Children of Ambition

by J. J. McAvoy

  “We came to volunteer!”

  “Tobias!” I called out, knowing he’d be somewhere close.

  “Yes ma’am?”

  “Is there a Claire Eilis on the volunteer’s list?”

  He checked his phone and before saying; “No, ma’am.”

  I gasped, still not letting go her nephew’s hair; “See, now I have more questions, but I don’t know if I can trust you, Aunty Claire. You seem like you’ve been lying to me. Are you lying to me, Aunty Claire?”

  Her pink lips parted but she said nothing; she looked like a goldfish, her mouth opening and closing, her eyes wide and dead. So, I looked down to the boy in my grip trying his best not to cry. Toby came over to me, standing at my shoulder to whisper. “The kids are recording you.”

  Ignoring him, I spoke to the boy again, “Do you know why no one is coming to help you?”

  His bottom lip quivered.

  “I asked you a question, Declan.”

  “N…no.”

  “It’s partially because you are a spoiled little gobshite; do you know what a gobshite is?”

  “No.”

  I sighed; “You should ask your uncle when you see him next…”

  “What’s the other part Ms. Callahan?” I looked over at Marco, who spoke as he stood surrounded by friends all grinning at Declan. “You said no one is stopping him partially because he’s…because he’s a…goa…gobshite?”

  “Gobshite! You have to say it with feeling Marco, come on, try again, all of you,”

  Excited they said it loudly, proudly, and yes, with feeling and they weren’t the only ones. A few others joined in… I noticed many of them…most them were Italian. The Irish looked uncomfortable and, as if to play on their pride, Declan started to cry.

  “He’s just a kid—” his aunt said.

  “He’s what? Ten?” I asked her.

  “Twelve.” Someone coughed but there were so many people around, I couldn’t tell who it was.

  “TWELVE? Now I’m upset.” I pulled Declan over to Marco and stood them facing each other, “If you’re old enough to know how to use slurs, you’re old enough to repent for them. So repeat after me and then you’re free to go.”

  “Okay.”

  “I, Declan the gobshite,”

  He didn’t say it.

  “Declan…”

  “I, Declan the gobshite,” he repeated making Marco and his friends break out in laughter.

  “Am very sorry for insulting not just you, Marco,”

  “Am…very…sorry for insulting…not just you, Marco,” he hiccupped.

  “But every Italian person in the world.”

  “…I didn’t…”

  “Declan, my hand is getting tired; I can ask one of my friends to told your head if you’d like.”

  “But every Italian person in the world,” he said quickly.

  “I swear—”

  “I swear—”

  “To be less of a gobshite,”

  He took a deep breath; “To…be…less of a gobshite.”

  “And never use that word or any other word like it again in my life.”

  Once he was done repeating my words, I flung him over to his aunty but not before letting her have it, “I’ll get answers to my questions, Aunty Claire. And when I do, I’ll personally visit you and your husband to tell you what I know. In the meantime, why don’t you spend less time worrying about other people’s children and fix the one rioting next to you because I swear on my mother’s grave, if he ever insults my blood again…he’ll see his. GET OUT!”

  She left like fire was under her feet. As she was leaving, Marco and his friends began to cheer and make faces.

  “Do I need to make show out of you all, too?” I asked and they immediately shut their mouths, looking down. It was silent, so I took the opportunity to address them all. “Most of you do not know me personally. Consider yourselves blessed. Because if I have to get involved personally, I will not only embarrass you and your whole family, I’ll make you wish you lived in a hole so deep you’d never see the sun, let alone my face. So take note, these are the things I get personally involved with: one, people abusing my family’s generosity; two, people disrespecting my family or my heritage; and three, people causing trouble for my family. I’m sure you all can see the running theme here. If not, please let me know?” I asked politely again, looking around.

  “Brilliant,” I said, flipping the mental switch in my mind to kind and gentle as I spoke now. “I’m glad so many of you were able to enjoy today’s breakfast. Please let anyone and everyone you know who plan on coming tomorrow that unfortunately my family and I will only be serving those affected by this horrendous terrorist attack. Of course, those of you who are suffering financially, our city’s poor and needy, will always be welcome. It truly means so much to me. As you know my grandmother was one of the victims of this horrendous act and I want to make sure no-one is overlooked. The Mayor has also said he’ll be allocating funds to help with any children who have been displaced either by the loss of guardian - and my heart goes out to those - as well as those of you whose parents are being treated at the hospital. I wish you could stay here, but we’ve been told by emergency services that this building isn’t suitable for temporary housing. My cousin Nari will give you more information tomorrow. Thank you so much for your support and understanding.”

  I nodded to all of them before walking forward towards the double doors, my cobra-skin Gucci heels clicking on the floor as I tried to exit. I’d just made it into the hall when I heard the doors open again behind me as someone called out.

  “Ms. Callahan!”

  Pausing, I took a deep breath before turning back to Marco, he glanced up at me and blanched before looking back down. Toby’s eyebrow raised and he glanced over at me, that small grin on his face again.

  “Are you going to thank me or are you going to keep admiring the tiling?” I asked Marco.

  “Uh…thanks. I mean thank you! Uhh…” he said this while looking directly at me and then rubbed the back of his head, trying to think of what else to say. I just nodded and was about to walk away when he said, “I wanna work for you!”

  I paused, observing how grown up he was trying to make himself seem. Standing up taller, he stuck out his chest as if he were enlisting in the army…he kinda is.

  “What is it you think I do, Marco?”

  He blinked like I’d just slapped him, and then tried to think.

  “You’ve got no idea,” I answered for him.

  He frowned, regaining his grown-up stance, “No, I got no idea. My pa says you guys run a lot of businesses and are really important people, so you’ve got guards because people always hurt you. I can fight! You saw. I could protect—”

  I cut him off, “I protect myself, Macro. And besides, I’m just Ethan Callahan’s little sister; you should speak to him—”

  “No.” Under his breath he muttered, “I don’t want to work for the Irish.”

  I stared at him for a long time before moving over to Tobias. I flip open his jacket, reaching into the inside pocket and pulling out the pen. Hearing me walk over to him, Marco swallowed and took half a step back.

  “Give me your arm.”

  “Why?” he eyed me carefully, putting his arm behind his back.

  Rolling my eyes, I held onto his chin while he bunched up his face, closing his eyes like he was getting ready for a punch he couldn’t avoid…or praying. Clicking the pen, I brushed his hair out of the way before writing directly on his forehead.

  “Only the best work for me. So, if you want to join me, you’re going to need more than your fists, you’re going to need this.” I used the pen to tap the top of his head before clicking it again. “And I’m going to need certification that you’ve used it. So that’s after high school and college. Once you do all of that, call this number.”

  “High school and college?” he stared me like I was insane. “That’s forever!”

  “That’s ten years; good luck.”
I gave him the pen before moving to leave.

  “What happens if this number isn’t working!” he yelled after me.

  “It will work,” I hollered back at him, stepping out into the wind as it blew in between the buildings. Toby opened the door to my car as it pulled up to the front of the building.

  “Poor kid,” Toby sighed, shaking his head, “He’ll never find a girl that will live up to his first crush.”

  “Are you speaking from experience?” I questioned.

  “Are you thinking you’re my first crush?”

  “I don’t care either way,” I told him honestly as I sat inside. “She wouldn’t be able to live up to me even still.”

  “Would it kill you to be jealous once in a while?” He muttered something in Italian to himself, closing the door before I could reply.

  I would have told him I heard him but in that moment, hearing someone else speaking Italian, something clicked at the back of my mind. I turned back to look at the glass, pyramid-shaped building.

  “Marco, what is his last name?” I asked when Toby took his seat behind the wheel.

  He grabbed his phone, scrolling, “Marco Forte. His mother died when he was young and his father, Joe, was injured during the bombing. But he’s going to be alright, the kid’s probably—”

  “What does his father do? Does he work for us?”

  He sighed, twisting his jaw to the side, “No. He’s just a plumber.”

  “Find out how life has been going for Joe just-a-plumber.”

  “Alright, what am I looking for?”

  “I don’t know,” I whispered mostly to myself, not able to get this nagging feeling out of my head. “Drive.”

  “Where to Ms. Callahan?” Toby questioned. When I didn’t reply, he called again, “Dona—”

  “Anywhere. I need to think.”

  Something felt off here, but I wasn’t sure what.

  TWO

  “The sun watches what I do

  but the moon knows all my secrets.”

  ~ J.M. Wonderland

  DONATELLA - 24 DAYS AGO

  The handcrafted yew-wood table was centered between the double doors where I stood with the large bay windows at the back. The chandelier, forged from iron and glass, was long, stretching almost the length of the table, but due to all the natural sunlight coming through the large bay windows, wasn’t switched on. The chairs were like elegant wooden thrones and the china set in front them changed depending on the seasons. It was always, without exception, set for fifteen. With no else here but me, the dining room looked like it belonged on the cover of a luxury home and style magazine.

  Everyone had their respective seats. Even myself…always on the left, one seat down from the head of the family, once my father, but now my brother, Ethan. Directly across from me sat my twin brother, Wyatt.

  Order.

  We all had our place and unless some died, there wasn’t any reason to deviate from it. I walked directly to Ethan’s seat.

  “Good morning, Miss,” O’Phelan, who had been the head butler of our little Chicago castle for the last seventeen years, greeted me as he came from the side door to fill my glass of water. “I wasn’t aware you wished to eat in the dining room today. I had your breakfast sent to your room.”

  “I’m eating here today,” I said, running my hands over the groves of the first chair, walking around it once before taking a seat comfortably on it.

  “Would you like the same breakfast I sent up—”

  “No. Fresh fruit, vanilla yogurt, a croissant, and a deviled egg with a glass of grape juice,” I told him, rolling my neck. He nodded, walking away for a minute only to return with a few documents, a tablet, and pen for me.

  “Your publicist left a message saying they’ve pushed back the release of your next novel until Christmas.”

  Before I could reply, the doors at the other end of the room open and in walked Toby, dressed head-to-toe in black and wearing an expression befitting of Severus Snape.

  “Good morning…”

  “What’s the matter today?” I asked, reaching for my water.

  “Marco Forte…”

  “How many times has he called that number already?” I couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking my head at thought of the little punk.

  “He’s dead,” Toby replied.

  I stared at him, though I wasn’t looking at him or anything else for that matter. It was only when O’Phelan rolled out my food on the trolley and began to set my plate that I snapped out of it, plucking the grapes from the vine and tossing them into my mouth as I leaned back.

  “From the look on your face. I’m guessing he didn’t die of natural causes?” I finally replied.

  “The police are saying he accidentally fell down the fire escape.”

  “Thank you.” I nodded to O’Phelan when he moved to leave before I looked back to Toby. “I know what the police are saying…what are people saying?”

  “Declan Eilis…or at least someone in the Eilis family.”

  “Of course,” I rolled my eyes, lifting my spoon and yogurt.

  Toby frowned, confused, “You don’t believe it’s him?”

  I swallowed the spoonful in my mouth before replying “It’s a little stupid, don’t you think? I make the Eilis boy apologize to the Forte boy, and when I turn around the Eilis boy pushes the Forte boy down a fire-escape, killing him? Why? It’s too obvious and too soon. He knows I’d find out and he wouldn’t try it.”

  “Dona, he’s a kid, not a trained assassin. I doubt in the moment he was thinking about the optics or with any rationality at all. Worse, if Marco might have taunted him…he could have snapped.”

  “Or…someone is testing me.” Who, though? The Irish? The Italian? Ethan? “Someone wants to know what happens when I get involved.”

  “Dona, I really think you’re overthinking this. Who would do that?”

  “I don’t care what you think!” I snapped at him. “I’m not sure why you keep asking me questions that you should already have answers to. Isn’t this your job?”

  He inhaled deeply through his nose, then exhaled. I kept eating my yogurt. Finally, he replied, “My job is to help you look at the optics… Irish kid kills an Italian kid—”

  “Allegedly,” I cut in, licking my spoon.

  “You know as well as I do that a rumor is as good as a signed confession for many of these people, Dona. Some people are going to be looking to your family…no, to you… to handle it the way such matters have always been handled.”

  I dug into the bottom of the cup for the last bit of yogurt as I spoke, “So since you are also supposed to look at the optics, explain to me how would it look to have two dead kids?”

  “One dead kid and a dead murderer.”

  “A kid who murders is still a kid,” I said reaching for the eggs before looking up at him. “And if he’s gone, especially so soon, the blame will fall on me. People will say ‘oh, this is her fault, she made a big deal out of such a small issue, which should have been left to the boys to resolve. Now look what happened’…bad optics…for me.”

  He didn’t reply, instead he moved closer and closer…until he was too close. He reached inside his jacket pocket, pulling out an origami dandelion. Holding it up between us, he twirled it in his fingers as he spoke, “I remember when you used to take your time picking dandelions one by one and everyone thought you were crazy, but I realized you did that to see which dandelions were the strongest. Which ones wouldn’t blow away because of the wind as you walked. You were testing each flower and when you collected the perfect ones you’d use them to make a crown, place it on your head, and with this enormous hallelujah grin on your face, you’d get up and run and spin and jump as hard as you could, until every last petal came off the stems and it was floating all around you. You’d close your eyes and make wish…and each time you did…I did too.”

  “You wished to have me,” I stated, reaching to take the paper flower from his hand, but he moved it. His fingers barely touc
hed my ear as he brushed my hair behind it and placed the paper flower there, too.

  “No, Dona,” he said softly, “I wished that whatever you were wishing for would come true. Because in my mind, any wish from someone as sweet, kind, and innocent as you deserved to come true.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say, so I stood up and he leaned back, allowing me to move around the chair. However, I didn’t leave. Instead, I kissed him, and like all our kisses it started off gently, tenderly. His hand fell to my waist, pulling me to him, both of our bodies pressed against each other…his hand sliding down to grab my ass when I stopped him, and pulled away.

  “The cameras,” I whispered to him, wiping the corner of my lip. “Later.”

  He just nodded and let me go. Walking around him, I headed back out the door. And just as I was about to make my escape he spoke.

  “It is bad optics…for you, I know. However, it’s worse optics for you to look weak. The public only remembers you as that sweet, kind, innocent little girl who cried her heart out the day her mother died… They need to see and know that you are no different than Ethan,” he said. I turned around to tell him not to lecture me, however he spoke again before I could. “My job is also to tell you things you don’t want to hear. Yes, I know, annoying. Ethan hates it, too.”

  The shit-faced grin on his lips as he ate my leftover strawberries killed the whole mood he had worked so hard to set with the damn dandelion.

  “And you know what I said about later… I need to cancel.” His mouth dropped open. I smiled. “You should have stopped while you were ahead, Tobias. Ethan can simply hate you… I can blue ball you.”

  I left and I didn’t look back, allowing the doors to close him in as I walked towards the large grand staircase, to the elevator which lead to our private rooms, taking the paper flower from behind my ear.

  Someone as sweet, kind, and innocent as you…he had said. I couldn’t help but chuckle a little to myself as I twisted the paper flower between my fingers. Closing my eyes and blowing on it, even though I knew it wouldn’t fly away, and made my childhood wishes all over again.