Chapter Nine

Dylan

It was impossible to get Emma off my mind. Peeling myself away from her bed was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. With her, the world faded and everything simplified. It was just us. Lost in a cocoon. As soon as I left her apartment, the real world swooped back in and smacked me across the face. My brother was dead, my parents’ in anguish, the biggest decisions of my life and career were still waiting.

After a few hours crashing in my old bedroom, I woke and found a house full of relatives and family members in town for the funeral that would take place in a couple of days. I came from a big Irish family, and we all pulled together in times of darkness.

I’d already told my parents’ I’d pay for everything, they didn’t need the additional burden, but they turned away the money. Pops was a proud man. I explained to him as a SEAL, I made decent money and didn’t have much in the way of expenses. I didn’t own a house or even a car. I also invested the good majority of my salary and played the stock market off and on with a small slice of it. I wasn’t rich, but I’d hit on a few good stocks, and I had more than I needed. It took a while, but they finally accepted.

Uncle Paddy was among the faces around the breakfast table, though everyone gave deference to my dad, the head of the family, the grieving father. When no one seemed to know what to say to him, I took over, talked about sports to lighten things up. I could see the relief in his eyes.

My aunts and uncles and cousins asked me questions as we all ate together, mostly in regard to my military service and the places I’d been able to travel. I had to leave out a lot of details, but I answered what I could and kept the conversation light. It was much needed in the shadow of the heavy night before and the dark days that no doubt lay ahead.

After the meal, my mother shooed me from the kitchen, and Uncle Paddy asked me to join him outside on the back porch while he had a smoke. I’d smoked as a teen and occasionally partook. When we got outside, he offered one to me and I took it. “These damn things will kill you, ya know?”

Uncle Paddy shrugged. “Yeah, well, something’s gonna.”

I leaned in to the flame he offered from his silver lighter. One of the fat, old school ones, with the Malloy crest. If I remembered right, my father had given it to him on the day he married my mother. Paddy’d served as his best man. I watched him pocket it and briefly wondered if I’d ever have to worry about a gift for my best man. Back before joining the Navy, I’d imagined what it would be like to stand at the altar, waiting for Emma to appear in a white gown. She’d no doubt look like an angel.

An angel I didn’t deserve. Especially not now.

“You holding up?” Paddy asked around his own cigarette.

I nodded.

“You left early last night.”

“I needed some air.”

Uncle Paddy watched me out of the corner of his eye. “You sure that’s all you found?”

I shifted my gaze to him.

He shrugged. “Emma Flannigan left right after you. People were talking . . .”

I scoffed and knocked some of the ashes into the coffee can my mom kept on the back porch for such purposes. “That’s all it is, Paddy. Talk.”

He considered me a moment longer but then relented with a quick nod. “I figured.”

“Any word on those suppliers?”

To my surprise, he nodded. He fished a slip of paper from the back pocket of his jeans. “Here’s the address.”

I took the paper and unfolded it. I didn’t know the address, but was familiar with the general area. “Where’d you get it?”

“Asked around. Apparently, they’ve been moving into this side of town. From what I could gather, it’s a liquor distributor but maybe there’s more to it. They’re Irish, but nobody seems to know where they came from.”

“You think they’re running something else? Guns? Drugs?”

“I don’t know. It could be. Or it could be legit.”

I pocketed the slip. “Thanks, Paddy.”

“Just promise me you’ll be careful, lad. I can’t bear to see your parents’ go through another tragedy.”

I gave a solemn nod.

We stared out at the postage stamp backyard. A thin layer of frost covered everything, but in the spring and summer it was transformed into a little oasis in the middle of the dull neighborhood. A hedge of roses lined the back wall of the fence with smaller plants in front. The small patio would have the wooden yard furniture and a big umbrella. Often times it was a gathering place in the neighborhood. People would come over for lemonade or a beer and talk for hours until long after the sun went down. My dad would fire up the grill and feed half the neighborhood. It’d been too long since the last time I’d been present at one.

Paddy cleared his throat and put out his cigarette. “Any thought on what your next move is?”

“I figure I’ll go poke around, see if I can find someone who will talk to me.”

Paddy frowned. “I mean about the future. You got a few weeks here. Then what? You shipping off again?”

The cigarette dangling between my lips lost all appeal. I put it out and then leaned back against the railing of the small porch. “That’s the plan.”

Paddy leveled me with a firm stare. “It’s been eight years, son. When are you coming home for good?”

I sighed and rubbed a hand over the back of my neck. “Paddy—”

“Your parents’ worry sick with you so far away.”

“I know.”

“It’s time, son. You need to come home, take over the family business. Your dad is killing himself trying to hold them all together. Not to speak ill of Jimmy, but he wasn’t pulling his weight. When you entered the military, you told your ma eight years. Well son, it’s been just about eight years now, and it’s time you come home. You’ve done your service to your country. Now come home and take care of your family.”

I bristled but kept myself in check.

Paddy, sensing my resistance, held up a hand. “Think about it. That’s all I’m asking ya.”

I held his stare for a moment and then nodded. “I will.”

He clapped me on the back before turning to go inside. “Good man.”

***

I waited until nightfall to go down to the docks. The address Paddy’d given me was a little tricky to find, tucked away in a series of gray buildings that all looked the same. A chain link fence surrounded the place, so I parked across the street and waited. About an hour after arriving, a white delivery truck pulled up to the gate. A man jumped out of the passenger seat, unlatched the gate, and waited for the truck to pull through. They disappeared around a warehouse for about fifteen minutes, then turned the corner and stopped. The same guy got out, unlocked the gate, and the truck came on through. He locked the place back up tight and hopped back in the idling truck. What the fuck, I wondered. Did they make a delivery or a pickup? I threw my car into action and pulled out after they were half a mile away, following them through town. We ended up parked under a flashing sign I recognized—O’Doul’s.

Two men got out of the truck and sauntered into the bar. I watched them go, wondering if they knew anything about Jimmy’s dealings. In the end, there was only one way to find out. I cut the engine, got out of my dad’s car, and followed after them. I’d been to O’Doul’s once or twice but it was never a hangout for us. Tonight, the place was dark and practically empty. The two men sat at the end of the bar, and the bartender chatted with them in a way that suggested they were loyal customers. Or maybe even family, judging from their similar builds and features.

I took a stool a few down and ordered a beer. The two men were lost in their own conversation and didn’t notice me at first. When I got the beer, I took a long sip and then jerked my chin in the bartender’s direction. “This is a good draft.”

The bartender nodded.

“You know, I run a pub on the other side of town. Who would I call to get this into my place?”

As predicted, the two men beside me turned. The bartender glanced their way. “Actually, you’re looking at my supply chain right now.”

I leaned against the bar. “Is that so?”

The men stood and wandered down to close the gap between us. The shorter one wore a green shirt and was the one I’d recognized as the passenger of the truck. I stuck out a hand. “Nice to meet you. Maybe we can make a deal.”

“Perhaps so.” The taller one shook my hand first. “Where’s your place?”

“Malloy’s. West side.”

The shorter one looked up at his partner, falling short of actually gulping. I’d love to play poker against him.

I considered the two men carefully. “You know it?”

The taller one slid onto a bar stool, leaving one between us. “We already have an arrangement with Malloy’s. Yet, somehow, you’re not familiar.”

“Do you now?” I cocked my head. “Then I’m sure you’ll have heard the news that my brother, Jimmy, was murdered a few days ago. Gunned down in his own pub.”

I watched the shorter one and was surprised when he looked genuinely unaware.

“I hadn’t heard,” the taller one said. “You’re Jimmy’s brother?”

“That’s right. I’ve been away for the past few years.”

“That’s right,” he smiled. “You’re the Army hero.”

I fanned my hands on the bar. “Navy, actually.”

“Oh huh. Right.”

The shorter one nodded. “We’re sorry to hear about what happened to your brother.”

“Thank you.” I sipped at my beer. “See, I’m going to be taking over the bar now that Jimmy’s gone. So, fill me in.”

They exchanged a glance. “How about we get a table? Get to know each other a little better?”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

I followed their lead, and we took the booth in the far corner despite the fact the bar was practically vacant. I sat opposite them and sprawled my arms out along the vinyl booth. “So, who are you?”

“Just call me Weeks,” the taller one said. “This is Bernie.”

“Just call me Mr. Malloy.”

Weeks nodded. “Jimmy came to us a couple years ago. Said he wasn’t happy with his suppliers and wanted to cut some better deals.”

“On booze?”

Bernie smirked. “And a few other things—”

“Such as?”

Bernie glanced around like he was a corner scout watching for cops. Then he plowed on as though we were in a soundproof booth. Clearly comfortable. “I’ll shoot straight with you, Malloy. Jimmy needed to create a second cash flow. He had some debts and needed to find a way to stop the bleeding. We made the arrangements.”

“What are we talking here? Drugs? Weapons?”

“Pussy.”

I sat back. Emma’s words came back to me. She thought there had been working girls at the pub. “You’re saying my brother was some kind of pimp?”

Brain shrugged a single shoulder. “He provided a safe place for our girls to work.”

“At the pub?”

Weeks, satisfied we weren’t being overheard, chimed in. “Two of the vacant apartments in the building are used for an escort service. It’s a simple arrangement, really. The girls meet their dates at the bar, money is exchanged and held until the end of the night, and the girls go take care of business in one of the apartments. When the pub shuts down, the girls would get their cut from Jimmy. He takes his cut. The rest goes to us.”

That knocked my head back. If Pops knew his solid, working class apartment building filled with God-fearing tenants who paid their rent on time and slapped their kids on the back of the head if they cursed at the dinner table was being used as a whorehouse, he’d have a fucking stroke. But I didn’t show anything. “What kind of split are we talking?”

“Twenty, twenty, sixty.”

I scoffed, “And I’m assuming you get the sixty.”

Weeks shrugged. “Cost of doing business. Trust me, everyone has more than enough.”

I shook my head. “And no one has caught on to this? The neighbors don’t think it’s weird a bunch of half-naked chicks are taking home a different guy every hour?”

Both of the numb-nuts laughed. “The apartments they use are leased to the girls. They live there as so-called,” and here he threw a pair of air quotes, “roommates. Who could judge a bunch of single women for having healthy sexual appetites?”

Paddy would be furious if he found out. I couldn’t even think about my pops. To know the apartments that he had busted his ass for all those years had been turned into brothels…

I couldn’t let them find out. It would ruin Jimmy’s memory and humiliate my family.

I leaned forward. “As I said at the start of this conversation, I’m in charge now. And I’m not as keen on this business venture as my brother. Whatever deal you had, died along with my brother. I’ll honor whatever distribution contracts are on the table, and the girls can stay through the end of the week. Give ‘em time to pack up and get out. But the girls don’t work there anymore. We clear?”

Bernie’s smirk faded. “No, I’m afraid we’re not. We had an agreement. You can’t come in and—”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Bernie. I can and I will. I’ll be at the pub every night as soon as it reopens, and if I so much as catch of whiff of prostitutes creeping around, I’ll be coming back for you.”

Weeks put a hand between Bernie and me. “Why start a war, brother? Surely we can figure this out.”

“My deal is more than fair, and it’s final.” I pushed up from the table. “Nice chat, gentlemen. Have a good night.”

I felt their eyes on me with every step I took back to the front doors. I paused to drop a twenty on the bar and gave the bartender a two-finger wave before heading out to the car.