Children of Vice

by J. J. McAvoy

  “Sorry. Now tell me.”

  “Fuck you. I don’t take orders.” She snapped, grabbing her bottle of wine and marching out of the pool house.

  “Jesus,” I muttered to myself, wishing I’d kissed her longer, my pants getting tighter as my dick hardened.

  Eleven years.

  That was how long I’d been walking on the path to her.

  And I’d keep walking for another eleven. Hell, even twenty-seven years. It didn’t matter as long as in the end she’d be mine, in front of everyone.

  I was willing to do anything…be anything for her.

  EIGHTEEN

  “Shattered legs may heal in time, but some betrayals fester and poison the soul.”

  ~ George R.R. Martin

  IVY

  “I didn’t know it was possible for a person to bum a ride on a private jet,” Ethan spoke out loud as he read through the paperwork in front of him.

  “I didn’t know it was possible to be a bum on your own jet,” Wyatt replied, biting into his granola bar.

  Both of them sat on opposite sides of the plane, neither looking at each other and pretending to talk to me when they were really talking to each other.

  And here I thought my family had issues.

  “Translation.” I sat up in my seat as I decoded their childish conversation. “Wyatt, what Ethan means is I’m glad you chose to save money and fly with us. Ethan, Wyatt said, of course, seeing as he inherited the jet he’d use it from time to time. Thank you for taking care of it for me.”

  Both of their eyes shifted to me, to which I smiled. “Please don’t stop on my account. I think I’m good at this.”

  I wanted to laugh outright when they both rolled their eyes at the exact time and went back to what they were doing. Since they wouldn’t talk to me, I leaned over the arm of my chair at the men sitting in front of us. There were three of them, Greyson I knew, and Lex, I believe, the man who’d been in the car when we rushed to the hospital, and one tall, slim man who wore a golf hat and had a toothpick in his mouth.

  “Pssst.” I tried to get their attention, but none of them noticed. Instead, Ethan and Wyatt both glanced at me. Ignoring them as they did me, I took one of the sheets in front of me, folded it into a triangle and then flicked perfectly, knocking the toothpick out of his mouth. “Touchdown!”

  “Does she have the mental capacity to consent to marriage?” Wyatt frowned, looking over at Ethan.

  “Whether she does or not is no concern of yours,” he said, reaching for his scotch as he went back to reading.

  “Wowwww. You’re both assholes.” I frowned, looking between them. “Coming from you, Wyatt, the guy who chooses to piss his brother off because he’d rather fight than sit in silence and pretend he doesn’t care, you insulting my maturity is funny. And you, Ethan, I’m a little hurt. What happened to treating me the way you were taught to treat a lady? I guess it only counts when you’re fucking me.”

  Wyatt’s mouth dropped open.

  Ethan coughed, choking on his drink.

  “Hey, guys?” I waved at the men, trying very hard not to laugh. “How much longer until we land?”

  “Another half hour, ma’am.” Greyson checked his watch.

  Groaning, I rested back into the tan leather seat. “I’m not sure how much longer we can remain in a metal box at 41,298 feet without someone dying.”

  “Uh, 41,298 is a little specific, isn’t it?” Lex asked.

  Checking out the window for a second and then sitting back, I shook my head. “No. That should be right considering when we took off and how much longer we have to go.”

  They all just stared at me.

  “You’re shitting us, ma’am,” Mr. Toothpick said, pulling out the toothpick from his mouth and leaning over the chair to get a better look at me.

  Now I was annoyed. “I really fucking hate it when people think I’m kidding when I’m being serious. It feels like you’re calling me stupid. Are you calling me stupid?”

  Before he could reply or beg for forgiveness Ethan pressed the call button next to his chair.

  “Sir?” A voice came over the intercom.

  “What’s our current altitude?” Ethan asked, his eyes trained on me as well.

  “It’s 41,298 feet, sir.”

  “Thank you!” I threw my hands up.

  “Holy shit,” Wyatt muttered under his breath.

  “Sir?” the pilot called.

  “It’s fine,” Ethan said, releasing the button.

  I smugly nodded at him. “You’re all just like Ms. Lisowski.”

  Ethan shook his head. “Should I even ask?”

  “Ms. Lisowski was a fourth grade teacher at my school.” I went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “However, the fourth grade teacher I was assigned to told her I was smart and so I should be in her class. Ms. Lisowski took one look at me and laughed, saying I wouldn’t fit in with her class.”

  “Until you stunned them all with your brilliance?” Ethan added, and I could feel the dry sarcasm rolling off him in waves.

  “No. Though that is how the story should have ended. Instead, Ms. Lisowski never spoke to me again until she substituted for my teacher during test day. I finished early, like I usually did, and went to sleep, like I was allowed to, only to be woken up by her ruler on my head. She didn’t believe I’d finished so quickly and when I showed to her, and got everything right, she still didn’t believe. She said I must have cheated and made me sit in the corner with this sign that said God doesn’t like cheaters.”

  Wyatt laughed.

  “Not funny!” I grabbed one of the papers on the table and threw it at his head.

  “Did she put a cone on your head too?” he joked.

  “No.” I pouted, though I was sure if there had been one she would have. I turned to Ethan, who listened, though looking bored. “Anyway, she told me I’d have to sit there every day for the whole week until I admitted to cheating. I kept telling her I didn’t cheat and on the third day one of the boys threw glue at me.”

  Wyatt stopped laughing at that. The smile on his face slowly faded.

  But mine didn’t. “It got all over the shirt my mom had bought for me, so I came out of the corner and picked up my chair and threw it at him.”

  Ethan snickered. “I’m guessing that didn’t make school any easier for you.”

  I shrugged. “Ms. Lisowski said I was a wild animal that would end up pregnant, living in a trailer park, eating out of plastic plates for the rest of my life since I couldn’t act like or look like a lady. I told her she didn’t look like a lady either because she had a mustache. All the kids started laughing at her then. We called her Ms. Whiskers.”

  “I don’t know who to feel bad for anymore,” Wyatt muttered.

  “Me!” Did he even really have to ask? “She is the one who judged, humiliated, skipped school almost every day…can we put her on the list?” I looked at Ethan eagerly, sitting up.

  “Let me get this straight.” He sat up as well. “You want to add your fourth grade teacher, who is most likely an old woman at this point, to the list of people you want revenge on?”

  I didn’t like how he said it or the hypercritical high horse he was sitting on. “Yes, does it make me sound petty?”

  “Very,” both Ethan and Wyatt agreed.

  Look at them. They were now ganging up on me.

  “Excuse me. I was traumatized, thank you,” I said, placing my hand over my heart. “I had no friends, was already being teased. In fact, I barely blocked out most of childhood because it was so bad. She could have made me retake the test, but noooooo she had to be like everyone else and make my life hell.” I crossed my arms.

  “As you wish,” Ethan answered, and I cheered, trying to think of anyone else.

  “Wowww.” Wyatt stretched out just like I had done. “You both have no shame.”

  “Screw shame,” Ethan and I both said. And when we did both of us locked eyes for a moment. Reaching over to Ethan’s work, I grabbed another piece of
paper, but he grabbed my wrist.

  “You do realize this isn’t for paper football, right?”

  I nodded. “It’s information about Boston, and the big wigs in town. You’ve already read and memorized them, firstly, and secondly, half of this shit is wrong. You should shoot the person who got it for you ’cause they’re shitty at intel gathering.”

  “Bye-bye, Hugh.” Wyatt waved behind him and all eyes were on Mr. Toothpick.

  “Oops.” I didn’t really think that person was on the jet. What was worse was how terrified he was, now staring at Ethan’s back. Ethan cracked his jaw to the side, gripping on tightly to the glass in his hand.

  “I—”

  “Please inform me how bad the information in front of me is so I may know whether I’m shooting to maim or kill,” he said a little too calmly.

  Something is off.

  Everyone’s attention was now on me and from what I’d seen about Ethan, he didn’t make threats lightly.

  “Ivy,” he said seriously.

  Reaching over, I took the papers from him. “First of all, why the fuck is Mattapan one of the places you wanna go to? Ain’t no Irish in the Pan. In fact, it was…”

  I stopped and my gaze shifting over to Hugh. Oh, he is dead.

  “Finish your statement,” Ethan said, staring out the window at the heavy thick clouds, darkening as the storm came in. It looked like gray waves rolling over the sky.

  “It was the place people joked and said they’d make their relatives go stay because they only wanted to see their asses from afar,” I said.

  “What?” Greyson questioned aloud.

  “The population of Mattapan is mostly black,” Wyatt clarified.

  “Go on.” Ethan nodded to the paper in front of me, not at all fazed, but then again I doubted he’d show it if he was. Lifting the paper, I nodded. “McNardy is always the money cleaner and he’s only in my neighborhood of Southie—South Boston, not East.”

  “There has to be thousands of McNardys in South Boston,” Wyatt spoke again, and for someone who didn’t want to be a part of this family he really fit in with ease. However, I didn’t comment because I knew he’d realize that too.

  “That’s the point. You go round askin’ for McNardy and not the right McNardy you’re either a fed or an idiot. Both are grounds for your ass being handed to you one day when you’re walkin’ your dog.” I scanned through the rest of the paper. “Everything else ain’t that bad. It’s just you end up lookin’ like a hahdo boy from Milie, and believe me, you don’t wanna look like a hahdo boy from Milie.” I laughed.

  “Translation?” Ethan asked.

  Wyatt spoke up before I could. “A person trying too hard that comes from a rich neighborhood, aka Milton.”

  “How long have you lived in Boston?” I asked him.

  “Five years. After the first year you catch on quick, especially at the hospital.” He smirked to himself.

  “Oh.” I could see that. “But yea,” I spoke to Ethan again. “People in this city don’t like showie. Everyone wants money, but they don’t want to see you with it. There was this guy, Jimmy, who lived across the street from us and he stole things. Nothin’ from anyone in the neighborhood, like jewelry shops and stuff. One of those things where everybody knew but nobody knew. His wife started showing off…buying things, real nice things and hiding them from him. Jimmy found out. Soon the whole neighborhood knew ’cause he chased her down the street with only one shoe. Not one person let her into the house when she knocked. My grandmother turned up the TV then.”

  Wyatt frowned. “He killed her?”

  “No. They are still together last I heard, livin’ in Back Bay,” I said, sliding the paper back to him.

  “Thank you,” Ethan said, and he really seemed to mean it. He looked me up and down, a tiny grin creeping up on his face. “I must ask. Is the Boston accent going to be a fixture or only while we’re here?”

  I didn’t even realize it just slipped out. “Do you have a problem—”

  “B—Bos—” Hugh choked out, interrupting me, grabbing onto his neck as his face slowly turned purple-blue.

  “No, actually, it’s a strange turn on.” He winked at me, which only briefly distracted me from the man falling out of his seat.

  “Boss—”

  Realizing whatever he did to Hugh had to have been prepared ahead of time, I couldn’t help but get annoyed. “Why make me go through all of this if you already knew he was fucking with you?”

  “Firstly, no one fucks with me,” he said seriously and the man now gasping out for air behind him really hammered that point home. “Secondly, I wanted to see how much you knew about the darker parts of your city.”

  “So you were manipulating me again?”

  He shook his head. “I had no idea you were going to speak but went along with it. Truthfully, you killed my dramatic traitorous death scene.”

  I pointed to the man now shaking on the floor of the jet behind him. “That’s not dramatic?”

  “I told him to stop with those damn toothpicks,” he muttered, avoiding my question, and then looked over at Wyatt, whose eyes were closed. “You aren’t going to be a hero?”

  “My shift doesn’t start for another two hours,” he replied, placing his headphones over his ears.

  Ethan shrugged, reaching for his drink again. “Guess he’s shit out of luck then.”

  Was it odd that I found this refreshing? It felt like a family to me. I liked them. All of them. Even though they looked at me weirdly, they never acted as if I were some wild animal as Ms. Lisowski did and people all through my life did. I knew I was sometimes a little bi-polar, even though I wasn’t actually. The warden had me checked. But still, I didn’t feel like I couldn’t be myself.

  Catching my mood shift, Ethan said softly, “What is it?

  “You know what I’ve always wanted?” I looked outside as we started to lower, splitting through the clouds hovering over the city. “I’ve always wanted to be a somebody, to prove they were wrong about me. The moment I got locked up I thought I’d dreamed too high.”

  “Are you saying thank you to me then?” he said in humor, teasing me, but I wasn’t joking about that.

  “I guess I am.” I left this city an ugly duckling and now I was coming back as a swan.

  ETHAN

  She was nervous yet enthusiastic, serene yet vengeful. I could tell she loved her city the way I loved Chicago. I didn’t know how I’d feel if I had to leave for almost a decade without knowing when I’d come back. Even more so if I had debts to repay. Part of me was so intrigued by the many, many, thoughts that might be crossing her mind at any given second. I wanted to know what she’d do next. I wanted to see how far she’d go. What her plans were or if she had any of them at all. I had no doubts about the level she’d go to if she needed to know. But still…

  “We’ll give you both a moment,” she declared to the rest of the plane, grabbing her red coat and scarf from her chair and squeezing herself between us, mouthing ‘talk to him and be nice.’ Then she walked toward the doors of the jet with Lex. Greyson tried to stay behind, but the look she gave was apparently anything far more fearsome than myself because he didn’t even bother to double-check with me before stepping out with her.

  “You have been married less than a day and she already has everyone under her thumb.” Wyatt stared blankly at the exit, his bag over his shoulder, before he turned to me. “Even you…does she even know—”

  “When are you coming home?” I asked, ignoring his comment.

  “I am home, Ethan.”

  “You were born and raised in Chicago. You are a Callahan. No matter how badly you want to erase it, that is who you are.”

  “For the love of God! We are not in the 16th century, Ethan!” He clenched onto his bag tighter. His once blank stare began to narrow on me, a look I’d become familiar with. “We aren’t princes or gods or wolves or lions or beasts or whatever the fuck Mother and Father filled our heads with. Do you ever listen t
o half the shit that comes out of your mouth? Or anyone else for that matter? We’ve deluded ourselves into believing we are all powerful, but, Brother, we are not! Didn’t Mother’s death prove that? Didn’t Father’s? Grandfather’s? For fuck’s sake, Ethan, a church fell on top of our grandmother! Does that look like power? I know you truly believe in the greatness that is our family but outside your bubble, the Callahans are just like the hahdo boys from Milie.”

  It took all my strength not to beat the shit out of his little ungrateful bitch ass. “Get the fuck off my jet.”

  “Like I told you, it’s—”

  BANG!

  BANG!

  BANG!

  BANG!

  BANG!

  The shots seemed never-ending and the only thing that crossed my mind was to run toward the door, toward the bullets…Ivy!

  I was prepared for the worst, for blood, for death.

  However, by the time I got outside I saw neither blood nor death. Ivy rose slowly by the side of the old black Dodge, Greyson shielding her.

  “Apparently, we got jokers in the city,” Lex yelled to me, lifting up a string of homemade fireworks still smoking.

  Still gripping the gun in my hand tightly, I silently walked over to Ivy. She dusted off her scraped up hands.

  “I’m fine,” she answered, though I did not ask the question. However, I was not. This made the second time I’d let her out of my sight for merely a moment and she’d gotten hurt. And there would not be a third.

  “Ethan, I’m fine, really.” She laughed it off, though I could tell she wasn’t fine. She was shaken.

  “Sir.” Greyson handed me the phone as it rang, both of us knowing who it was.

  “Welcome to Boston, Mr. Callahan,” Cillian spoke on the other line. “I hope you didn’t mind the fireworks.”

  I didn’t speak.

  “Huh.” He snickered. “I guess you did not. And here I thought, what are a few sparks between friends? Let’s not dwell on it. In fact, we’re having a block party this afternoon. You and my cousin should come. She should remember the way.”