Irish Eyes and Mafia Lies

by J Haney

  38 Rónán

  One eye open. Pitch blackness. Other eyes open, not much better. I’ve a blanket over me, and I’m still on the couch. “Shit.” I whisper to myself sittin’ up. Onóra is probably pissed. She wanted me with her. Normally I would have indulged her; I just couldn’t. Between the flight, the food and the stress of dealing with everything, my numbers are all over the place and I was seeing double, my head was pounding, and I just needed to square up. I’ve had to increase my insulin injections, and I’ve doubled the dose, meaning that I’m going to have to go to a pharmacy and get another pen, while we are here if I wanna make it back home in one conscious piece.

  I head for the shower I need to clean up and shave. I've got two days’ worth of growth, and I don't like it. I’ve also gotta find food. Did we get food? I don’t much remember if we stopped or not. The hot water feels good, loosens my sore muscles. That couch was not the most comfortable thing to sleep on. Not wanting to wake the cottage, especially Onóra, I forgo grabbing clothes and just wrap a towel around me as I go foraging. Ah, baskets. They are stuffed with food, like cheese and onion, sweet chili and Irish red pepper, plain, and salt and vinegar flavored crisps. There's beer, water, and juice in the icebox as well as Cadbury select chocolates and fresh fruits. There's even coffee and tea assortments. Gotta say the old man is not letting us come by like paupers. I grab a bag of the sweet chili and Irish red pepper crisps an apple and a bottle of Heineken to balance it all out. I head out the backdoor, curious about the layout and because I hear animals.

  Outside it's about sixty or so and balmy for my naked ass in just a towel. The stars overhead light up the dark and I can see that there is a small barn and low and behold I’m staring at an ass and a small horse. Both chewing and staring right at me. I’m not even commenting on it. As I go to turn back, I see a puff of smoke. I tilt my head and see it’s Devon leaning against the cottage across from us, smoking. He straightens up when he sees me.

  Off the steps I go right toward him, taking a bite of my apple. “Crisp?” I offer.

  He nods, taking a few. “I’m sorry about-”

  “Shut it, ya fucking arse.” I cut him off. “Just keep ya mouth to ya self? Eh?”

  “Well, I can be passin’ a bit, though.”

  I raise a brow takin’ his smoke, savoring a long drag.

  “I just came back from Shannon.”

  “With?”

  “Antaine Sorely and council.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Yeah. In ‘it he where ya girl is from?”

  “He’s her uncle.”

  “Yer fucked.”

  “Thanks.” I go to hand back the smoke, but he puts up his hand.

  “Ya be needin’ that more than me.” He pats my shoulder and goes into his cottage.

  Flicking the butt, I head inside and go straight for the bedrooms. I don’t know which room she picked so of course; it's the last of the three I look in. There she is in this lacy white slip, that’s hiked up her thigh, drawing my attention to the fact that she’s got no knickers on. I steel myself sitting beside her.

  “Wee bird?” I ask, softly rubbin’ her hip.

  She cracks an eye at me before closing it once more. “Feeling better?”

  “I was, but we gotta talk a bit.” I pull back, so she knows I’m not fishing for her love.

  “If it’s bad news, I don’t want to know. We had issues in Italy and back home. Can’t we have one good experience?”

  “Forewarned is forearmed.” I say gently.

  She breathes out a huff sitting up against the bed frame. “Spill it.”

  “Apparently Devon had a second run tonight.” I look at her; she looks so unhappy now. “He just told me that he picked up Antaine and who I can only conclude to be Paití. They went to Demont’s I’m assuming.”

  “That would be my luck. So much for this being easy.” She does what she does best when she’s stressed, climbs from the bed and starts pacing.

  “What can I do? Since I caused this by wakin’ ya.”

  “Nothing, I need to think. I done something that may have pissed him off. So, now, I have no idea what we’re walking into.”

  “Wait? What did ya do? I set this all up so it would go smooth, how did it get fucked?”

  “I may have sent a couple of letters when I said fuck it.”

  My hand goes to my face. “We’re gonna need a bigger boat.”

  39 Onóra

  Stupid, mother fucking, cunt face, gutter slut. These are just some of the words that have come from my mouth today. Finn wanted to go exploring, but that couldn’t happen. What would happen if Antaine spotted us? Right now, the only thing that comes to mind is making him look like a gutted fish. He killed my father. I was so stupid, couldn’t leave well enough alone. Had to let my fucking anger get the best of me to tell them all to fuck off.

  I hear the door open but ignore it. We’ve still got hours before it’s time to leave.

  “Your mum used to pace.”

  I spin on my heels. “Fucking Antaine. You’ve got the audacity to come here-” I look around. “And alone?”

  “What are ye gonna do? Kill me? Would be fittin’. A life for a life. I cannot apologize- ya wouldn’t be haven’t it if I did. Though it pains me. Yer pa’s passin’ I loved him, as yer ma did.”

  “Loved him enough to kill him? I saw what you did to him. I told you as much in the letter.”

  “My- warning in’nt what killed him. Yer pa’s heart gave out, finally. Seems it was weaker than we knew. Or he let on.” Antaine says, sitting in a dining room chair.

  “Yeah, the beating you gave him had nothing to do with it, right?” I snort. “You’re fucking delusional. Yes, his heart was bad. I was the only one who knew just how bad because unlike everyone else I can keep my fucking mouth shut. I was raised Italian what the fuck could you want with me?”

  He shakes his head. “To know ya.” He looks up at me. “Yer the only family left. I never married, never had a reason. I cannot have children. That was your mum. My Máire, my little, little. You’ll never understand how her dyin’ it affected all of us.”

  “You think by beating my father I'm going to want to know you?”

  “For all yer knowledge, there are things ye do not know. Circumstances ye were not privy to. How else did ye think ya was gonna get away from Venanzio? Did ye really think anyone would hide ye? Just to? No, there had to be stress to get him to do it. Had to be pretty bait.”

  “You got proof to any of this?” I ask leaning against the wall and crossing my arms over my chest.

  “Aye. If you’ll permit.” He reaches for his inside pocket. I nod, ready for anything. “See we- rather I went back to check him once I figured ya two were gone. He was in his office, in his chair by the fire. There was nothin’ I could do, his glass of whiskey was spilled, and he was gone, but there be a letter addressed to ya.” He pulls a white envelope from his jacket. “Believe him.”

  I hesitate, remembering, recalling every stroke of my father’s pen. The way he swooped the accent mark in my name just a tad. Looking I see it is there if I was looking at a forgery, they had to know my dad more intimately than I, because aside from to me he never wrote anything down. Taking it, I swallow, opening the envelope with care. This was, is probably the last communication I will ever get from my dad. He even wrote it in Italian.

  Onóra,

  Baby, I’m sorry. Sorry to have deceived you. I write this knowing it’s my last will and testament. I don’t have much time. Antaine Sorely is your Uncle. Your kin, he is also one hand in your escape. I asked him to make tonight look real. You needed to have a reason to run. Needed to have a reason to stay gone. Playing monkey in the middle was never to be your destiny. I'm sorry it has come to that. I hope my dear that you are smart, that you realize who you can trust. Though we brought you up in one family, you have another, and yet another still. The one you choose. Choose wisely; I love you, and Finn.

  Good-bye.

  Daddy.
/>
  I bite my lip to hold the emotions at bay. I'm standing here in disbelief. “You don't move.” I hold up my hand as Antaine comes close. “I'm going to the door to get Rónán. Just stay there.”

  He nods and stops his movement. I go to the back door but still have Antaine in sight. Rónán is playing American football with Finn. He looks up, and I know he can tell from my face something is wrong. He tosses the ball back to Finn then puts up his hands.

  “I'll be right back; I think ya sister needs somethin’. Stay here.” He hurries toward me. “What’s the matter ya look like ya seen a ghost.”

  I hold the letter out to him. “Antaine is here.” I look behind me at the dining table.

  “What?” He sounds more confused than alarmed. “Alone?”

  “Yes, just read.”

  “It says they planned you running? Wait, does that mean they planned our meeting?” He tries to get past me.

  “I don't know. All I know is he had Antaine beat him. Think Finn will be okay with Devon?”

  “Aye, we squashed it. He’s harmless, just got a big mouth is all.” Rónán dismisses my concern headed straight for Antaine.

  “What the fuck? Ya, come here to start and make things more difficult?”

  “Watch ya tone, boy.”

  “Go fuck ya self. I ain’t nobody’s lackey. Nobody pulls my strings. Round these parts yer shite and I can do this.” Rónán decks him, and Antaine steps back a tick holding his jaw.

  “Ya feel better, do ya?”

  “Not yet, but I’m gonna.”

  “Quit acting macho before you're sleeping alone. Jesus. Fucking men. I wanted you in here for me not to hit.” I raise my voice.

  He stops and turns, looking at me. With a sigh, he steps back to me and takes my hand. Antaine doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.

  “You brought me a letter. You say you want to know me. What of Finn?”

  “Aye, the boy too. Of course, it’s just- as far as naming an heir. That would go to ye. Yer the eldest. It’s yer birthright.”

  “I want out; I want Finn out. I want him to have a normal life, unlike mine.”

  “Eh, what’s normal? Ya plan on givin’ all that money away? Ya, plan to live modestly? Or do ya plan to live well, like ya did with daddy? Don’t answer; it’s rhetorical. I can already see ya spendin’ the lot of it now. Ya ain’t in my family. I may have wanted it, but if lettin’ ya go means gettin’ a shot at gettin’ to know ya. Fuckin’ go. Takin' ya birthright doesn’t mean bein’ in; it just means takin’ what’s mine when I’m gone. If ya don’t want the family I leaves it to whoever is left behind.” Antaine looks at his watch. “I’m not expectin’ answers now, just want ya to think on it some. My cab should be here. I will see you for tea shortly.”

  Antaine doesn't wait for me to say anything when he stands and leaves. I let go of Rónán’s hand as the door shuts and begin pacing again.

  “I don't want to go. I don't want Finn to go. Let's grab a plane and disappear.” I spout not actually meaning it but needing to get it out. Arms wrap around me, and a kiss is delivered instantly, I push away. “Kissing? No, you were just throwing fists instead of being where I need you.”

  He sighs. “Yer not the only one who has a temper or a right to defend their own honor. Besides, that punch was as much for the two of ya as me.” He turns toward the back door again. “Ya don’t want me here right now? Say it, and I’ll go right back to the boy. He needs a little fun now and again. If ya want me and need me, I’m right here for ya. Always.”

  Before I know it, I'm in his space. “I came to you because I needed you. If I didn't need you do you think you'd be with us? Do you think I would have let you take care of me? My body and soul knew I needed you before my heart and head could make sense of it!” I all but shout as tears fall down my face hitting my chest.

  He wipes at my tears with a bent finger. “Wee bird, there’s no reason to yell, no reason to cry. No shame in needin’ somebody, especially when they need ya right back.”

  “Fuckin’ feelings and emotions.” I drop my head to his chest. “I hate this. I don't know what to do.”

  “Ya do what you’re pa said. Choose wisely. We go see Demont, pay our respects. Out Antaine for coming here and tell him that we’d like assurances made that what he said will stick. We want Antaine to give his word.”

  “What about everything he said? Do I take the birthright? Do we let him into our lives?”

  “No one can make that decision but ya and Finn. I think ya need to talk to yer brother. He’s smarter than ya give him credit for.”

  “He’s too young for this mess. Shouldn’t have no part in it.”

  “Onóra, he’s as thick in this as we. He’s had to run, bleach his hair, change his name, twice now. He’s been a sport, and all but ya want to uproot him again and all without tellin him why. It’s grossly unfair to him.” Rónán looks outside to Finn who’s throwing the ball with Devon. “He has a right to know why his life’s being turned upside down.”

  “How do I even begin to tell him? We’ve always kept it from him. Dad never wanted him to know. He always just thought we had money. No clue where it came from. He was being trained, sure. However, he just thought it was to defend himself if need be.”

  “Again, he’s smarter than he looks. Try askin’ him what he knows and what he suspects. Let him lead the conversation. It worked with Rory and me.”

  “Fucking Men!” I say melting against Rónán.

  40 Rónán

  I need a chainsaw, just to cut through the tension in the limo right now. Rather than have Antaine let the I’m your uncle card fly without warning Onóra told Finn. She sat him down and laid it out. The Italian side the Irish. The fighting and cooperation over the years. He seemed to swallow it down for the most part, but you can feel the unasked questions on the tip of his tongue. Questions no one wants to hear asked aloud. Hence the thick air in the enclosed space. We stopped for a small bite. Just something to kill the nudge and level me and now we’re in our Sunday best headed to the old man’s place just outside Limerick’s center.

  I have to keep my hand on Onóra’s thigh to keep her crossed legs from bouncin’ her clear outta her seat. “He’s actually not nearly as hard to talk to as your Uncle.” I whisper, caressing her cheek.

  “I’m not worried about him.” She hisses. With the way her temper is flying off, I’m sure the Italian is coming.

  “I’m gonna have to teach ya to swear in Gaelic, at least for when ya get mad, and we’re here.” I chuckle givin’ her thigh a squeeze. “Antaine isn’t gonna even speak without permission.”

  “Vaffanculo” There’s the Italian.

  “That’s not nice. I’m bein’ nice, and you’re being naughty, and downright mean.” I move my hand off her. “Fine. I’ll do like the children, and only be seen and not heard.” I look straight ahead.

  “You don’t touch either.” She mumbles under her breath, as we pull up to the gatehouse. A little man lets us in, and we begin the drive up to the singed manor.

  I lean to the front tapping the glass. It rolls down, and Devon looks at me. “Take Finn inside; we’ll be just behind you.”

  When we get to the roundabout, the limo stops. The door opens, and Finn gets out first. He heard me talk to Devon. He isn’t stupid. Onóra goes to get out, and I grab her by the waist, draggin’ her back inside.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” She smacks my hand as the car door swings closed.

  “You wanna tell me what all this attitude is about now?” I ask, pulling her beside me as the door locks. Good on Devon. He’s a smart man.

  She grits her teeth, making it sound like nails on a chalkboard. “I swear to all that is holy that baseball bat will be the least of what I will do to you.”

  “What exactly have I done that I’m not aware of?”

  “Nothing, you’ve done nothing.”

  “Seriously? This is about sex? I'm not givin’ it up enough for ya am I?” I grab her pullin’ her to
my lap. “Here, ya need cock? Is that what all this is about? Ya need a big, hard thing, thrusting.” I jack up her skirt and tear her knickers aside. She hits me, but I drive in deep just the same. I kiss her, and as I do, she tears open my vest, buttons fly as she pushes it and my jacket off me, going for my shirt. I loosen my tie and off it goes. She grabs the back of the seat, bouncing on me as she kisses and bites my chest. I feel her body tighten up as she comes, her heels digging into the leather seat. Her moans are muffled only by my fingers in her mouth. I pull her off me, and spin her, getting her to sit on my cock again, so I can drive in good and deep, she bends to the floor, her ass up in the air. It’s hot and bestial and just fucking sexy. By the time we finish, we’re both a fucking mess on the limo floor.

  “Better?” I pant, still pulsing inside her.

  “I can’t believe you did that!” She’s breathless.

  “We have to go in there now.” I say righting my pants it’s then I see the blood on my cuffs. “Fuck!” I touch my cheek. “Ya cut me.”

  “You shouldn’t have been so, you.” She looks down at herself. “You bled on me!”

  “Maybe ya can cover up with my vest?” I look across the limo at the crumpled piece of menswear.

  “I’m in white, Rónán!” She runs a hand over her face.

  “Well pull it together, because here comes Devon. I’m guessin’ they're wonderin’ where we got off to.”

  “Really? You’re fucking hilarious. Of course, you’d make jokes, now.”

  “We just go in there heads high and get this over with.” I grab my vest and jacket. The vest isn’t salvageable; the buttons are done for. My shirt is in similar shape, but I figure the jacket can hide some of it. She is good aside from the blood on her chest and back.

  The door unlocks, and I feel the limo jostle as someone gets in the front. The speaker gives feedback. “You done? Can I go whisk the leather now?” Devon asks with a chuckle. “Ya moved the car back like three inches!”