by E. R. Fallon
Camille didn’t know why she had even considered that they might give in to what she wanted, but she had to try.
Camille stared at both women and then walked out into the warm evening, feeling their gazes on her as she departed. She would get control of the Irish mob from them even if it took everything she had. In the meantime, she had some money saved up to live on until she started making a real income. Violet and her mother wouldn’t make it easy for her, but she had one thing they didn’t: her father’s tough genes.
10
The music stopped just after Camille left. Violet kicked a chair across the room.
“Who does she think she is!” she screamed.
“Calm down,” Catherine touched her daughter’s arm. Violet had her grandfather’s temper. “She won’t be able to do anything, she won’t succeed, it’s just her against us. Who’s going to help her? We have a whole army behind us,” she assured Violet.
But there had been something in Camille’s eyes, a look of such determination that Violet was forced to take her words seriously. She had something Violet and her mother didn’t, a reason to fight for what she wanted.
“I’m not as convinced,” Violet said to her mother as she sat down at one of the tables. She fiddled with the rag her mother had been cleaning with. “Is what she said true?” she asked her mother, looking at her closely.
“Your grandfather was a complicated man,” Catherine replied, which was her way of saying yes.
Violet shook her head in anger at having been kept in the dark for so long. “Camille’s father—did you know him well?”
“Why are you asking me this?”
Violet realized she would be evasive. “I think I deserve to know. She was working in our pub. I never knew you helped kill her father.”
“I didn’t help kill him,” Catherine said. “I didn’t actually hurt him. I just…helped set it up so that it happened.”
“But you knew about it?”
Catherine nodded and looked down at the ground. “It’s why I drink,” her mother said, looking at her and sitting down in the seat next to her. “I have guilt over what happened in Los Angeles.”
“I remember being in Los Angeles and I remember him a little, but I didn’t know who he was. I remember we went there with him and Max. He was a tall, handsome guy, right?”
“Yes, he was,” Catherine said faintly.
“When I asked you what happened to him, why he was no longer on the trip with us, you told me he’d ‘gone away’.”
“Did I say that? I don’t remember.”
“You did,” Violet replied.
“I loved him but chose my father in the end.”
Violet touched her mother’s hand, her anger dissipating. Was that why her mother had never remarried or dated much, despite her good looks and charm, and why she had a soft spot for Camille? Knowing the reason about the latter made Violet lose some of the jealousy she’d had toward Camille over the years. “That must have been hard for you,” she said to Catherine.
“I didn’t have much of a choice. Your grandfather would have killed me if I’d defied him, even if I was his daughter. Loyalty meant everything to him, and he did away with those who weren’t loyal to him, no matter who they were.”
“I didn’t know that about him.”
“Of course not, to you he’ll always be your loving grandfather, and it’s better that you remember him that way.”
“We could have a real problem on our hands with Camille,” Violet told her mother after a while.
“She’s all talk, I wouldn’t worry so much. It’s getting late.” Catherine started to get up.
Violet gestured for her mother to remain sitting. “I’m being serious, mother. There’s a darkness in her, and I’ve always felt that. She’s different than us. She might be capable of anything. What was her father like?”
“He was a very tough man.”
“There you go,” Violet said. “She’s like him, then.”
“She certainly looks a lot like him, but she’s her own person.”
“No,” Violet insisted. “It’s in her blood, she’s like him, just like we’re like grandpa in some ways. I think she could harm someone herself and not hand it off to somebody else like we always seem to do these days.”
“We don’t have the stomach for it, and that’s okay, it’s probably better in some ways. In that way, we aren’t like your grandfather. You think Camille has the stomach for it?”
“It’s possible, yeah.”
“We won’t let her win,” Catherine spoke with determination. “I don’t think she’s as strong as us. What’s she going to do for money now that she’s quit? She isn’t thinking.”
But Violet wasn’t as confident as her mother.
“Do you know who her stepfather is?” she asked her mother.
“Of course. He works for the Italians we work with.” The Alfonsi crime family. “Just what are you saying?”
“A connection like that could help her, it could draw them away from us toward her.”
“The boss is loyal to us because Kevin works for him,” Catherine replied. “Anyway, I heard that she and her stepfather don’t get along.”
“Yeah, but Camille’s ex also works for the boss.”
“She’s no longer with him,” countered Catherine.
“Kevin and I aren’t together anymore either.”
“He’s the father of your child.”
Violet had a revelation. Was she being overconcerned or was her mother not concerned enough? “You’re really not worried, are you?” she said.
“I’m not happy about it, but my opinion is that we should see how things go before we get all worked up about them. I don’t think you should worry because if Camille O’Brien has a problem with anyone it would be me because I was directly involved with her father’s death.”
“I think she has a problem with anyone who’s related to grandpa, including me.”
“Sweetheart, you shouldn’t be so worried,” Catherine said and touched her arm.
“I have to go home now,” Violet said, disagreeing but not wishing to argue with her mother. A babysitter was watching Tommy, but she would want to leave soon. “I’ll get in early tomorrow so we can talk about this.”
When Violet arrived at the pub the next morning she found that her mother didn’t want to discuss the matter further, rather she seemed content to believe that Camille would be all talk and no action, so to speak, and that they had nothing to worry about. She seemed most preoccupied with trying to convince their other bartender over the phone to work extra shifts since Camille was gone. Violet ended up working the bar. The day went by slowly with few customers and only when the afternoon arrived did the pub start to fill up.
A handsome, blond man in a suit and tie, carrying a briefcase, entered the pub and sat at the bar. He ordered a beer and Violet didn’t really pay much attention to him until she felt him watching her. Why was he even looking at her? Normally a man in a suit wouldn’t give her a second glance. Not because she wasn’t attractive, but because businessman-types weren’t usually interested in her.
“I recently moved to the neighborhood,” he spoke to her. “Have you lived here long?” Her had a slight accent that definitely wasn’t a New York accent.
Violet couldn’t help but smile. He was much too friendly to have been from New York. People in New York didn’t start conversations with strangers.
“I’ve lived here my whole life,” Violet replied. If he’d been someone else, she might have ignored him, but he was quite good-looking, and she was single.
“A lifelong New Yorker? You’re the first I’ve met,” he replied.
“There are quite a few of us in this neighborhood,” Violet said.
“Most people aren’t friendly,” the guy said.
“This is New York City. What did you expect?” Violet teased. “Where are you from, anyway?”
“Ohio.”
Violet smiled to herself. “Figures,” s
he said.
“What’s that mean?” he asked her with a smile.
“It means where you’re from is pretty obvious.”
He leaned over the bar to shake her hand and introduced himself as, “Sam Paul.”
Violet shook his hand, which felt large, smooth, and warm in hers. Most of the men she knew had rough hands. “Violet McCarthy,” she said.
“You’re Irish?” he asked.
“Part,” she said.
“A lot of people in this neighborhood are,” Sam said. “Most of the ones I’ve met don’t seem to like us new people who’ve moved in lately.”
Violet assumed he was one of the wealthy younger people buying up apartments in the area, something many of the locals resented, that was, those who weren’t getting rich from it.
“That’s because when people like you move in here you drive up the rents and force them out,” Violet said bluntly. “What do you do for a living anyway?”
“I’m a banker,” he said.
“I never would’ve guessed,” she said with a smile. “You might not want to keep your briefcase on the floor.”
“Why?”
“Someone might steal it.”
“No. Really?”
Violet nodded and he picked it up and set it in his lap.
“What do you do for a living?” he asked.
“I work here,” Violet said with a frown.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you. I just thought that maybe you went to school or something and worked here on the side.”
Just how young did he think she was?
“My family owns this place,” she said. Of course, her family did more than own a pub, but she couldn’t tell just anyone about that.
Sam seemed more impressed. “Oh? That’s great.”
“I went to college,” she said.
He seemed surprised. “Of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“You haven’t,” she said. “I never finished college.”
“Everyone has their own path,” Sam said, as though he was trying to clear the air, but Violet realized that they probably had very little in common.
“Have you ever been in here before?” Violet asked, although she didn’t recognize him.
Sam shook his head. “No, it’s my first time.”
“Your beer is on the house, then,” Violet said with a smile. She was flirting with him, yes, but it also didn’t hurt to attract new regulars to the pub.
“Thanks,” Sam said. “You’re a lot nicer than I would have thought, being a New Yorker and all.”
“Don’t get used to it, Sam, most of us aren’t like me.”
“How long has your family owned the place?” he asked as she continued to take orders from the customers seated around him.
A small, red-haired woman put money in the jukebox and a pop song started playing.
“Since my grandfather opened the place many years ago. The neighborhood was pretty much all Irish back then.”
“It must have been a tight-knit place,” Sam said.
“Yeah, there was a genuine sense of community,” Violet replied, thinking of her childhood.
“Is your grandfather still around?”
“No, he died a while ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. So, it’s just you and your parents who own the place now?”
“My mother and me,” Violet said.
Sam might have been a friendly Midwesterner, but he didn’t know her well enough to ask what happened to her father.
“Are you and your mother close?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’d say we are.”
“I’ll admit that my mother and I aren’t,” Sam said. “My dad died when I was young.”
So, they had something in common, and Violet felt more relaxed around him and started to open up. “I’m sorry to hear that. I lost my father when I was young as well.”
“I’m sorry, Violet.”
They were silent for a moment as she continued to work then he asked her, “Would you like to go out with me sometime?”
Violet stopped and stared at him. “On a date?” she asked in surprise.
“Yes.”
“Why do you want to go out with me?” Then something occurred to her: did he think she would be easy because she was a local girl? Was he looking for a one-night stand?
“Because I’ve enjoyed talking with you,” he replied.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” she said quickly.
Sam looked down at his hands and then at her. “Is there any way I can change your mind?”
“I just don’t think it would be a good idea. We come from two different worlds; I’d doubt we’d have much in common.”
“I’m from Ohio, not Mars,” he said jokingly.
“Same thing,” Violet laughed.
“Would you reconsider?”
Violet shook her head. “You seem like a nice guy; I just don’t see us being a good fit.”
Sam shrugged and smiled. “I had to try.”
He left a few minutes later and Violet didn’t think any more of it then the next morning the phone rang in the kitchen while she and her mother were setting up for the day. Catherine still seemed content with believing that Camille wouldn’t be a problem for them, and they’d been arguing about it as the phone rang.
“Believe me, I’ve known that girl for years, and people like her are all talk. She isn’t going to do anything. She’s quit her job and we won’t hear from her ever again, I’m sure of it,” Catherine said. “She’s gone from our lives.”
“I’m not as relaxed about the situation as you are,” Violet replied. “I think she could spell trouble for us.” She ran into the kitchen from the barroom to answer the ringing phone.
“McBurney’s,” she said.
“Can I speak to Violet?” the man asked.
Violet didn’t recognize his voice. “This is she,” she said. “Who’s calling?”
“It’s Sam,” he said.
“Who?” She pretended to not know who he was.
“Sam Paul, from yesterday. I was at the bar and we talked?”
“Oh, right,” she said when she saw he wasn’t going to go away. “What can I do for you?”
“I was just calling to see how you are,” he said.
“Why? You don’t even know me.” Violet knew she sounded cold, but the situation with Camille made her stressed and she couldn’t take it out on Tommy or her mother, so she took it out on Sam because she could.
“I just thought,” he started to say. “I’ll be blunt here, I like you. A lot. And I’m not going to go away until you agree to go out on a date with me.”
Violet smiled to herself. His candor turned her on. A man hadn’t been that direct with her since Tommy’s father Kevin.
“All right, I will,” Violet said.
There was a pause on the other end of the phone. “Really?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Okay, great. When are you free?”
“How about tonight?” She and her mother had hired someone to replace Camille.
“Tonight? That’s perfect. What’s your address? I’ll pick you up.”
She had forgotten to test him about Tommy, something she had to do. So many guys had been scared away by her motherhood before. “I have a son,” she told him. “Just so you know.”
There was a pause and she waited for him to make an excuse about why he couldn’t see her. Then he said, “I love kids. How old is he?”
“Tommy’s twelve. His father and I aren’t together, of course.” Kevin was in Tommy’s life a lot less than she wanted, which was why Tommy had been drawn to Anton, seeking a father figure. “I didn’t want you to think I was married.”
“Thanks for clarifying. I’m glad to hear you aren’t because I really like you.”
“It’d be best if we met here, outside the pub. I don’t know you well enough to introduce you to my son.”
“That sounds good. I’ll m
eet you there. I hope that someday I’ll get to meet your son.”
Violet didn’t want to promise him anything, so she didn’t reply. She didn’t introduce just anyone to Tommy. She’d only had him meet Anton when Anton was about to move in.
“How does eight o’clock sound?” Sam said.
“That works for me.”
“Great, I’ll meet you outside the pub at eight.”
She started to say goodbye then thought of something to ask him. “Where will we be going? I need to know what I should wear.”
“I have a very nice place in mind.”
So, she would wear a dress. She hadn’t gone to a ‘very nice’ place since she was with Kevin. Anton had been a bit of a homebody. “All right,” she said. “Bye.”
“Bye, Violet.”
As she was hanging up the phone, her mother came in to see who she was talking with.
“Who was that?” she asked Violet.
“This guy I’m going out with tonight. Can you watch Tommy?”
“Sure. Who’s the guy?”
“His name’s Sam.” She knew her mother would ask more questions about him.
“Where did you meet him? Do I know him?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Her mother had an unspoken rule about not dating customers, but Violet also knew that her mother would keep pressing for information until she got what she wanted to hear. “I met him here, actually.”
“While you were tending the bar?”
“Yep.”
“Oh. It isn’t a good idea to flirt with customers because then all of the guys will expect it.”
“There weren’t ‘guys’,” Violet replied. “Just the one.”
“You really like him,” Catherine said.
“I’m not sure yet. I’ll find out tonight. I’m just not sure I should leave with everything that’s happened with Camille.”
“No, you should go. What else are you going to do, sit around and wait to see if she attacks us?” Catherine smiled.
Violet cringed at her mother’s grim humor. “She threatened us, and I think we should believe her.”
“It’s not that I don’t believe her, but she’s on her own, and we’ve got plenty of men.”
