Rake: A Dark Boston Irish Mafia Romance (The Carneys Book 1)

by Sophie Austin

  “No!” Her voice shakes with anger. “I don’t want your filthy money. I’ll go, but I’ll wear my own goddamn clothes.” She grabs for the door handle but I stop her. I just watch her for a few seconds. The bruises on her neck are obvious up close. I don’t want her father seeing them. I unwind the scarf from my neck and put it around hers.

  I look at her house, and then back at her. “I didn’t want your father seeing. Your neck, I mean.”

  “I don’t need your charity,” she hisses. But she doesn’t take the scarf off. I turn off the car and open her door. I know she doesn’t want anything to do with me right now, but I want her father to see me.

  Benjamin pulls the door open as I walk her up the path.

  “Sasha! You’re back already?”

  “I am. I missed you.” She moves her hand as if to ruffle his hair but lets it fall. Doesn’t want to treat him like a little kid in front of me. She’s heard the things I’ve said and took my advice even after how I behaved. She’s someone who knows how to synthesize important ideas even from people she doesn’t like. Could I put my ego aside like that? It’s a kind of strength I don’t know that I possess.

  I walk with them to the door. Her repulsive father is in his usual seat—I can see him from where I stand. He looks over at me and smirks. I stare back, icy and cold. I make sure he looks away first.

  “Take care of her,” I say to Benjamin.

  She bristles, but Benjamin nods.

  “Call me if you need anything,” I say. “Either of you. I’ll see you on Thursday, Sasha. 7:30.”

  I watch her walk inside before heading back to my car.

  What have I gotten myself into? And would any of us get out of this unscathed? Probably not. Either way, after Thursday I may never see Sasha again. But I’d rather it be because she hates me for losing the union than because my father has finished the job on her or her brother. I put my car in gear, and my phone lights up. It’s the photographer from the event—he works for one of the local newspapers.

  “Hey, Gene,” I say. “What’s going on?”

  He asks me what I thought he would. I look over at Sasha’s house again.

  “You know me—I see a beautiful woman and I can’t help myself. We’ve been together for a little while, though. She’s amazing. Name’s Sasha Saunders.”

  Gene thanks me for the details and hangs up. I head back home to finish up that whisky.

  11

  Sasha

  I watch Finn’s ridiculous car drive off. I’d been insane to let my guard down with him earlier. But he has these moments of genuine openness that I find difficult to resist.

  I’d been right earlier, though, when I thought I’d been missing something. He was letting me leave because he had another ace up his sleeve. This ridiculous gala. He’d bring me to his father and let him intimidate me.

  We’ll see about that.

  I’m going to make my own plans for the gala.

  Benjamin walks with me toward the stairs.

  “That guy toss you to the curb already?” my father bellows from his chair. “Too bad. Maybe if you did something with your hair.”

  “Look who’s talking,” Benjamin whispers, helping me climb up to the second floor. “You okay?”

  “I am.” I’m not really fine, but I can’t have that conversation with my brother. I do need to warn him about Finn, though. “Listen, Benjamin, Finn is a complicated guy.”

  “He’s rich as fuck, that’s for sure.”

  “Yes and no. He’s the son of the casino owner, James Carney.”

  Benjamin freezes. “What?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He told me you fell outside of his building.”

  “I did.” Technically it’s the truth. I don’t want to lie to Benjamin, but I also don’t want to give him information that puts him in danger. He doesn’t need to know about P.J. “His father is still mad about the union.”

  “Boo fucking hoo.” Benjamin slicks a hand through his blond hair. “I’m still mad his goons beat the shit out of my sister. No wonder he told me he could help me find the assholes who did it.”

  “Please don’t.” I grab his arm. “Let’s just get the hell out of here in one piece, please?”

  He doesn’t look convinced.

  “He’s dangerous.”

  “Then why are you going out with him on Thursday?” Benjamin folds his arms over his chest. I look up at him. When did my baby brother get so tall?

  “I have to. For work. We’ll be in a public space.” I finish the sentence with a big yawn.

  He stares at me. He’s too young to be dealing with all this.

  So are you, Sasha.

  Dr. Smith’s kindness unleashed a wave of anguish I’m not equipped to deal with. I just want to sleep. My brother seems to get this, and he sighs.

  “Get some rest. I’ll order a pizza.”

  I nod and hobble into my room. God, what a weekend it’s been. I’m going to use a sick day tomorrow. Carney will be served in the late afternoon, so there’s nothing I can really do in the office anyway. Besides, there’s something else I need to get done now that’s directly related to this work.

  I text Jamilah. What time are you going in tomorrow?

  I don’t work Mondays.

  Can you let the Monday crew know that the NLRB is serving papers tomorrow?

  The next text is full of exclamation point emojis.

  Hell yeah. I know it’s going to be a fight to get people to vote but I hope Carney pops a hemorrhoid at the news, evil son of a bitch. Him and any of the managers that kiss his saggy ass.

  I wonder about asking my next question. I consider Jamilah a friend, but I don’t want to violate any boundaries. But I could use her help.

  Do you have time to get together tomorrow? It’s about the casino, but not directly. I need help finding a dress.

  Jamilah is one of the most fashionable women I know, and dresses well on a budget.

  FINALLY. YES. Meet me at the Ashmont subway station at 10am?

  I’m worried that I’m putting Jamilah in danger, but the goal is to help her and the rest of the staff.

  My phone lights up again.

  I know what you’re thinking. We’re gonna hit up Mattapan. No fucking way the Carneys’ bougie asses see us there.

  She’s amazing. I tell her that and prop my crutches against my dresser. I take off Finn’s scarf. The material is soft, but strong and warm. I fold it up and put it on my dresser. I almost feel bad for him. Dr. Smith is right—Finn is a product of his environment in the same way I’m a product of mine, but he also had far more opportunities than I did.

  It won’t be good for him when his plan to use me as a prop at the gala backfires, but he’s a grown man. He can deal with at least as much as I have. The sad part is that I believe that he doesn’t want to hurt me.

  But there are so many ways to be hurt, and why bother trading one version for another? I do need to face what I’ve been through. I realize that now more than ever. I need to believe I deserve to be treated with kindness. But I need to get through the next week first.

  Strangely, I find that I miss Finn, or maybe it’s just his excellent water pressure and expensive sheets. Still, it’s a relief to be able to change into my pajamas and be in my own bed in some ways. I lock my bedroom door, hoping I’ll be able to sleep without being plagued by nightmares tonight, but I worry I’ll be hung up on dreams about Finn’s caresses instead.

  As intoxicating as his touch is, I need to stop thinking about it. Need to stop thinking about him as anything other than an extension of James Carney.

  The next day, I meet Jamilah at Ashmont Station and give her a hug. She takes in my crutches and shakes her head. I have Finn’s scarf on. I shouldn’t, but it’s too nice to not use. Once in a while I catch a hint of his cologne and I flush remembering its smoky scent on his neck as he made me orgasm the other day.

  “What happened?” she asks. She looks amazing, wearing a bright red frock coat, a gorgeous f
lower-printed head wrap, and brown boots with three-inch heels. In the snow. I wish I had a tenth of her style.

  “Carney set his goon on me. I guess Finn hasn’t been doing his fair share to crush the rebellion, so James had his thug drop me off as a little loyalty test.”

  We head over to the Mattapan trolley line.

  “Did he hurt you?” she asks, the words catching in her throat.

  “No. The goon did all this. Finn took me to the family doctor, which was weird.”

  “What a gentleman,” she sneers. “I hope both of them get socked in the mouth by karma.” She takes my hand. “Sasha, I’m so sorry I got you into this. I knew it’d be hard, but I genuinely didn’t expect you to be hurt.”

  “It’s not your fault.” We board the trolley, and I sit next to the window. Jamilah hates how this train passes through Cedar Grove cemetery. Thinks it disturbs the dead. I hope any nearby spirits find my mother and grandmother and ask them to look out for me. “Neither of us expected this. It feels like being in a stupid mob movie. I always thought those were exaggerations.”

  She slides in next to me. She’s tall and willowy, like a model. I always feel so dull next to her.

  “What’s our next play?”

  I tell her about the gala, as well as Dr. Smith’s advice.

  “I wrote it all up,” I say, “for the reporter Dr. Smith told me about. I’m not going to send it unless I have to, but I packaged it up with some pictures.”

  “You’ll send it to me as backup, right?”

  “Yep, I did to your personal email. It’s the nuclear option, so I want to be absolutely sure it’s the right time.”

  I have an idea for the gala that I want to try first. If I go to the press too soon and Carney hasn’t made any moves against the election yet, it won’t have the same impact. I need to make the connections between his attacks and the unionization attempts as explicit as possible. Carney is smart, and oily enough to wriggle out of what might seem like ironclad evidence of wrongdoing. It’s a complicated game of chess.

  I bet Finn is amazing at chess.

  “Why do you think he wants you to come to this party?”

  “So his dad can intimidate me in person.”

  Jamilah looks at me curiously. “Are you sure that’s the only reason?”

  “It’s my best guess,” I say.

  “It’s not because he wants the staff to see you two together? Like as a couple?”

  I laugh. “Oh for fuck’s sake. How could he believe anyone would think that? My personal integrity aside, Finn’s family had me brutally assaulted, and he’s a rich, handsome playboy who could have any girl he wants. He’s not going to slum it with some poor, homely loser.”

  There’s little question I’d imagined the desire in his eyes. I’m trying to convince myself that my desire for him also wasn’t real.

  “Look at me.”

  I’m still laughing when I face Jamilah.

  “Don’t talk about yourself like you’re trash. Just because people treat you like trash doesn’t mean you are trash. You’re better than Finn Carney. You’re better than his whole fucking family. Money can’t buy class, and we’ll show them that. People won’t believe you’re with him because you’re too good for him. And honey, you’re not homely. Not in the least. You’re gorgeous, and when we’re done everyone will know it. And hopefully that will include you.”

  It’s so hard to believe this when I’ve been told by my father that I’m useless my entire life. The man who was charged with raising and protecting me treats me like his personal maid and punching bag.

  “It’s true,” she insists. “And when this is over, you’re going to be California dreaming with that sweet little brother of yours and marry a hot surfer who also happens to be loaded. Your no-good father can get swallowed up by his moldy recliner.”

  “It’s a distinct possibility, the recliner part,” I say. “But thank you.”

  “Besides, I didn’t think it was you in that picture anyway.”

  My stomach drops.

  We pass over the frozen Neponset River out toward Mattapan station.

  “What picture?”

  “Oh it was in the society section of the paper this morning. Everyone was talking about it. Finn was kissing someone at some fancy event in the Athenaeum. You couldn’t see the woman’s face, but she had the same hair color and length as yours. The caption had your name on it. But it’s Finn Carney. He’s kissed a lot of women and I’m sure he’ll continue to. That’s what I said, anyway, when people asked me about it.”

  But I’d kissed him. He’d kissed me first, sure, but pulled away. And I wanted more and felt bold enough to go for it. It’d been a mistake. A big one.

  “Jamilah,” I say. “That was me.”

  I can’t lie to her. Not with so much at stake.

  She laughs. “Baby, you are too honest.”

  I must look as confused as I feel.

  “Honey, I was lying. I knew that was you. I recognized your clothes. You could’ve taken the out I offered you. You don’t always have to be a hundred percent up front about everything all the time.”

  “No,” I say, “I don’t, but I do have to be up front and honest with you. There are things about him I really like. And it’s a shame he didn’t follow his better instincts. It’d be a mistake to act on any feelings I have for him, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have any. It won’t impact my work. He’ll hate me after the gala, trust me.”

  We enter the station and exit the trolley.

  “Just take care of yourself, honey,” she says. “Finn is slick. He’s smarter and better than his daddy, but that doesn’t make him nearly good enough for you, or even someone you should trust.”

  “You’re right,” I say. “Still, I want to make him regret his bad decisions when he sees me. Do you think you could help me with that?”

  “Can I?” She shakes her head at me. “I wish you’d let me do this a long time ago.”

  We head to the downtown area. Mattapan has a bad reputation as a high crime area and earned the nickname “Murderpan” for a reason. But like many places, it’s more about knowing where you’re going, respecting the rules of the neighborhood, and not sticking your nose in the wrong people’s business than anything else. If you follow those general rules, no one is going to bother you.

  I’m fast on these crutches, and can keep up with Jamilah pretty easily as we walk over to the store she told me about. It’s a cute little boutique that sells secondhand clothes.

  “The clothes here are a bit pricier than your typical stuff at Savers, but it’s nicer and still affordable,” she says, opening the door for me. “We’ll find something here that’ll knock them out.”

  She waves to the woman behind the counter, and we start going through the racks. She pulls out a few things, holds them up to me, and shakes her head.

  “Petite, busty girls are hard to dress,” Jamilah says, putting yet another dress back. “And I know your Momma didn’t have a lot of time to help you with all this.”

  I glance at my clothes. I’ve never been able to spend much time or money on myself. I’d also always been embarrassed about my body: I’d gotten breasts sooner than the other girls, and the comments from the boys made me uncomfortable. My mother warned me not to get in trouble like she did, and I tried to make myself as invisible as possible. I loved my mother, but I didn’t want her life.

  But I ended up with it anyway.

  So maybe it’s time for a change. I can fight for myself in ways other than being invisible. I’m going to be very visible at the gala.

  “Oh, this could be it!” She pulls a black dress off the rack. “V-neck is excellent for busty women and look.” She points to a black ribbon that winds around the waist. “Cinches in at the natural waist, and an A-line skirt to balance things out.” She holds it up to me. “Try it on.”

  I slip into the dressing room. Getting into the dress with my injured ankle is awkward, but not too bad. I leave the scarf on an
d come out to show Jamilah.

  She claps her hands together, a dazzling smile lighting up her face.

  “Hot damn, you look amazing! Why have you been hiding in all those shapeless clothes?” She points at Finn’s scarf. “Can I see the neckline without the scarf?”

  “You’re going to get upset.”

  “Sasha...” Her eyes widen in concern.

  Sighing, I unwind the scarf and show her the bruises.

  She’s quiet for a minute, her eyes blazing. “Okay,” she says. “Okay. We’ll get you some makeup next.” She looks me over and takes a deep breath before smiling cheekily. “And a better bra.”

  I feel a little naked in the V-neck. It shows off cleavage I’m used to covering up, but I have to admit, I look slimmer than I normally do.

  “See?” she says, patting my waist. “You’re a small girl, but when you wear those potato sacks it hides your incredible shape.” She plucks at the hemline of the skirt. “Hmm. Can you sew? This should come up another two inches so it’s just over your knee.”

  I’m not a super talented seamstress, but I can do simple repairs and hems on my grandmother’s old sewing machine. The skirt flares out, but it’s a nice, thick cotton. Should be easy enough.

  “Are you sure?” I ask. “It doesn’t look trashy?” My mother’s voice echoes in my ears. She just wanted to keep me safe, I know, but she didn’t always comment on my body in the kindest way.

  “You’re a young woman, Sasha. A fit, beautiful young woman who deserves to show off what she’s working with. You are absolutely right that you don’t need Finn’s money to look good. Trust me, you look stunning, and your curves are nothing to be ashamed of. A million girls would kill for a body like yours.”

  I touch the straps on the dress. They’re only about an inch wide. Jamilah senses my discomfort and laughs.

  “This is where the bra comes in. We should get you a few more things while we’re here, and then I know a place.”

  I end up spending only fifty dollars for a bag full of clothes, including some jewelry and a pair of nice metallic flats to wear with my dress. “Normally heels with this,” Jamilah had told me. “But not with that ankle.” It’s more than I normally spend, but still a hell of a lot less than whatever Finn would’ve insisted I spend for one dress.