Chapter 6 Aiden
AIDEN
I round the corner out of the estate, the soft leather of the steering wheel passing through my fingers as I navigate the smooth curves of the road.
I forgot how nice of a car this is to drive.
It’s more convenient for me to travel around Dublin on my bike, and it’s also a safety net in case some scumbag attempts to Veronica Guerin me.
It would be ironic if it were the Dublin traffic that killed me, though.
“Where are we going?” Mam asks, peering out the window as we zoom past the Dalkey Seafront. Yes, Dalkey. You think I’d let my mother stay on the north side of Dublin? Bollocks off. We traded that piece of shit, three-bed council house in Ballymun, for a four-bed bungalow in Old Quarry.
AJ Quinn is a lot of things: a killer, a self-made millionaire, a god beneath the sheets, and a proud mamma’s boy.
“How about Benito’s?” I suggested, glancing at Mam for approval. I don’t get it. “You don’t like Benito’s?”
“It’s nice,” Mam replies, her voice tinged with hesitation. “But I was hoping for something different today; what about Deville’s?”
My phone dings in the holder, and I risk a glance to check the notification.
Great. Another job. “Two secs,” I pull over and throw on the hazards.
Well, if this isn’t a pleasant surprise, Barrister Keith Sullivan has made the naughty list. I scroll down the text, frown, and quickly decline.
50k. Me hole! I’m not whacking a barrister for less than 120,000.
“Kindly fuck off,” I mutter, typing out the text and hitting send.
“Problems at the bar again?” Mam asks sympathetically. Her grey eyes are filled with concern.
“Nothing they can’t handle without me.” I turn off the hazards and pull back onto the road. “French cuisine it is.” I really don’t want to ask, but the masochist in me can’t help but wonder, “How was the wedding?”
“Beautiful; éabha looked stunning,” Mam replies with a wistful smile.
Yes, she would do, wouldn’t she?
Mam was invited to éabha and Grimsby’s wedding.
I was not included in the invitation. I imagine my ex-wife still holds a smidgen of a grudge against me for her doing time for a murder I committed.
In my defence, it’s not like I set her up; I set Walsh up to take the fall.
It’s not my fault that the gardaí couldn’t catch a fucking cold.
éabha retaliated by setting me up and attempting to have me arrested while taking money from my house for her ‘overdue spousal support.’
Jokes on her; the charges were dropped, and I looked hella fine in the papers the next day. She still made off with over two hundred grand of my hard-earned money—a quarter of the price I paid for my mother’s bungalow.
Mam looks as proud as punch when she says, “She and Joe look so happy together.”
Yeah, keep rubbing that salt in.
Apparently, she’s not done. “Don’t you think it’s time that you think about settling down?”
“No,” I reply with a smirk. “Tried that once, and it didn’t turn out so well. I didn’t get where I am today by repeating mistakes.”
“éabha loved you,” Mam says softly.
No. She loved the person I was before I had blood on my hands.
She loved the boy I was. As soon as she discovered the monster beneath, she tucked her tail and ran into the arms of the nearest drug dealer.
She got the shit kicked out of her, and I had to go and kill him to protect her.
And what thanks did I get? I caught her riding a fucking garda in the back of his car on her way back from her hearing.
That’s what I get for waiting for her.
Never again.
No, women are too much trouble to be anything other than temporary distractions. I’ve learned my lesson the hard way.
My phone dings again; the price on Sullivan’s head has just doubled.
We pull up to a bit of traffic, and I grab my phone from the holder. “I think. The fuck. Not.” And send.
“Do you need to go back to work?” Mam asks with a furrowed brow.
“Not at all,” I reply, shaking my head. “I have staff for a reason; they can handle things without me or find another job.”
Green means go, arsehole!
Mam turns in her seat, getting a better angle to look at me. “You need a holiday.”
I need to get my dick sucked. Maybe I’ll give Tracy a shout later? She’s usually up for a good time. Fun for her. Necessary stress relief for me.
I stretch my neck, giving my mother a sidelong glance. “Too busy, maybe during the summer.”
“When was the last time you took a holiday?”
Eh, when I was about seventeen.
“It hasn’t been that long,” I insist, indicating to turn right at the upcoming intersection. “I’ve just been focused on work, that’s all.”
My phone dings again. The good auld Barrister is fetching 180k. That’s more like it.
I hit the brakes, narrowly missing the wanker trying to pull out of their space without looking.
“For fuck’s sake, mate, you’re not driving a tank! I could fit a double-decker bus in there!”
“Aiden!”
“Me?” I point to myself. “What did I do? Do you not see this fucking moron? Oh my God! If you side-swipe me car—” I’m halfway out the door with my mother clawing at my arm, trying to keep me from getting out.
I swear there’s a bullet with this prick’s name on it.
The driver buzzes down their window to give me lip; only then does he see my face. It takes a few seconds for him to register who I am, but I see the second it clicks. His face turns pale, and he quickly rolls up his window, giving me an apologetic wave before speeding off.
“Yeah, you want to run before I mow you down.” I slam the car door behind me as I slide back into my seat. “Fucking cunt.”
“Aiden James Quinn!”
“You grew up in Ballyer; don’t start!” I snap, clicking my seatbelt into place and heading for Deville’s.
My phone dings again with an Eircode. “Deville’s.” I grin; this is perfect. I can bring my mother for lunch and take care of a job all in one go. Two birds, one stone.
“Next right, love.” Mam nods, her eyes scanning the familiar surroundings.
“Yeah,” I say, still grinning. “I was getting a bit confused there.”
My mother, bless her, knows I’m no angel, but she is unaware of the darker side of my life. I’ve managed to keep that hidden from her all these years, and I plan to keep it that way.
As we pull into the car park at Deville’s, I spot Sullivan’s car, and check the reg plate against the picture on my phone to confirm. It’s him. Perfect.
I walk my mother halfway through the car park, then turn back, using the excuse that I left my wallet in the car in order to grab a syringe from the hidden stash I keep there for occasions like this, then jog to the entrance of the restaurant and escort my mother inside.
As we are being seated, I spot Sullivan at the opposite end of the restaurant.
I keep my eye on him from my peripheral, making small talk with my mother until the wait staff comes to take our order, and I notice him making a beeline to the bathroom.
Suddenly I need to piss; what are the odds?
Once I’m behind the first door with no one in sight, I check for cameras, then remove the lid of the syringe before stepping into the gents.
I enter quietly as a mouse and wait for the steady stream of Sullivan’s piss to finish hitting the water, then I “stumble” into him just as he comes out of the stall.
The syringe enters his left thigh, and I press down on the plunger before sliding it up my sleeve, I stutter out an embarrassed apology as I slip into the stall next to him.
It happens so fast that he has no time to process what happened or even that he’s just been injected with potassium chloride. He’ll drop dead within minutes, and no one will suspect a thing.
I send off a quick text, confirming the deed is done. Then answer some messages from my brother Robbie, who currently runs Dandelions for me.
He had to let one bartender go for catching him snorting coke in the bathroom. I tell Robbie to handle the situation discreetly and make sure it doesn’t affect the reputation of the restaurant. Then he moans about one of the lads from the evening shift calling in sick with Covid.
There is a hint if I ever saw one. Urgh, fine. I’ll be a good boss and go help out!
I finish up in the gents and head back to my mother, just in time for the starters being served. “Sorry about that.”
“Upset tummy?” she asks, cocking a quizzical eyebrow at me.
“Nah, just Robbie.” I grab my glass of 7Up and add, “They’re short-staffed. I’ve got to help out at Dandelions later.”
There is an unmerciful crash from outside causing my poor mother to jump out of her skin.
“Oh my God!” One of the server’s squeals. “Should we call an ambulance?”
“Is everything ok?” Mam asks one of the girls hurrying past.
“Car crash,” the girl responds, her voice trembling. “It looks pretty bad.”
I get up and go to the window, the driver of the car Sullivan hit seems fine, other than a little rattled. He, on the other hand, is as dead as a doorknob, the potassium must have kicked in right as he was edging out onto the main road.
I pull out my phone and call for an ambulance to report the accident and request immediate medical assistance. “Has the driver moved?” I ask, feigning concern.
“No, he hasn’t moved at all,” the girl replies, gnawing on her lower lip.
I finish playing my part as a concerned citizen and take my seat across from my mother. My sautéed Atlantic prawns are begging to be devoured. “This looks good.”