I refused to relent the attack though Giacomo’s words had bothered me more than I would admit. “Instead of telling your son you’re doing what’s best for him, you belittle him every chance you get. Why?”

  Giacomo’s fist smashed into bed. “Because he needs to grow up! I'm a person, not a goddamn bank account.”

  “You'll die alone if you don’t mend things with your son.”

  The nurse appeared at my elbow. “Miss, you need to leave. You’re upsetting my patient.” The breathy girlishness was gone from her voice.

  But the statement only served to further enrage the Pardini patriarch. “I’m allowed to be upset!”

  “For the record,” I bellowed over his voice, pushing the nurse aside. “I don’t care whether you put Luke in your will or not. I think it would be good for him if he cut you out of his life. At least, he would never have to deal with you anymore.”

  “Miss—”

  I ripped my elbow out of her hands. “I’m leaving.” In a fog of rage, I stumbled from the room without knowing where I was going. Luke was nowhere to be seen. My pulse raced with all the things he said—all the things I said. I should have kept my mouth shut. I didn’t know what effect my words would have on Luke’s father. What if he took everything I said to heart and cut him off like I suggested?

  You’re an idiot. You’re a moron. Luke paid you to do a job, and you blew it!

  I stopped midway down the hall. It had been a quarter of an hour, and there was no sign of Luke. Maybe he left. Ahead, I saw a sign for a restaurant and bar and followed it.

  I found Luke perched on a barstool. It was eleven in the morning, so most of the place was empty. The bar was deserted. He stared down the tiny shot glass, a small row of empty ones beside it. I edged up to him as he stared downwards, not even acknowledging my presence, playing with the drink with his long fingers.

  “Three shots at eleven A.M.? Must be some record."

  Luke shrugged, and I placed my hand over his to stifle his movements.

  “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

  I blinked. “Why?”

  “You heard my father. I won’t be able to pay you anymore.”

  “Luke, I don’t care about the money.”

  He gave me a sidelong grin that looked like his father’s. “Right.”

  "I mean it." My heart was beating in my ears as I stole myself to tell him. Luke's father hadn't been what I pictured. Luke had painted a dark portrait of an evil, masochistic villain, but all I saw was a man full of pain, bewildered by his son's coldness. He was horribly misguided, but evil? I didn't think so. Still, on the whole, Luke would be better off without his dad in his life.

  “I wish I had your dad,” I confessed.

  “Your foster parents must have been pretty terrible if you prefer him.” He looked at me and flinched. “Sorry.”

  “No one ever gave a damn about me. If I died, no one would notice. No one except Natalie. I don’t know what being loved feels like.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “Your mother loved you. I think even your dad might love you in his own sick, twisted way.”

  He laughed as he sipped the dregs of his drink. “How would you know?”

  “We had a—a talk.”

  “‘Bout what?”

  I took his hand and set it in my lap, squeezing his palm. “He told me things about you—about your mom. Maybe if you knew them, it might change your feelings about him.”

  Luke slipped his hand out of my grasp, shaking his head.

  "He said he paid for psychiatrists and therapists and everything under the moon for your mom, and he hid her depression from you. To protect you. That's why he sent you away from his in-laws, who were demanding more money and suing him. He didn't want you to see all that."

  Luke, who had been shaking his head harder the more I talked, slammed his fist into the bar table so that the glasses fell on their sides. “No! Everything he says is a lie.”

  “Luke, in all fairness, why would he lie about that? He could furnish proof if you asked for it.”

  He turned, anger thickening his features. “Then why not tell me about all this? Why did he make me think it was my fault she died?”

  “He didn’t know that you felt that way. It’s screwed up, but like I said, he thought he was doing the best thing for you. He told me he wanted you to become normal—not consumed with greed like your cousins and uncle. And you know what, it worked.” Even though I told his father otherwise, I believed it now. Growing up away from all that money and influence—wasn’t that a good thing? “I think you should go back there and talk to him.”

  He slammed a few notes on the bar table. “I don’t care. It’s too late for me to hear all of this.”

  “I told your dad something.”

  Luke’s wavering, drunken eyes fixed on me. “Told him what?”

  “That I’m in love with you.”

  He blinked and said nothing as my heart hammered my chest. Then he chuckled, and the sound cut through me like a knife.

  “Did he buy it?”

  Hollowness resonated inside me. He would never believe me.

  “Luke, I meant it about the money. I don’t want you to pay me anymore. If I could, I would give it all back to you.”

  His eyebrows were in danger of disappearing in his hair. “Why?”

  My heart seemed to jump out of my chest.

  Just say it.

  A loud voice I had never heard before echoed inside my head; it filled me with courage.

  Go after what you want.

  “Because being with you has been the best time of my life and I don’t want to be paid for it. I want
it to be real.”

  His hot hand closed over my wrist, making me meet his intense gaze. He was stunned. His dark blue eyes were wide, and his mouth trembled.

  I didn’t want to hear it. I leaned into him and his arm wrapped around my waist. My lips silenced his, and I tasted the alcohol swirling in his mouth and the smell of his hair that was his, clouding the air like perfume. I remembered hotly the night we fucked and how his smell lingered all over my body. I deepened the kiss, knowing that this couldn’t last and that I might as well enjoy it. He looked at me, breathless, as though he had never seen me before.

  “Luke, I know you don’t feel the same, but I had to tell you.”

  My hand slid from his grasp, and I walked away from him then. My heart and head felt lighter. Why was I so happy and wracked with sadness? The possibilities were widening in front of me like a map with a hundred thousand different paths and destinations. I was free to explore them all.

  After Luke had sobered up, he found me waiting outside of the hospice on a park bench. He explained that we would see his relatives as a last ditch effort to convince his dad that this wasn't a scam. It was plain that Luke had chosen to ignore everything I had said in the bar. We drove to their house in complete silence.

  Well, I guess I scared him off.

  My jaw dropped as the car turned into a gated driveway, which led to the biggest mansion I had ever seen. It was Gatsby-level big, with a manicured lawn and flowers that looked like they were changed once a month. I swallowed as I saw workers entering and exiting the house like bees. Tables and chairs, silver and black balloons, trays and trays of catered food floated through that tiny entrance. I looked down at myself and swore. We just left the hospice, and there had been no time to change.

  “You didn’t tell me there was a damn party!”

  "It's my uncle's birthday. Don't worry, we'll go upstairs, and you can change. It's only noon."

  I gaped at him. “You didn’t mention—I didn’t get a gift or anything!”

  He rolled his eyes. “Uncle Dominic has everything he wants.”