Chapter Six

Dylan

“You think we can get it done before tonight?” Uncle Paddy asked as he came in from the storage room with a can of paint.

I reached across the wooden slab bar. “Hand over that can, and we’ll do our damndest.”

Uncle Paddy passed the can of paint to me. “This is the wall color. We had some leftover after we did it up last time.”

I’d spackled over the bullet holes in the wall, and the plaster was just about dry to the touch. A few coats of paint and it would be like nothing had ever happened. A few of the Malloy cousins had come over early in the morning to rip up the thin carpet that covered the dining room floor where Jimmy had placed the pool table and a majority of the tables. A beautiful hardwood floor lay underneath, but Uncle Paddy said the carpet was there to protect it from scratches. Something about resale value. Personally, I figured it would look nicer with the dark wood showing throughout, but it wasn’t my bar. It was only my job to get it up and running for the wake later that night.

The official funeral would be held in the following days, once the arrangements could be made, but we would honor Jimmy with an Irish wake as soon as night fell.

As I continued sweeping behind the bar, I briefly wondered if Emma would show up. It seemed obvious that she would want to stop by and pay her respects. I only hoped I hadn’t driven her away. Still, right or wrong, the burning kiss and the feel of her body against mine had me stirring all through the night.

“I went to the station this morning,” Paddy volunteered as he cracked open the lid on the paint can.

I went still. “You did?” Must have been when I’d hit Kelly’s Boxing Gym to spend an hour pounding the bag and skipping rope. I couldn’t go soft while I was home, and I’d decided it was a good way to start my day and try to wear out the misery that built up during the night.

“I have some buddies over there. I cut their hair and sometimes they come into the bar.”

I moved the broom over the floor. “What’d they say? Any news?”

Uncle Paddy heaved a sigh. “Not much that’s of use. Someone in the neighborhood saw the getaway car. When the cops canvassed the area, they said they wrote down the part of the plate they could get. Luckily, one of the security cameras at the corner store picked up a car with the same last four numbers and the cops think it must be the one.”

I turned toward Paddy. “That’s great. Did they pull the info on the registration?”

His face fell. “Unfortunately, no. Seems it was stolen.”

“Shit.” I went back to sweeping. “Maybe they can at least track it down and get prints. DNA or something to nail these fuckers.”

“Afraid not. They found the car this morning.”

My heart went still. “And . . .?”

“It was down by the docks. Burnt to a crisp. Looks like it was deliberate.”

I twisted the broom handle until the friction burned my palms. “Fuck!”

“They’ll keep looking, son. At least they’re putting it at the top of their priority list. Lot of times this shit gets chalked up to gang violence and is swept under the rug.”

I shook my head. “Is that what it is, though?”

I craned around and looked at my uncle. He was a mirror image of my father, just a few years younger. The two of them had the same salt and pepper hair, large noses, and ears that stuck out a little farther than most. The eyes were the most striking similarity. A color of gray that could be light and friendly but turn to thunderstorms in a split second.

“Emma told me that she thought Tommy and Jimmy might have been getting into some trouble. You know anything about it?”

Paddy pushed up from his crouched place on the ground where he’d been assembling his painting supplies. “Listen, son,” he started with a heavy sigh. “It’s not been the same since you left.”

My jaw tensed.

“Jimmy got into a little trouble a few years back.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Money trouble. He was riding high after he won this place off Frankie . . .” Paddy paused to shake his head, though I wasn’t sure if it was directed at his own son or Jimmy. Paddy was a dabbler. His barbershop, a few investment properties he rented out, then he owned the bar for a few years before turning it over to Frankie, the one deal he regretted. “Anyway, he made some bad debts. Got in over his head. The more he lost, the more he bet. He figured he’d win eventually and pay it all off.”

My hands fisted around the broom so tight I could’ve snapped it clean in two. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Uncle Paddy frowned at me. “Lad, you had bigger things to worry about. You need a clear mind to be doing what you do.”

I bristled at how he explained it as though it were new information to me. “I would’ve helped him.”

“I know. We all knew that. I told Jimmy he needed to come clean with your folks. You and me both know your pops would have helped him clear this shit up.”

“Or I would have.”

Uncle Paddy nodded. “He didn’t want help, Dylan. He insisted on doing it himself. You know how he could be. Stubborn.”

“What happened? You think this is retaliation for a bad debt? Hard to collect money off a corpse.” I winced at my own harsh words.

“I don’t know what happened. He wouldn’t tell me. All I know is something changed. One day he’s walking around scared of his own shadow and the next, he’s buying a new car and dating some woman from the other side of the tracks.”

I frowned and my brows furrowed together. “Where did he get the cash?”

“I don’t know. I figured he won some tournament or high stakes game.”

“What about his crowd? Did that change? Obviously, Tommy was around, but who else? There must have been new people hanging around. Where did Tara come from?”

“No one knows where Tara came from. He said he met her at a bar when he was in New York City. They were long distance for a little while then she moved here. Aside from that, I know he was working with a couple new suppliers for the bar. Business was good, and Jimmy needed a hand. The barbershop was running like clockwork. I have a couple guys working the extra chairs for me so I came on as a part-time manager a few years back. Help the kid out, ya know. Did the ordering, kept tabs on inventory. It was second nature to me, and I liked being back in the game. I got a few visits from the regular suppliers who said he’d torn up the contracts. I asked him about it, but he just said he found better deals. There wasn’t much I could do.”

“Who are the new suppliers?”

“He’s been getting liquor from some new Irish organization. I did a little digging but couldn’t find much.”

“You mention that to the cops?”

“Should I?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. It seems a little too coincidental for me. He’s down and out, then suddenly he’s got a surge of cash and then switches the suppliers for the bar all around? What would be the point of that? You’ve worked with the same people for a dozen years before you handed the reins to Frankie.”

Uncle Paddy nodded. “I asked Frankie. He doesn’t know either. He and Jimmy never went back to the way they were after Jimmy won the bar off him in the bet.”

“Understandable.”

“He’ll be here tonight though, if you wanna ask him. See what he might know.”

“Thanks. I’ll do that.”

Uncle Paddy bent and picked up his brush, coated in the thick paint. “All right, let’s get this place up and running. Your ma will be here in a few hours with the decorations. I don’t want her to see any of this.”

“Sure thing,” I said, hurrying to get back to sweeping.

***

There was a certain comfort in being surrounded by the people I’d grown up with all my life. Family and the friends that may as well be called family. Everyone gathered in the bar until it was standing room only. A table had been turned into a shrine for Jimmy. His senior picture in the center, surrounded by a handful of others that my mother and father had picked out together earlier in the day. A few flowers sat amongst the photos and a handful of candles were lit. At the last minute someone said, “What about Tommy and Petey?” Their families hadn’t made plans for a wake so we said, sure and got some photos of them and put them on the pool table with flowers, too. But there was no mistaking. It was Jimmy’s bar. It was Jimmy’s wake.

The crowd was quiet considering its size. Most people spoke in hushed tones as they made their way through the room, saying hello to everyone. A few people carried handkerchiefs and tissues and cried softly into them. Others wore the blank look of dazed soldiers walking away from battle. I knew the look all too well.

No one could believe Jimmy was really gone.

Hell, I stared at the photo of him smiling back at me and couldn’t believe it myself. I half expected him to walk in from the back room with a rowdy holler and laugh when everyone’s jaws hit the floor.

But no. It wasn’t a sick prank or a terrible case of mistaken identity. Jimmy was gone. I was suddenly an only child. I glanced at my parents’ who were cloistered away in the corner with Uncle Paddy, his girlfriend, and a few of their closest friends.

Dad caught my eye. He excused himself from the group and came over to me with a look that said something heavy was weighing him down. After we toasted Jimmy’s picture once more with our beer bottles, he said, “You turned in that rental car yet?”

Even with all that was going on could I have expected anything else from my pops? Men of his generation lived and died by their cars.

“I’ll need it while I’m here. I have it parked in the alley in the back. Is it in your way?”

“No need to throw good money after bad on that rental shit, son. Use my car. If I have to go anyplace, take your mother to the doctor or something, I’ll use Jimmy’s car. He keeps the keys in a box behind the bar.”

So that was it. He was still my pops, looking out for me. I had to turn away for a second as that fact ricocheted off my gut. Then it hit me. I’m all he’s got left.

He reached into his pocket for his car keys and teared up as he handed them to me, a ritual we’d passed through when I was eighteen and never thought we’d have to revisit. Letting me drive the family car.

What did I care about the cost of a rental car? But I said, “Sure, Pops, thanks. This’ll help out,” swallowing hard against the knot in my throat.

As the booze started flowing, the party kicked into gear, but I had work to do. I’d already cornered Frankie on Paddy’s advice, but he didn’t know any more than what Paddy had already told me. He did say that he thought Jimmy might have gotten the sudden influx of cash from less than legitimate means but didn’t have much in the way of details or proof besides a hunch and the suspicious timing of it all.

The pieces were still scattered through my mind and with each new addition, the picture only seemed to get muddier. I had no idea why Jimmy would have gotten in so deep with poker games and other gambling ventures. It wasn’t like him. Sure, he’d always been the restless one. I’d joined the Navy and escaped Brighton at the first chance I got whereas Jimmy had stayed home. People often thought I was the risk-seeker of the pair, but it wasn’t true. At least not entirely. I’d joined the Navy to get away from the suffocating feel of my hometown. I had no interest in running a barbershop like Paddy or collecting rent checks like my pops or tossing drunks out of a bar for the rest of my life. The Malloys owned half the storefronts in our section of the neighborhood. It was expected for both Jimmy and me to grow up and take the reins from our father, just as Paddy’s son, Frankie, took the bar from him. Instead, I’d signed up to get as far away from that family tradition as possible.

I grabbed a beer from the tray on the bar and slipped out the side door. The crush of people with sad, pitying looks on their faces was too much. I needed air and space to breath. I sat down on the back stoop. The cement was cold enough to bite through my trousers, but I didn’t care about the frost in the air or the wind nipping at my cheeks. I drank the beer slowly and stared up into the starless sky. Logically, I knew it was the same heavens, but it appeared different than the sky I’d grown used to in the desert. Almost alien to me now.

I shook my head at my own wandering thoughts. “I’m sorry, Jimmy. I’m sorry I ran away instead of staying here to take my place as the leader. The guard dog. I should’ve been here, looking out for you. Maybe then you’d be sitting here with me like the last time I was home. You remember?” I stared at the sky, as though expecting a reply. I scoffed at myself. “We sat out here drinking whiskey, talking about life. You asked me if I’d gotten desperate enough to fuck a camel. Remember that? I’d only been a SEAL a few months.” I gave an empty laugh. “Still haven’t, in case you’re wondering.”

The next few swallows of beer turned bitter in my mouth as the smile fell away and tears pricked at the backs of my eyes. “It should’ve been me, man. I should be the one with my picture on that table in there. It would’ve been expected, ya know? I was the bat shit crazy one running around in the dead of night against the bogeys with fucking machine guns and RPGs. Mom and Pops would’ve been devastated, but at least it wouldn’t have been so sudden. Somehow everyone would’ve been more prepared. But this . . .” My voice trailed away and got lost in the bleak night.

The door opened, and I turned to find Emma standing in the doorway. She looked surprised to see me but didn’t retreat back inside. Instead, she came and sat beside me. For a long while, neither of us said a word.