Chapter 3
Sean
Chapter Three
Finn and Shane just pulled into Dillan’s driveway behind me. I texted Dillan when I turned on his street to let him know we were almost there. Now that he’s married and can’t keep his hands off his wife, the open-door policy to his house slammed shut. We make sure to give them a heads up before we come through the gate. Finn’s the same with his wife. They moved into a house two streets over.
Among the many fucked-up things in this world, all the married syndicate couples live in the same two neighborhoods. My parents and my aunts and uncles live near Nicoletta and Massimo Mancinelli, who live a block from Massimo’s second cousin, Domenico, and his wife, Carlotta. Their neighborhood is around the corner from the one all the Kutsenkos and younger Mancinellis moved into. Dillan’s on the corner of the two neighborhoods, and Finn is six houses down and two streets behind.
The neighborhoods are Switzerland. We see each other, but we keep our eyes forward. At least, we supposedly do. There isn’t a moment we aren’t watching for who’s in front, beside, or behind us. But there are children in these families now, so no one will risk taking a shot with one or more kids being in a car. Outside the neighborhood, when we’re certain it’s only the men? Fair game, bitches.
“Hey. Welcome back.” Shane is my absolute mirror image except I have a freckle on my throat, and he doesn’t. The freckles on our face are so damn similar, they’re of no use for people to tell us apart.
“Thanks.” I knock before punching in the code for the front door.
“Dillan? Mair?” Finn calls over my shoulder as I step across the threshold.
“Mair’s at the office. I’m in the kitchen.”
Dillan’s voice carries in the mostly furnished home. They made sure they set up all the bedrooms as soon as they moved in. We all have our own room. It’s that way at all the parents’ homes. It’s that way at Finn’s. Dillan and his wife are taking their time to furnish the family room and living room. They have similar taste, so it’s not because they can’t agree. They just aren’t in a hurry to settle. Finn and Ally merged their belongings.
My cousin looks up from the sandwich he’s making. There are already three others waiting on plates. “How’d it go?”
I shrug. “How does any funeral go?”
I grab a plate and move to the kitchen table. Shane and Finn do the same, and Dillan joins us once he puts everything away.
“Did you have a chance to see any friends?” Shane speaks before he takes a bite. I haven’t filled Shane or Finn in yet, either. Finn and I talked about other stuff when he called yesterday, and I had to stop texting with Lina.
I got home the night before last, and I spent yesterday catching up on work. I know Lina got home yesterday, so I used her flight as an excuse to text her.
“I saw Taylor Hamilton for breakfast before we headed to the funeral separately. There were a few people I wanted to say hi to at the reception, but Amanda cornered me.”
All three of them have matching disgusted expressions. Shane warned me away from her, saying she was trying to sink her fangs in because I’m rich. I am. We all are. Like billionaire rich, even though the rest of the world thinks we’re scraping by as just barely millionaires. We like our net worth to appear far smaller than it is. And not just for the tax advantages. Let the Diazes, Mancinellis, and Kutsenkos gloat. None of us could give a flying fuck. We own shite for a rainy day that would make their heads spin.
“How’d you escape?” Shane’s smirk matches the one I’m usually wearing when we talk to Dillan and Finn. It’s fecking annoying seeing my reflection directing his patronizing as feck expression at me.
“I ran into someone who was close to Dr. Carmody, too. They distracted Amanda.” They. Not her. I don’t want to hear about it from them.
“Does they have a name?” Dillan appears casual as he takes a sip of iced tea, but his tone irks.
He’s probably already planning to run my unnamed woman’s background check, get surveillance on her, and dig into her bank accounts. He loves Mair more than anyone else, but they had a rocky start. They probably wouldn’t be together if he’d run a full background check on her, but it would have made life a little easier. He ran a full check on Finn’s wife, but Finn asked him not to say anything to him. My brother wanted to get to know Ally on his own. Life might have been a little easier if Dillan told Finn the one big thing he discovered. But it worked out in the end, and that one big thing is dead now, anyway.
“Nik. We didn’t talk much. Just long enough to extract me from Amanda.”
No one needs to know Nik isn’t what Nicolina goes by. No one needs to know I think of her as Lina. For now, it’s not a lie, but it sounds masculine. I have too much to sort out in my head about why I want her so much. I don’t need the peanut gallery chiming in.
“Anyhow. Did anything turn up about Ewan’s plans for the rugs we wound up letting them have?” His father and uncle are dead, in part, because they fucked us over and stole rugs that had nano chips woven into them.
We took our stolen shipment back but decided on second thought to let Ewan and the Boston Irish have them to keep them doubly indebted to us. They might run Bean Town, but we run the Eastern Seaboard. If this were the Middle Ages, we’d be their feudal overlords. They’d be vassals who can do what they want, but only to a point. If they stay out of our way, then we give them freedom.
Rowan and Riley flexed, and we reminded Ewan and his band of Merry Men that they exist at our largesse. If we don’t want them in Boston, they won’t exist. Ewan’s other debt is we offed his father, so he didn’t have to commit patricide.
Finn shakes his head. “They’re tighter than a nun’s arse in church. Someone’s taken over their networks. I need your hacking skills because this exceeds mine.”
Shane practically snorts his soda. “A nun’s arse? Be sure to let Mom hear that one.”
Finn’s scowl only makes Shane laugh harder. In my head, I roll my eyes.
“What’s different? You’re as good a hacker as Lorenzo. What can’t you crack?”
Lorenzo Mancinelli is their family’s accountant like Finn is ours. They both have backgrounds in computer science because they’re forensic accountants along with the regular shite they do and day trading. Enzo’s cousin Carmine is pretty good too, but that’s because he’s always been a nosey fuckwad.
Between Enzo’s and Finn’s skills and mine are Sergei Andreyev and Anton Kutsenko. The bratva shites went to UPENN, and you can tell. They might not wear the sweatshirts anymore, but they’re smug motherfuckers. Sure, they went to an Ivy, but so did I. And right now, my alma mater’s computer science program is still ranked higher than UPENN’s. Ithaca might be fucking miserable in winter, but my education made up for the dreariness. Sergei’s one of the best hackers I’ve ever met, and Anton’s a whizz at programming. But the two of them still don’t touch what I learned between Cornell and Georgetown. There’s plenty all of us have learned over the years, mostly self-taught.
Joaquin Diaz is the Cartel’s intel gatherer. He’s probably the smartest of all the families’ computer geeks, but he’s lazy as shite. And not like how my family likes to be underestimated. He truly has the attention span of a goldfish. He went to MIT, so he’s not incapable of finishing things. He just doesn’t have the patience to dig all the way to the Earth’s core like Sergei and I do. What he does, he does well. He keeps the Colombians looking like their noses are clean, and he keeps an eye on the other families like we all do to each other. But he’s not going above and beyond. Overachiever has never been said in the same sentence as his name.
Finn sits back and looks at me. “They must have someone new. This is more than some fancy firewalls. It’s more than just encrypted. This is your CIA spook level shite. I’ve tried all my programs that usually get me into everyone else’s shite. I even created a new program update, but I can’t get in. They have their info buried deep.”
I reach into my laptop bag, which I put down beside my chair. I move my plate out of the way and open it. Talk about encryption. Our networks at our homes are tighter than a virgin’s arse in a whorehouse. Pretty sure our mom wouldn’t appreciate that one either. I’m not worried about hacking while I’m here.
I pull up the program I created that studies, analyzes, then runs algorithms to crack encryption codes. I get into the O’Malleys’ encrypted bank account the same way I always do. Then I hit a dead end. I can’t see any transactions like I usually do. It’s just blank as though nothing exists at all. Interesting.
I set my program to work, assured it’ll pull up something within the next couple seconds. But that turns into a minute, which turns into three. It’s still blank. That’s not the way it’s supposed to fucking be. I exit out of that bank and move to some offshore accounts they have. They believe these offshore ones are invisible, but Rowan did some money transfers four years ago in the middle of the night on an unsecure server. I had my program running as usual to monitor our rivals among the other syndicates and our mob rivals from other cities. That’s how I know where to look now.
They’re duds too. I move over to their investment portfolios. I get into those because they can’t hide those transactions when they go through the New York Stock Exchange. I try to leapfrog to the trades they buried under shell corporations or forced others into trading for them. Their shell corp ones are gone. Fucking hell.
I look up at my brothers and cousin. “This isn’t good. Whoever’s doing this must have the text already encoded at least once before putting it into encryption programs to adopt the secret coding. They could use pig Latin for all I know, then run it through their algorithms to hide it. I’m certain they’ve scrubbed past information, too. It’s going to take me a while to find where their codes changed and then try to replicate the first few changes they made. I have some other tactics too, but they’re going to take time to test. I may not get it the first try. Whoever did this isn’t just a hacker or programmer. They have national security level skills. Fortunately, I have those skills too.”
It automatically makes me think of Lina. Someone like the two of us did this. Someone with the same training we have. Amanda? She might spite us, but what connection could she have to the Boston mob?
“Once I have the scrapers running, I’ll dig to see where graduates from the top ten Homeland Security and International Intelligence programs are working and who they’re related to. That’s going to take hours.”
Dillan’s brow furrows. “Do you need to be in front of your computer for that?”
“Ideally, but I don’t have to watch the data scroll on my screen. I can set alerts. Why? What do you need me to do?”
“Cormac and Seamus have court today. Finn’s got payroll, and Shane’s got city inspectors going to three sites. I’m meeting with Haruki Nishida this afternoon. Can you take Mair to a doctor’s appointment?”
“Of course.”
I’m certain Dillan would much rather be with his wife than meeting with a yakuza oyabun. But we have a big deal going down between them investing in four pharmaceutical labs and us transporting products they want to bring in through Washington state and take down the coast to Mexico. It means our truck drivers going through a lot of ganglands and into Cartel territory when they cross the border. The only way we’ll accept that risk is if they pony up the money for the labs.
All six of us are the majority shareholders of a pharma company. The labs keep the company legit, but we’ll be refining the heroin they send us and blending it with synthetic shite to make it go further. They’ll get the same number of kilos to Mexico as they sent, but we’ll also have plenty to sell at the street level. We provide goods and services. It’s not on us when people buy. Personal responsibility is the cornerstone of capitalism.
Even I can’t say that with a straight face.
“Thanks. Can you meet Mair at her office in three hours?” Dillan glances at his watch as he speaks.
“Sure. That’ll give me time to work on this stuff. Can I stay here rather than going all the way back home?”
In theory, East Harlem to Midtown takes about the same time as where Dillan lives in Forest Hills to Midtown. That’s assuming there’s no major traffic jam. Then all bets are off. But I don’t want to go back to northern Manhattan from Queens just to go to south Manhattan. It’s a waste of time in the car when I could run the programs in a place that has jammers to prevent anyone knowing where I’m cruising the information superhighway.
“Of course.”
“Cool. I’ll use my room.”
The four of us talk about the cases Seamus and Cormac have right now. One’s corporate—Cormac’s—and one’s criminal—Seamus’s. Both are higher profile than any of us want. But we aren’t worried about the outcome. And Mair’s making sure not too much is going in the press since she’s a journalist at the city’s largest newspaper. But that doesn’t stop other news outlets from wanting details she’s helping to make sure aren’t available.
Once my brothers are gone, Dillan heads to his office, and I head to my room. I don’t stay here often. But there are times when we’re all here late, planning in Dillan’s office. It’s nice to crash here instead of going home. Sometimes we’re headed out so early in the morning or even in the middle of the night, it makes the most sense for all of us to already be here when it’s time to go.
I’ve just arranged my pillows behind me with my portable monitor and mouse propped on pillows too. I’m picturing the sequences I need to unravel this mess. I hear my phone buzz where I put it on the bedside table. I expect it to be one of my brothers or cousins. I can’t help the smile when I see Lina’s name appear in the message bubble.
Lina
What’s your favorite sport?
Random. But I’ll take it because it means we’re chatting.
Me
Rugby. You? Curling or hockey?
Lina
LOL Neither. I row and like to watch crew, swimming, or soccer
Me
Starboard or port
Lina
Starboard bow
She’s tall, but with how slender she is, it wouldn’t have surprised me if she’d said she was a coxswain—the person who steers and commands the pace. No, coxes don’t scream “stroke, stroke, stroke”—but she’s a rower.
Me
Port stroke
From a rower’s perspective, since we move backwards, the person in the bow is the last rower. The person who rows stroke is the first one and keeps the pace. Again, since rowers move backwards, starboard is to the left, and port is to the right. It’s all reversed.
Lina
Rugby is your favorite sport but you rowed?
Me
Rugby is the sport everyone—men and women—play in my family and the universal one we all enjoy watching. Both my brothers played lacrosse. One cousin swam and played water polo, another wrestled, and another played soccer. I only have one cousin who played rugby competitively through college.
Despite what most would assume looking at Seamus and Cormac, it was Dillan who wrestled. Cormac swam and played water polo, and Seamus played soccer. Shay and Cor are built like ox. Most assume they’re meatheads with nothing between their ears but air. At best, people think they’re pro athletes. Few believe they’re lawyers until they see my cousins in suits and hear them speak.
Dillan’s sister, Colleen, was the rugby player. She was so damn good. Fearless. Agile. Competitive—way more than any of us guys. She was our ringleader growing up. She was also a vet who specialized in rescue animals. Like the depressing ASPCA commercial rescue animals. But being part of my fucked-up family got her killed.
I don’t want to think about that while texting Lina.
Lina
Sounds like there’re a lot of you.
Me
Yup. Always someone to play with growing up. Always someone breathing up your arse as an adult.
Lina
I only have one brother and I know what you mean about someone breathing up your arse.
Me
What’s your favorite movie?
Lina
It’s a toss-up. Misery, Primal Fear, or Silence of the Lambs. I know. Pretty effing dark but I love psychological thrillers.
Me
Maybe I shouldn’t tell you The Princess Bride is my fave.
Lina
Is it?
Me
No. Da Vinci Code and anything like that. Mysteries.
No, it’s not fucking The Godfather or Goodfellas. They’re fucking Mafia. Douchey Italians. And The Princess Bride is among my favorites. Colleen teased me mercilessly. If I asked her to do anything, she’d always respond, “as you wish.”
Fucking hell. I don’t want to think about Colleen right now. I picture the way Lina looked after I kissed her. How she felt against me. Well, now I have a fucking tent pole in my pants.
Me
Night owl or up with the chickens?
Lina
I lean toward late nights but I have no problem getting up early.
Me
Same. Snooze button?
Why am I asking that? Is she going to think I’m wondering whether I’m going to hear her alarm go off over and over one of these mornings? I wouldn’t object.
Lina
Definitely no snooze
Me
I’d rather sleep until the last minute than get woken up every nine minutes.
Lina
Exactly I don’t see the point. Coffee?
Me
Yes and strong enough to stand a spoon up.
Lina
Ew! I can lick mud for free.
Me
You just haven’t had it made properly then.
Lina
You cannot put enough milk and sugar in it to convince me coffee tastes good.
Me
So no coffee flavored ice cream? No chocolate covered espresso beans? No tiramisu?
Lina
Gag. God bless my mother but she bought a tiramisu cake for my birthday three years ago. She knows I loathe coffee. She’s had a nine month advantage on anyone else who knows me and she still got it. She just wasn’t thinking. Everyone else had cake but me.
Me
That stinks. Red velvet, chocolate, yellow, lemon, or carrot?
Lina
YES! But cake is just a vessel for frosting.
Me
Cream cheese, whipped, buttercream, or fondant?
Lina
Fondant is disgusting. Looks pretty tastes gross. Whipped is pretend frosting. Cream cheese or buttercream all the way.
Me
You could lose a finger in my family if you try to take someone’s corner piece. We all love frosting. Guilty pleasure.
I can think of another guilty pleasure I enjoyed. Her. I’d love to have several more helpings.
Lina
What’s your fave cake?
Me
YES!!! I haven’t met a cake I don’t like. Brownies?
I give her the same answer she gave me when I asked her what her favorite is. I don’t have one. I’ll take any cake offered to me.
Lina
Definitely. With or without frosting?
Me
That goes without saying. Fudge frosting all the way and no nuts
Lina
If I’m going to have brownies why would I go and have something healthy like nuts? I’ll eat an apple later.
Me
Caramel covered apples?
Lina
Meh
Me
Same. Homebody or nightlife?
Lina
The older I get the more of a homebody I become. I like to go out dancing and can still hang. But I prefer to be home reading or watching something streaming. How about you?
Me
Work keeps me out some nights but I prefer being home.
I’m treading dangerous ground if she asks what I do. I’m testing the water.
Lina
Obviously we both just traveled but do you like to?
Me
Yes. A lot. But preferably warm places. I can ski, snowboard, and ice skate. But I can live without them.
Lina
Sacrilege! We’re born with skates in Canada. Do-ncha know?
Me
Bien s?r.
Of course.
Me
Do you enjoy those?
Lina
I learned to skate before I turned four. I can ski and snowboard but I’m more of a chalet and hot cocoa kinda gal.
I’d keep her warm. Fuck. My dick aches. I should be working. I shouldn’t be wanting to wank off. I never text women beyond agreeing to a time and day to meet at the BDSM club I belong to. And that’s only three women. The same three I’ve been with off and on for years. I don’t fuck anyone else at or outside the club. If I’d had sex with Lina, she would have been the first new partner in five years.
Me
Brandy or Schnapps?
Lina
Either if it’s already poured in but I wouldn’t ask for it. You?
Me
Whiskey if I think I’ll never be warm again—I don’t like winter. But usually just hot choc.
Lina
Don’t like winter? You wouldn’t survive Montreal.
Me
I’ve been in winter many times. You have an underground city and the hotels are heated.
There isn’t an entire underground city, but there are plenty of shops, hotels, office buildings, residential and commercial complexes, and the metro that connect down there like a rabbit warren. Brilliant. All cities should have that if their windchill drops below minus twenty. That’s Celsius for the Canucks.
Lina
You just need a hat and good coat. It’s not so bad.
She adds the sideways laughing so hard it’s crying emoji. I’d noticed she left her coat in the car between the funeral and the reception. It made it much easier to grab and hold her arse. And what a fine, fine arse it was. It fit perfectly in my hand. I’m certain her tits would, too. I want to hold both while she rides my cock, while I fuck her against a door, fuck her on a table, fuck her in a pool, fuck her on a St. Andrew’s Cross. Fuck her anywhere and everywhere. I could be the Dr. Seuss of sexual locations.
Me
If you could go anywhere where would that be?
Her response isn’t as immediate as it has been. I wonder if she got called away. We were going back and forth pretty fast, so I don’t think she got bored.
A photo pops onto my screen.
Lina
Seychelles absolute bucket list place. You?
Me
Maldives. We both like it hot and sandy.
Again, there’s a pause. Then a GIF pops up of a guy in boardshorts with sunglasses on a beach. No red hair, but the guy’s built like me. Ripped, if I do say so myself. I search and find a GIF of a woman in a bikini. I’m in two minds whether to send it. Does it cross a line she won’t want? Is it that different to send her a bikini GIF than her sending me one of a guy in shorts? Am I overthinking this? Or am I not thinking about this enough?
I don’t fucking know. There. Done. I sent it.
Lina
I’d need a sunhat. I’m a bit fair. Do you burn?
A bit fair. She’s not pale, but her hair is so light that you’d expect her to be. She has a tan, but I doubt she gets as dark as I do.
Me
Nope. I’ve spent most of my life outdoors so it’s pretty rare. Despite the red hair and freckles no one in my family burns.
Lina
I don’t burn easily but I am careful.
Can I offer to smear sunblock all over her? Offer to be her cabana boy?
Me
Have you been to the Tulip Festival?
Lina
Many times. It’s next month.
Me
I know. I have meetings in Ottawa and Quebec City that week.
Legit business in Ottawa. Finn and I are venture capitalists. There’s a company I’m interested in acquiring in Ottawa. I’m supposed to meet with a senior member of the Montreal mob, but I refused to do it in Montreal. I didn’t want to be obvious. Now I’m thinking I should reschedule.
Lina
You’ll love it. Ottawa, Quebec City, Montreal—you can’t go wrong. I wish I still lived there.
She doesn’t live there? I guess I assumed she went back to Canada after grad school. I don’t know why I did. But she never said where she lives. We don’t even know each other’s last names. If I ask her for her last name, then she’ll ask me mine. I haven’t offered mine because I’m enjoying just being Sean. I don’t know whether she would recognize the O’Rourke name, but it would only take a single google to find a shite ton of unfavorable things about my family. Most of the accusations are true, even if they haven’t been proven. We’re good at making sure they aren’t.
Me
Do you go back often?
Lina
I’ve always gone back every few months. Never too long between trips.
Me
You have the best of two worlds.
There’s a pause. Her response doesn’t come as fast as it has been. It’s nearly a minute—I watch my phone clock—before she responds.
Lina
Most days. I just got a call from my grandfather. I need to take it.
Me
TTYL
Lina
Bye
“Sean?” Dillan knocks on the door as he says my name.
“Yeah?”
He opens the door. I’m glad my computer is still on my lap to hide my boner. Just texting her does that.
“You making any progress?”
“I’ve been dealing with something else. But I’m nearly done. I’ll see what progress I can make before I take Mair to the doctor.”
“Thanks. I’m headed out for my meeting.”
He’s watching me, and I know he suspects something. I just don’t know what he’s assuming. I watch him walk out, closing the door behind him. I wait until I hear him walk away, then I lie back and reread the texts.
I made no progress before taking Mair to her appointment yesterday. It fucking chaps my arse that I haven’t cracked this shite yet. Whoever did this knows my family has someone with their skills. Why else would they make it this complicated? I almost take it as a personal challenge, and therefore, a personal insult. I’ve been working on this all day, and I’m nearly cross-eyed. I sit back at my desk in my home office. I’m annoyed and tired. I have a headache.
I glance over at my phone. With a deep inhale, I accept there’s only one thing that’ll make me feel better. I reach for it and unlock the screen.
Me
Did you have a favorite pizza place?
Such a fucking random and stupid question.
I hold my phone for a minute, but no response comes in. I set it aside and click on my email. I’m about to respond to the second one when my phone pings.
Lina
Three Brothers from Sicily in Queens
Of course. Fucking Marco Mancinelli’s place. He bought it the summer after his freshman year in college to eat for free. Eat his own profits. Fucking numb nuts.
Me
I’ve heard of it.
I’m not going to say I’ve heard good things, even if I have. No need to be effusive about those douches.
Lina
Do you?
Me
Paul’s Place in Brooklyn
Finn owns it. He has a bunch of bars and restaurants. The six of us jointly own a slew of strip clubs and night clubs across the tri-state area.
Me
Favorite bar
Lina
That’s easy. McGinty’s
Does she know a mafioso owns her favorite pizza place? Does she know a mobster owns the other two places? Do I admit my brother owns them?
Me
That’s my favorite too.
It is. I loved the Dubliner more, but revenge is a bitch. The bratva made it look like a gas leak and blew it sky high. McGinty’s is special because it was our nana’s place. She gave it to Finn right before he turned twenty-one.
Lina
What’s your sign?
She includes three astrological emojis.
Me
Capricorn. You?
Lina
Pisces. Were you a Christmas baby?
Me
No mid Jan. St Patty’s Day baby?
Lina
LOL no Ides of March rather inauspicious.
Me
I hope Julia wasn’t on your parents’ short list.
Lina
No. Neither was Julius if I’d been a boy.
Me
If you’d taken a national security advisor job for a senator it would be kinda ironic.
Lina
I nearly named a dog Brutus.
Born the day Julius Caesar was stabbed in the Senate with his best friend leading the charge. The first syndicate in the U.S. might have been the Irish, but the Italians have been fucking shite up since the Ancient Romans.
Damn it.
“Hey, Cor. What’s up?” My cousin would call now.
“The Kutsenkos just busted up an underground poker ring. Stole seventeen grand right off the table. Dillan wants you, me, and Shay to head over there.”
Wonderful. Cormac and Seamus will make sure I get answers to my questions. I know where Cormac’s talking about. I could handle it myself, but it’ll go faster with the two of them backing me up.
“And after?”
“Knock off a couple of their liquor stores. But we can get a few of the guys to do it.”
“Give me twenty to get to you.”
“Shay and I are on our way to you.”
“See you in a few.”
Motherfucker.
Me
I’m sorry. My cousin called. We’re headed out to a show. I gotta go.
It’ll be fucking entertaining watching the Kutsenkos from a distance when they arrive to check out what we do to their stores.
Lina
No worries. Have fun. I hope it’s something good. TTYL
Me
Me too bye
It’s been three weeks of trying to break this goddamn code. In all fairness to me, I’ve been distracted. The shite with the gambling ring led to more shite with a fencing ring we run. We discovered a few of our guys decided to freelance for the Cartel. We did a little late spring cleaning. I spent a few days at the station.
When I left after those four days, I turned on my phone and saw I missed texts from Lina. My heart sank. I know she thought I ghosted her. I didn’t have a good way to explain why I didn’t have my phone on. We haven’t talked about work, so I don’t know what she does. She hasn’t asked me, so I haven’t had to lie. At least not until I left the station.
Since we studied the same thing, it’s reasonable to believe we have jobs in the national security fields that require discretion. I told her I was at a conference where we couldn’t use unsecured lines. She bought it. One of umpteen lies I’ll tell her if this goes anywhere.
Except for those four days, we’ve texted every day. We’ve shared stories about our childhood, and I have plenty of happy ones to tell her. I’ll never tell her the ones about how my grandfather trained me to be a mobster. The things my dad had to watch my grandfather and uncle force me to do. The things my dad taught me. The physical training I endured to know exactly how to torture someone.
They say if you can explain something, then you really know it. My uncle and my mom’s cousin definitely knew plenty about coercion. They also say nothing teaches you better than firsthand experience. They’re right. My brothers, cousins, and I caught on right snappy. It only took a few broken fingers and arms, bruised ribs, and dislocated shoulders to get the hang of internalizing every emotion we have. We also learned fifty different ways to inflict the same injuries on others.
Besides remembering those days, my text conversations with Lina have been awesome. She’s hilarious and easy to talk to. We enjoy a lot of the same books and TV shows. We often dislike the same foods and discovered she’s way more adventurous than I am with new foods.
We’ve discussed philosophy, physics, linguistics, calculus—who knew that could be sexy—and tons of other things I’ve never bothered to talk about with women in my past. Hell, not even most of my friends.
Our conversations last for hours sometimes. I want to see her again, but she hasn’t hinted at wanting to see me. I have to imagine she does since we keep chatting. That or she loves having a pen pal.
We’ve shared some photos from vacations. Even the ones of her snowshoeing make me hard. I’ve jerked off to them as many times as I have ones of her in bikinis and sundresses. I’m ready to the climb the walls.
Me
My trip to Canada’s been postponed indefinitely. I’m going to miss the festivals.
Lina
That’s a bummer. You should go up just for the hell of it and enjoy yourself.
Me
I thought about it but it’s a long way to go for a day or two to see flowers.
Lina
Seize the opportunity. Take a weekend off and smell the roses or rather the tulips.
Me
Tempting. It’s been a few months since I’ve been anywhere besides DC.
I’m so fucking tempted to invite her to come with me.
Lina
I’m actually going to be in NYC tomorrow.
Was she testing the water with all of this before telling me? Was she not planning to tell me at all and just decided to?
Me
How long will you be in town?
Lina
I arrive tomorrow morning. The plan is to leave the day after tomorrow. But nothing’s set in stone. I was supposed to go right after the funeral. Things got moved around and delayed.
Me
I’d like to take you out.
To breakfast.
Lina
I’d like that. I have meetings at eleven and three. Other than that I’m free.
Me
Which works better for you? Lunch or dinner?
Lina
Both. I like brunch too.
Does she mean…?
I hit the call button before I think twice.
“Hi, Sean.”
“Hi, Lina.”
There’s a pause. I called, but I don’t know what to say.
“I hope I’m not keeping you from getting work done. I didn’t think about whether you’d be in the middle of something when I texted. I don’t want to disturb you.”
“Cailín, I would have told you if I needed to go. I like texting, but I like hearing your voice more.”
Little girl. It’s not because of her build. Nothing about her makes me think of a child. But my heart ached for her the times I saw the sadness at the funeral. I wanted to shelter her and make everything better. I want her to turn to me. And that’s ludicrous.
“I like your voice. Just a touch of New York without sounding like Danny DeVito in My Cousin Vinny. ‘The two yutes.’”
“Vinny Gambini. That’s because I’m not a Guido. I don’t think I look that Italian.”
“No. You look very Irish.”
My chest tightens. We’re getting into even more dangerous ground. Did she look me up? She’d need my last name for that. Does she already know it?
“Haha. At least the green eyes ensured I never got pinched on St. Paddy’s Day.”
“Do green eyes count as wearing something green?”
“When you’re half a head taller than most of your classmates all the way to graduation, it counted if I said so.”
“You are rather tall.”
I’m over six feet. Somewhere between six-two and six-three. Depends on the haircut.
“It has its advantages.”
“Mmm.”
Is she remembering how well she fit with her head just beneath my chin? How tall is she when she doesn’t have heels on? They were probably about two-inch wedge looking things, which would still make her tall. But she’d come to my collarbone.
“Which works better for you? Lunch or dinner? I’ll probably be free by twelve-thirty if you prefer lunch.”
Now she’s offering me a choice. She said both earlier.
“How about one? Do want to meet somewhere? Or—or I could pick you up. I could send a car.”
Did my voice just crack? What the fuck. I sounded like a fifteen-year-old asking a girl out for the first time.
“I’ll be in Midtown for the morning meeting and the Upper East Side for the afternoon. If it’s not too inconvenient, you could pick me up.”
“I’ll be in Midtown too. Send me the address.”
I hear Finn walk in my front door. “Sean?”
“Hang on a sec, Lina. It’s my brother.” I hit the mute button. “In the living room.”
“Hey, do you have the contracts for the new construction? Shane said he left them here last night by accident.”
“Yeah. I figured either you or he would be over. Here.” I hand a stack of papers to my brother.
“You on a call?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll let you finish. This is all I needed. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
I watch Finn walk to the front door, when I’m certain he’s gone, I unmute the call.
“Sorry about that.”
My brother was here for like three minutes, and I’m annoyed. It’s not his fault. Mob stuff will always come first. But I want to finish making plans with Lina. I’m practically giddy!
“It’s all right. I have to go. I gotta get some stuff done before I leave in the morning. I’ll text you the address once I find it in my emails.”
“Sounds good.”
There’s another pause. Should I say more? Is it her turn to talk? I’ve doubted myself more on this call than I have since I went on my first mission. I was terrified I’d fuck up and not only get myself killed, but my brothers and dad.
“I’m looking forward to it, Sean.”
“So am I. I’m glad you texted me.”
“Me too. Bye.”
“Bye, cailín.”
We both linger before we hang up. I wake my computer screen. I need to figure out what the fuck is going on with the O’Malleys. I look at my phone. There aren’t too many people with the skills to do what this invisible person did. Lina is one of them, and so are our fellow classmates.
I work on the encryption some more for two hours, creating and running a program to undo whatever this mystery person did. Then I pull up the alumni portal and type in Nicolina.
We’ve been chatting for nearly a month, and neither of us has shared our last name. I’m not in a hurry to give mine because I’ve gotten to know someone new without my mob affiliation hanging over my head. I haven’t asked her since she’s a single woman who hasn’t volunteered it. I don’t want to scare her.
She pops up immediately. Not surprising since I doubt there’s another Nicolina who went through our major.
Nicolina Tremblay.
No. No. NO!
Son of a bitch.