by J. J. McAvoy
The bastard hung up, and I knew he was fucking testing me.
ETHAN
“9-1-1 what’s your emergency—”
“Hello? I’m at old Irish Hill diner…I just heard gunshots…There is a black man covered in blood.” I hung up and tossed the phone out the window. I closed my eyes, wondering how exactly he was going to get out of that mess, but if he couldn’t do that, then there was no way I could rely on him to turn gangs into true mafia.
“Monk.”
“Yes, sir?” he spoke from the driver’s seat.
“Greyson has been fired, which means you are now in charge of the route maps. You will go tonight.”
“Y…Yes, sir,” he stammered in surprise, and I was sure he knew what being fired meant.
It only took a few minutes after we started to drive off for me to hear what sounded like an avalanche of police sirens. It took another three minutes for me to see them on the other side of the road, speeding down the street one after the other.
“Greyson was fired because of his mouth,” I told Monk as he pulled off the shoulder and back onto the road. “No one gossips about my family…especially if you fucking work for me. Am I clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
CALLIOPE
They all stood in a line in front of the stairs, all of them not sure where to look. They were scared. They had a reason to be. I had just fired almost half of them.
“You all have been through a lot this year,” I said, leaning back in my chair and crossing my legs. Still, none of them looked at me. “If you’re here, that means you have my trust. It means you are my people. Of those I had fired, most did nothing wrong. I let them go with benefits. Hell, they might even think they got the better end of the deal, but they didn’t; you all did.”
I nodded to O’Phelan, and he waved for the guards who came over, handing them all boxes. One by one, I watched as they opened them.
“Oh my…” All of their eyes looked at me.
“I love diamonds and not just because they last forever,” I said to them, rising out of my chair, “but because they are symbolic. They are made from pressure. Most natural diamonds are anywhere from 1 billion to 3.5 billion years old. Formed under a pressure of 725,000 pounds per square inch, in three-thousand-degree heat. Can you imagine being squeezed and burned and crushed by the weight of the world, then carried to the earth’s surface in volcanic eruptions, deposited in igneous rocks, just so some person, most likely someone in a third-world country, could mine you and wrap you up to offer as a gift. The beauty of a diamond is ironic and cruel. It says a lot about us as people. It’s natural to want things that survive, that are hard to get. It’s just a shiny rock…and yet people have killed and died for them.”
Stepping in front of them all, I looked down the line, and this time, they all looked back, staring me in the eye. It made me smile.
“You survive my pressure, you survive the heat that I undoubtedly unleash on you…and in the end, you will be worth more than that rock in your hands. People will flock just to get near you because you aren’t just maids, or butlers, or guards—you aren’t just the help. You are my people. I chose you. I am trusting you. If you need anything, let O’Phelan know. He will let me know. Everything he tells you comes from me. Everything he hears, he will report to me. Do not disappoint me.”
“Yes, Mrs. Callahan,” they all answered.
“Brilliant, now there is a list of things that need to be finished. O’Phelan?” I turned, and he nodded, walking forward to speak to them. When he did, I noticed both Helen—who now wore a simple light pink dress—Evelyn, Coraline, and Mina, all standing by the living room doors.
“Nice speech,” Helen replied, eyebrow raised as she looked me over.
“Thank you. It might be a bit over their heads, but we will see…” I replied, walking over to them. “Forgive me for not getting you anything—”
“You shot my daughter and kicked her out of my house.” Mina’s eyes narrowed on me.
“It’s my house now, too. But if it bothers you, you are free to join your daughter wherever she is,” I replied with a grace that surprised even me.
“How about we all sit for tea?” Coraline, aka the peacemaker, added quickly—like mother like daughter it seemed.
“Can we make it wine?” I asked, nodding to two of the maids before walking over to Evelyn and offering her my arm.
She snickered to herself. “You really want us to like you.”
“You will like me because you will have no choice in the matter.” I winked, leading her into the living room. “Come on, Aunty Mina…don’t be a sourpuss… You and I both know your daughter needed a reality check. Believe me, I was kind. She won’t limp or anything later.”
She said nothing but followed us into the living room. I helped Evelyn sit before taking a seat on the ivory sofa in front of the fireplace, which hadn’t been turned on yet. The first thing I did was look at the family portrait hanging above it.
“Would you believe me if I told you I had already scheduled the family photographer to come in a few days,” Evelyn muttered, shaking her head as she looked up at it. “We needed to update it due to Ethan’s…wife.”
“You do, and here I am, so they can still come,” I said, amused, though I had a feeling that was only partially the truth.
“Red or white, ma’am?” the maids said as they came in with a cart.
“Always red,” I said to her.
“Where is Giovanna?” Coraline questioned, and I simply pointed over her shoulder. Their heads turned to see Gigi curled up in a ball on the window bench, Priscus and Verus around her, as she took a nap.
“She’s still a bit jetlagged and excited. She’s worn herself out already,” I answered, accepting a glass of wine.
“So, what happens now?” Coraline asked, leaning back in her seat after taking her glass.
“What do you mean?”
“Are we planning a wedding? Or are we just hosting a party? Our family church isn’t repaired yet—”
“We’ll just do a double wedding with Donatella. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. I’ve heard she is very understanding.” I smiled, and they all looked at me as if I had two heads…before we all broke out into laughter. Even Mina grinned.
Win the house, control the house.
Win the women, control the family.
Win the city, control the world.
That was my goal. We’d got a little bit sidetracked yesterday but I wasn’t going to let anyone get in my way now.
11
“Is it better to be loved or feared?”
~ Niccolo Machiavelli
ETHAN
It was almost dinner by the time I’d gotten back home. I felt like I had aged years, not hours, and to make it worse, the home I returned to was already fucking changed. Everything was different. And when I said different, I meant every fucking thing.
The chandelier in the foyer had been changed to one with large crystals and looked as if it were raining diamonds from the sky. There were men I did not recognize changing the tiles underneath it. The initials EC—though the E was backward and the middle dash went through the C a bit. Not just that, two roman statues cast in marble now stood at the base of the double staircase. There were even house plants. It felt like the manor was becoming a palace.
But all of that was nothing in comparison to the sound of…laughter. Not soft giggles, or even whispers, but loud, almost hyena-like laughter coming from the living room. I walked toward it when all of a sudden, the dining room doors slid open.
“I wouldn’t.” My Uncle Declan came in, holding two glasses of brandy. He offered me one before nodding to the doors again.
The sliding doors were open just crack, allowing me to see my aunts, Helen, and Calliope, drinking, talking, and laughing—all of them on the floor next to the fireplace, their heels off and in a pile. Even Gigi sat in her mother’s lap with her own juice box, listening and grinning.
“They’ve been like that
for hours. Talking, eating and drinking. I have no idea how she managed it. If you go in there, you might not make it out alive.”
I took the glass but couldn’t help but look back at them. When I did, Calliope’s gray eyes met mine. She winked once before looking back at the women she had eating out of her palm.
“The whole staff has been praising her lately. Saying how kind and generous she is,” my uncle said before drinking. “She might be better than you at manipulating people.”
Is that so? Then again, was it a competition?
“What makes you think she’s manipulating anyone? She very well could just be a good person.”
He gave me a look. “Is that a joke?”
I did not reply.
“If she were just a good person, she wouldn’t be here.” He went on confidently when I didn’t reply. “Nor would you be interested in her.”
“I could want to corrupt her,” I muttered, lifting the glass to my lips.
“You do not have the time or the patience to do so. I say this as someone who did corrupt someone else. You are the type of person that gravitates toward your own kind.”
I muttered no real words at all as I watched her laugh again. She seemed completely at ease.
“So how dangerous is she, truly?” That caught my attention, and I looked at him. He looked me in the eye as he went on. “And what is she after? Because for someone who had no interest in being part of this family when she first came, she sure has made her mark quickly.”
“I told her to do whatever she needed to do to make the house comfortable for her. So long as she is here and, on our side, nothing else matters.”
His frown deepened when his gaze returned to the room where all the women now gossiped. “Is she on our side or her own? She chose not to be with you when she had a child. Now she’s chosen to stay. It seems like she does what she wants irrespective of you—”
“Then I’ll simply have to make her want what I want, won’t I?” I cut in, already tired of this conversation. I had spent a lot of time talking today. Part of me wanted to go over and take her hand, as well as Gigi’s and escape into the quietness of our room.
“So, I assume you have a plan?”
“Whether I do or not is my concern alone, Uncle.”
“Who you are with is the family’s concern because your wife rules us just as much as you.” He frowned. “You don’t have to explain. I just ask you to be careful with her.”
I muttered again, but nothing of any consequence.
He sighed and moved to walk back into the dining room when he paused, looking to the front door, then to me. “Where is Darcy?”
I didn’t answer, heading into the dining room instead. Saying nothing, I took a seat at the head of the table, and without delay, a plate was already in front of me. I had no idea what it was— some sort of steak brasato, therefore Italian, therefore Calliope’s choice.
I took only one bite and paused. The moment I put the stuffed flank steak into my mouth, the tender meat rolled up with garlic, herbs, and prosciutto melted together into my mouth. And I knew this wasn’t from our chef.
We have a new chef, too.
“She changed the chef, too,” Wyatt muttered, glaring down at the dish.
“You don’t approve?” I asked, taking another bite.
“He likes it, but his pride won’t let him admit that,” Uncle Neal snickered, already helping himself to seconds. “What did I tell you? Women make everything better.”
“And the several women who have already been here?” Wyatt muttered before he continued eating. He really wasn’t good with change.
I looked at the empty chairs…the women were having their own dinner tonight. “It seems—” I paused when the door opened and Darcy came into the dining room, his tie hanging off his neck, his shirt pocket ripped—covered in dirt, blood, and ash?
“What the fuck happened to you?” Sedric spoke out for the first time since we had started dinner.
“Busy day?” Uncle Declan asked Darcy as he looked him over slowly.
“Something like that,” Darcy muttered as he walked to his chair beside Sedric and leaned back into it. He snapped his finger at O’Phelan, pointing to the wall between the windows. “Turn on the evening news. Channel 8.”
“This cannot wait until after dinner?” I asked him.
“No,” he replied.
“Very well, then.” I nodded to O’Phelan, who held the remote to the painting, which slid open for the television.
We all turned to watch as a blonde came on the screen.
“Good evening, welcome to CDN NEWS. Tonight, we are following tragic news out of the Elgin area, where six officers have fallen, as well as two other fatalities and dozens of others injured in what police are saying is a cartel bust gone wrong.
“An anonymous tip was left, claiming that shots were fired, and an unidentified man was covered in blood. When authorities got to the scene, they approached the diner, only for a bomb to go off, killing the six officers on hand. A message was left at the local police station which read, ‘Muerte a los leones y larga vida a los silverbacks,’ meaning, ‘Death to the lions and long live the silverbacks.’ Silverbacks refers to the notorious Rocha Cartel, who uses the Silverback Gorilla as a mascot or trademark.
“A nationwide manhunt is currently underway for the leader of the Rocha Cartel, Miguel Munha, whom the FBI believes to be behind the assassinations of government officials throughout the state of Illinois.
“Our sources say the police are worried that the Rocha are now targeting celebrities and other well-known members of the community. One of the fatalities being none other than a Rocha member himself as he set off the bomb. The other, a bodyguard to former Chicago Bulls point guard Darcy Callahan, whom one of our reporters caught up to as he was exiting the hospital. This what he had to say…”
The video clip shifted to Darcy and a new guard already walking down the hospital stairs and toward a car, reporters swarming around him.
“Good evening, Mr. Callahan. What a terrible day. I’m sorry for your loss. Do you have anything you’d like to say?”
Darcy kept walking to the car, opening the door.
“Can you walk us through what happened, Mr. Callahan? Why were you in Elgin?”
He sighed deeply and turned back before looking to the camera, his face sunken and sullen. “As many know, I left the Bulls to work on other projects for the community. Today I went looking for a location with my bodyguard, Keogh Greyson, when I remembered an old diner. It was the diner where my parents met, so we went to see it. Everything was normal. We called to get a look inside and were told it was abandoned, so we could just go in through the back—it wasn’t locked. I took some notes and measurements, and then as we were getting ready to leave, we saw him, a bomb strapped to his chest.”
“He was wearing the bomb?” The young reporter asked before they all started to yell questions. “Was that similar to the one at St. Peter’s Cathedral? Was it an apparent suicide bomber?”
“I…” Darcy, tapped his chest before speaking again. “I wasn’t sure. I just remember Greyson pushing me behind him and toward the back doors. When I came to, I was in the ambulance and he was gone.”
“Your bodyguard? Mr. Greyson?”
“Yes.”
“Have the police told you anything? Why were you targeted?”
“I haven’t been told anything so far. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t believe it had anything to do with my family name. However, other than that, I know nothing and have been advised to say nothing more. Thank you,” he said before getting into the back of the awaiting car.
“There you have it, Grace.” The female reporter spun back to the camera. “Another dark, bloody day in Chicago.”
“Yes, one happening all too frequently now. Our prayers are with the Greysons and Mr. Callahan’s family. For those of you just tuning in, we were just speaking to Darcy Callahan who—
“Did we get a new chef?” Darcy a
sked, stuffing his face as O’Phelan turned off the television.
“Was blowing up the diner truly needed?” I questioned.
“It’s not like I was given much time. Besides, we were going to have to scrap it anyway to rebuild,” he shot back before taking another bite.
“Either of you want to clue the rest of us in here?” Wyatt questioned, looking between us. “How the fuck did you go through all of that and none of us heard shit? I work at that damn hospital.”
“You weren’t working today, though,” Darcy replied.
“No shit, but notifying family is protocol. Unless…” Wyatt trailed off before looking to me. “Someone made sure we couldn’t be reached or better, yet some woman made sure the house was so busy and full of construction that we would have a terrible time getting service all day.” He stared at me, and I could see the wheels in his head chugging along as best as they could.
“Think any harder and you’ll give yourself a brain aneurysm, brother,” I muttered, leaning back into my chair.
“Not everything is fucking Ethan’s doing, Wyatt,” Darcy said, licking his fingers. “I told the hospital not to call and didn’t release my name to the press until I was about to leave. You wouldn’t have known anyway.”
“That’s where you are wrong, Darcy. Everything is Ethan’s doing. When you are sure it’s not Ethan’s doing, that’s when you know it’s exactly Ethan’s doing. The strings are always there,” Wyatt muttered.
I raised my glass to him. “I’m pleased you hold me in such high regard.”
However, it was actually Calliope’s idea to keep the family out of range and stuck in the house today with her construction.
“Nevertheless, Greyson’s dead…at your command,” Uncle Declan stated, skipping to the heart of the matter, “and you used Darcy to see if he could cover it up? Why? Just to test him?”
“Of course not.” I frowned at that. “I’m not insane.”
“Debatable,” Wyatt and Darcy said at the same time.