by B. B. Hamel
I recognized Mathis Colley from photos. He looked older and more tired than I would’ve guessed, but it was him. He was a large man, about my height and probably twenty pounds heavier, though he carried it all in his gut.
“Steven,” he said.
“Mathis,” I said. I slid the book back into the shelf and tilted my head. I hoped Colleen could hear everything. “Thanks for setting this up.”
“And thank you for coming. I’d say, thanks for coming alone, but I saw your boy down in the lobby.”
I frowned briefly but pushed that away. “Can’t be too careful.”
He waved that away. “No worries. I brought my own boys, just to be safe.”
“We’re not going to shoot up this book store, are we, Mathis?”
“No, we aren’t,” he said, meeting my gaze. “Not like you shot up my bodega.”
I grinned. “Did you own that now?”
“It was on my turf. And those were my boys you murdered.”
“I think there was a clear reason for that.”
“Go ahead and tell me.” He stepped forward, glaring at me, cheeks turning redder.
“It’s simple,” I said. “The Celtic Club’s been running free and easy all over Point Breeze for a few years now. You pushed the Russians out when they were weak, and now you’re reaping the rewards. But the fact is, I need to do a little expanding of my own, and you’re in the way.”
Mathis glared at me, didn’t smile, didn’t move. He stood like a statue, looming and menacing. “All this over turf,” he said, almost spitting the last word. “Three dead boys, over turf.”
“That’s all there is, Mathis,” I said. “That’s how these things go.”
He grunted and leaned closer. “I pushed the Russians out without killing anyone,” he said. “Did you know that?”
“I know you broke a few legs and paralyzed one of their soldiers,” I said. “Sure, you didn’t kill, but you weren’t kind.”
He grunted and straightened up. “Well now. You seem to have done your research.”
“I’m not the kind of man to go into something blind. And I suspect you’re not either.”
“No, I’m not. Although I haven’t found much out about you. Only that you were second in command to that boy Dante, the one that’s been moving all over Eastwick.”
“That’s right,” I said. “But I’m out on my own now.”
“So I see.” He let out a breath. “I need you to understand something, Steven.”
“Okay, Mathis.”
“I need you to understand that you can’t just take what’s mine,” he said. “Point Breeze is mine. The Club’s been there for a long time, even before the Russians arrived. They understood it, and we worked out an agreement.”
“And then you kicked them out.”
“All part of the game. But I’m willing to make that same agreement with you, young Steven. Though with some caveats.”
I smiled a little bit. “I’m listening.”
“We’ll split Point Breeze down the middle. I’ll keep my old turf, and you can take what the Russians used to control. But I want a cut of everything you take, just a small tithe, let’s say ten percent. A tiny amount really, but it’ll keep the peace, and it’ll cover at least a small amount of my losses.”
“That seems fair,” I said. “What else?”
“If you continue to expand, you expand south or west,” he said. “You leave my people alone, you leave my turf alone. No more taking, no more killing. We run our businesses and we make our profit, and we don’t go to war.”
“Reasonable.” I nodded my head and spread out my hands, palms up. “But there has to be more.”
“I want my niece,” he said, his tone darker, a hint of anger there.
“Ah,” I said and smiled. “You mean Colleen.”
“I want her back,” he said. “I don’t know what she’s doing with you or why she turned on the Club, but I want her, do you hear? That part isn’t negotiable. You give her to me and let me handle the bitch as needed.”
I felt my pulse spike and a hint of rage ran through me. I stepped up to Mathis and he looked surprised as I drew up to my full height.
“If you call her a bitch again, I’ll end this right here and now. I’ll do the time if I have to.”
Mathis stared at me and let out a breath. “What is with you and the girl?” he asked. “Why do you care about her at all?”
“You don’t have to concern yourself with that,” I said, leaning back, forcing myself to calm down. I couldn’t start a shooting war in a public Barnes and Noble just because he called Colleen a bitch, even if that’s what I wanted.
“I don’t know what you’re paying her or what you’ve done with her, but someone has to pay for those boys dying. Now, I can sell the rest of the Club on cutting a deal with you, only if I can have the girl in exchange.”
I tilted my head to the side as his words slowly sank in. “You plan on using Colleen as your scapegoat,” I said.
“Like I said, I don’t know why you care about her.”
“She’s just a girl,” I said, waving a hand dismissively. “But I wouldn’t hurt her. Not like you’re planning.”
“Someone has to pay for those dead boys. I have her father, and maybe he can bleed a bit more, but she’s the one that turned on us. She’s the one that’ll take the bullet.”
“And what if she didn’t turn on you?” I asked.
He stared at me, his face flat. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “Either way, someone has to pay if we’re going to make this deal.”
I stood there and let that sink in. I really hoped Colleen heard every single delicious word this mother fucker was speaking, because it was much worse than I ever could have expected.
“All right,” I said. “I hear what you’re saying.”
“Then you’re willing to make a deal,” he said.
I held up a hand. “No, no I’m not, not on your terms at least.”
“Give me your terms then.”
“They’re simple. You vacate Point Breeze. Every inch of sidewalk, every single business, they’re all fucking mine. And you give me back Colleen’s father. You release him, make sure he wasn’t harmed, and pay for his time. When you’re off my turf, then we can consider things over between us.”
He let out a harsh laugh. “You really want to do this?” he asked. “You really want a war? I’ve fought before, son. And I’m not the kind to lose.”
“I’m sure you’re not,” I said. “But I don’t make deals with men that use women and hurt them for their own gain.”
He stood there for a long moment, his jaw clenched, his eyes wide. I could tell he was angry and trying to think of something to say, but he finally shook his head.
“You’re making a mistake. Nobody needs to get hurt.”
“Only Colleen,” I said, tilting my head.
He grunted. “Fine then. This is your choice.” He took a step back and I tensed myself, afraid he’d do something stupid.
But instead he turned and walked away, leaving me alone with the books.
I let out a breath and gripped the shelf to steady myself. My heart was beating and I felt like my head was swimming. I walked to the end of the aisle and watched as Mathis disappeared down the escalator.
I waited another minute or two for any other Club assholes to clear out before walking into the kid section. I found Colleen leaning against a shelf of Clifford the Big Red Dog books, her face drawn and pale, her fingers digging into the fake wood.
“You okay?” I asked, not getting too close. A little boy wearing a blue sweater and red shorts came running past and started rifling through the books a few feet away.
Colleen seemed totally unaware of him. He found a book and ran off again as his exhausted mom walked past us, smiling a little until she saw Colleen’s face, then quickly looking away.
“I’m fine,” she said. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” I stepped closer. “You heard what
he said.”
Her eyes flashed to mine. Rage was all over her face, rage and fear. “He wants to kill me,” she said. “He wants to blame that shooting on me. I’m his own damn niece.”
“I assume that’s why,” I said. “Killing his own niece would send a better message.”
She hissed and leaned forward. I thought she might be sick, so I walked to her side and put an arm over her shoulder.
“Let go of me,” she said.
I didn’t move. I pulled her closer and held her there. “It’s okay,” I said. “Just breathe. You’ll be okay.”
“He still has my father,” she said, panic replacing her anger. She looked into my eyes, shaking her head. “He’s going to kill my dad.”
“He won’t,” I said. “Your dad is his only card now. He won’t waste it just yet. He’s not as stupid as he looks.”
“Steven,” she whispered, then buried her face in my chest.
I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her close. I noticed a few parents were looking in our direction, and I knew it was time to go before someone said something to the staff.
“Come on,” I said, peeling her back. “We have to leave.”
She nodded, tears in her eyes, but she let me take her hand. She walked along with me, shuffling like she was barely aware of moving.
We rode the escalator back down, under the huge sale sign advertising young adult novels, and back out onto the street. Men wearing suits and young kids with backpacks hustled past as I turned right, walked past the back and the long line for the ATM, crossed the street, and found Dino’s SUV parked in a loading zone.
I got Colleen into the back then got up front.
“Take us home,” I said.
Dino nodded, saw the look on my face, and swallowed whatever he was going to say. We drove back to my place in silence.
10
Colleen
We didn’t talk on the ride back to his house. When Dino dropped us out front, I jumped out and hurried up his stoop. I tried to get in but the door was locked, and I banged my fist out of pure frustration and anger.
“I got it,” Steven said, his voice soft. I jumped a little as he got close. “Just me,” he said, and slipped a key from his pocket.
I stared at him, my eyes roaming down his perfect suit, and I wanted to scream. I felt so much anger and confusion deep inside of me, and I didn’t know what to do with it. He pushed open the door and I ran inside, not thinking at all. I angled for the steps, took them two at a time, and kept going until I burst out through the roof deck door.
I stepped out onto the roof, walked to the railing and stared out over the street. For a second, I thought I really might start screaming my head off, but I pushed that impulse back down instead.
My uncle wanted to kill me. He wanted to use me in a trade. He’d sacrifice me to avoid a war with Steven.
My own uncle didn’t give a damn about me.
He thought I had betrayed him, which I understood. But even still, he admitted he’d kill me regardless, since someone had to pay for those dead soldiers.
And I was worthless, but Steven had his own little army.
That bastard. Blood meant nothing to him. Mathis didn’t care that I was his niece, didn’t care that he had his own brother tied up in some basement somewhere. He only cared about his precious Celtic Club and about all the money flowing into his pocket. He’d do anything to keep that all going, anything to keep his precious gang happy and rich.
I stayed up on the roof deck alone for a long time. I don’t know how much time passed, but the sun slipped up into the sky and soon I could feel my pale skin beginning to burn. I forced myself to go back inside, out of the sun, and I stumbled down the steps lightheaded and thirsty. I staggered back down the steps, through the house and into the kitchen where I filled up a glass of water and drank it down.
As I finished the water, I turned my head and noticed that the basement door was open a crack. It was positioned to the left of the kitchen, right near the door to the back yard. I walked to it, a little curious, since I had never seen it open before. The lights were on down there, and as I lingered at the top, I heard something metal clank and a grunting sound.
I put my glass down on the counter and slowly walked down the steps. I expected a typical Philly basement with a concrete floor, cinderblock walls, and rat shit all over. Instead, the basement was partially finished, with decent carpet and drywall over the cinderblocks. The lights were bright, and there were movie posters framed and hung all over.
I found Steven sitting at the end of a bench press table. His shirt was draped over the back of a chair and he wore black gym shorts. He was sweating slightly, his skin dewy with it, and his hair was slicked back. I stared at his muscles, surprised at the intense yearning inside of me. Tattoos covered his chest and arms, and he looked up at me with a little smile on his lips.
“So this is how you stay so fit,” I said.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said.
I shrugged and looked around. There was more gym equipment, a treadmill, some free weights, and a TV in the corner that was tuned to a golf tournament on mute. There was a card table to the right with some chairs around it, and a little minifridge right next to that.
“I want to talk,” I said.
“Go ahead.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Or are you too distracted?”
I glared at him but walked over to the card table, pulled out a chair, and sat. I crossed my legs and watched him for a long moment as he looked at me, sweat dripping down onto the carpet.
“I want to help you,” I said.
He raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Help me?”
“I’ll tell you everything I know about the club,” I said. “I’ll give you the locations of all their safehouses, all the people I know, all their soldiers and meeting places. I’ll give you everything.”
“Okay,” he said, leaning back onto his hands. I let my eyes roam his body again but forced myself to meet his gaze. “I’d like that.”
“But I want something first.”
“I’m sure you do.” He laughed and ran a hand through his hair before shifting his weight. The heavy bar with its round, thick black weights jostled as he settled himself again.
“Promise me that you’ll get my dad back,” I said. “Swear that you’ll do whatever you can for him.”
“You don’t have to help me to get that,” he said.
I clenched my jaw and took a deep breath to steady myself.
I was angry. I knew I was angry, and I knew I was making an emotional decision. But this was the right call.
The Club had taken everything from me, over and over again. They took and took, and didn’t care how many people they hurt in the process.
I wasn’t going to let them get away with it anymore.
“I’ll help you,” I said. “I want to help you.”
“If this is about revenge for your father, you don’t have to,” he said. “But if this is revenge for yourself…” He trailed off, staring at me, eyes hard.
I nodded once. “This is for me, then,” I said. “This is because I hate my uncle and I hate that fucking Club.” I stood up, anger ripping through me. “This is because I want to kill the fucking bastards for what they’ve done to me and my family.”
He nodded and a smile spread across his face.
“Okay then, princess,” he said. “Your wish is my command. I’ll take your help, and give you whatever you want.”
“Just save my father,” I said. “That’s all I want from you.” I walked to the stairs and wanted to smash my fist through the wall, but I knew I had to get myself under control. “And don’t think this is because I like you.”
“Oh, I know you don’t,” he said.
I didn’t look back at him. I didn’t think I could handle looking at his muscular, sweating body without giving myself away.
“This is just for me,” I said again, then stormed back up the stairs.
&nbs
p; I went to my room, shut the door, and turned on the shower.
As I waited for the water to get hot, I thought about all the things I’d learned about the Club over the years, and how best I could hurt them.
11
Steven
Colleen stared out the tinted window at the rain-slicked Philly streets and said nothing as the car crawled into the Point Breeze neighborhood.
Bringing her here was a risk, but it was a risk I had to take. She stared as I crawled along the block, her eyes staring at the brick fronted buildings, her hands folded in her lap, her fingers making nervous claws against her palms.
“What do you see?” I asked.
“Not much,” she said. “Run down homes. Garbage on the curb.”
I smiled. “No, I mean—”
“I know what you meant,” she said. “I’m thinking, okay?”
I let out a little breath but let her think. I kept driving, circling around the block before moving on to the next one. She stared, didn’t move, didn’t blink, and the only way I knew she was alive and thinking was the breaths pulling into her chest. She wore a black tank top and dark blue jeans. Her hair was up in a bun, and she had a gray plain hat pulled down low over her face. I thought she was trying to hide, but I didn’t bother asking about it.
“There,” she said after I circled the next block twice.
I slowed, despite the taxi driving too close behind me. The guy honked and I ignored him, though the noise made Colleen flinch.
“Which one?” I asked.
“The one without flowers in its box,” she said. “Red door. Black railing.”
I nodded and looked at the number. “2244 Earp,” I said. “Write it down.”
She gave me a look then grudgingly opened the glove box. She took out a plain white notepad and a pen then scratched the number and the street down. She clicked the pen a few times and held it between her teeth as the taxi got impatient and honked again. I drove on and made a right at the stop sign onto 22nd as the cab blew past me, throwing his middle finger out the window.