A/N: another brief installment. Thanks for hanging in there; your patience and loyalty is so appreciated. Reviews welcome!
She didn't mean to get herself drunk. Just a drink to calm her nerves until Andrew returned. But her ability to handle alcohol had severely eroded over the years. Probably because I was happy, she thought miserably, sitting on her picnic table in the shade of the palm, with a glass and an old bottle of Macallan 21-year-old scotch.
Miri had fantasized for years about what would happen if Jack Valenti died in prison, but they had all involved the Mob canceling the contract, even though Ian had told her it wasn't predictable.
"It depends on a lot of things, Miri," Ian had said. "One thing in your favor is, Valenti isn't family. He's just a hired gun."
But Andrew had told her this Frank Ferrante was a vicious thug, just like his father. She took a sip. How could his being a fan of hers make any difference to someone like that? Did anyone really think he'd just cancel a contract as a favor to her? It didn't make any sense, so Miri fell deeper into despair, figuring Andrew wouldn't have any real plan in mind.
Delilah appeared at her side, sensing Miri's mood, and nudged her elbow with her nose.
"You're right, girl," Miri said, and stood up. It was eleven o'clock now, and very warm. "I need a swim." She looked up and down the beach—it was deserted now, the surfers gone. And she didn't feel like going back to the house and changing, so Miri stripped off her t shirt and shorts and underwear, and, with a tipsy laugh, ran across the beach into the surf. Delilah followed her to the water's edge, and, like Molly, sat watchfully as her mistress swam hard for a half hour.
The water was cooler than the air, and helped clear the boozy haze. Miri swam up and down, parallel to the beach, with strong, powerful strokes. Swimming was now her favorite exercise, ever since she was pregnant and the buoyancy eased her aching body. She liked how it forced her to coordinate strokes and the taking of breaths, and how it felt to knife through the clean, salty water. It toned her body perfectly, too, something Nick appreciated. The thought of Nick looking at her almost threw Miri off her rhythm. She missed him; she always missed him when they weren't together, which wasn't very often, thank goodness.
Delilah's bark startled her. She stopped and found her footing, shading her eyes against the sun. The dog was wagging her tail: a good sign. The waves tugged at her body as she looked back at the house. Miri panicked at first: two men were walking towards the beach, and even though Delilah had identified them as friendly, Miri remembered she wasn't wearing any clothes. But one of the men remained by the picnic table, set back under the palms, while the other walked further onto the sand. She laughed in astonishment and delight- it was Nick, and he was holding a towel. They must have seen her clothes on the picnic table.
The alcohol left in her system made her feel naughty, so, instead of waiting for Nick to arrive at the water's edge, Miri started running towards him, probably giving the other man—she could see now it was Andrew- a brief eyeful.
"Jesus, Miri," Nick laughed, holding the towel in front of him open as Miri ran into his chest. He wrapped Miri in it, then carried her in his arms back to the picnic table, kissing her as they went.
"Sorry, Andrew," Miri giggled. "When you surprise me with my husband like that, you have to expect an unusual amount of PDA."
Andrew just smiled, with a twinkle in his eye. "I hope you don't mind us flying him home for this. We thought it would be better if you were together when I tell you what we know."
Miri touched his face with an outstretched hand. "You have no idea how much better I feel, now that Nick's here." She looked at her husband with a teary eye, then gathered her clothes. "It's almost lunchtime. We can talk while we eat. Nick, I bought some fresh dorado fillets yesterday you can grill up. I'll start the vegetables."
Nick followed her into the house and kissed her before she went into the bathroom for a quick shower.
"What did Ian tell you?" Miri asked, hanging up her towel.
"The same as you."
"Okay, good." Then she paused before getting in. "Do the kids know?" They considered Pilar their daughter.
"No. That wouldn't be fair."
"You're right," she said, and then smiled tenderly at him. "You know I will do anything for you." Her heart warmed at his reaction.
"You're my Rachel," he said, and she knew it wasn't a slip of the tongue. "And I'm your Finn. It's what we do."
She got into the shower, and felt his gaze, wishing he could join her. "Go have a drink with Andrew and fire up the grill," she said. "I'll bring out the fillets when it's time."
When the vegetables were done, cooked in a spicy, gingery sauce, Miri brought out the fish.
"Nick uses a very hot grill, " she explained to Andrew. "The fillets will take only a few minutes." She joined Andrew and poured herself a drink.
"I hope you know how much I appreciate your flying Nick here," she told him.
"You both deserved to hear this together," Andrew said. They looked out to sea and didn't speak anymore until Nick announced the fish was ready. Miri went back in the house and brought out the pot of vegetables, ladling them over the fish. Each dish gave off a savory, gingery scent. Andrew sighed in pleasure. Nick opened a cold bottle of California chardonnay.
"Whenever something happens that could change the status of our people, we have a procedure worked out," Andrews said, after praising the meal. "In this case, when we heard Valenti had died, we went through channels to contact the Ferrante family, inquiring about the status of the contract."
"Is that when they told you it was still in force?" Miri asked, shuddering at the thought of even talking to such people.
"No, not right away," Andrew said. "That is not unusual. They came back with a request for us to meet with their lawyers. I arranged the meeting in New York, under heavy security for both sides, in a restaurant in Queens that they specified." He smiled. "It was cheesy, actually, almost straight out of The Godfather. Heavy on atmosphere and intimidation."
Miri liked the contempt Andrew showed for them in his voice. She squeezed Nick's hand.
"The sickening thing about these people is, they look at Nick as the bad guy. They cultivate this familial myth about how what they do is legitimate because it protects the family. They came to me, quite literally, as the aggrieved party in all of this."
He took a sip of wine.
"I asked up front—again-what the status was regarding the contract, now that Valenti was dead. And the head lawyer repeated that Nicks offence against the family was in no way mitigated by Valenti's death." Andrew leaned forward, with a smile. "And then it got interesting."
Miri squeezed Nick's hand.
"He said, 'Normally, we keep such contracts in force'. I was intrigued, and let him continue. He said other circumstances made this case different."
"Different?" Nick asked. He looked at Miri. "What the hell?"
"He meant me," Miri said. "Right, Andrew?"
"Yes, and a young woman from the Bronx named Donnatella DiFazio."
"Who?" Miri and Nick asked together. Andrew grinned.
"She is a pretty young lady who worked at a coffee bar that Frank Ferrante frequented. She married him right before you won the Tony award. He even took her to see Mount Olympus Blues on their first date." Then Andrew sighed. "Rachel Berry signed her playbill that night."
The thought she had been so physically close to Frank Ferrante made Miri's skin crawl.
"She has it framed and on a wall in their home. It's her favorite show, and both of them consider you their favorite actress."
"But what does this have to do with Nick's contract?"
"Well, prior to his father relinquishing control to his son, Frank wasn't privy to all of the family operation details. But when he took over, as he was being briefed on all of the contracts, Finn Hudson's came across his desk, and he remembered the name from your Tony awards speech. He had the pull to get tickets, and took his new wife to the ceremony, and the after party." Andrew reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph. "There was a picture taken of you with them at that party."
Miri felt sick. She was standing, smiling, in between the two of them, each draping an arm around her shoulder. Donnatella was a dark, slender beauty, and even Frank looked fresh-faced, without a hint of cruelty. How was she to have known?
"I'm sorry, Finn-" she choked out, only to have him make everything better.
"Lord, you looked gorgeous in that dress," Nick said.
She stared at him, incredulous.
"I was cavorting with the Devil incarnate, and that's all you got out of this picture?"
His nodding grin made her want to just kiss him in front of Andrew, so she did, because she knew his response was completely genuine. When it came to his love for her, Finn Hudson never pretended, or told her what she wanted to hear.
"Sorry for the unscheduled PDA," Nick said to the gently smiling Andrew. Go on."
"He knows Rachel Berry faked her death, and assumed she joined you in hiding. And here's the interesting part: he respects that."
"I have a question," Miri said. Andrew paused. "Does Donatella know about all of this?"
Andrew nodded. "Oh yes. We have no idea how she feels about the killing or the contract, but she knows what her husband's family does for a living. And Frank told her about this particular one."
"So she could be just as callous as her husband, then."
"That's right."
Miri nodded. This was just so surreal.
"The lawyer got this strange look on his face, then said that, despite the family's long-standing custom of honoring contracts no matter what, they might make an exception in this case, on one condition." He paused again, and Miri could see Andrew was having a hard time saying it.
"What condition?" Nick demanded. "What could those motherfuckers possibly want besides my head?"
Andrew took a deep breath.
"They said the family will consider canceling the contract if Rachel Berry gives Donatella and Frank a personal concert, in New York, of Sally Jones's solos from Mount Olympus Blues."