Irish Eyes and Mafia Lies

by J Haney

  “What if I hurt you?”

  “If you thrash, I’ll just hold you tighter, kiss you and let you know you’re safe and well kept.”

  “They get really bad. I broke my hand one time because of it.”

  “Well guess it’s a good thing we have a padded headboard, and I’m a light sleeper. Now come here and wrap that sexy little body around me, so I can make love to it one more time. Maybe if I fuck ya into a coma and keep my cock in ya- then ya will be less apt to thrash.”

  “You have to promise to send me to a different room if it gets bad, I mean it. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Aye. Now come here.”

  I can pray and hope there are no night terrors but for right here and right now, I’m going to let Rónán put me into a coma with his magic everything.

  ***

  Morning comes, and I’m woke to Rónán sitting on the bed beside me with a tray of food. “Hey, what are you doing?” I ask, stretching.

  “Replenishing your calories and electrolytes.” He smiles, presenting me with my first coffee of the day.

  “More machinations?”

  “So long as yer up for it, I’m liable to keep ya here till after the lunch rush at least. I already locked down the house. We are cooped up for a while. Eat, drink, be merry on your birthday.” He pushes a long white velvet box toward me.

  I take a drink of my coffee before setting it back on the tray. “We’re not supposed to be celebrating,” I say fingering the white box.

  “Ya know you wanna, besides Nolan got a PlayStation when ya moved in. That covered him for his. This is something I think ya should have gotten a long time ago.”

  I move my hand from the box to Rónán’s face. “I did get something. I got away and then you.”

  He kisses me softly, and I hear a little thwip. Looking down I see he’s opened the box and lain before me an antique brass chain and on the end is a cream cameo, on a jade green background.

  I sniff. I will not cry. “You kept it? How did you know what to keep?”

  “Truth?” He lifts his brow.

  “Always.”

  “I kept all of it. It’s safely tucked away. But this, this is something’ extra-special. Something a mum should give to a daughter.” He lifts it so as to put it on me.

  “It was something she gave to me. It was the last thing she gave to me. They all knew I wore it. I never took it off… Till the night we had to run.”

  “Well, as ya can see I put it on a longer chain, so you can wear it, but not have it on display. Which is a shame but necessary right now.”

  “Thank you.” I bite my lip to control my emotions.

  “Of course.” He pushes my hair back. “I have Marcy, Jarvis coming by around three to do your hair. I know you were doing it, but I thought maybe you’d like a little pampering. She runs a salon, so she knows what she’s doing.”

  “Here I thought we’d be lying around naked.”

  "I’ll be putting on pants while she’s here, but ya can stay in a robe if ya like. This way, I can help get the color out after.” He waggles his brows at me. “There’s an actual gift from me as well.” He moves out of the way, and I see a medium-sized gift on the night side table.

  I lift it bringing it to my lap. It’s much heavier than the last one. I pull open the wrapper. I can’t contain my smile. It’s a pasta maker. I’d say it’s more for him than me since he does all the cooking.

  “This is the perfect gift for my place. We do love our pasta.” I lean over and kiss him.

  “Mmm. Yup. Now eat, before it gets too cold. You’re gonna need to replenish.”

  “Aren’t you going to eat too?”

  “I sorta couldn’t wait. But I’ll help myself to the buffet.” He disappears under the sheet and parts my thighs. This is shaping up to be a very happy birthday.

  24 Rónán

  I hated leaving. While that strange car came back registered to an old married couple from Marion, I still was left with an uneasy feeling about leaving them so exposed. I had Noel take my truck so she had it for whatever and I took a bus and then an Uber to the airport as was my usual way. Or rather was Rory’s way. He always said never go with your own stuff. Always use public transit. The bus got me to the Walmart, and the Uber took me the rest of the way. Just one of the many ways we keep people from findin’ the house.

  My flight landed at O'Hare, just after seven in the evening. The rental was ready by eight, and I was on the road by eight-fifteen. The Frontier they gave me has Wi-Fi, so I’m able to tap into my apps and check on Noel and Nolan. Everything looks quiet at the moment. I give them a call though, because I said I would. Only I use the burner in case they are looking at me at all. No chance is taken.

  “Hey.” I can’t help but smile as I hear her voice on the other end.

  “Well, hello there. How’s it looking that way?”

  “Like life goes on. No apocalypse, so far.”

  “Bidding hasn’t started, yet. Just you wait.”

  “Oh, I know. I’ve seen these animals in action, too. I just wanted to let ya know I got here. If ya need me call this number.”

  “We’ll be okay. Just keep your eye on the prize. Cross your fingers for me I’ve got an interview tomorrow.”

  “They called you on a Sunday?” I ask there goes that stomach drop again.

  “No, Friday, I just got the message.”

  “A’ight. Good luck to ya. I’ll see ya soon.”

  “Bye.”

  She hangs up, and I continue my way to the hotel. I booked at the Sheraton Grande Chicago. It’s a posh modern hotel. That overlooks the Chicago River and is just steps away from all kinds of museums and shops. Though it’s not the culture that made me pick it, rather it’s a central location. Being in the New East Side makes it neutral ground, meaning I’m not in anyone’s particular territory and therefore keep my and Rory’s neutrality. I got a standard room, and as soon as I hit the bed, I’m out.

  Morning comes with its own surprises. Notes slipped beneath my door in the night. One from the Irish, Paití Ó Mainchín, right-hand council to Antaine Sorlry another from Venanzio Di Chiaro himself. Both asking me to join them in their homes. For fuck's sake, seriously? The Irish want me for breakfast, the Italians for dinner. I’m just hoping to come out either end alive. I dress and find a car waiting for me out front before I can even ask the valet to get my rental. In I go.

  It’s a twenty-five-minute ride to the Sorlry estate; I doze a bit. I’m not really nervous, they have no clue where I hail from, and if they ask I’m not telling them for the simple reason it’s unimportant to them and our possible work together. The property spans nearly six blocks of gardens and saintly statuary. We Catholics love our statues. The butler takes my jacket, and the guards frisk me as soon as I exit the car. I’m escorted through the manor-esque house by house staff. It’s all hardwood and stone. Even the furniture is wood-framed.

  I’m taken straight through to a solarium and there sit three men who I know from photographs to be Boss Antaine Sorlry, Advisor Paití Ó Mainchín, and General Réamonn O'Brien. Each has their guards and among them is Senan Ó Heanraig.

  “Rónán Ó Shea.” Senan announces me as men stand to greet me.

  “Aye, Rónán.” Paití says, shaking my hand first. “Good to finally be meetin’ ya.”

  “Welcome.” Réamonn insists. “Sit join us we be about to have our mornin’ coffee and tea. Breakfast will be along right fast.”

  I nod, watching Antaine who has not moved but watches me closely and only speaks as I am seated.

  “So you be Rory’s boy?”

  “Yes, he raised me. Sir.” I answer, respectively. “He may not have been my father, but he was Pa to me.” I try to keep my chair from scraping the tile floor.

  “Aye, he was good people. What of yer mum?” Paití asks.

  “Passed, some time ago.”

  They cross themselves whispering a prayer.

  “Thank you.” I say soft like. “Thank you
for havin’ me. It wasn’t expected.”

  “You’re one of us. Be it by blood or trade. Besides we be curious, what you intend to bid on.” Paití seems to be the talker. Makes sense.

  I furrow my brow as the tea is set up. I watch with my peripheral as it’s poured and I answer. “I don’t rightly know. I have yet to see the estate. But knowing the size of it, I’m hoping to find some rare items, furniture. Perhaps some jewelry to repurpose?”

  “You’ve no inkling of the estates worth or the items to be auctioned at all?”

  “Should I?”

  “It was the home of Michael Russo, Venanzio Di Chiaro’s trusted advisor. He came to an unfortunate end.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Hope it’s not been any trouble for anyone.”

  “Eh, is what it is.” Réamonn adds.

  “Tell me; you haven’t heard anythin’ about any of this? About two juveniles gone missin’?” Antaine leans toward me as his cup is put before him.

  “Of course, I heard the chatter, but nothing more than that.”

  “It’s not well known, but them kids be me kin.” Antaine says plainly. “Me Niece and Nephew. Máire, their dear sweet mother was me sister. God rest her precious soul.”

  Crosses all around the table.

  “My condolences.”

  “Aye, and mine be to ya. So ya not seen nor heard of them?”

  “A couple of Irish kids? No. Sir.”

  “Irish-Italian, I’ve never met them, but I would like to. That girl has promise, and well frankly.” He smiles. “She’s heir to all this.” He holds out his hands as though to impress me. “She’s our little princess, who could be queen.”

  “That’s a lot. I’m sorry I’ve not more information for ya.”

  “Well, if you bein’ who ya is could keep an ear to the ground. We would be quite in yer debt. We can make very good on settling up too.”

  “I will keep that in my thoughts, Sir.”

  “Good, good. Let’s eat.”

  ***

  The Russo house looks like a mini castle, fitting since it would seem that Noel is actually Irish Family Royalty. The car that took me to breakfast got me back to the hotel leavin’ me little time to freshen up before heading to the South Side for the invitation-only preview and pre-bid. At this time we are to drop silent bids on the items we want and when bidding opens tomorrow the highest bid starts the auction, setting the pace for the entire event.

  Everything inside and out has a box for bids, right down to what appears to be Noel’s purses and shoes and all of Nolan’s toys and games. I want nothing more than to bid on everything. Get them their lives back, but I can’t. It would give them away. Paint me a big ole’ target right on my back as well.

  I see the hope chest, they have it open and its contents on display with an itemized list. The blankets, Irish lace, linens, some silver jewelry, a Sterling serving set for teas. Also, hanging for display purposes is what appears to be her mother’s wedding gown and veil. I place my bid for five grand. A good moderately high marker, but hopefully high enough that others will let it be. I mean really it’s antiques, best left to the dealers like me. There is some art, vases, and paintings, I drop bids here too, and even on some of the items, she told me they would be after. Her father's desk, the family safe. But not the only safe in the house, Noel mentioned a large biometric one. Meaning they are going to need her to open it. Something she is just not willing to do.

  I don’t rightly blame her. Who knows what they could be after. Better to let it rot. There are large jewelry boxes and apothecary sets which catch my eye as well as several other chests and trunks. I make my way through most of the house when I notice a guy about my age maybe a bit older seems to be shadowing me. Not liking the secondary darkness looming I step outside. Sure enough, he comes out with a drink in his hand. His eyes meet mine, and he nods at me, then comes over.

  “Vincenzo.” He extends his hand.

  “Rónán.”

  “Don’t you hate these things? All pomp and no follow-through.” He hangs his head back. “God, what I wouldn’t give for a little follow-through.” His eyes settle back on me. “You a local?”

  “Not really.”

  “Vincenzo! C’mere, boy!”

  My head turns as I feel a hand touch my breast pocket. I see a guard calling after my new little acquaintance, as he slips a card to me.

  “In case you find yourself in need of a tour guide.”

  Well, he belongs to somebody I’m sure.

  I am on my way out the door when I’m grabbed by two goons.

  “Right this way Mister O’Shea. We’ll be takin’ ya to the boss.”

  “Ya wanna be takin’ yer hands off me?” I shrug them off. “I can walk just fine on my own two feet.”

  “There’s a car waitin’ on ya.”

  “Of course, there is.”

  I head outside, and there’s the limo- just waiting. In I go. Again.

  In the limo is, Vincenzo. Sitting there like he hadn’t just offered to smoke my pole. With him are the bodyguards, and Guerrino Scarpitti, the Underboss of the Di Chiaro Family. I didn’t expect him. While I know the Irish are dangerous, I felt far safer with my own than I do with these men. These men who watch me with precision and candor.

  “So you’re the paper pusher from nowhere?” Scarpitti asks. “The mick without a click, so to speak.”

  “Well, sir, it’s hard to pick when you’re both.” I say sitting back to eyebrow raises.

  “My mum was Coleen McCauley, of the McCauley clan outta New York, but my sperm donor was right from the kitchen. One Michello Rinaldi. Took a bullet back in ninety-two from what I understand.”

  “You’re a halfer?” Scarpitti looks surprised. “But they call you O’ Shea?”

  “Rory adopted me; I took his name since he raised me up.”

  “Ah, well, time to meet the family then.”

  “I guess so.”

  Into the lion’s den I go.

  25 Onóra

  Rónán’s been gone since Sunday. Since we started this relationship, he’s either been with us here, or we go out to eat and his place like the past weekend. Finn’s actually not tried to completely drive me insane, which is an improvement. Though to tell you the truth, I hate the quiet. It gives the mind too much time to wander on things it shouldn’t be. I’m eighteen now, not that I feel any different from when I was seventeen. Well, except for the fact I’ve had sex, and it was by far one of the best experiences I’ve ever had.

  I had my interview yesterday at the local diner. I start on Friday. They told me they needed to run my information and some other craziness. It’s only seven twenty-five an hour, but I get to keep any tips I make. So, it’s something at least.

  Rónán should be getting off the plane in a couple of hours if everything went as planned. I’m attempting dinner. Attempting is the best word because I’m burning more then I’m getting right. I open the oven door to check on the roast I put in there. The guys love their meat and potatoes. As I’m opening it nothing but black smoke comes out at me. There goes the smoke alarm. I’m grabbing the broom when Finn comes into the room.

  “What is that sm-” He runs over and cracks the kitchen window. “Never mind. What are you doing?”

  “Trying to stop the smoke alarm.” I say cracking it, and the top falls off. I look up, and there’s a camera. You’ve got to be kidding me.

  I shut the stove off because the last thing I need to do is start a fire. He’s been watching us. I trusted him. He lied. How could he? Next thing I know I’m going to each room that has one and popping the top. Every room except the bath. What a fucking pervert! I’ve got to get us out of here. They could be heading this way as we speak.

  “FINN! We have to go now!”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because I said. Get dressed, shoes, the works. We need to go.” I’m pushing him to his room.

  As I’m switching my clothes, the necklace hangs from my neck. I grab and just get that
much more pissed. Every time I pass a camera, I flip it off. I set up makeshift slingshots all over the place. Just about any place, he steps he’s going to get hit with an egg. Let’s not forget the frying pans I’ve got wired above doors. Someone walks in they’re getting one to the face.

  “Can I take my PlayStation?” Finn asks.

  “He’ll be able to track us that way.”

  “Who?”

  “Rónán.”

  “Why are we running from him?”

  “Because we are and I’ll explain it when you’re older.”

  I write a quick note for Rónán and the piece of garbage he is. I just hope he can read it as my hands are shaking.

  Rónán,

  I can’t believe we trusted you. You fucked us. Thanks for that. Never again will I be stupid enough to trust an Irishman. One killed my father and come to find out one’s been watching us. You got what you wanted, I guess… A piece of ass. Score for you. Hopefully, they don’t kill you because we’re gone.

  Another One Bites the Dust,

  Fuck You

  I check in on Finn, and he’s looking between the PlayStation and me. “Please can I take it?”

  “I wish, but we can be tracked with it. I’ll get you some kind of handheld game or something. Got your basketball?”

  “Yeah. Do we have to dye our hair again?”

  “Not yet, but probably. Let's just get to where we’re going.”

  Out Finn’s window we go and into the woods as I hear a car in the drive. About a mile away, I buried a few packs one for each of us, just in case of something like this. I’ve wandered around learning the area. There’s a campsite with cabins. I’m going to rent one of them until I can get enough money to get us a car and get the hell out of here. Guess across the border we go. We’d hop a plane across the pond if I thought we could get by with it.

  “It’s just up ahead.” I say seeing the maker for the camps.

  “Finally. My feet are tired, and I’m hungry.”

  “We’ll get settled then I’ll figure out food.”

  “I’m sorry Rónán wasn’t the right guy. I really thought he was.”