Chapter 18
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
EAMON
My father has my men eating from the palm of his hand by the time I arrive back in town.
I had to get away long enough that I could figure out what I was doing next, without my father breathing down my neck. I’d say my time was rather productive; I have a direction now.
Patrick told stories about his heyday as Paddy Muscles and how any man that dared square off with him, never saw another sunrise. His face beams as he reveals how the harbor's fishermen love our families’ secret recipe. The chumbuckets we provide lead to bigger fish being caught.
He kept the story about the Murrays and Lombardis until I came back.
I guess he thinks I need a refresher, as if I had forgotten; I haven’t.
I know how the families used to get along.
Even work together. Hell, I’m pretty sure our mothers had already planned marriages to one another's children.
Now, Patrick spits on their family name with distaste, saying they never deserved to be in this city in the first place.
I hate hearing their names thrown around so carelessly, especially from his mouth.
When he isn’t reminiscing about his iron fist reputation, he is emptying bottles of my top shelf whiskey. He’s only been here five days and he’s already cleaning me out. I’ll have to ask Connor to drop off another case before the end of the day.
It’s a quiet Wednesday, at the Bay Boxing Club, so Patrick Murray called for a sit down. He wants to discuss what he’s been up to over the past few years in Ireland.
My father sits at the head of the custom marble conference table, leading the meeting about how he’s revolutionizing the gambling business.
His head is so far up his own ass, he doesn’t realize it’s all been done before.
He’s established a niche with speakeasies, making gambling easier for the international market.
Money taken in is ushered to an offshore bank account, through web-serves located in Costa Rica where betting is legal.
I tried not to yawn too wide during his speech.
“I would like to see all operations go virtual. It makes it much more complicated for law enforcement to track.”
Men gathered around the table turn to one another, either nodding their heads or muttering in agreement. Everyone is simply trying to pacify the technology challenged man.
“As eager as I am to implement this method here, that’s not why I’ve made this trip…
” His once relaxed position becomes more rigid, as he leans forward in his chair, forcing his thick fingers to fold together on top of the long table.
He wets his lips before speaking, “Son, your mother, Ar dheis Dé go raibh a hanam…”
Everyone at the table briefly closes their eyes and respectfully gives a moment of silence in lieu of my father’s words.
“She supported this plan wholeheartedly.”
I shake my head and calling his bullshit. “No, she supported you, not what you're trying to do.”
He wasn’t used to being talked back to. His face turns shades of purple even while he tries to school his features. The boorish man speaks concisely, breathing heavily in between each word. “We evaded the Maxi Trial so we can continue with dignity.”
I’ve heard enough. I stand from my chair; my men mirror the action.
In turn, my father’s men bounce from their seats.
“SIT DOWN!” Patrick bellows. His voice booms through the small meeting room.
Everyone looks at one another with suspicion.
Slowly, bodies begin to lower into their chairs along the long table.
“This will be happening!” He informs the room, but it’s primarily directed at me.
“I’ve already put things in motion. Honor is putting family first! ”
My blood boils within my veins.
With a wave of his hand, he releases everyone to their prior obligations.
I remain in my seat staring at this stranger of a man.
He removes a handkerchief from his pants pocket and pats at his forehead.
What makes him think he can just walk back into our lives after being gone for years and take control back?
Even has the balls to throw around the word honor.
When I came of age, he was nothing but a shit father.
I felt as if the heat within me was ready to explode. Fuck this!
“When your mother was alive, she told me about you and that Lombardi boy. Tell me, do you think your actions may be why we’re all here today?”
My heart is hammering in my chest so hard; I think it might puncture a rib. I only see red. Slamming my hands on the table, I stare into the hollow eyes of the man who I vowed to never become. Not thinking, I just react. Lunging toward my father, I instantly realize I am a damned fool.
A revolver appears on the table between us.
My fiery insides solidify, holding me in place. Would he? He’s become a different person since his wife left this Earth. I wouldn’t put it past him to take me out.
“How about you take that pent up anger and put it where it belongs, boy.” With one hand resting on the gun, he leans back casually. Patrick is ruthless, desperate, and in turn has become careless.
I don’t bother wasting my breath. Teeth clenched so tightly, I’m sure I could crack a molar.
He continues, “You have one month until I release the red wolf. Do you understand?”
My vision blurs and my jaw aches, but I nod despite my urge to fight this.
I won't let him fuck up everything. I’ve worked too hard over the past three years to let any innocents get caught up in this.
My hands are dirty enough, thanks to him.
I spit on the ground beside his seat at the table, then leave the room without sparing my obstinate father a second glance.
A black Tom Ford suit was one of my sharpest pieces. I pair the wool-silk twill with a black shirt, and emerald cufflinks. The combination of pieces commands the attention of everyone in the room. My hair was trimmed and styled, along with a clean shave from a modest barber shop, on the way home.
About twenty ‘til I left to meet Cindel outside her apartment. Everything was already arranged, along with the reservation at the Oceanfront Steakhouse on the North end of the city. Two dozen, long stem roses sit in the passenger seat as I pulled up right at eight p.m., to find a small framed, radiant girl standing outside her building. I couldn’t discern if I was a danger to her or is she was a danger to me.
She texted me in advance to ask what color I was wearing, so she could plan accordingly. I guess it’s a thing couples do.
Her sheer long sleeved dress shimmered from passing headlights.
With only a tank top and mini skirt layered underneath, I felt uneasy.
Too much of her was on display. Should I suggest she looks cold?
Throw my jacket over her body? In her hand, she held a deep-green bag along with her signature, scuffed up combat boots.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without them.
Cindel’s evening attire complimented mine.
It’s possible that she may get more looks than me tonight.
I’ve learned she has an affinity for clothes. For only shopping at thrift stores, she sure does a damn good job of slapping together a showstopper.
Putting the car in park, I round the Audi to open the passenger door for her. “You look lovely tonight, Cindel.” Her cheeks turn a subtle shade of pink, as she scoots the roses to the side and climbs in.
As soon as I’m back in the driver’s seat, she speaks quickly, “Thank you. For picking me up and for the roses. It’s sweet of you.”
I chuckle to myself over how seamlessly honest this girl is.
“The night’s just getting started,” I quip.
After having the car valeted, I pull the innocent girl to my side and guide her into the posh establishment.
The hostess recognizes me upon entry, ushering us to my usual table near the back with the best views of the bay.
It’s quieter, there are fewer prying eyes, and it is close to an exit if the situation ever arose.
Cindel looks a little uneasy. She shifts the conversation to work, talking about how much she has learned the past few days.
Was she nervous about the upscale dining or being around me?
I wasn’t sure. She goes on to tell me how she’s already found a way to save around two hundred dollars a month by ordering from a different distributor for The Black Sheep’s beer and liquor.
This girl is talented and wicked smart. Any guy would be lucky to have her as their date, but there’s no one else.
Just me. I’m the one across from her at the table.
I know she has things she’d like to ask me, because I have the same line of questioning ready.
Taking her hand in mine, I lean forward, gazing into those comforting eyes. “Let’s not talk about business tonight. How about you tell me about your family… I’d love to know more about you.”
She taps her chin. “Have you ever heard of Mari Real Estate? Well, that was my parents’.
My dad worked in investing a little too, but they mostly did the real estate stuff.
Not so long ago, they were an unstoppable duo.
They had a hand in most of the sales throughout South Boston. They were very popular.”
I nod. Having heard it all before, I still try to be polite and engage. “No kidding?” The shortened name was a nice touch.
“Well… my parents retired three years ago. Right after my brother passed.”
I unbutton the top button of my collared shirt, feeling suddenly too warm. I take a large swig from my wine glass and clear my throat.
“The reason you don’t drink or smoke?”
She nods tentatively. “Right.” Cindel shifts in her seat, pushing her hair behind her ears, and sips from her iced water.
Long moments pass before she continues. “He… he overdosed.” She combs her hair behind her ears again, even though not a single strand has slipped free.
“Sorry. This isn’t exactly a first date topic. We can talk about—”
I stupidly blurt out. “Do you believe it?”