Cinderella and the Society Dame #2
After I was born, ma helped with her parents' bodega and cleaned a realtor's offices at night. I spent a lot of time with my Irish gran and Albanian babagjysh in their bodega and their apartment above it. We all lived with gran and babagjysh until my stepfather got out of prison when I was eight.
Then ma moved in with him and didn't work as a maid anymore. He forced her into an entirely different type of employment.
But I didn't find that out until a lot later.
At first, she visited me at her parents' every afternoon. She was there when I got home from school and didn't leave until we'd shared an early dinner. I didn't see her on the weekends.
I didn't know that was her busiest time. All I knew was that I missed her, but when I begged to come live with her, she always said no.
There'd always been an underlying sadness in my mom, but after a few months, she started spacing out during her visits. Sometimes, she forgot what day it was and missed visiting entirely. She was always sorry after, but it happened more and more.
Gran took her to task for it, saying maybe ma should get more sleep.
The next time she came, ma was filled with erratic energy.
I was only ten by then, but gran and babagjysh didn't have to whisper about drugs and Lleshi's bad influence for me to guess what was going on. Kids at school talked and some of them even used drugs they snuck from their parents.
Babagjysh went to confront Lleshi about my mom's health and came home with a haunted look in his eyes. He and gran talked in hushed tones filled with distress that night. Babagjysh used an Albanian word I'd never heard before: kurve.
I asked him what it meant the next day and he told me in a harsher tone than I'd ever heard from him that I didn't need to know and never to repeat it.
For the next few days my grandparents barely talked, but gran cried at night when she thought I was asleep. The bodega was closed on Sundays and the next one, Babagjysh said he was going to bring his zemra e vogel home.
Gran paced the floor the entire time he was gone, her fear and worry written all over her usually smiling features.
He returned bruised and limping without his little heart. I heard gran sobbing behind their door that night. A week later babagjysh was shot during a robbery at the bodega while gran and I were upstairs.
Gran sold the store and apartment before moving us from the Bronx to Queens. I didn't see ma as often, but she said it was better that way.
Gran hardly ever smiled after babagjysh's death and she lost all the soft roundness I associated with her. We'd only been living in Queens for eight months when she had her first heart attack.
She passed a year later.
Once gran died, I had no choice but to move in with ma and Lleshi. It was then that I learned why ma'd never wanted me to come live with her, why she used drugs, and what she'd become.
A kurve, a whore for the Albanian Boys.
She tried to be a good mom, but she couldn't protect me from Lleshi's beatings anymore than she could go a few hours without taking something to get her through the day.
"You need to leave," Allison says, breaking into my thoughts, turning her demanding ire on me. "I don't know what áine is thinking, but she's not going with you."
I return to the entryway to wait for áine without replying to the unpleasant woman.
She follows. "I'll tell áine you went. I'm sure Brogan can have one of his men take Sadie home. I really don't understand what she's doing there. Fitzgerald should be making friends with children like my son. Instead, he got in a fight with him because of that awful girl."
I doubt Fitz likes Kenny Jr. any more than Mick likes Kenneth Sr. And that's not about to change.
The only reason I was with Mick at the school is that he was giving me instructions on investigating Kenneth Shaughnessy when he got the text. In too much of a hurry to call on a security detail, he ordered me to accompany him.
Mick Fitzgerald can take care of himself, but when it comes to his family, he never leaves anything to chance and always has extra security when he is with them.
He thinks Brogan's cousin, who is also one of his lieutenants, is trying to stir up trouble about Mick becoming the next boss.
From what Mick told me about what Kenny Jr. has been saying to Fitz, I have to agree.
The underboss wants to know how widespread the discontent has spread and who agrees with Kenneth.
I don't like the chances of any of the soldiers who have shown disloyalty toward their next boss by voicing such an opinion.
The Shaughnessy Mob is not a democracy. The boss isn't chosen by the rank and file. He's chosen by his predecessor and Mick is Brogan's choice. The details of the marriage contract between Mick and Kara are pretty well known among the mob.
In exchange for giving his first son the Shaughnessy surname, Mick will be named boss upon Brogan's death or retirement. But that's not going to happen anytime soon. Brogan is only fifty-eight.
So, why the hell is Kenneth starting this shit now?
He has to know that Mick would find out about it, and my boss is not known for extending mercy to traitors. He's not driven by emotion, but a sense of honor that is very binary. If his men are loyal, they receive his loyalty. If they betray him, they receive death.
He hasn't had to make an example of anyone in the past six years, but I've heard enough about what he did to the last soldiers who were rats to think Kenneth Shaughnessy would be smart enough not to put himself in the same category.
Maybe he thinks talking shit about Mick and sowing discontent in the ranks isn't disloyal.
Mick doesn't agree.
Neither do I. When I made my vow to the mob, I meant it.
Or maybe Kenneth believes his last name being Shaughnessy will protect him from Mick's wrath? He's wrong about that too.
"Why are you just standing there? I told you to leave," Allison's still strident tones break into my reverie, but I continue to ignore her.
The sound of approaching footsteps brings my head up though. áine is hitching a tote over one shoulder. "I'm ready."
"You are not leaving," Allison screeches. "If you walk out that door, you're fired. And don't expect a reference."
áine pales, but she doesn't stop.
Allison leaps toward her, hands outstretched like claws, clearly intent on trying to physically force áine to stay.
I don't hesitate. With a quick move, I interrupt the older woman's momentum and deposit her on her ass on the shiny parquet floor. But I'm careful not to jar her too badly.
She might be a selfish shrew, but she's still a woman.
And a shrieking one when áine and I step out into a sudden summer shower.
Well, shit.
I shrug out of my suit jacket fast and hold it over áine's head to stop the rain from soaking her while I guide her to my SUV.