13. Brax
13
brAX
The Irish pub is more crowded than I expected. I figured since it was a notorious criminal’s favorite spot, it would be a little more desolate.
Iris is clutching my hand tightly like she might float away if she loosens her grip. “We’re okay,” she says to herself, repeating the phrase for the tenth time since we climbed out of my truck.
My gramps gives us an easy smile over his shoulder as we follow him and one of Malakai’s lackeys through the mass of people and chairs.
“We’re okay,” she says again with big eyes, and she’s breathing so hard, I worry she’s going to faint.
“Hey,” I squeeze her hand, breaking the cycle she’s been in for the last few minutes. “I promise it’s almost over. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Iris nods, but the look of panic doesn’t leave her face. “Okay,” she mouths, her voice too soft to hear over the chatter around us.
My grandfather moves through the space with ease, wearing one of his best suits. When he strolled out of his bedroom in the outfit, he said, “A man doesn’t go to talk to someone like Malakai about life and death dressed like a bum.”
I wasn’t about to argue with him. He has more experience in this world than I do, especially with men like Malakai.
As we move deeper into the bar, I use my hand to instinctively place Iris behind me, shielding her from any unforeseen issue.
My gaze darts around the space in front of us, hyperaware of the possible threats. There are too many for me to have any real ability to control the situation.
Malakai rises from behind a table with a giant smile as his eyes land on my grandfather. “Tino,” he says in a cheerful tone that totally throws me off-kilter. “It’s good to see you, old man.”
My grandfather extends his hand to him and laughs. “You’re not looking so young yourself anymore either, Kai.”
Malakai shakes my grandfather’s hand, and it feels more like a reunion of old friends than a matter of life and death. “Sit. Sit,” Malakai tells him as the handshake ends .
“You remember my grandson,” my grandpa says as he glances over his shoulder to where I’m standing.
Malakai’s gaze lands on me, and he pauses halfway in the sitting position as if stuck. “That can’t be Brax. I remember when he was a wee lad.”
“Brax has never been wee,” Gramps tells Malakai as he eases into an open chair across from the mobster.
“I suppose not,” Malakai says, finally planting his ass back in his chair.
“And his girlfriend, Iris,” Grandpa adds as we move closer to the table.
I pull out a chair for Iris, and she gives me a terrified smile before she sits. “Thanks,” she says as her voice quavers.
“Malakai,” I say, greeting him as I take a seat between my grandfather and Iris.
“Hey, kiddo,” Malakai says, sounding every bit like my grandfather with the nicknames. “Time moves quickly, eh?”
“Too fast,” Gramps says as he reaches for an empty glass and the pitcher of dark beer in front of him. “Thank you for taking this meeting.”
Malakai strokes his reddish-blond beard. “Of course. I was confused at first. I’d never heard Iris’s name before you called.”
Great.
If she wasn’t on his radar, we put her there.
I slide my hand onto Iris’s leg, closing my fingers around the top to ground her, hopefully calming a bit of the energy that’s practically vibrating off her.
“But Lucas… Him, I know too well,” he adds with a sinister smile, showing the slight gap in his front teeth. “He owes me more than he can probably ever earn in his lifetime.”
My grandfather pours the beer with ease, not a single tremor in his hands, as if we’re discussing old memories and not the immediate threat. “Iris hasn’t dated him in years, but the boy called her to warn her you’re coming after her.”
Malakai laughs and shakes his head. “Tino, come on. You’ve known me for what…fifty years? Have I ever gone after women or children?”
My grandfather slides the pitcher of beer toward me as if I’m in the mood to have a drink right now. “No. I can’t say I remember a time when that was ever your MO.”
“The beef is between Lucas and me, not the girl.”
Iris’s tense leg muscles relax a little under my palm, and I wonder if Malakai’s toying with us.
“So, I have your word that no harm will come to her?” Gramps asks as he lifts the glass of beer to his lips.
Malakai holds up a hand. “No harm will come to her from my hands.”
My grandfather places the beer back on the table, but he keeps his eyes trained on Malakai. “And the hands of any man in your organization,” my gramps adds, lifting a brow.
I stare at my grandfather in utter surprise. I wouldn’t have thought to ask for the clarification. I would’ve accepted Malakai’s word at face value because I didn’t grow up in this world of double-talk, backroom deals, and illegal activity.
“I have no beef with her. She wasn’t on my radar before you called, and she isn’t on it now. Lucas is the only person who will pay for what he owes me, Tino. I won’t let anyone, including my men and myself, touch the girl. You have my word as men and old friends.”
My grandfather lifts his glass, raising it over the table. “I’m going to hold you to it. Or else…”
Malakai lifts his glass too. “There’s no or else. Nothing will happen. My word is my bond.”
Iris leans over and whispers, “I feel like I’m in an old gangster movie.”
I turn my gaze toward her, trying my best to hold in my laughter, which doesn’t seem right in this situation. “Same.”
“So, I’m okay? It’s done?” she asks, her hair spilling over my arm as she looks across the table at Malakai.
“It’s done,” I tell her, squeezing her leg again. “Lucas lied.”
Malakai wasn’t going to come after Iris, and Lucas knew that. Whether he was just trying to get back in her life romantically or looking to score some money off her to keep Malakai off his back, I’m not sure yet. It might’ve been a combination of both.
“I’ll kill him myself,” she hisses as she straightens up in her chair.
“I’d help, but I think Malakai will handle it for us,” I say to her as I reach for the pitcher of beer.
“I almost feel bad for Lucas. Almost,” she says.
“Men like him don’t need your pity,” I reply.
Iris clears her throat before saying, “Can I ask something?”
Malakai’s green eyes move toward Iris, finally focusing on her for the first time since we sat down.
“May I ask what he borrowed the money for?”
Malakai shrugs. “I don’t ask questions, darlin’. They ask, I loan.”
“Well, that doesn’t seem like a good business practice,” she says casually, as if she isn’t talking to the head of the most powerful Irish crime family in all of Chicago.
I stop breathing as soon as the words leave her mouth. This could go bad in a heartbeat. Malakai doesn’t seem like a man who has a sense of humor, even though he’s had a smile on his face almost the entire time we’ve been there.
But to my surprise, Malakai’s lips curve up before he lets out the loudest laugh I may have ever heard. “It probably isn’t, but it’s served me well over the years. I like you,” he says, waving a finger at Iris. “I like a woman who speaks her mind. ”
When I glance at Iris, she’s white as a ghost, even though she’s smiling back at him. I don’t think she meant to say those words out loud, but she did, nonetheless. “I’m sorry,” she says quickly, realizing her error but ignoring his reply.
“What do you do, Iris?” Malakai asks, which is something I haven’t bothered to do yet.
“I’m a painter,” she says.
“Like a house painter?” he shoots back.
I stare at her. I can’t imagine her in overalls covered in paint from head to toe. I mean, women do all sorts of things now, but I can’t wrap my mind around her on a crew of painters.
She shakes her head. “Canvas.”
“An artist,” he whispers. “I love it. Oil?”
“Mixed media.”
His eyebrows rise in surprise like he has a clue what she’s talking about. I sure as hell don’t. Mixed media sounds like something I’d watch on television, not a form of art.
“Impressive.”
“What’s that?” I ask, sounding as stupid as I clearly am when it comes to the art world.
“I use different things,” she explains, and I know she’s dumbing it down for me because “things” isn’t an art term I’ve heard used before, “to create one piece of art. Like, I may use oil paint, along with spackle and foam or really anything I can get my hands on, to create a single piece of art. ”
I wonder if she creates her artwork half dressed, trying to avoid ruining her clothes. I can picture it in my mind, her hair flowing over her shoulders in a messy ponytail, a long white button-down shirt, and spatters of paint all over the exposed parts of her skin. I shake the image out of my head, clearly having watched one too many unrealistic movies about artists.
“Do you make a living off your work?” Malakai asks, lifting his hand and motioning at someone across the bar.
“I do. I’m very lucky and have a big audience on social media.”
I stare at her, completely impressed by her ability to turn her love from a hobby into a career.
“I could use a new piece in this bar. I’ve been staring at the same big-box-store artwork pieces for the last decade. We need a refresh. Are you game?” Malakai asks her.
A growl escapes my throat, but no one else can hear it over Iris’s reply of “Sure.”
“We’ll talk price another day, but now, we do a shot to conclude our business.”
Iris slides her eyes to me, wanting help with the drinking after she just agreed to create pieces for a mobster. It doesn’t matter what type of business you agree to. None of it is good when it comes from this lawless world .
“Can you handle one?” I ask her, knowing there will be blowback if we reject the shot. Men like Malakai have ways they like to do things, and any change in their script could throw everything off in an instant.
“One should be okay,” she says with a slight shrug of her shoulder. “Maybe I should stay with you tonight so I don’t wind up wandering around on the streets.”
Suddenly, this is turning into a win-win for me. I wanted her to stay the night. Last night was a bust because we were both in a panic over the possibility of someone coming after her. The night didn’t end the way either of us had planned. But this gives me an opening to make what should’ve happened last night become reality.
“That’s a good idea,” I tell her.
I could kiss Malakai for making a shot a requirement to end our business.
Four shot glasses filled with amber liquid, which I assume is whiskey, are placed in the middle of the table by a waitress who doesn’t bother speaking to anyone. Malakai pushes three of them our way before he grabs the last one for himself.
“A toast,” he says, lifting his hand.
My grandpa raises his glass before Iris and I do the same.
Malakai smiles, looking like a normal old man instead of the criminal we all know he is. “May you be in heaven a full half an hour before the devil knows you’re dead.”
Iris and I look at each other when my grandfather says, “Cin cin,” as he tips his head at Malakai.
“Sláinte,” Malakai replies before he brings the glass to his lips and downs the liquid in one gulp.
“Well,” I say to Iris, tapping her glass with mine. “To another day.”
“Another day,” she says, watching me as I swallow the alcohol.
Iris winces, and as soon as she inhales, she starts to cough. “That…was…rough,” she barely gets out while she tries to clear her throat as I take the glass from her hand.
I’ve been in her shoes, choking on a liquor I hadn’t quite been prepared for, and it sucks.
“We good?” Gramps asks Malakai.
Malakai gives him a chin lift. “We’re good.” But before we have a chance to stand, Malakai turns his gaze on Iris. “You want to make a little extra cash?”
“Um,” she says as I turn my body toward her, wishing I could telepathically communicate with her.
There isn’t a job or favor on this planet Malakai would want her to do that’s worth any amount of money he wants to pay her to do.
Her eyes slide to mine, and I do my best to give her the hell-no face, even if we don’t know each other well enough for her to be able to read all my facial expressions.
“Um,” she mumbles.
“I’ll give you fifty thousand if you talk to Lucas and find out where that weasel’s hiding.”
Fifty thousand is a lot of freaking money, but she has to know, if she does it, it’ll be the last place Lucas will ever take a breath of air.
“While I appreciate the offer, I can’t. I won’t. I refuse to talk to him, even for that sum of money.”
She answered politely, but I don’t know if I should be concerned that she didn’t say it would be wrong because he’d end up dead.
“Mental health reasons,” she says before giving Malakai a kind smile.
“Understood,” Malakai says through gritted teeth. He’s not happy about it, but he can’t force her either.
“Shall we?” Gramps asks me. “It’s getting late.”
“Past your bedtime?” Malakai asks my grandpa.
“Something like that,” Gramps says to him.
“I was hoping you’d stay and drink with me.”
“Betty would have my balls, Kai, and then she’d come for yours.”
Malakai slaps the table and chuckles. “I always liked her.”
I feel like there’s so much I don’t know about my grandparents at this point. I don’t think I ever will either. The fact that my grandmother knows Malakai well enough that he’s always liked her is intriguing and alarming at the same time. That doesn’t even take into account all my grandfather’s activity before and after prison. My family has a wild past, but hopefully it all stays buried because my generation doesn’t have a damn thing to do with it.
I move first, pushing my chair back and standing before helping Iris from her seat. “Ready?”
“More than ready,” she says, locking her eyes with mine as she climbs to her feet. “This was…”
“Yeah.” I have no words to fully explain the last handful of minutes, and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t either. “Thank you,” I say to Malakai as I turn my attention toward him.
“Be well,” Malakai replies like we didn’t just have a discussion about keeping my girlfriend alive for something her ex-fiancé did.
I slide my arm around Iris’s back, ushering her through the bar toward the exit. Iris glances over her shoulder, giving me a tight smile as I hold open the door for her.
“It’s all over?” she asks as we step into the frigid night air.
“It is,” I say, waiting for my grandpa to join us.
“Thank God,” she breathes, lifting her cupped hands to her mouth to keep them from freezing.
Gramps slides a hand over the side of his head, smoothing down his always-perfect hair. “Problem solved,” he says, glancing around the street like he always does. It’s like he expects the boogeyman to jump out of nowhere, but I guess in his past life, that was a very real possibility.
Iris throws her arms around my grandpa’s shoulders, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
Gramps raises his eyebrows for a second before his face softens, and he wraps his arms around her. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. It got the old blood pumping. I forgot how exciting that world can be.”
Iris pulls back, blinking at him. “What? That was insane.”
Gramps smiles at Iris, not the least bit upset about her comment. “Sometimes you need a little danger to remind yourself you’re still alive.”
I pull Iris next to me, securing her to my side. “Why don’t you go home and tell Grandma that?”
“She’s the most dangerous one of all.” His smile widens. “It’s going to be a good night, kiddo.” He slaps my back like he’s celebrating.
I do my best not to gag because I know he’s talking about what’s going to happen when he gets home.
My grandparents do not have sex. My grandparents do not have sex. I repeat the statement to myself as we climb into the car.
“Breathe,” Iris says with a laugh in her voice. “We’ll be old someday too.”
“Not helping,” I grumble .
“It may be a good night for you too,” she says, low enough that my grandpa doesn’t hear her.
And suddenly, anything else I was thinking vanishes, and I can’t wait to drop off the old man and get back to my place with my girl.