Children of Redemption

by J. J. McAvoy

  “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming,” Darcy said into the microphones, dressed in jeans and a basic t-shirt. Darcy looked at Sedric, who sat to Darcy’s right. Sedric nodded, signaling he was ready. Darcy continued, “Over the last few weeks, many of you have witnessed the great many tragedies that have befallen our city and, more personally, our family. It’s been a hard year, and in times of hardship, my grandmother says to pause, reflect, regain your footing, and find the strength to walk on your path. When I first began playing with the Bulls, I thought there was nothing more I could ever want in life…I was living my dream. But now my dream has changed…which is why I’ve decided to retire from the Chicago Bulls and begin a new organization, the R.I.S.E Coalition, aimed at helping underprivileged communities rebuild themselves.”

  The cameras flashed as Darcy paused, allowing Sedric to speak. Sedric crossed his arms, leaning forward, still chewing his gum as he spoke. “I’m also retiring from the Cubs to partner with my cousin.”

  Sedric preferred short, direct conversations with people who weren’t family. This often made him seem cold to people who didn’t know him…in reality, he was kind of like his dad, always ready to provide comic relief…which was probably why he and I got along.

  “Is this just a publicity stunt to distract from the rumors surrounding your family?” one of the reporters asked before Sedric could lean back.

  “What rumors?” Sedric asked, cracking his jaw to the side. “You all make up a new one every week. I’m a little behind on my gossip.”

  I snickered. Darcy spoke up before anyone could answer Sedric’s question. “Our grandmother almost died in a terrorist attack, our cousin-in-law passed. You never know when you could lose your life, and I just want my life to be more than being a Callahan or a baller. So you could say we are having a quarter-life crisis…you can call it a publicity stunt…whatever, to make the world a little bit better than the way we found it.”

  “Or a little worse,” I whispered under my breath.

  “I really can’t believe it. I was betting the Bulls were going to take the playoffs next year,” one of the customers in the barber shop behind me said, staring up at the screen.

  “I’m calling bullshit. Ain’t no way talented fellas like them just up and quit to help people,” another man in the chair farther down from us said.

  “What, you think they were forced out?”

  “Ha! You man, Jerry. There’s no way anyone could force a Callahan to go if they don’t wanna go. Those people run this place—”

  “You heard of the shooting last night? Some people are saying the Callahans were the ones who called them hits,” another one whispered to the group of loud mouths over near the corner window, though it could hardly be called a whisper since I could so clearly hear them.

  “Aww, man, you really believe those old rumors? That the Callahan family is part of the mafia? People been saying that since my father was a boy, and yet not a single person has proved it. They’re just stupidly rich.”

  Yeah, us mafia? Gasp. Never. I fucking loved barber shops. It was like having an ear in the homes of normal, everyday people.

  “Where you think that money came from, Jimmy? Huh? I’m telling you. Drugs. They built this city on drug money and been paying off cops and politicians for decades. That’s why they ain’t never been caught. Everyone is working for them.”

  “Okay, Jerry.” Jimmy? I think it was Jimmy who was speaking, but who goddamn knew. “If they got everyone in their pocket, why was it the police commissioner, the mayor, and governor all targeted? If they really wanted them dead, those people would long be dead.”

  It’s true, though.

  “They probably crossed them, and it was a warning!”

  Oh, this Jerry guy is good.

  “Ain’t Ethan Callahan lose his wife recently? How’d that happen then, huh? Did they get into drug war at the airport?”

  Well…it wasn’t really that far off.

  “Who knows. But it’s possible. They are mafia, not gods!”

  “Allegedly,” I finally spoke up when my barber, Ailín, moved to the mirror, grabbing the alcohol for my face. It was like everyone but Ailín froze as I spun around in the chair. Looking over the wood paneling at the men at the window. “My family is allegedly part of the mafia, but as you said, Jimmy, the rumors have never been proven.”

  They gawked as Ailín handed me a hot towel. I wiped my face with it and then my hands as Ailín took the drape off me. I rose from the black leather chair, handing him a hundred.

  “I told y’all, the Callahans come sometimes,” Ailín said, tucking the bill into his back pocket. “But no, all of you called me crazy.”

  “In their defense, Ailín, you are a bit crazy,” I teased. He even looked odd. He was short, no taller than 5’4”, but he had a very muscular frame despite his old age. He had this white mustache, which he twisted up at the ends like a late 1900s cowboy Western villain, and underneath that he had a thick snow-white beard, cut perfectly.

  “One man’s crazy is another man’s genius,” Ailín said as he gazed up at me. He snapped his fingers like he remembered something. “The clippers you ordered came. I got a new catalogue if you want to see, too.”

  I checked my watch before nodding. “Sure. Besides everyone knows we mafia members don’t have to worry about being on time anyway. We have everyone in our pockets. They’ll wait.”

  He gave me a look, and I beamed as we walked to the back of the store. He held the door open for me, and without another word, he pulled the key from under his neck. Moving behind the couch, he opened the fake light switch and inserted the key, which caused a spilt in the wall to my right. Without him, I walked down the iron staircase until I reached the basement. There, rows and rows of large scented candles stood in front of dozens of naked women and men. The only things covered was their hands, mouths, and hair as, one by one, they poured the cocaine into the false bottom and melded the glass bottom back together. The biologically engineered scent of the candles masked the scent of the drugs, even from the best dogs. None of them dared speak, and certainly none of them looked up as I walked behind them, looking over their shoulders.

  “We’re shipping out tonight,” I told Ailín as I watched.

  “How many?”

  “All. The others have been notified already.”

  “Is your brother aware—” He paused as I turned to look down at him, and he swallowed slowly, nodding. “We’ll be ready.”

  “You have no choice,” I reminded him, turning back around toward the stairs.

  In light of all the other shit I was dealing with, this part was starting to feel fucking easy.

  Back up the stairs, Ailín gave me a box, my “delivery,” before locking the door behind us and opening the door back into the barber shop.

  The boys’ press conference appeared to be done. On the screen now stood Governor Orton, a.k.a. The Alp, red-faced, gripping onto the podium.

  Don’t be stupid, Governor. I didn’t really bet on him being able to help it. He wasn’t stupid by choice, meaning he wasn’t actually dumb. He was quite smart, and that was his problem. He kept thinking he could fight us—if he was just bold enough, clever enough, he could take on my family and win.

  “I have seen a lot of horrible things in my life…but this…my wife was a good person, the people, the person who did this to her, to this city, are more than monsters, they’re soul-less cowards. Cowards who feed off chaos and spew misery everywhere they go. I know who this…”

  He paused.

  Everything paused.

  Except me. Smiling, I watched as Adam put his hand on the governor’s shoulder. It looked like Adam was trying to give support to his boss during this emotional time, but I knew better. So did the governor.

  Gotta love HD cameras. I grinned. I could see the lump in the governor’s throat…aka his balls, his pride, his sense of dignity lodged in there, perfectly and just as perfectly as he swallowed it all to say what came next.
“It has come to my attention that officers of the Chicago PD have been smuggling meth and heroine, which the officers had confiscated for drug lords. Those drug lords retaliated…and…and that is why…that is why I am now a widow.”

  It took herculean strength for me not to grin like a mad man.

  “What I tell you, Jerry! Them cops have been crooked for years!” Jimmy shook his head at the screen. It was only then I noticed that they didn’t look like they needed any services at the barber. Moreover, they wouldn’t be able to afford any services.

  “Why do they come here?” I asked Ailín.

  Ailín huffed. “Free comedy show.”

  “Get them some new clothes and fix them up. My treat. I was very entertained,” I said to him, giving him a few more bills before walking to the front door. They were too preoccupied to even notice.

  Outside, Mannix was wiping the windshield. Opening the door myself, I said to him, “Let’s go.”

  “Right away, sir.” He quickly got behind the wheel. “Where to?”

  “Home, and turn on the news.”

  In a few minutes, the world would get to see a little bit more of the dearly departed Mrs. Orton…after all, I had made a promise to the governor.

  That motherfucker was going to regret shooting me…it was his motherfucking fault I went to Helen’s and my fucking world was all out of whack!

  Fuck his wife and his grief. I was going to drag them through the mud until I felt fucking better, and seeing as how that didn’t seem to happen anymore, fuck ‘em.

  How could she not remember? The question popped back into my head again. Sighing, I rubbed the side of my head.

  “Mannix, do you understand women?”

  “No, sir, I do not,” he answered. “The moment I do, I plan on retiring and writing a book.”

  So never. “Fine then, let me ask for a male’s perspective.” I tried to think of a way to phrase it. But I didn’t want to start off with, ‘So I have this friend.’ Fuck it. He wouldn’t know who the hell I was speaking about anyway, and if he did, I’d kill him. “I’ve known the woman for a long time. Since we were children. I’ve always seen her as my sister… No, as more than my sister, a best friend of sorts. I’ve gone out of my way to keep her near me. I’ve killed to keep her around. Yet not once have I ever thought of her in any other way. Then she’s suddenly confessed that she’s got feelings for me? And suddenly I have no clue what the fuck is going on anymore. Which is why I’m talking to my driver; whose badass nickname is Monk.”

  “Ugh…sir, so your question is—”

  “What the fuck am I going to do?” His eyes met mine in the mirror, and for some reason, he grinned. Glaring, I snapped at him. “What?”

  “Sir, since I’ve met you, hell, since you’ve come back to the city, the one thing everyone has noticed is that you aren’t the type of man who hesitates.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I mean, if you’re hesitating with this woman, you might have, you know…feelings for her.”

  “I already said I care about her like a sister.”

  “So, if your sister Donatella asked you on a date, what would you do?”

  I cringed at the thought. “I’d have her committed!”

  He laughed. It took me a second to realize why.

  If it was Dona who said it and not Helen, I’d have her committed.

  “The reason you didn’t throw this other woman in the looney bin was because you don’t see her as your sister. You might have tried, but deep down you know she isn’t your sister, which is why you’re so conflicted about it. One part of you is holding on to the image of her as a sister, while the other side of you is seeing her as a woman. Besides, straight men don’t have just female friends…unless she’s gay and even then…you’d still probably want to bone her.”

  I wanted to speak, but I was damn sure my brain was short circuiting, and all I could remember was how she looked seated beside me with her tank-top slipping off her shoulder…how her lips tasted like wine.

  “I can’t,” I muttered to myself.

  “I never thought I’d hear those words from a Callahan,” he replied from up front, seeming very amused with himself. Again, his eyes looked to mine via the mirror. “Isn’t the very definition of being a Callahan doing whatever the fuck you want when you want without a goddamn care?”

  Is that what people thought being a Callahan was? Then again, I couldn’t blame them for thinking that. It is what we had told them over the years.

  “But seriously, you ain’t ever thought about being with this woman?” he asked. “Because she sure got you twisted.”

  Fighting the thoughts in my mind, I looked out the window, inhaling deeply. “Monk. Stop talking, I’m thinking.”

  “Monk?”

  “Yeah, I changed my mind. Now shut the fuck up before I get upset,” I replied.

  I never thought of being with her.

  Never?

  WYATT – AGE SIXTEEN

  “Wyatt, come on! The water is so blue!” She was laughing, her smile so wide.

  It was like watching her in slow motion. The water splashing up all around her, glistening. Those curls of hers curling up even more as they got wet. There were at least half a dozen people in the ocean with her, yet all I could see was her. Each time she jumped up after being splashed with water, I tried not to look, but her boobs kept bouncing. I could even see her nips through…

  “Wyatt!?” she yelled back over to me, waving me over.

  I wanted to get up, but I couldn’t. Glancing down and then back up, I couldn’t—

  “I’m okay!” I yelled back.

  She shifted her head to the side and then in a spilt second dashed through the ocean onto the beach…

  What the fuck, is this Baywatch?

  She looks so good in yellow.

  WYATT – NOW

  FUCK! I bolted into a sitting position with my hands over my mouth. How the fuck had I forgotten about that?

  Dad died a week later.

  We’d gone to Marasusa Beach while on vacation in southern Italy. The locals there called it “La Costa degli Dei”—the Coast of the Gods. To me it was the beach where I…I couldn’t even say it. I couldn’t even remember what I was thinking back then. I just thought Helen was pretty and that she ended up being one of our family “friends” whenever we went to the beach and came back. I didn’t think much of it, then. And then my father passed away. He’d been getting sicker and sicker, but I tried to pretend I hadn’t noticed. When he died, I pushed everything, my whole past, into the back of my mind.

  I didn’t want to think about my family or anyone else. I pushed Helen to the back of my mind, too.

  What other memories was I suppressing?

  More importantly, what the fuck am I supposed to do now?

  Stop running. The moment I thought it was the moment I felt like I could breathe again. All of the issues I had…well, most of the issues I had, came because I ran. I ran from home, my past, my…own thoughts.

  I wanted to be done with the all the things that weighed me down in the past. I wanted to be who my brother… my father…my family…I wanted to be.

  So, I can’t run from this. And neither can she.

  THIRTEEN

  “There is an enduring tenderness in the love of a mother to a son, that transcends all other affections of the heart. It is neither to be chilled by selfishness, nor daunted by danger, nor weakened by worthlessness, nor stifled by ingratitude. She will sacrifice every comfort to his convenience; she will surrender every pleasure to his enjoyment; she will glory in his fame, and exult in his prosperity; and if adversity overtake him, he will be the dearer to her by misfortune; and if disgrace settle upon his name, she will still love and cherish him; and if all the world beside cast him off, she will be all the world to him.”

  ~ Washington Irving

  EVELYN

  “He’s starting to remind me of Liam,” Declan whispered beside me as we both watched the motion on the
screen from the study.

  Was he only now noticing? “He always has.”

  “I’ll come back to—”

  “I don’t need you hovering. I finally shook your wife off my back. Don’t make me worry about you, too,” I said to him.

  He frowned, but nodded, walking toward the door. I waited for him to leave before I dialed. It rang and rang and rang until finally he answered but did not speak.

  “Have you found him?”

  Silence, which I took for a yes.

  “He’s needed back home. Whatever you both need to do—”

  “Mom.” For some reason, my eyes watered at his voice. I missed him. I wanted him. I understood, but I wished it wasn’t like this. “I’m glad you’re alright and still with them. I love you.”

  That was it. The rude son of bitch hung up.

  Glancing back at the video feed, I shook my head. “Like father, like sons.”

  Liam, Ethan, Wyatt…all of my boys were so damn stubborn and prideful. Once they set themselves on a path, there was no changing their minds.

  Sedric, my dear…you really left me a goddamn handful.

  FOURTEEN

  “Once upon a time,

  an angel and a devil

  pressed their hands to their hearts

  and started the apocalypse.”

  ~ Laini Taylor

  HELEN

  “Breaking News: This morning, after the governor’s astonishing accusations against the Chicago PD, claiming they had stolen drugs from cartels, which caused those cartels to retaliate against him and other high-ranking officials within the government, it has now come to light that Governor Orton and his wife were in a very open marriage. A video has been released of Mrs. Orton engaged in a sexual encounter with another man. Out of respect for the now departed Mrs. Orton, CDN NEWS will not be airing the video. We’ve reached out for comment from the governor’s office, but no statement has been given…”