by J. J. McAvoy
Snatching it from his hand, Mina left a bill on the table. “Journalists used to be respected. They didn’t stalk citizens, wait for them to drop then poke at them. You can quote me on that. Good night, Mr. White.”
I felt like a child the way she dragged me from the bar. Her tiny olive toned hand wouldn’t let go of my shirt until we crossed the ivory floors into the damned elevator. Of course my master suite would be on the 67th floor.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?” she hissed at me, her dark eyes burning with rage. “You could have killed him.”
“No, I should have killed him. He didn’t have any right to speak to me like that. I’m a fucking Callahan!”
“So what?”
“So what? Being a Callahan…”
“Being a Callahan doesn’t mean shit here! It’s about being a Colemen, being President. I get it, you’re used to breaking the fingers of people who even look at you funny. But, like I said when you first joined the trail, you have to take the mud thrown at you, and you have to take it humbly. The big picture, remember? We’re on the home stretch. Just keep doing everything you’ve been doing up until tonight.”
“Yeah, you mean keep being a bitch. Thanks for reminding me, Mina. I’ll just go iron my money suit now.” I stepped onto my floor.
“That’s all I ask.” She shook her head as the door closed and all I could do was flip her off.
I wanted to flip the damn world off. Moving from the suite’s living room, covered in pastel colors and generic paintings of flowers, I found myself at the mini bar.
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Olivia whispered, stepping out of the living room in her red silk robe.
“I’m not supposed to think, remember? I’m just the funny, supporting husband with the big wallet,” I told her, popping open the champagne that was recently delivered.
“Why is this so hard for you? I don’t get it. For weeks you’ve been brooding like a kicked dog!”
Of course she didn’t get it; she never got it! “Because, I am a fucking kicked dog! My family exiled me to this damn position because I didn’t know my place.”
“Exile? You’re in a fucking master suite in a five-star hotel! For once you’re out on your own and you can’t even handle that! You’re a grown man, Neal. Act like one.”
“Shut the fuck up! For the love of God, Olivia, shut up! It’s my mistake to think you would get it, but you just can’t. Family is everything! You have no brothers, no sisters and your parents hate each other. Of course you have no idea. You’ve never trusted anyone, you depend solely on yourself and it’s why you’re dying inside. You’re dying for validation and love from people who really don’t give a shit about you, who don’t know you. But you prefer it like that.”
“You’re drunk, I’m going to bed before you damage our relationship any further.”
“You do that.” Was all I could say before falling onto the couch. Rolling around, I tried to make myself comfortable, but of course, the great five-star hotel couldn’t get a couch that fit all fucking sizes. I found myself staring at the chandelier above, unsure whether or not I should go to her. I didn’t have to wait long before a pillow landed on my face.
“Fuck you for making me too angry to sleep,” she snapped before punching my arm.
“Aye! Stop it.”
She didn’t and I grabbed her hands, pulling her over the couch and forcing us both onto the ground.
“Olivia, Jesus, control yourself!” I yelled, pinning her arms across her chest.
“Get off of me, you son of a bitch! I’m dying for validation? How about you? You’re dying for your little brother to love you, your father to respect you, for some meaning to your life. Well guess what? If you didn’t give up your title as Ceann Na Conairte you would’ve had all of that and more.”
I wanted to strangle her, but someone had to fucking knock on the door. Our eyes met before we both got up, fixed our clothes and rushed to the door. She gripped my arm, pulling me to her side before opening the door.
“Hi,” she said so fake I fought the urge to roll my eyes.
The butler smiled back before handing her a letter. “From the Senator. Mrs. Callahan, Mr. Callahan.”
“Thank you, and good night,” Olivia said, closing the door before opening the letter.
“Your father does know we were only a floor beneath him, right?” And I was the spoiled rich kid?
“He’s inviting everyone for breakfast before we head back to Chicago. Apparently we’re done. Maybe now you can learn to smile again,” she said before throwing the card at my face.
Grabbing it to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, I wanted to do a little happy dance. I was finally going the fuck home.
DECLAN
I held it right next to the side of her face, waiting for her to look away from her copy of Pride & Prejudice. She was so immersed in the words of Ms. Austen that she didn’t even look. It made me want to laugh. Instead, with one finger, I pulled the book down.
“Declan! Mr. Darcy was just about—” She froze when she saw the joint in front of her face.
“As you were saying?”
She smiled, taking the joint from my hand. “You spoil me.”
“Someone has to.” I laughed, sitting up on the bed and lighting it for her. Her hands shook slightly as she reached up to grab it. Taking a long drag, she laughed through a cough.
“Slow down or you’re going to finish my entire stash.”
“Ooooh boo-hoo. I’m legally allowed to smoke.” She relaxed into the pillows behind her.
“Not in Ireland.”
“Stop, you’re killing my buzz.”
Taking the book from her lap, I flipped to the page she was on. “Were you gushing about Mr. Darcy again?”
“Jealous?”
“Please, Darcy can’t hold a candle to me. Look at this smile, these eyes.” I posed for her. She stared at me through the smoky haze before laughing outright. “There goes my ego.”
“You have a great head of hair too,” she whispered, leaving the joint on the side table to run her hands through my hair. “I’m glad you didn’t cut it for me.”
The smile on my face fell when I met her eyes. Collapsing against the pillows, I reached up to the blue scarf that she donned on her head.
“You know I would have, right? I would have shaved off my eyebrows too.”
Even though she grinned, I was serious. The last couple of weeks had been hard. Her mood swings, her pain, losing her hair. I wanted to do anything to help carry that burden. All I could do was just be here…I prayed that was enough for now.
“I’m sorry I was such a bitch yesterday,” she whispered, curling up against me.
Wrapping my arms around her, I tried not to think about it. “You weren’t.”
“I was. I don’t know what came over me. Just because I have cancer doesn’t mean I get to throw my food at you. It hurt to eat and I wanted you to hurt—I don’t know why—but I’m sorry. I love you.”
Biting my bottom lip, I blinked a few times before brushing it off. “You’re fine, baby. Those carrots were overdone anyway. Now can you explain to me why you insist on rereading this again?”
“It’s a classic.”
“There are many other classics.”
“Listen Callahan, Pride & Prejudice is a timeless romantic classic that makes my toes curl. So no hating.”
Pouting, I lifted the book with my free hand. “And I thought I was the only one that made your toes curl.”
“Nope, you and Jane, but for different reason.” I loved how she felt when she laughed against me. “Now read.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Flipping to my favorite part in the novel, I read: “There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense.”
B
efore I could blink, she was up and running toward the bathroom. I had learned the hard way that she hated when I followed her into the bathroom. We had screamed at each other way too much over it, so I forced myself to simply let it go. I waited on the bed, my feet restless against the floor, just wanting to leap forward if she needed me. It was a long ten minutes. But then she finally stumbled out.
“Do you need help?” I asked. Rising, she shook her head, and reached for the end of the bed. Hugging the bedpost, she took a deep breath but it didn’t help. Her legs gave out from under her, but before she could fall, I caught her.
“Damn it,” she whispered.
“You got farther this time. Baby steps, remember? You just got off the chemo,” I whispered, hugging her to me as I sat back on the bed.
“I just want to be better already.”
“You will. Just don’t push yourself too much.” I knew she wouldn’t listen, but I would be here. Each and every time I would be right here reading whatever repetitive classic she needed me to. And if it meant having her by my side just a minute longer, I’d do it forever.
THIRTY-ONE
“Nothing thicker than a knife’s blade separates happiness from melancholy.”
—Virginia Woolf
MELODY
“Mrs. Callahan, are you sure you don’t need a doctor?” Scooter, the know-it-all cop, asked me as I rested against our Range Rover.
The whole opera house had been cleared just a few moments ago, but none of the guests had left. The only thing more tragic than an opera was our real lives. With dogs, the pigs were there with their flashing lights, silver badges and yellow tape; all of them taking pictures of Antonio’s body as he lay there, cold and lifeless. He wasn’t supposed to die. My men died when I fucking said they died…at least if the world worked as it should.
“Mrs. Callahan?”
“We’re fine, officer,” Liam said. “I think it’s time I took my wife home.” He came to stand beside me.
“Mr. Callahan, if you have anything to add to this investigation—”
“Like I said before, we were leaving the opera when our bodyguard was shot,” Liam hissed, opening the car door for me.
“That’s what we’re trying to get at. There is no reason for anyone to kill your bodyguard. That bullet may have been for you, Mrs. Callahan. This type of shot was the same used on the President.” Scooter stood up straighter, as he grabbed hold of my car door.
“On the news they said that was the First Lady…” I started when he cut me off.
“It was, but she has an accomplice we have no information about. If you could just come down to the station, maybe help to find the connection—”
“You’re a cop, not a detective, if you have any more questions for us, please contact our lawyer. Goodnight, Officer,” Liam stated, helping me into the car before slamming the door closed. “Drive.”
Fedel didn’t need to be told twice. It felt odd leaving a man behind. Antonio had been with me for years—with Fedel for years. Antonio was a mentor to both Fedel and Adriana. I knew Monte must have called her. It wasn’t the type of news you broke over the phone, but Adriana would want time to separate herself from us.
Next to me, Liam was so tense he felt frozen, and all I could do was stare into the darkness of the night sky. Chicago was used to death. I was used to death. Neither was I grief stricken nor was I in shock; I was just fucking angry. I felt powerless, and it was a feeling I wasn’t familiar with. This was bad. We need to retaliate quickly or we would have anarchy. The reason our men trusted us and were loyal to us was for the simple reason that we were the biggest and baddest animals. Aviela was making us look weak. This has to end, I just wasn’t sure how. How could she be so fucking good? How could she kill, get into our house, know where we were going? Who knew that much?
I sighed as we pulled to a stop in front of the house. When Fedel opened the door for me, I didn’t even wait for Liam, or anyone else for that matter, to help me. Seeing Evelyn and Sedric along with Olivia and Neal all huddled in the middle of the foyer made me want to scream. I didn’t want to deal with this shit right now.
“Thank God you’re alright.” Evelyn sighed, making beeline for my stomach as I took off my coat and handed it to the maid.
“That depends on your definition of alright, Mother,” Liam stated, walking in and standing beside me. “May I ask what you two are doing back here?”
“We live here,” Olivia snapped.
“Olivia…”
“Liam, I’m sorry, it’s a force of habit. My father is done campaigning and is back in Chicago so we…”
Neal grabbed her hand, stepping forward in the hopes of shutting her up. “Declan and Coraline will be back in the morning. I figured you would want the family together before we get even with this bitch. Tell me what…”
I couldn’t listen to them for another goddamn second. They were just so fucking idiotic, why waste my energy on the waste of space. Walking past them, I pretended they weren’t even there while walking up the stairs. The bottom of my feet hurt like a bitch’s ass at a BDSM club. All I wanted was my bed, but sadly I knew I couldn’t go there just yet. I didn’t usually go to Adriana’s room. It was sort of beyond decorum, but what hell, I made the fucking rules. Pushing into her room, I knew wouldn’t see her.
Her bed was made, every book she surrounded herself with was stacked around the room like erected monuments, and her curtains were closed. Breathing deeply, I walked over to her bed and grabbed every one of her pillows and threw them to the ground, creating a makeshift bed for me to lie on. I felt like a damn penguin, but it was the only way I could see her. The moment I was on my side, I saw her curled up under the bed, her eyes spilling tears she couldn’t control.
This was Adriana. After everything she had been through, the only place she ever really felt safe was under the bed. It was a habit she couldn’t shake after being taken.
“He asked me to marry him,” she whispered, moving her hand so I could see the ring. Even in the darkness, I could tell it was small and forged into the shape of a teardrop. It was very much Adriana. “I told him I wanted to think about it. I told him I wanted to talk to you. But the truth was, I was scared. He told me to keep the ring, that it would help me think. I should have just said yes.”
“We all know you would have. So did he.” I smiled at her. Like me, she just wanted to be difficult.
She rolled her eyes, hoping to stop her tears but it didn’t work. “I can’t move. If I move, life continues on and I can’t…I loved him so much.”
“Then don’t move,” I whispered to her. The problem with loving someone that much was the fact that it hurt ten times more to lose them. Great love only equaled great pain eventually…that’s why Liam was going to have to die after I did.
LIAM
“What number are you on?” Neal asked, stepping into my office.
Staring at the glass in my hand, I downed it quickly before pulling out another bottle from my bottom drawer.
“I’m not counting. What do you want?”
Sitting across from me, he sighed and pulled out two cigars. “I want to help you. I want to be your brother again. I’ve spent weeks on a campaign, being asked how it feels to be a Callahan, what we’re like, what do I think about families on food stamps right after I bought Olivia another diamond necklace. Father told me that I would hate it; being without the family and having to actually pretend I give fuck almost drove me mad. Olivia ate it up. She loved it. We were like string puppets on stage dancing for everyone else; going where we were told, keeping our comments rehearsed, being the better fucking person to people whose necks I could snap off if I wanted to. Part of me had a hard time dealing with you as my boss, but I’d rather dance under your strings than anyone else’s.”
Staring at him for a moment, I handed Neal a glass and took the cigar. “Do you have a light?”
“As long as you don’t tell my wife.” He laughed, holding the flame at the end of it.
“At least you can lie to yours. Mel can sense smoke like a bloodhound. Truthfully, she knows me well enough that she just lets me slide on some lies for the sake of my pride.” We both sucked in smoke.
“You’ve both come a long way from trying to kill each other.” He had no idea how wrong and right he was. She still tried to kill me, except now it usually had us both naked. “What are we going to do about this Aviela bitch?”
“She’s one step ahead of everything. We make a play, she makes one better. Any thoughts?” Because I was all out of motherfucking ideas.
He sat back, leaning against his chair and scratching the back of his head. “None. I don’t get it. That shot… it was a fucking good one. It’s the type of shot I aim to take.”
“Get to your point.”
“My point is, she could have easily killed Mel. Just like she could have after the accident. She had Mel in her crosshairs, so why didn’t she?”
“That I understand.” I wish I didn’t, but I did. “She gets off on the physical torture. She poisoned Orlando for years. Now she’s making sure her daughter lives in fear. I want to know her end game. There is a bigger picture here. What’s going to happen when Colemen wins office? We both know it’s going to happen, that’s why you’re home early. He has a ninety-one percent likelihood to win. That’s higher than any test you’ve ever taken.”
“Fuck you.”
I grinned, downing the rest of my brandy.
“So? What do you want us to do?” he asked seriously.
Smoking, I thought about that for a moment before pulling out the phone in my pocket.
“Aviela called Mel right before she took the shot. I’m sure it’s a burned phone, but still, look into it for me.” Dropping it on the table in front of him, I put out my cigar and stood.
“Yes, boss.”
I didn’t trust him as much I as I wished I could. Moreover, I didn’t trust his wife. There was a rift between us that went beyond just our childhood. However, if there was anyone in the world able to gain my trust, it was him. After all, he was blood.
