by Kathryn Shay
It was eight o’clock. Darkness had fallen. Silhouettes of the bushes loomed as he passed them, and street noise blared from the main road. He found his car, got inside, started it, then drove out. A figure reached the end of the parking lot as his vehicle did. He rolled down the windows. “Let me give you a ride home, Jamie.”
“No, Mr. Moran. It’s a fine night for a walk.”
“I’d like you to get in.” His statement was more of a command.
She frowned but came to the window. “Why?”
“Because I have transportation and you don’t. And I already know you, will probably get to know you better with all this pub stuff going on, so consider this a gesture of friendliness.”
He reached over and opened the passenger door a bit.
“Well, all right. This one time, I guess.”
She got in the car.
Jamie sighed as she slid onto the taupe leather seat. Sleek and expensive, the car was like the man next to her. The inside was warm so she unbuttoned her coat and took off her gloves. Surreptitiously, she rubbed her fingers over the buttery-soft cushion.
“So, where do I go?” he asked before pulling out on the main street.
She gave him directions.
He shook his head. “It must take you an hour to get home on the bus. Why choose to work here?”
“The money’s the best for unskilled workers. Though I did have a job as a receptionist for a gym once. And I need money.”
“You’re not unskilled.”
“I can do this kind of job. I can waitress. And I worked in a daycare that eventually closed. Until I get my education degree, I’m considered unskilled.”
She leaned further back into the seat, closing her eyes. Her back hurt and her shoulders ached from being on her feet basically since noon. “So, you remember meeting me weeks ago? I wasn’t sure you would.”
“We more than met, Jamie. Despite my will not to, I felt…ah, I guess…close to you.”
“Same here, which was why I was shocked when they told me who you are.”
No reply.
“Want to talk about the O’Neils?”
“You mean my brothers?”
She reached over and squeezed his arm. The material of his coat was soft, like cashmere. “I’m sorry for what happened to you. Your life must have been horrible.”
“It was. End of this conversation.”
She waited a bit, but Jamie never gave up on people. “The guys are great and Bailey’s an angel.”
“Is that a pun? She used to be called the Street Angel.”
“I know. She got hundreds of kids out of gangs.”
“Lucky them.”
Jamie frowned. “Moira was in a gang. Were you?”
“I…don’t talk about Moira.” His words had changed in tone and tenor. They got…sad.
“Okay.”
“But if you tell me what you need extra money for, I’ll answer the question.”
“Now that’s an odd bargain. But I agree.”
“I was in a gang, too, which is one of the reasons I didn’t want to go with Patrick O’Neil.” His hands fisted on the steering wheel. “The man should have come and gotten me away from those punks years before.”
“At least he should have made you go with him when your mother died.”
“I always thought so.” A hesitation. “Your turn.”
“I live with my grandma, Jean. She owns a house, on a side street down from the pub. Grandpa bought it decades ago before New York real estate got so expensive. So, we’re set there. But she got a case of pneumonia recently. The costs were astronomical.”
“Isn’t she on Medicare?”
“Of course, but it doesn’t pay everything. The medicine itself put us in the red.”
“This country is unbelievable.”
“A lot of things like that happen to people like us. You know that, after your experience.”
They were quiet for a while. Then she said, “They’d have welcomed you with open arms if you’d come to Bailey’s and told them who you are.”
“I don’t want any welcome.” His jaw, already chiseled, tightened. She could see the reaction in the street lamp light. “It’s too late for that.”
“What do you want?”
“Revenge.”
“Oh, Mr. Moran, living in that mindset must be hard. I feel sorry for you.”
They didn’t speak the rest of the way.
Relieved when her house finally came into view, Jamie pointed to the small green structure. “That’s us.”
He swerved in to the curb, put the car in park and turned to her. He slid his arm onto the back cushion of her seat in the way guys often do. “Home safe and sound, Jamie.”
“Thanks, Mr. Moran.”
A vee marred his brow. “You used to call me Kinley.”
“I’m not supposed to address clients at the gym by their first names.”
“Outside of the gym, then.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re going to see a lot of each other when I revamp Bailey’s Irish Pub.”
Kinley began executing the next phase of his plan on the following Monday, the only day of the week the pub was closed. He was surprised to find the front door was open. For him?
As he was walked inside, Liam came out of the kitchen. “Kinley, hi.” He glanced at his watch. “Dylan and Aidan are running late. Pat’s in the office.” Which Kinley needed to check out, too.
“When they all manage to get here, we’ll start.”
“We’ll start what?”
“You’ll see. Meanwhile, I want a tour.” He softened his tone when Liam’s face fell. “If you can do it now.”
“Sure.” He gestured to the main space. “This is the dining room, of course.”
Kinley surveyed the space. The place was…old fashioned, not his style. He liked slick and modern. Still, he knew Bailey’s made a lot of money.
Pat exited the office as soon as Dylan and Aidan arrived.
Liam smiled at all of them. “I was giving Kinley a tour of the pub.”
Pat irritated him the most, so Kinley said, “And I’m taking notes.” He held up a mini-tablet.
“Notes. For what?” Poor Patrick, he was irked already.
“The bar’s renovation.”
His stance aggressive, Patrick’s face turned red. “What are you talkin’ about, Moran?”
Taking his time, Kinley pivoted and stared Pat down. “I plan to change things up.”
“You can’t without our permission. You might’ve bought Sweeney out but we still own fifty percent of Bailey’s. Your documentation said that.”
“Actually, you don’t own half now.” He slid a paper out of his pocket. “See for yourself.”
Pat grabbed the legal document. “Who the hell’s Charles Ryan?”
Liam had stepped away, but approached them. “Uncle Charley.”
“Mom’s brother?” Aidan asked.
“Yep.” Liam averted his gaze, toed a seam the floor. “I’m sorry, Pat. I turned over my shares to him.”
Aidan asked, “What did he need the stocks for?”
“I loaned them to him.” Now he faced them. “And it was a loan. He was trying to work himself out of his situation, but needed collateral to get money at a better rate.”
“Then why did he sell them?”
“I don’t know.”
“You answer that, big shot.” Dylan’s temper was legendary, but Kinley could tell he was controlling himself. “Lay it out.”
Kinley took them in with a sweeping glance. “Your uncle Charley has gambling debts. Very large ones and in this city they’re not ignored. When I sought out the stocks, I found that he had ten percent. I offered him a way out his predicament and he jumped at it.”
“I still don’t get why you turned over your stock, Liam.” Dylan tempered his tone, too.
“Because I asked him to.” Kinley looked over to see Mary Kate O’Neil stood a few feet away, her faced full of anguish.
Her visage pricked his heart. “I don’t know exactly what’s happening here, boys. But I heard what Kinley said. Charles is my baby brother and he was in trouble. I helped him like you all would have helped each other.”
Liam leaned forward. “I apologize, guys. I wanted to make Mama feel better.”
“Instead, you helped me. By the way, Mrs. O’Neil, I’m Kinley Moran, your husband’s bastard child.”
Tears clouded her eyes. He wasn’t prepared for that, either. “I never knew about you.” She crossed to him and shocked him when she cradled his face with both hands. “You look like all of them. I’m so sorry for what happened to you. Paddy should have forced you to come back here and live with us. I could have handled it.” Her jaw set. “I would have wanted it.”
“I—” He softened his tone but resisted the urge to lean into her hand. “I’m not out to hurt you, Mrs. O’Neil.”
“If you hurt my children, you hurt me.”
“I wish that didn’t have to be.”
Without saying more, she turned and walked away.
The assault continued the next day. Kinley arrived at the pub before the place opened at eleven. He emailed he was coming in today and had them messenger over a key for him so he could come and go as he pleased.
The five legitimate O’Neil children sat at a table by the far window sipping from mugs. No one greeted him. So fuck them.
But then Bailey got up, poured another cup of coffee from the big urn on a side station and brought it to the table. “Hello, Kinley. Sit with us.”
Reluctantly, he crossed the room and sat.
“I hear you want to make changes around here.” She hadn’t been at the bar yesterday.
“Yes.” He took out his tablet. Suddenly it felt warm in here, though it was snowing like a bitch outside. He shed his dark blue cashmere coat and suitcoat.
“First off, we’ll deal with the physical space. The whole front area needs…updating. A sleeker appearance.”
“How would you do that?” she asked.
“New, modern tables closer together. Yours are too far apart. And if we got rid of the booths, there would be even more room.”
“We don’t pack them in like sardines here.” This from Pat.
“That’s an exaggeration of what I said. But my sixty percent gives me the right to do it my way.”
Pat’s hands fisted and Dylan white-knuckled his mug.
“And if I haul out the piano, we could fit a few more tables in.”
“You can’t do that!” From Aidan.
“We use the piano all the time.” Liam had paled.
Kinley went on as if they hadn’t spoken. “Then I’ll overhaul the small room to the left of the restaurant.”
“The place where our kids play?” Aidan took a bead on him. “I researched you on the internet. You don’t have any kids.”
“No, I don’t. In any case, there’s a small storage space in the kitchen that you use as a stockroom. You could turn it into a place for the kids. I want my office in the existing space close to the main restaurant.”
Aidan’s eyes widened. “There’s no windows in there.”
“It’s too small,” Liam put in.
But Pat asked, “Why the hell do you need an office?”
Man, he was enjoying Patrick’s ire. “I want to be here to cultivate my investment.”
“You’re planning to work here?” Dylan sounded horrified.
“I’ll supervise. Maybe a lunch or two. One night. Like you guys do. I bartended while getting my education so I could pitch in there if necessary. I have experience.”
“At being a bastard,” Pat said, unthinkingly.
“Well, that’s what brought us all together, isn’t it?”
Jamie walked in the door to pick up some of Ben’s school things she’d bought before work and accidentally left here. Hand still on the knob she watched the table to the left, which reminded her of an impending street fight. The four men were mad. Bailey seemed hurt.
Liam spotted her first. “Jamie, it’s best if you don’t come in.”
Pat growled, “Let the lass hear all this. She should know who she’s working for, maybe quit the pub. I would if I could.”
“I’ll buy your shares,” Kinley said nastily.
Pushed beyond his limits, Pat threw back his chair and lunged for his half-brother. He yanked Kinley out of his seat and pushed him backward. Kinley bumped into a table and went down. But Jamie saw the gang-kid emerge. He leapt to his feet, crossed the distance between them and raised his fists, ready for battle. He’d taken off his perennial suitcoat and wore a white shirt that was tinged with dirt now.
Patrick, still on his feet, raised his fists. “Come on you cocksucker. I’d like nothing more than to mess up that pretty face of yours.”
Liam stepped in between them, facing Kinley.
“Two against one?” Kinley asked.
“Of course not, the O’Neils fight fair.”
“Well, then, either come at me or get out of the way.”
“Not until you two stop this childish outburst.”
Kinley curled and uncurled his fist. Then he took a step toward Liam.
Jamie saw what was going down and was close enough to jump between them. If he hurt Liam the consequences would be…
Instead of his punch landing on Liam, his fist slammed into Jamie’s face. “Oh, ow, owwww.” Her knees buckled and her stomach pitched as she fell right into Kinley’s arms.
Aidan bolted up, left and came back quickly. “Sit and put this on your cheek, Jame.” He held a bag of peas wrapped in a light towel. “And take this.” He shook out two ibuprofens from the bottle he held.
Still holding onto her, Kinley eased Jamie down into a chair, grasped the bag and put it on her cheek. “I’m so sorry.”
She tried to catch her breath. But the icy cold stung as much as the bruise. Still, he must have pulled his punch toward Liam, otherwise she knew he would have knocked her out.
Her eyes teared. “The ice hurts as much as your fist did.”
Kinley was white-faced. He was clearly upset, which she’d never seen before.
Aidan held up his phone. “Jamie, do you need to go to emergency? Urgent care? I can call 911.”
She tried to laugh but it came out raw. “Like you guys go every time you throw punches at each other?”
“You fight?” Kinley’s shock was totally evident. And, impossible though it should be, Jamie heard a tinge of envy in his voice.
“Sometimes.” Pat shrugged. “But nothing like what I want to do to you.”
Jamie slapped her hand on the table. “Stop this, now! Sit down and talk about whatever brought you to blows.” When nobody moved, she added, “Or I’ll call the police and let them sort this out.”
Liam walked behind the bar and got a pitcher of beer. “Jamie?”
“No, thanks.”
Kinley announced, “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m making some changes in the pub and the work force. I’ll keep the staff to replace Sweeney and his son for the time being, but eventually, I’ll bring my own in.”
He seemed chagrined when he turned to Jamie. “I also want you to be in charge of all new hires and training.”
“I’m too busy with tables.”
“I’m giving you another job.”
“I need the tips.”
“You’ll get more than the tips in salary, I promise.”
“Damn you, Kinley.” Jamie took the peas off her face and threw the bag at him. It hit his head and the plastic burst. Little green pods exploded everywhere. When she’d made her point, she said, “Then I quit.” But as she stood, she wavered on her feet.
Kinley bolted up and steadied her. “Jamie…”
She sank back down. “I can’t get home alone like this.”
A chorus of “I’ll take you” echoed in the empty bar.
“I’d like Kinley to do that.”
“Why?” Pat asked, clearly astounded by her request.
&nbs
p; “For one thing, I won’t leave him here alone with you.”
“I—”
“And maybe I can talk some sense into him. After I read him the riot act for playing with my life.”
Kinley held onto Jamie all the way out the door. “Does it hurt a lot?” he asked when they reached the street. He couldn’t believe he’d hit her.
“More than I ever imagined. I’ve never been hit by anyone.”
“No one?” Kinley couldn’t count the number of times he’d gotten slapped or punched or worse in his early life.
“Ben’s father was a gentle guy who had another family. And my parents always tried to do what was best for me.”
He led her to a waiting car. “The ibuprofen Aidan gave you should kick in soon. And if you lie down, maybe the pain will ease.” He hoped to God it did.
“I’m afraid to see Ben. He’ll freak. Grandma, too.”
“We could go to my house. This is my car.”
She did a double-take at the big black sedan driven by a chauffeur, but slid inside after he opened the door.
“Thanks, Michael.” He got in next to her. “Where to?”
“My house. It’s just around the corner. I get Ben on the bus every day and this isn’t going to keep me from doing that.” She scowled. “Besides, motherhood doesn’t stop because you’re hurting.”
“I’m not sure that includes getting punched in the face by someone who’s got seventy-five pounds on you.”
She grasped his arm. “And someone who had to fight with his fists to survive.”
“I guess.”
“So why did you pull your punch? I know you did. As much as my face hurts, a strong fist with carry-through would have leveled me.”
“Aidan and Liam are so…innocent sometimes. If I thought I was going to clock Patrick, I wouldn’t have pulled it.” He hated admitting this but she deserved to know.
“Lucky me you did.” She sat back and they were shoulder to shoulder. “It’s nice to know you have a heart.”
“Don’t count on that, Jamie.”
They reached her house in minutes, exited the limo and Kinley told the driver he didn’t have to wait. When the car left, he walked her inside. She sat on the couch, and in minutes, Ben came downstairs with his grandmother on his heels. He bolted to her. “Mommy.” But he stopped halfway over. “Mommy!” He started screaming like a banshee.
