by Hamel, B. B.
Worst of all, Steven insisted on being in the car. He said that if someone was going to be bait, it better be him. I tried talking him out of it, but he insisted, and in the end I knew I couldn’t stop it.
So he drove off, and left me alone to wonder, worry, and pray.
I wasn’t big on the praying. My life hadn’t really worked out the way I always thought it would, and so prayer sort of fell away. But as I paced and worried and wondered, I found myself praying again, praying for Steven to come back safely.
Sometime after midnight, as I paced toward the kitchen then turned to head back toward the front door, I stopped dead in my tracks. It sounded like the night just lit up with fireworks, pops of explosion scattering through the evening.
I stood there and felt every single one of those blasts on my spine. I felt like I was vibrating with them. I knew what I was hearing, I knew what was happening just a few blocks away.
Men were dying. Blood, screams, death.
And in the middle of it all was Steven.
I dropped down to the floor and curled into a ball with my hands over my head. I held myself there as the gunshots stopped. I could still hear them, each shot ringing in my ears.
It happened. God, they went there, and it really happened. My uncle bought my story, or maybe he didn’t, maybe he saw through the trap and all those gunshots were for Steven.
Maybe Steven was sitting in a car bleeding out right at this moment.
I climbed to my feet and ran into the kitchen. I stood over the sink and retched, but nothing came out. I filled up a glass with water, drank it back, then found a bottle of whisky under the sink.
I poured myself a finger and knocked it back.
I groaned and felt like I was sweating. I peeled off the zip up sweatshirt I wore over a black tank top. I wanted to take off my jeans, but I couldn’t bring myself to go that far. I stood in the kitchen, the burn of the whisky in my stomach, anxiety rolling through my body in wave after wave.
I stared at the tile floor until I heard a sound at the door.
I stepped toward the kitchen threshold and stood there, leaning against the wall, as the door swung open.
Two men stepped inside.
Steven, followed by Luca.
He grinned at me and I didn’t speak. I walked to him, then ran, then threw myself into his arms. He hugged me with a grunt and kissed my neck.
“It worked,” he whispered.
I hugged him tighter as Luca looked away.
“How?” I asked, pulling back. “I mean, how did you know?”
“I didn’t,” he said. “But I trusted you and I took a risk. And it fucking worked.”
“Was… was my uncle there?”
He shook his head. “No, but most of his Club was.”
I felt a surge of panic. “My father.’
“I know. We’re going there now.” He turned and looked at Luca. “Get a car.”
Luca grunted something and headed out the door. He ran down the block and Steven pulled me against him.
“I promised we’d find him,” he said. “And we’re going to.”
I nodded and pulled him against me.
I knew what it took to get here. I knew there were bodies lying in the street not far away, people left to bleed and rot in the street. They were people I knew, or at least people I used to know.
And I sold them all out.
Because I’d do anything for my family. My father deserved so much more, and I was going to give it to him.
I leaned back and reached up. I touched Steven’s face and he smiled before he leaned forward and kissed me.
I kissed him back and let that hunger rush through me.
* * *
We parked outside of my uncle’s house an hour later. Steven turned to Luca.
“You good for this?” he asked.
Luca nodded. “I’m good.”
“All right. The others?”
“Already set up.”
Steven turned and looked at me. I shifted in my seat and pulled my eyes from the house and returned his gaze.
“I got guys all over this neighborhood,” he said. “Guys on the roofs, guys on the block. We’re going to go in, just the three of us, but if things start going wrong I need you to run out. Do you understand?”
I nodded. “I’ll run.”
“Run out the front door and don’t stop until you’re either in this car or with my guys.”
“I will.”
“Good.” He leaned back and pulled his Glock from his waistband. He pulled the slide back and nodded. “Let’s go get your dad back.”
He opened his door and stepped out. Luca glanced back at me and nodded then opened his door.
I got out last. Steven strode up to the house first, followed by Luca. I lingered a little, looking down the familiar street at all the familiar houses. I knew a lot of the Club guys lived around here, that this block turned into a big party all summer long as the Club families mingled and hung out. I remembered some of those parties, remembered coming to my uncle’s house to eat hot dogs and laugh with the other Club kids.
But I wasn’t a kid anymore, and I wasn’t in the Celtic Club.
The Club was dead.
Steven walked up the stoop and banged on the door. He waited a beat, banged again, then tried the doorknob.
It was unlocked.
He glanced back at me then nodded to Luca. He kicked open the door and stalked inside. Luca followed close, gun drawn and ready.
I came in last.
Steven and Luca stood in my uncle’s living room. It hadn’t changed in the decade since I had last been in there. Thick brown carpet covered the floor. The walls were papered with a bird motif. Two bookshelves sat in each corner filled with books about fishing, civil war biographies, Irish poetry and literature, and small fishing lures and carved statues of bears and lions.
Sitting on the old green couch, the color faded and worn from years of use, was my uncle himself. He stared up at us but there was no surprise in his face. The television was on, playing some old western black and white film with the volume down low. The light from the TV cast long shadows across the living room as I pulled the door shut behind us.
Uncle Mathis looked drunk. He wore a stained white t-shirt and a pair of green boxers. He held a glass of whisky in one hand and the bottle sat half empty on the table. Steven didn’t move, but he motioned with his head, and Luca checked the kitchen then the back hallway.
“All clear,” Luca said.
“Anyone upstairs?” Steven asked.
Uncle Mathis shook his head. “Nobody left,” he said.
“Check anyway,” Steven said to Luca.
Luca nodded and hurried up the steps.
I walked into the living room and over to the far wall. Photographs hung in neat rows framed in gleaming silver. Each picture was dusted and taken care of, and I could tell my uncle cherished them. I found my father, and I even found my young self in the background of one group. I knew a lot of the guys in the pictures were dead, and it was sort of my uncle’s memorial to the fallen, but also to the glory of the Club itself.
I picked up the picture of my father and smiled at it. He looked so young. I turned and saw Uncle Mathis staring at me.
“Where is he?” I asked.
“Basement,” he said.
“Is he hurt?”
“Not too bad.”
I nodded and hung the picture back up.
Luca came down a moment later. “Clear,” he said.
“Okay then.” Steven relaxed a fraction of an inch, though he didn’t completely lower his gun.
“I know how this goes,” Uncle Mathis said. “You kill my men and then you kill me. That’s how it always was going to end. That’s how it ended for Colleen’s mother here, and how it has to end for me.”
I felt a surge of anger. “Don’t talk about her,” I said. “Don’t you ever talk about her.”
Uncle Mathis smiled at me. “Your mother, she was the hottest girl in town,”
he said. “Everyone wanted her. Hell, I wanted her, but my brother ended up taking her out one day, and the rest is history. I’m not bitter, but I am sorry. She didn’t deserve what she got.”
“You do,” I said. “You deserve it all.” I took a few steps toward him, my heart hammering in my chest. “I never betrayed you, you know. Not until the end.”
He made a dismissive gesture, waving me away. “Please,” he said. “Maybe you don’t think you did, but as soon as you were under this man’s control, you were betraying me. There’s nothing we can do about it now.”
“You didn’t have to take my father,” I said.
“I thought it was the right move.” He shook his head. “Unfortunately, it seems to have just pissed you off.”
“Damn right. You took my mother away, and after that I lost all my friends and all my connections. You’re not taking anything else from me.”
He looked surprised. “I didn’t make your father leave.”
“No,” I said. “But it was your violence and your greed that got him involved in the first place.”
“The Club was his idea,” Uncle Mathis said.
I stood there as surprise ran through me like a shot.
“What are you talking about?” Steven asked.
“Her father,” Uncle Mathis said. “The Celtic Club was his idea. I made it all happen and ran things, but the Club was her father’s idea. Back when we were kids, he came up with it, helped it get off the ground. He’s the founder of this damn monstrosity.”
I shook my head. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not lying. Ask him yourself.” Uncle Mathis let out a breath. “I regret what happened to your mother. That’s why I let him go. And I should never have pulled him back into this.”
“You’re right,” I said, turning away. “You shouldn’t have. I don’t care what you have to say about my father or any of this, I’m not letting you tarnish it. I’m not letting you ruin it. You’re finished, Mathis, and there’s nothing you can do or say to change it.”
“You’re right,” he said.
Steven looked at me with stern eyes. He stepped closer and leaned in.
“Do you have anything else you want to say to him?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Just do it,” I said.
He nodded. “You might want to go find your father,” he said. “I’ll handle things up here.”
I reached up and touched his face. He smiled at me then leaned down and kissed me. I returned his kiss as my heart leapt up into my chest.
I broke off the kiss and walked down the hall. I remembered that the first door on the right led into the basement, and stopped in front of it. Steven turned to Uncle Mathis as I opened the door, switched on the light, and started down the stairs.
I shut the door behind me. I heard Steven say something and Uncle Mathis respond.
The wooden steps were painted gray. They felt slippery under my shoes and I held onto the white railing. The basement was finished with a mushroom colored burlap rug and plain white walls. I reached the bottom and looked right, at a pool table with a red felt top and gleaming wood rails. That was my uncle’s pride and joy. There was a bar beyond that, small but custom made with two stools in the front, lots of liquor bottles behind it, and a small TV in the corner.
I looked left, where the exercise equipment used to be, and found a single comfortable armchair. It was big and brown and padded, and my father was tied to it by several lengths of rope.
He looked shocked as I stood there. His big, brown eyes were black and blue and swollen, and his lip was split and broken. He stared at me, and I felt tears start to well up. I took a step toward him and he shook his head.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.
“Dad,” I said. “It’s over. Uncle Mathis… it’s over.”
He blinked a few times then looked up. He let out a long breath then closed his eyes and leaned his head back.
“It’s really over?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said.
And a gunshot burst out from upstairs. One single shot, stabbing through the moment.
The noise receded into nothing as Dad picked his head up and looked at me.
“Your new guy,” he said.
I nodded. “Steven. He’s a good person. I know he’s from a different crew, but…”
Dad laughed. “I don’t give a damn about the Club, or about my brother, or about any of it. You have no idea how relieved I am that you’re okay.”
Those words broke the dam inside of me. I rushed over and began to untie him. The knots were tough but I managed, and when the rope fell back, he stood with a groan. I hugged my dad tight and he hugged me back.
“Careful,” he said. “My brother is a bastard, but he’s thorough. I think he broke a couple ribs.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m so sorry dad. I never meant to get involved in all this. It was chance, it really was, Steven’s guys shot me by accident and he took me back to his place and took care of me, then Uncle Mathis thought I was on his side and I just—”
“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay, honey, really. I know, I know, it’s okay.” He hugged me tighter although I felt him grimace.
“I’m sorry.” I felt the tears fall down my cheeks as my father hugged me tight.
It was over. Upstairs, my uncle was no more, and the Club was in ruins. Steven would move in with his men and take over the Club businesses. All the Club territory would belong to Steven, and a new regime could rule Point Pleasant.
That thought should scare me. I knew a lot of people were going to be afraid and upset. A lot of men died tonight, and a lot of families lost brothers, fathers, sons.
I didn’t care. I didn’t give a damn. They all made their choices.
I had my father back.
And I had my Steven back.
I pulled away and wiped at my eyes. “Come on,” I said. “We should get you home.”
He laughed then winced. “I’d like that,” he said.
I went first, back up the steps. My father followed, leaning on the railing. We stepped up onto the first floor and found Steven standing in the living room. Luca was just outside the front door.
My uncle was just a bloodstain on the couch, a splatter of red gore on the wall.
“Are you Steven?” Dad asked.
Steven nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”
“Thank you for taking care of my daughter,” he said and shook Steven’s hand. “But please, never let her get shot ever again.”
Steven grimaced. “I promise, sir.”
“Good.” Dad laughed then looked around. “Hells, we should burn this place to the ground. But come on, I think we’ve all had enough for one night.”
Dad strode out of the house like a king, although he limped a little. I lingered back with Steven, and he grinned at me.
“Think I’ll be getting to know him better?” he asked.
“I hope so.” I took his hand and squeezed it. “Come on. Let’s take my father home, then get back to your place.”
He grinned huge at me. “Sleeping over again.”
I nodded and leaned against his shoulder. “For a while.”
He led me out the front door, down the steps, and helped me into the car.
26
Steven
I parked the car outside of typical rowhome with a blue awning and a black front door. The window boxes were empty, but it was otherwise well kept, the sidewalk clean and swept, the front stoop and railings in good repair.
I opened the door and got out. I took a deep breath and glanced up at the sky. It was a beautiful day, just a few lazy, fluffy clouds drifting past an otherwise strong sun. I stepped up onto the sidewalk and strode to the front door. I took a moment to breathe deep in the shade of the awning, and I realized that I was nervous.
It was stupid. I shouldn’t have been nervous. I looked left then looked right, and I knew that everything I could see belonged to me. Point Breeze was mine, e
very square inch of it under Leone Family control.
Don Leone was happy, of course. He gave me a nice cash bonus for my trouble and added ten new guys to my crew to help run the new territory. He was already talking about adding more responsibility.
Even Dante called and wished me good luck. I thought I caught a hint of jealousy in his tone, but that didn’t matter. We were on the same side, after all.
I shook my head and knocked on the door. I waited a second until it pulled open and Colleen stood there, grinning at me. Her red hair was down around her shoulders, thick and wavy. She wore a scoop neck white t-shirt, a beige cardigan, and a pair of short jean shorts.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey.” She stepped out the door, stood up on her toes, and kissed me. “Thanks for coming.”
“Wouldn’t miss it. How’s he doing?”
“Doctors say he’ll be fine. Three broken ribs and a sprained wrist, but otherwise just bruises.”
“Good.” I kissed her one more time, pulling her tight against my chest. “Come on. Let’s go meet with your old man.”
She laughed and turned, tugging me inside. She took me into a small living room with a worn leather couch, big leather arm chair, and a flat screen TV hanging on the wall above a cabinet. There were pictures on the wall, and I caught sight of a pretty older woman with red hair just like Colleen’s, smiling and leaning against the railing of a cruise ship, her hands thrust up in the air.
I didn’t stop to inspect it. Colleen led me past the living room and into the kitchen where her father sat at a round table tucked into a corner. He nodded to me but didn’t stand, and I walked over to shake his hand.
“Glad you’re doing okay, Finn,” I said.
“Oh, she makes a fuss, but I’m fine,” he said. “Had worse beatings. I think Mathis took it easy on me, you know?”
I laughed. “You were family, after all.”
“Exactly. He had a soft spot for me.” He gestured at the refrigerator. “Help yourself to something.”
“You want anything?” I walked over and opened the plain white refrigerator door. Inside, it was pretty sparse, just a few cans of light beer, a loaf of bread, some cheese, some condiments.
