Alfie, Part One

Chapter 9 #2

The bathroom hadn’t changed since I’d lived here. In fact, nothing had. The living room was the homiest area in the house. I liked the dark, warm colors and the comfortable couches and chairs. It had a fireplace too, and we’d put the Christmas tree near it…

I shook my head to myself and toweled off.

I had to stop going down memory lane.

My reflection in the mirror stared back at me, and I brushed my fingertips over the redness under my eyes.

I looked like a sorry sack of shit.

As I left the bathroom, it didn’t feel right to park my ass on the couch, so I went into the kitchen instead to wait for West.

I sat down at the table and glanced it over. Was it new? I couldn’t be sure, but I didn’t remember ours being so glossy. This wood seemed slightly darker too.

Most of the time, we’d eaten at the dining room table in the living room. It was how West had grown up. He’d looked at me funny when I’d automatically set the kitchen table, and he’d said something like, “We’re not in LA anymore, baby. We have a dining area now.”

The front door opened, and I sat up straighter, part of me wanting to stand up simply because it wasn’t my home. Maybe sitting down meant I’d gotten too comfortable? Even though everything about this screamed discomfort.

West stopped in the wide doorway and seemed to hesitate. He watched me, and he watched the table.

“What?” I asked.

He shook it off and came closer. “Just strange seeing you at the table again.”

I gave the table another glance as he flicked on the light right above. “ Is this the table we picked out?”

“It is.” He sat down at the end, sharing my corner. “I had to re-treat it. Ellie and one of her friends wrecked the finish with glitter glue and scissors last fall.”

Ah.

“Got it,” I said. “Was Colby all right with crashing in the studio?”

“Yeah, definitely,” he replied. “He might not be asleep in an hour after all, if you want to check in on him. He saw the washer and asked if he could do laundry—something about bed bugs at the last place he’d stayed at?”

I made a face. “Yeah, it was a fuckin’ dump.”

“Explains why he called the studio a luxury apartment.”

I let out a quiet chuckle. I had a feeling Colby hadn’t experienced much luxury in his life.

“By the way, he gave me his number if you want to contact him.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ll text it to you.”

“Thank you.” I’d send him a text in a little while.

He inclined his head as he sent me the number. “He calls you boss,” he noted.

“I’m not. I’m a…I don’t know, temporary babysitter.”

He hummed and placed the phone in front of him.

Fuck. Colby had talked, hadn’t he?

“Did he tell you anything?” I wondered.

He shook his head slowly, maybe considering his response. “Not really. He said he’d been sure that his punishment would’ve been a lot more severe—or painful as fuck, in his words—if you hadn’t stepped in and, to quote, saved his ass.”

That was technically true, I guessed.

“When I asked what he was being punished for, he became tight-lipped,” he added. “He said it was up to you to divulge anything.”

Attaboy. That boded well for our future work dynamic. Because I was definitely putting Colby to work. And hopefully, I could convince him to think about returning to school too.

Finn had given me six months, and Colby and I had a lot to prove.

“Would you rat me out to the cops?” I asked. “If given the opportunity.”

He furrowed his brow. “Do you really think I’d do that to you?”

I shrugged. “I have no idea. Part of me trusts you enough to ask and believe whatever you say in response, but another part is like, fuck Alfie, he’s jeopardizing our kids’ safety.”

The furrow between his brows deepened, and he rested his forearms on the table. “I’d like to propose a trust treaty in that case. If you’re more honest about what it is you do, I promise to be a vault.”

I cocked my head, more than a little interested in the idea.

“I would like the record to reflect that I’d be a vault, regardless,” he went on. “With only one exception. If I genuinely believe our children aren’t safe with you—and you refuse to make changes—I will certainly do something about it.”

As any parent worth their salt would.

I cleared my throat and leaned forward a bit. “When I have Trip and Ellie, my work couldn’t be more uneventful. I have access to a condo near Reading Terminal, where I do nothing but text and talk on the phone. I help Kellan set up sit-downs and…errands. I’m his PA, in short. And tonight was an emergency—an exception. They will be extremely rare.”

“And when you don’t have the children?”

Right. Yeah.

We locked eyes, and it…it was like a crossroads. Now was the time to give him a hand—not an arm. Just…more than the middle finger I’d essentially given him in the past.

“I’m a location scout,” I said. “And I put together small crews to pick up stuff.”

“Stuff,” he repeated flatly.

I nodded once. “I’m not gonna go into detail. I will just say, I’m close enough to the management that they will never put me in situations where I don’t have enough time to cover my tracks. The phone I’ve talked about isn’t just one phone. It’s a burner I replace frequently, and we have enough tech geniuses to hide my location when I use it. Most recently, today, if someone tracked any calls, they’d think they came from Japan.”

“Jesus.” West sat back again and scrubbed a hand over his jaw.

I pushed forward. “Staying on the sidelines isn’t only my own stipulation—it’s what works best for Finnegan and the others too. As long as I’m only loosely linked to the syndicate, they won’t be able to figure out what I’m doing for them. There’s no connection between us other than my being Finn’s cousin and Liam’s brother. And Liam’s not from here. He doesn’t appear in local case files. He’s Chicago’s problem.”

I had a mental list of all the dirty cops who received O’Shea bribes in Philly, Camden, and surrounding suburbs.

“When you told me you had a date, I went to see Kellan,” I admitted. “I told him I wanted in.” I definitely had his attention. “I wanted action and I wanted money. I wanted to belong—and I mentioned I could come with him when he had sit-downs and whatever.”

His jaw ticked with tension, and he narrowed his eyes. “That’s not a loose link, Alfie. You’d be directly affiliated by anyone surveilling you.”

I smirked. “That’s what Finn ultimately said too. So I’m not gonna be there. I’m gonna remain hidden in situations the authorities associate with syndicate work, particularly sit-downs.”

He let out a breath and lost some of the tension in his shoulders. “In short, they don’t want you to exist on the police radar in order for you to do your work undetected…?”

I nodded. “That’s exactly it.” I paused. “I’m not guaranteeing it’s gonna work forever, but trust me when I say we’re always one step ahead of the authorities. We know when it’s time to switch things up and adjust the workload and responsibilities.”

“That can’t be true.” He became dubious. “Mobsters get arrested from time to time.”

“Not the upper management,” I replied. “When was the last time you heard of a high-ranking Son doing time?”

He had no answer for that.

“I’m the organizer of pickup crews for certain things—maybe two or three a month—and I will constantly select new locations, new routes, and new vehicles. We never establish a pattern. There’s no fixed schedule to what I do. And, West—” I leaned forward “—I do all this from a safe distance. I’m nowhere near where things go down, on the off chance that something happens.”

“Like tonight,” he interjected.

“ Kind of like tonight,” I corrected. “Even then, Kellan had a new location for us where we could operate safely. A location we won’t return to for months, just to make sure we don’t raise suspicion.”

West processed what I said and sighed, and he tilted his head back to peer up at the ceiling.

Maybe he was asking for strength.

“You seem so sure,” he noted quietly. “But things go wrong all the time…”

Okay, fine, let’s cover this part too. “We have plans for that as well.”

“What do you mean?” He glanced at me again.

I shrugged. “We make sure that if we get caught, it’s for a misdemeanor or, at worst, a third-degree felony—and then we have lawyers barely you can afford.”

He raked his teeth over his bottom lip.

“What is it about this lifestyle for you? Why did you choose this? Help me understand.”

For once, it wasn’t frustration or anger coloring his words. It was curiosity.

“Maybe I’m stupid enough,” I offered. “Maybe instead of daddy issues, I have…like, I’m desperate to belong to a world I grew up watching from afar. I don’t know, honestly. I don’t really care either. I’m happy with this one aspect of my life—aside from our kids—so I’mma keep doing it. I love those crazy fuckers. I love getting to know Finn and his wife—the kids are a riot—and Liam and I are more alike than we thought. I feel like I can be myself with them.”

His chin dropped with a heavy nod, and he swallowed. “And you didn’t feel that way with me.”

“Which might’ve been 90% self-inflicted,” I reminded him.

He shook his head. “You didn’t change your behavior for no reason, Alfie. Like I said at the park, I realize now how I played a part in the whole thing. I brought you to places where you either had to face judgment or change in order to avoid it—and I was dumb enough to ignore it.”

“So we’re both dumb.” I smiled a little.

He huffed in rueful amusement and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“What I do know is that I’m too depleted of energy to fight with you,” he murmured. “I can’t do it anymore.”

I sobered. “Same.” I sniffled and cleared my throat for the umpteenth time. “So, um…on the topic of treaties, can we sign a peace treaty in some way?”

“I think we need to.”

“And for that to happen, what do you need from me?”

“Good question.” He blew out a heavy breath and pushed back his chair. “I’m gonna make some coffee. You want a cup?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

He nodded and walked over to the counter.

I took the opportunity to save Colby’s phone number in my work phone, and I sent him a quick message.

Sorry for bailing earlier, kid. You okay? Since it’s so late, we’re definitely sleeping in tomorrow. Text me if you need anything. Otherwise, I suggest breakfast at eleven.

“When do you go to work tomorrow?” I asked. “Am I dropping the kids off at some summer day camp?”

“Oh, I’m not going in tomorrow,” he said. “I have a Zoom meeting at one, and I can do that from here.”

That was good. He’d get some sleep. “Nice.”

Ellie and Trip would likely wake up early, usually between seven and eight, though they tended to entertain themselves until they got hungry at around nine.

I eyed the text, assuming Colby would understand the message was from me. I didn’t use my name, or anyone else’s. I’d give him the protocol and rules tomorrow.

“I think the first and most important thing I need is for us to settle everything that happened in the past,” I heard West say.

I pocketed my phone again, and I was all ears.

“You changed and became defensive, and you apologized for it,” he said. “I finally understood why you went through those changes, and I apologized too. I feel awful for how lonely it must’ve been not to have me by your side.”

I nodded with a dip of my chin. “And you confronted your old man.”

“Yes. And what a shitshow that turned out to be,” he muttered. “I don’t know why I’ve been living in denial about them—all of them. It’s not like I haven’t witnessed their arrogance and entitlement before. My sisters are vapid, my mother is narrow-minded and judgmental, and my father likes to stick his head in the sand until he feels the need to drop a bomb somewhere.”

The quickest summary to wrap up an ugly fallout. But we were done fighting about it. We’d stepped outside the same vicious circle we’d battled in, and we were exhausted. Pain lingered here and there, and those were simply the scars we wore. The fights, the accusations, the energy draining out of us, and the heartbreak had knocked us down. We had to live with that until we’d healed.

“Then there’s the fact that you lied to me for two years about your so-called work,” he said.

“I’m ready for your wrath.” It wasn’t my intention to make it sound like a joke. I was genuinely ready, and I deserved every bit of it.

“I don’t have any left.” He stood there by the counter, both hands resting on the surface, and he merely watched the coffee machine. “I’m upset about it. I hate how things turned out. I hate that you lied to me for so long. I feel like an idiot whenever I think about you coming home with some bullshit story about what you did that day.”

I swallowed a gut punch of guilt.

“At the same time, I acknowledge the lifestyle I set up for us,” he went on tiredly. “I can see how you’d feel pressured into contributing more than what would be normal, considering the wealth I was born into, considering how my family made you feel…and considering how so many mistreated you.”

“I appreciate that you can see that.” More than I could express, really. “And it’s all true. But I made a shitty choice, one I don’t have excuses for. I…I think I was embarrassed by how I let other people’s thoughts about me matter that much, and it made me feel like a fraud, ’cause you were always open about how you loved that I was brazen and had a no-fucks-given attitude.”

He exhaled a tired chuckle and nodded to himself, gaze still stuck on the dripping coffee.

“I did love that,” he murmured. “But I clearly didn’t see the consequences of such a personality in my world—and when you tried to talk to me about it, I wouldn’t listen.”

It was so fucked up for both of us to be on the same page for the first time in years. I legit didn’t know how to act or feel. Like, we were suddenly seeing things from each other’s perspective, and it erected phantom bridges to replace all the ones we’d burned. They didn’t feel safe enough to walk on yet, but I could picture them.

West grabbed two mugs and filled them with coffee. “I’ve been thinking about a conversation I had with Malina when our problems started to overwhelm me,” he said. “She called me a slum tourist in a good-natured way—but it stuck. It’s essentially true. Or it was.”

Slum tourist?

He actually looked a little embarrassed. “How I was drawn to the man from the wrong side of the tracks, and I wanted him within the safety of my own comfort zone, with…you know, a nice house, better school districts…et cetera.”

Oh.

I huffed a laugh. “Yo, that’s legit.”

I’d never attached a label to it, but that was funny. Slum tourist.

Back in the day, West and I had talked about something similar. He’d wanted me, and I was the product of everything he’d balked at. He couldn’t imagine living in a low-income area, he’d been horrified when looking up the schools, and he’d nope’d and fuck-no’d himself out of the conversation when seeing the crime stats.

We’d looked specifically at three neighborhoods where we could buy an actual house. For that reason, we’d skipped my old hood, ’cause it was all apartments and condos. The area’s little center was still nice, with our church, older buildings, and a square with bodegas and pubs. It was actually safe there too. Just very little to do for kids.

Even so, West had wanted a house, and honestly, I hadn’t been too keen to return to a hood like that. Wasn’t it at least part of the point of parenthood to give your kids a better upbringing than you’d had yourself? Within reason, obviously.

I guessed that made me a hypocrite too. I was so protective and defensive about where I came from, all while I sure as fuck didn’t wanna go back.

My dream had always been to have a cool apartment in Center City. Instead, I’d ended up in the deadest part of an affluent suburb.

I loved my place now, but I couldn’t say I was gonna spend the rest of my life there. We were an outdoors family in the sense that Trip and Ellie loved to run around barefoot in the grass, Trip had probably been a fish in a former life, and we tended to spend all summer out in the sun. So…maybe I’d find a compromise at some point. A house in the city with a backyard. Maybe close to a park. Definitely with a pool.

And there we go again.

“I guess we always want the best of both worlds,” I said. “No matter how unrealistic it might be.”

He hummed and returned with the mugs. “Yeah.”

I took a sip of my coffee and almost groaned. I’d forgotten how good his coffee was. He obviously bought some expensive shit, and he was the type of man who researched coffee machines before buying one. He could sit in bed at night and go through pages of reviews when there was a new gadget he wanted to buy, and then he’d show me a damn spreadsheet of his pros and cons.

I’d spotted a simple coffeemaker at Target for twenty-five bucks.

West gestured his mug at me. “That Speedy you’re wearing is the best of my world, just so you know. You won’t find that at the corner pawnshop where you grew up.”

I snorted a laugh and eyed my watch. He had a point. “It’s possible I’ve developed a thing for nice watches.”

He quirked a smile. “Is that a fact.”

I grinned faintly and took another sip of coffee.

West had his own collection of fancy watches, and he kept them in a mahogany display box in the closet. It’d been one of those things that’d become significant to me. Like, if we got dressed together in the morning, I’d watch him open the box and pick that day’s piece. One box, with room for twelve watches, and he’d had eleven for the longest time. The cheapest had cost about two grand, and it’d been a gift from me.

I’d been so fucking nervous about giving him that thing, ’cause the world of watches was wild. Those nerds could bitch about a detail so small that it wasn’t visible to the naked eye, and it could be something that made the watch ten grand more expensive.

He wore it sometimes, though. I mean, to this day. I knew he liked it, especially with a gray button-down.

“Life must be good as a gangster,” he noted.

I chuckled through a yawn. “I can’t complain. Even when midnight emergencies don’t make me a fucking dime.”

All jobs had downsides.

“Oh really. How does that…whole thing work? Do you get paid by the gig, the hour, or…?”

“Depends on what I’m doing.” I wasn’t wholly comfortable talking about the syndicate, but in the spirit of honesty… Plus, I’d stupidly brought it up. “Scheduling sit-downs for Kellan, which is and always will be my main gig, pays me ten Gs a month. On paper—as in, what’s in my contract at Finn’s security firm—it’s roughly six grand, so still comfortable. And then with the other thing I do, I get a cut, so it can be anywhere from a few grand to twenty. It’s still new, so I’m not raking it in just yet.”

He was too good at hiding his reactions, but I caught the way his brows lifted a little, and it was followed by wry amusement.

“Damn criminal,” he muttered into his mug.

I smirked. “I probably hang out with fewer tax evaders than you do.”

That made him chuckle. “You might be right. It’s seemingly the one crime my father doesn’t care about either.”

Fucking really? “You mean he …?”

“Oh no. I’m just saying he’s fully aware of how his own friends down at the club brag about how they avoid paying taxes.”

Ah. Yeah, I bet.

“Do, uh…” He shifted in his seat and hesitated for a second. “Do you rationalize everything in your head somehow?”

“About wanting to be a Son?”

He inclined his head.

“I did that at first.” I scratched my elbow. “For my morals’ sake—those I have left, anyway—I tried to come up with enough excuses to justify my choices. The biggest part is probably what the mafia looks like today. It ain’t like we target small shopkeepers and extort them like the mob did in the old days. Now, it’s… I mean, there’s always gonna be a big market for drugs and shite like that. Things still go down out on the streets—it’s just much smaller. The big money’s in cybercrime and major corporations. There’s a lot of corruption involved. Data leaks, security breaches…interfering with politics. And…most of that is so much bigger than what I do. I don’t understand half of it. I just know that the structure of a criminal organization has to look different today. Fewer crews on the streets, bigger office space for hackers and money guys.”

“Money guys,” he huffed.

I shrugged. “Whatever you call the people who work in stocks and bonds.”

He furrowed his brow. “That’s not illegal.”

“It evidently can be. They manage portfolios for people who don’t care where the money comes from.”

“Ah.” He nodded slowly and set down his mug on the table.

“Anyway. I talked to Liam about it, and he caught me tryna minimize what I do—like, someone’s gonna do it, so why not me, and it’s not like I’m hurtin’ nobody—and he said that kind of thinking won’t fly in the long run.” I took another swig before I set down my mug too. “In the end, it’s about prioritizing. The Sons protect their own. Their families, their community. That’s where I’m at now. Fuck all others. I still try to be a decent person, but my family and my community come first.”

“The mobster community,” he stated.

“No, my actual community where I’m from, fucker,” I grated out. “Father O’Malley’s parish, that whole area. It’s probably one of the safest in Philly. We make sure the senior citizens don’t gotta struggle with rent, we ship supplies to the shelters, and we pour money into projects that help single-income families.”

His forehead wrinkled. “You do realize that’s to launder money, right?”

“ Whatever .” I gave him a look. That money still did good. It was a crime that benefited the right people along the way. Which made me think of my mom and her hatred. “You know, my mom always despised the Sons but loved the neighborhood. She doesn’t know the syndicate’s the fuckin’ reason she never wanted to leave. But the Sons have done more for that community than the city has.” I shrugged. “I’m not justifying nothing. I’m just saying, I’ve got my priorities in order, and screw everyone else.”

West was in processing mode again, so he didn’t reply right away. He leaned forward and rested his arms on the table, and he stared at the shiny surface and into his mug.

“That kid—Colby,” he said. “He said you saved his life. Saved it from whom? The Sons, right? You said his brother is an associate. And something about Dublin.”

I folded my arms over my chest, feeling the need to pump the brakes a little. I’d been very forthcoming now, and I didn’t know what his motive was here. Was he trying to make sense of things, was he plain curious, or was he digging for other reasons?

“His brother is a grown man, and I didn’t want his shitty choices to affect Colby,” I said. “He’s just a kid. So I’ll be responsible for him for a while.”

“That’s right. He’s a kid,” West replied slowly. “What on earth is he doing in the mob? And why was he allowed to join?”

I suppressed a sigh. Time to exercise more patience. “It doesn’t work like that, West. It’s not like entering a gym and signing up for a membership. Most people get in at the bottom, long before any high-ranking member even knows about it. You work your way up. And Colby’s brother did that—and dragged Colby with him.”

“I see. So what would’ve happened if you hadn’t intervened tonight?”

“You’d have to ask Finn, but I can tell you it’s not as bad as what’s in your head,” I said. “Maybe they would’ve sent him to a cousin or to a shelter—fuck if I know. In the end, they would’ve looked after him. I was just mushy enough to step in first. I let my dad heart take the wheel. Finn can’t do that when he has the entire syndicate to consider.”

He hummed and picked up his mug again. “Your dad heart is one of my favorite things about you.”

Was he afraid that was going away?

I reckoned it made sense for him to wonder about…well, who the fuck I was now. After years of altering my behavior, then our divorce and all the venom that flowed between us, followed by my joining the Sons, and…

He didn’t know me.

Fuck, that hurt. I rubbed at my chest as a familiar tightness formed a new grip on my heart. West didn’t know me. Or he believed he didn’t. It was a clusterfuck. He knew me better than anyone else did, at the same time as he barely knew anything at all.

What I was about to say was gonna hurt like a fucking bitch, but it needed to be said.

“As much as it pains me to say it, I understand why you fell out of love with me and asked for a divorce,” I admitted. He immediately lowered his gaze and clenched his jaw, but I wasn’t done. “I wasn’t myself anymore. He was still in there, screaming for me to let him out, but…” My joke fell flat, and I swallowed hard. “I guess what I’m tryna say is, I’m slowly but surely finding my way back to who I was before we moved back east. With some modifications. I’m not twenty-three anymore. I’m a dad. I’ve…grown comfortable in some areas. I have different priorities, and I’m constantly afraid I’m gonna lose sight of Ellie when we’re out. She’s a fucking menace.”

His lips twitched slightly, and he scrubbed a hand over his mouth.

He agreed with me. I knew that much. Our girl was wild.

“I had a total dad moment in the car with Colby,” I said. “He called lesbians carpet munchers, and I went on a rant about cursing and what’s too offensive to say around kids—or never at all.”

He snorted softly and eyed me a little. “This from the guy whose favorite word is cunt.”

I scratched my nose. “Never said I was perfect. But I don’t say that in front of the kids.”

“Mm.” He nodded once and then released a sigh and rubbed at his shoulder. “We should get some sleep.”

Probably. I didn’t know if I could, though. I was too tired, which sounded insane, but it was true. I could get so tired sometimes that all I could do was sit and stare unseeingly at the TV. Or at a wall.

“We’ll be lucky if we get three hours,” he said and rose with grunt. Old-man grunt.

“You’re too young to sound that old, hon,” I said.

He scoffed and grabbed the mugs, and he took them to the sink. “Fuck off.”

I grinned.

“You know where the guest room is,” he said, flicking off the lights above the island. Under the cabinets too.

My grin was gone. Fuck the guest room. I hated that room.

I’d never spent a night in it, but West had. When our problems bled from one day into another.

It’d crushed me every time we’d fought, and he’d ended up down here for the night.

“If you wanna change, I think there’s a box of your old clothes in the back of that closet,” he mentioned.

Okay, good to know.

I got to my feet too, and I stretched my arms over my head. “I don’t think any of it would fit.” I yawned and relaxed my stance again. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have bulging biceps these days.”

At least in my dreams. They had grown more pronounced, just not enough for me to up my shirt sizes.

West tilted his head at me, and he had a hand on the light switch by the doorway. “Huh. I can’t tell.”

What the fuck?

I stared at him.

He smirked faintly and nodded for me to get out of the kitchen. “Go to bed, juicehead.”

The fuckin’ audacity.

“Wow,” I whispered to myself and stalked out. “He hits where it hurts.”

He chuckled behind me. “If it makes you feel any better, I did notice your abs when you practically shoved them in my face.”

“You mean the day you showed up unannounced at my house?” I threw him a look over my shoulder.

“Yes, that day.”

I spun around and lifted my hoodie. “These abs?”

Oh, he was liking the eye rolls today. “Goodnight, Alfie.”

I smiled. “Night, West.”