Chapter Text
Ferris frowned at the brass key that was jammed in mail box #214. It wasn't the first time that his key had gotten stuck; the narrow tin mail box could be very temperamental at times. With a loud sigh, Ferris dropped his messenger bag onto the worn carpet. He grabbed the stubborn key with both hands and yanked hard. It flew out of the hole with a loud pop.
What a worthless piece of shit.
The landlady had insisted that the key was perfectly functional, but Ferris didn't have the patience for another attempt. He discretely scanned the shabby apartment lobby. The entryway was vacant and the arrows above the two steel elevators were stationary. A security camera was stationed beneath a revolving ceiling fan. The genius who installed the security system for Magnolia Apartments failed to recognize that there were eight blind spots in his design. The camera's field of view didn't include the stretch between mailboxes 100 and 500. Ferris resisted the urge to roll his eyes. What was the point of installing such an incompetent system? It was likely that the landlady begrudgingly had the work done to comply with state regulations. She obviously went with the cheapest bid.
Ferris rummaged through his coat pocket until his fingertips made contact with a tiny bobby pin. He withdrew the object and carefully fed it into the mail box. It was a trick that Demos had taught him. Ferris could pick any lock in the mail room, but it was vital that the other tenants remain oblivious to his skills. The lock opened with little resistance. He smirked. Sometimes it was useful to have connections with criminals.
A credit card statement, two ads, and the newest issue of SCIENCE magazine were shoved in the narrow box. His eyes instantly brightened when he saw the outline of an adult T. Rex on the glossy cover. The headline read: "Sue Revolutionizes Paleontology." Ferris briefly wondered who Sue was before stuffing the magazine into his messenger bag. The young Jewish man shut the door and approached a tin garbage bin between the two elevators. It was filled to the brim with fast food wrappings, crumpled newspapers, plastic water bottles, and un-crushed soda cans. Ferris inwardly winced at the unrecycled materials. The landlady was too lazy to order a recycling bin for the lobby.
Ferris slipped the junk advertisements onto the foul-smelling heap. One pamphlet slid down to reveal a small red envelope. It had been wedged between the two advertisements in the narrow mail box. The crimson envelope was addressed to "Mr. Levinstein." The sender did not leave a name or return address.
----
"Stan, get off of me. You're slobbering all over the magazine!"
The chubby pug curled onto his master's lap. He wagged his tail contentedly.
Ferris arched an eyebrow. For some reason, the bitter young man could not resist Stan's warm, round eyes and happy-go-lucky smile. He muttered something incomprehensible and scratched behind the pug's ears. The chubby dog yawned and abruptly fell asleep.
Ferris marked his place in SCIENCE magazine and set it on the table to dry. It was a shame, really. Dog saliva was splattered over a particularly fascinating article about human evolution. Perhaps he should order another copy from the AAAS. Ferris glanced at the red envelope that was sitting on the corner of the table. It looked somewhat suspicious. Maybe it contained a deadly white powder? Ferris was essentially sub-consigliere to the most powerful mafia in South Port. There were many men who would prefer to see him dead. He adjusted the black-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Mr. Levinstein." The handwriting was messy and seemed somewhat familiar. However, Ferris couldn't pinpoint the writer. Torn by curiosity, he acted on a whim and ripped open the envelope. Inside was a ticket.
8:00 PM - 14 February 2010
Radio City Music Hall
Row 5, Seat 23
Billy Idol Greatest Hits Jam!
On the back was a pink post-it. "Ferr, be my Valentine?" The cursive was barely legible. The "I" was dotted with a red heart.
It took less than half a second for Ferris to reach a decision. His fingers itched to crumple the ticket into a million pieces and incinerate it in the fireplace. "Seamus, I'll fucking KILL YOU!"
---
Demos took a long drag from his hand-rolled cigarette. The thin Italian surveyed his best friend through half-lidded eyes. "Like I said, you can't turn him down." He rose from the park bench and extinguished the cigarette in a cement ashtray.
Ferris' knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of his seat. His hands trembled involuntarily. "Demos, don't you fucking understand? Is this some kind of sick joke? A fucking bet? Don't you know what would happen to me if your family misinterpreted this 'date?'" The Jewish man felt shocked and betrayed but only anger colored his features. His pale skin was flushed with rage.
The smaller man was tempted to sigh. However, he remained composed to avoid further offending his friend. "Ferris, I didn't intend to endanger you. I would never wish for you to fall in harm's way. It's just that I feel badly for Seamus. He stopped drinking for six weeks to save enough money for those concert tickets."
Ferris' mouth hung open, ready to spit an acerbic retort, but he was suddenly at a loss for words. Six weeks without drinking... A pang of guilt burned his conscience. Everyone knew that Seamus's drinking problem had worsened since high school. The Brit had slowly become addicted to booze. It must have taken an incredible level of resolve to abstain from alcohol for that long. Seamus usually acted carefree, but there were few joys in his life aside from drinking, Billy Idol, soccer, and cars. His beloved cockatiel, Crackers, had died in 2009. Seamus lived by himself in a worn-down apartment complex on the edge of town. He was unemployed, lost in a limbo between high school and adulthood.
The lean Jewish man turned away. He pretended to watch a group of kids on the monkey bars. "Okay, I get it. We both know how... things have been for Seamus recently. I'll go under the condition that we are attending the concert as friends. Nothing more. Alright?"
Demos smiled. He seemed simultaneously relieved and proud of his best friend. Ferris was slightly taken aback. It had been a while since he had seen the Italian genuinely smile. When Demos manipulated politicians, he wore a cool yet charming grin. When he interrogated a suspect, his leer was seductive yet predatory. But today, his eyes reflected the lightness and warmth of his smile.
Ferris fingered the ticket in his pea coat. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. His back and neck felt stiff. The young man hadn't realized that he had become that tense.
After Ferris had visibly relaxed, an all-too-familiar smirk reappeared on Demos' face. "I knew that you'd come around! That's why I bought this."
The Jewish man stood frozen in place. Demos pulled a small piece of card stock from his wallet. It read:
8:00 PM - 14 February 2010
Radio City Music Hall
Row 5, Seat 24
Billy Idol Greatest Hits Jam!
Ferris' mouth hung agape. Demos pretended to ignore his friend's reaction but the devious Italian was secretly savoring every second of it. "I saw a blueprint of the music hall and fortunately, you're one seat from an aisle. It was relatively simple for me to purchase the aisle seat adjacent to yours."
"Relatively simple?" groaned Ferris. "Somehow, you stalked down the original occupant of seat 25 and forced him to scalp his ticket! How much did you pay?"
"$1400."
Typical of Demos. No sense of humility.
"Hey, don't give me that look! You should be thanking me," defended the emaciated Italian.
"Thanking you for what?"
"Let's just say that it's for your own protection. Seamus tends to be one of those aggressively 'hands-on' types. Trust me, I would know," said Demos.
"Oh God."
"Don't worry! I'll be there to swat him away if he goes overboard," he reassured.
"This is going to be such a fucked up Valentine's Day. Someone please shoot me."