Chapter 2
“Oh yeah, baby, does that feel good? How do you like that? I bet you haven’t had it this good ever.” The scruffy-looking construction worker she had picked up at the bar panted against the back of her neck as he thrust into her from behind again. She hadn’t even bothered to catch his name, or if he had given it, she had already forgotten.
“So good. Keep going.” Layne didn’t even attempt to fake it in her voice, let alone her expression. Her eyes gazed at the hand-written graffiti on the bathroom stall’s partition in front of her between her hands bracing against it. Things like phone numbers for a good time, random doodles, and names of people that were going to be together ‘4 Ever’.
Forever? Seemed like a pretty far-fetched concept to Layne. Nothing lasted forever in her life.
The whiny groans of the man pumping himself into her in the sole stall in the men’s room distracted her from her thoughts momentarily. Layne wondered if he realized his thrusts were in sync with the tune of Danny Boy. How fuckin’ depressing.
Her body jostled with each of the man’s movements. Half of her clothes were still on, and his pants were stuck at his knees. When he came to an unimpressive finish into the condom he was wearing, she shoved him away from her not feeling any sense of satisfaction.
Yanking her pants up and straightening out her shirt, Layne swung the stall door open.
While washing her hands in the sink, she wished she could just shower away the rest of the filth she felt elsewhere. “I’ve got a meeting to get to.”
Reaching into her jacket pocket she grabbed a prescription bottle partially filled with round white pills and popped one into her mouth chasing it down with a swig of water from the palm of her hand out of the running faucet. The label on the plastic orange bottle noted to take it as needed for shoulder pain. The same shoulder pain that had subsided a few weeks after the man she had grown up calling uncle, Mick, had shot her. So much for family loyalty.
Layne needed something to dull the painful memory of the pitiful disaster that had just transpired in the dimly lit public restroom at McGregor’s.
The man lingered hoping maybe she would grace him with a more affectionate goodbye, but Layne shut it down by wiping her hands dry on the thighs of her pants and exiting the lavatory. Not so much as giving him a polite smile.
She waved a hand goodbye to Sean who was filling drink orders as she made her way past the bar which was currently half-full of inebriated patrons. He gave her a nod of his head in return.
Once outside, she involuntarily shivered from the chill cascading over her body as the air temperature had dropped drastically in anticipation of a hell of a nor’easter expected to hit the city in the next hour or two.
Walking down the sidewalk, she avoided colliding with other passersby as she began to send a few texts on her phone.
Layne
Got hung up on a few things. On my way.
Liam
You better have good news when you get here.
Layne
Feeling hopeful?
Liam
I’m as optimistic as a nun hoping there are no sinners in prison.
Did Layne have good news for her brother? Not in the slightest.
When Layne arrived at the cemetery in Brooklyn, just slightly southwest of Prospect Park, she already saw Liam off in the distance across the sprawling terrain sprinkled with an assortment of headstones.
She had heard that Mick’s family had buried him in this very same cemetery. Perhaps one day she would find out where just so she could piss on his grave. However, there were larger and much more real issues on their hands than insulting cemetery dirt.
After attempting not to trample over anyone’s final resting place, she stepped up next to him and handed over a grease-soaked paper bag that had the aroma of freshly cooked french fries emanating from it. It was her attempt at a peace offering to help soften the blow of the news he wasn’t going to want to hear.
Liam stood there, pulled out a fry, and bit into it. Not a gracious thank you. No words. Nothing.
He was decked out in a black pea coat, a crimson sweater, and a pair of new blue jeans. Continuing to not say a word, he just silently stared ahead with the only sound being the crinkling of the bag each time another fry was pulled out.
In front of them was an ornate headstone with ‘O’REILLY’ in large letters spread across the top. Below it was the remainder of the epitaph detailing the life of a great man who had his life cut short prematurely.
“Layne, make me a promise.” Her father’s voice was weak from his failing body. “Promise me you’ll do whatever you can to keep yourself safe. Don’t make the same mistakes I’ve made with Liam.” His hand now frail from all the last-effort treatments he had received, reached over, and latched onto her fingers. His eyes were full of sadness and regret as this lifetime was coming to a close. “Promise me.”
Clearing her throat, she tried to push her final memories of their dad from her mind and blink away the heartache in her eyes. How gaunt he had looked, how weak his grasp was on her hand, how strained his voice was, and how painful his struggles were until the morphine eased him into his afterlife.
“The good news is that we only lost a few guys.” She tried to keep the positivity in her voice, but that was a trait she had always been terrible at.
Liam refused to look at her as he spoke up, “Just say it.”
Layne paused trying to choose her next words carefully. There weren’t many times when she tried to protect Liam’s sensitivities, but this was a rare exception.
“There’s a lot of whispers, Li. I mean…a lot. So many, that I’m not even sure it’s considered whispering anymore.” She cringed during the emphasis on how much chatter there had been. “You have to start pulling on the reins and cracking the whip if we are going to salvage what’s left of Dad’s legacy. People are getting antsy and seeking out work elsewhere. It looks bad.”
“Don’t fuckin’ tell me how bad it looks. You think I don’t know that?” He snapped at her, the anger and frustration soaking his words and finally his glare settling at her.
She released a breath she hadn’t realized she was even holding. “I know you know that, but goddammit, Liam, the ship is sinking and you’re still waiting for the captain to show up. You’re the fucking captain! Show up and fix it, because if you don’t, I will and you won’t like how I start handling things.” Her own irritation was beginning to rise up from its cage.
His brooding and inability to take charge of business matters over the last few months had been a constant and it wasn’t getting any better. Layne was doing her best to pick up the pieces, but Liam wasn’t making either of their lives any easier.
His hazel eyes burned as he glared at her. “You think you could do a better job, Layne? Is that what you think?” His tone turned accusatory.
Oh, Christ, here we go. “Hell yes. Jesus, Li, a toddler could do a better job than you are right now. Who was the one who got shit fixed down at the Mirror last month, huh? Sure as hell wasn’t you!” Layne was all out of patience with her brother, and she wasn’t about to spare him her thoughts on how he was handling matters. Coddling was not in her nature, especially not when he wanted to pick fights.
She may have had some help fixing up that mess at the gambling club, but she hadn’t divulged to Liam her encounter with Eric Ellis just yet. Before she was willing to bring it to his attention, she needed to know more about this latest player in the city’s criminal underworld. Why set herself up for another shouting match with Liam because his ego once again got bruised when business matters fell into her lap?
She had been doing her research on their new neighbor residing not too far from O’Reilly Manor. However, there wasn’t much to be found out about him. The contacts who were still willing to work with her were struggling to figure out his story.
Liam squared up with her, and even given the size differential, she wasn’t intimidated into backing away as he stared down at her with darkness in his eyes. He didn’t say a word to her for several minutes while waiting for her to budge or look away.
Speaking through clenched teeth he dropped his voice down low. “You don’t know shit about what it takes and you don’t get to sit there on your high horse judging me. If Dad thought you had any potential, he would have given you the chance. Instead, you’ve always needed a man to save your ass when you’ve gotten in over your head.”
The words pierced her heart and the venom seeped into her bloodstream as he spat his verbal attack at her. The worst part was that he wasn’t wrong, and Layne saw that plain as day.
Walking off, Liam pushed past her and harshly bumped against her left shoulder to serve as a reminder of the last time she had needed help. She closed her eyes and pushed the fury back down her throat into a metaphorical box to be locked away until a day when it wouldn’t be contained any longer.
Today wasn’t going to be that day. She hoped tomorrow wouldn’t be either. Was it too much to ask to never let that day come?
The thunder echoed in the distance, announcing the approach of the storm.