by E. R. FALLON
The men laughed again.
None of them went to lift Ed from the floor. The bartender, a large man around sixty-five with curly white hair, told them to pick Ed up.
Max grinned at the man. “His grandparents own this place. Remember?”
The bartender hesitated for less than half a second and then went back to buffing the glasses with a white cloth. It reminded Colin of the way Uncle Rick had cleaned his pub glasses. It seemed Colin had all but forgotten about those times these days, when he was always busy with so much else. Colin didn’t know what became of his uncle and he didn’t care. But he shivered at the memory of Uncle Rick’s cold hands.
They carried out the rest of the conversation with Ed passed out on the floor. Max and Gerry were curious about Colin and were welcoming toward him. They wanted to know everything about him, from how he began working for Tom to what his family had been like and if he had a girl.
“You know,” Max said after a while. “You can do doubles.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Gerry said.
“What’s that?” Colin asked.
“Doubles. You’re with Tom, but you’re also with us.” Max leaned in toward Colin from across the booth.
Colin liked these men, but he didn’t know them well so he wasn’t sure if he could trust them. Were they playing a trick on him? “I don’t know if that would be a good idea. What if Tom found out?”
Max stared at him for a moment, as if he thought Colin might have been daydreaming when he replied and wasn’t paying attention. “He won’t. You know, it’s a good way to make additional money. Sean pays great.”
Gerry agreed.
“We pay you to keep an eye on them and their friends for us.” Max stared at Colin and beamed. “It’d give you a chance to get out of the Bowery, and, as a Northerner, you’ll make more money with McCarthy than with anyone else. Sean’s a good man.”
Colin doubted that from what he’d heard about Sean McCarthy. McCarthy had once slit a man’s throat for accidentally spilling a drink on his shoe in the pub.
“Every guy from the Bowery wants to get out of the Bowery,” Gerry said.
“I’ve known Tom for a long time.”
“But they aren’t your people.” When Colin didn’t reply, Max said, “What do you say to we buy you another drink and you can sit on the idea?”
“Yes to the drink, and I’ll think about it.”
“Good. Let’s go to the pub down the block for that drink. It’s a great place. Better than here.”
Colin knew it wasn’t smart to move to another location during a meeting. Tom had warned him that was a good way to get killed. “Are we walking or driving?”
“Colin, we’re not going to harm you.” Max looked him in the eye. “The place is called McBurney’s and it’s owned by Mr. McCarthy. It’s named after his grandmother.”
Colin nodded. Maybe he was still intimidated. He convinced himself otherwise and agreed to go.
Gerry began to lift Ed off the floor. Ed was bigger than Gerry in girth and stature, and so the process was amusing to watch. Max laughed as Gerry struggled. Colin offered to help but Max dissuaded him.
“You’re our guest. Stay inside and have a drink on the house while we get him into a cab.”
Colin watched Gerry and Max assisting the wobbling Ed as they left through the front door. A burst of cold air flew into the pub. A few minutes later Max came back inside without Gerry. Colin had sat and waited and hadn’t ordered a drink. Max gestured for him to follow him outside. Colin patted his gun to reassure himself.
“Gerry rode home with Ed,” Max explained. “Sorry about Ed. Don’t let him bother you.”
“He doesn’t.”
“The only reason Sean keeps him and his cousin around is because they’re safecrackers.”
“Safecrackers? That’s surprising.” Max chuckled.
Outside the air was even colder than Colin had remembered. Colin thought the scent of alcohol from the pub seemed to drift off and surround them as they left. As they walked, Max explained that McCarthy’s pub was a notch above most in the area. Colin still wasn’t sure if he wanted to involve himself with these men, but he was willing to test it out. It wouldn’t hurt, he reasoned, to see what the Northern guys had to offer.
Despite Colin’s seeming faithfulness to Tom, he wasn’t planning to bequeath Colin the throne. Until then Colin had felt that, regardless of his Northern ancestry, Tom and him had a silent understanding. But a man named Jack O’Clery, a second cousin of Tom’s in New York, would be getting the throne when the time came. Tom, who had once appeared to be grooming Colin for the position since the deaths of Errol, Ronan, and Jarlath, now not only wanted to keep things South, but also ‘in the blood’. And since Tom’s son Joseph had removed himself, Tom chose O’Clery. From the little Colin knew of Tom’s second cousin, Colin didn’t respect him and wasn’t confident in his leadership and Colin couldn’t work for someone he didn’t respect or trust.
Colin listened to what Max had to say. As a Northerner, he’d never go far in the new ranks of McPhalen’s racket, according to Max. But working for Sean McCarthy and his fellow Northerners would guarantee Colin respect and a promotion.
“So who does old Tom have with him these days?” Max asked.
“He’s got some of the same guys, like Little Bill,” Colin replied. “You know him?”
“Yeah. Not the brightest fella.”
Colin murmured in agreement. “Some of the others died, like Errol.”
“Yeah, I heard about him.” Max didn’t shake his head.
Colin wondered if Errol’s death had pleased Max. He wouldn’t be surprised because Errol had made more enemies than friends during his short life.
“And I’m sure you know about Jarlath,” Colin said. “Yeah. Jarlath was a good man.”
“He was.”
“I knew him well because he used to date my sister.”
“And Ronan McDuff.”
“Crazy son of a bitch, but smart. Now that was a loss.” Max shook his head. “Here we are.”
Colin glanced at the pub’s sign.
McBurney’s Fine Drinking Establishment & Restaurant
“Do you know why I wanted to come here?” Max said. “I want you to meet McCarthy. And I think you’re going to be glad you came.”
The large oak front door had a shiny brass knob. Max led the way inside. The pub was redolent of cigarette smoke and the wood floors shone. The bar itself was a beautiful, immaculate dark wood. To Colin the bar taps looked like they were made of bright gold. The Irish flag was plastered everywhere, in the form of cloth flags on the walls and a painted flag on each of the back tables. It seemed to Colin that the further removed from the ancestry people were, the harder they tried to prove they belonged.
“Max,” a chubby red-haired man called out from the rear of the pub where he sat drinking from a tall, foamy mug.
“Robbie!” Then Max looked over at Colin. “His wife’s very ill. I gave him some money to help with the bills. Do them one favor and then they all think you’re their best friend.”
Colin smiled in agreement. He wasn’t paying much attention to Max because he was too busy taking the place in. And there was something that stood out. Probably because she was one of only two women in the place, but more so because she was the most elegant looking girl Colin had ever seen. She looked a class above any other woman he’d met in his life, and he decided that someday he would make her his.
“I take it you’ve noticed Catherine?” Max smiled at Colin.
“Who is she?”
“Sean’s daughter.”
“Mr. McCarthy’s daughter?”
“Yeah.”
Catherine McCarthy was a raven-haired beauty with porcelain skin and light eyes. In stature she was average. She had a defined waist and slender hips and a chest that Colin thought looked perfect in proportion to her body. She carried herself with a debutante’s air of grace. She was wearing a blue dress and was quietly reading at one of
the tables at the back of the pub.
The bartender, an old man with a white beard and spectacles, said something to her and she laughed. When she laughed the dimples of her otherwise elegant face were evident. Colin loved that, and he also loved how she laughed with her entire body. He wanted to make her laugh and cause those dimples to appear. Kiss those lips.
Colin gasped at the sight of her.
“I’ll introduce you before we meet her father,” Max said with a wink. “You should see her mother. She’s part French or something. A real looker like her daughter.”
“I’m not interested in her mother.”
Max laughed. “Be careful, she’s only seventeen.”
“Unbelievable. She looks older. I can wait a few years.”
“McCarthy would kill you even if you did wait a few years.” Max laughed again, but Colin sensed he was serious.
“She’s worth the risk.”
“Her mother’s off on a cruise somewhere. She wanted Sean to go with her but he wouldn’t hear it. He’s very business focused. The only things Sean loves are Cathy, his businesses, and his doves.”
Max told him that McCarthy kept doves in a large cage on the rooftop of his pub. He fed and took care of them, and no one was allowed up there except for his daughter and him.
Colin nodded but he wasn’t paying much attention to what Max was saying, although he did notice Max hadn’t mentioned Sean’s wife being one of the things he loved. Colin’s gaze and thoughts were on Catherine. He glanced at the cover of her book. Pride and Prejudice.
“My smart girl,” Max said.
Catherine looked up from her book and beamed. “Max! Where have you been? I haven’t seen you around for a while.”
“Oh, you know me, I went to Paris for fun.”
Catherine laughed, and when Max didn’t smile, she said, “Really?”
Max grinned and shook his head.
Catherine laughed again. “Stop teasing me, Max.” A white cat peeked up from her lap.
Colin stood to Max’s right and smiled at the cat.
“This is Theodore,” she said to Colin in a warm voice. Colin kept her soft vowels in his mind for days after. “I’m Catherine.” She offered her hand to him. Her manner was polite, not too friendly, but not cold.
“Colin O’Brien.” He took her soft, delicate hand and held it for too long. “What are you reading?”
She waved the book in the air. “Austen. You’ve read her?” Colin’s face heated and he shook his head.
Catherine laughed and pulled her hand away. She looked at Max and tilted her head in Colin’s direction. “So, what’s he doing here?”
Colin thought it was a bit rude she was conversing with Max as if he wasn’t standing there. But he watched her animated eyes, plump lips, her flawless skin, heard the warm tone of her voice, and her manners seemed to matter less to him.
“He’s from the Bowery,” Max said.
Catherine seemed amused. “How did he end up here?”
“He was meeting with me and a few of the fellas for business, darling. And he might come to work for your father so be sweet to him.” Max winked at her.
“Don’t worry. I will.” She glanced at Colin. “I’m sure it won’t be too hard.”
Colin felt himself blushing. “Is your father upstairs?” Max asked.
“Yes.” Catherine spoke in a hushed tone, as if her father’s whereabouts were a secret.
Max touched Colin’s arm and guided him toward a staircase at the far left. Colin stared at Max’s hand on his arm. Almost no one he ever knew well had done that to him. And he wasn’t sure if he liked it from an almost stranger. Still, he allowed Max to keep his hand there.
Catherine called out goodbye to them and gave Colin a smile when he glanced at her. He smiled a little in return.
Max led him up a winding staircase. No one watched them as they ascended the elaborate stairs. Colin wondered why no one would be curious. But maybe they already knew – or perhaps in this pub they just didn’t look.
Max started to search him for weapons outside a door to what seemed like an office.
“What are you doing?” Colin asked.
“Mr. McCarthy doesn’t want anyone who doesn’t work for him to enter his office with a gun. Sorry.”
Colin handed him his gun. “You could’ve just asked for it, you know.”
“Thanks. Most fellas aren’t as cooperative.”
Younger than Tom, Sean McCarthy had graying brown hair and piercing brown eyes. He looked nothing like his daughter, and his skin was somewhat weathered, but he must have been considered handsome in his younger days, icily handsome, with those sharp eyes, chiseled jawline, and iniquitous grin. McCarthy’s eyes and demeanor conveyed to Colin that he was the most intelligent criminal Colin had ever encountered. The office smelled of his spicy aftershave. He was shorter than Colin when he rose from the large wood desk he sat behind. The lustrous desk had his surname engraved in gold on the front. His dark suit looked expensive. Colin glanced at McCarthy’s diamond cufflinks and then at his own more modest ones.
“Max.” McCarthy seemed surprised to see Colin there. “Who are you bringing me at this hour? Is he behind on a payment?”
“No, no, this is Colin O’Brien,” Max quickly said. “He’s with McPhalen in the Bowery.”
“Old Tom?” Sean’s tone wasn’t any kinder. “Yes,” Colin said.
“Is that so? Does Tom have something he wants to say to me?”
He sounded defensive.
Max still appeared nervous. “No, Mr. McCarthy. Colin’s thinking about joining us.”
The fact that Max had called his boss ‘Mr.’ hadn’t been lost on Colin.
Sean laughed and apologized to Colin. “I didn’t mean to scare you, it’s just that when you have another boss’s henchman in your presence, you tend to get a little tense.”
“Sure, I understand.”
“Are you going to be joining us, or are you only thinking about it?”
Colin stepped forward. “I am.” He had made his final decision. After dealing with Errol’s animosity for years, he figured he could handle Ed Dowd.
“Good. It’ll be useful to have a giant like you on board for muscle.” Sean gave him a firm handshake. “O’Brien, right?”
“Yeah.” Colin glanced at a strange, colorful painting hanging above Sean’s desk.
“I bought that recently.” Sean gestured at the painting. “It’s a Pollock.”
The name meant nothing to Colin but he complimented the artwork.
“Where’s your family from in Ireland, O’Brien?” Sean asked.
“The North mostly. I was born there.”
“That’s right. Max told me. Then what are you doing working for the Souths?
“Right place, right time.”
“How well did you know Tom’s guy Jarlath?”
“I knew him well enough.”
“I bet you didn’t know Jarlath did some side work for me a while ago when I was in Woodlawn in the Bronx, where our organization originated. Of course, Tom doesn’t know about Jarlath.” He chuckled at Colin’s shock. “Everyone has an amount they’d accept to betray their own. Tom has made the mistake of using too many men to keep an eye on.”
“Mr. McCarthy—”
“Call me Sean.” There was something about his smile. It seemed emotionless, as if it was expressed by a dead man without a functioning brain.
“I don’t want you to think I’m betraying Tom. It’s just that I’m from the North like you guys…” He also knew Sheila would be pleased about the additional money.
Sean chuckled again and then looked at him closely. “You’re trying to make yourself feel better. I understand. But being here in the first place is betrayal. In fact, even thinking about joining us would be betrayal. But all is good. Tom won’t find out.”
Sean’s harsh laugh agitated Colin, but he smiled although he knew Tom wasn’t a fool.
“Let’s talk details.” Sean sounded even smar
ter. He sat down in the chair behind his desk.
Colin remained standing.
“Have a seat.” Sean gestured toward a chair at Colin’s right. Colin sat across from him. Even staring face to face with Sean made Colin nervous because he couldn’t tell what Sean was thinking. That trait must have made Sean a very good liar. He confused Colin. His grin was unnerving, yet his eyes had an approachable glimmer in them.
“How are things in the Bowery?”
“Not bad, sir.”
Sean chuckled. “Call me Sean.”
Colin shifted in his chair. “They’re not bad, Sean.”
“You’re going to have to tell me more than that.” Sean folded his hands on the desk. “Are McPhalen’s guys still raking in big money like they were a few years ago?”
“No. Profits have been decreasing ever since…”
“Ever since when?” Sean sounded impatient.
“I’m sure you already know a lot of Tom’s top men were killed.” He glanced at Max, who stood waiting in the corner. “After those guys died, some of the other guys got jittery. They said Tom was going down and that we’d all be knocked out sooner or later, or jailed. Some of them returned to Ireland. Even the ones who are wanted by the law there, they said they’d take the consequences and they went back. I don’t know, maybe they couldn’t take all the heat that had been going on with Tito Bernal and his Tigers. It was bad for a while. Those guys who left, they said they’d form their own organization back home.”
“Bernal was cut. Is anyone else still causing trouble there?”
“Not yet.”
Sean grinned. “Maybe we can get your friends in Ireland to help us if the time comes. It would be good to have a current connection to there.”
Colin nodded but he didn’t make any promises because many of those men were still loyal to Tom from afar.
“What do you think, do you think Tom’s going down?” Sean asked.
“I wouldn’t say he’s going down at the moment, but he’s coming closer to it every day.” Colin couldn’t tell whether Sean was pleased. “Can I ask you a question?”
“What is it?” Sean sat way back in his chair but didn’t put his feet up on the desk.
“Your daughter, Catherine, is she really seventeen?”