“Yes,” he replied truthfully. “You are an attractive woman. Don’t tell me you have any problems with getting a man.”
“No, that has never been an issue but that doesn’t mean I jump into bed with everyone that looks my way. I’m not that easy, you know.”
The heat of his body felt perfect against me and instead of saying anything, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to drift off in the cocoon that was his warmth and steady embrace.
It was a bit scary when I awoke and realized I was no longer in Seattle. The weather was the first indicator. It was warm and the sun shined through the slatted blinds. It was a beautiful feeling to look over and see Finn who was completely knocked out next to me.
I didn’t bother to wake him but instead stood, stripped out of my clothes and took another shower before I dressed in a pair of skinny blue jeans and a pale pink baby doll top that was short-sleeved. I wouldn’t be able to ignore my grandparents and I knew Dylan would have their address. I had my doubts whether they still resided in Dorchester now that so many people in the family were making money.
Dylan and Fiona—like me—had mostly been raised by our grandparents. None of us had parents’ who wanted to be bothered with their own children. His father was my mother’s half-brother, and due to his mother’s problems with drugs and alcohol, neither he nor Fiona had been brought up in the most functional household. In retrospect, our grandparents were probably the best place for all three of us.
Unfortunately, although it was shortly after eight, I was the only person up and instead of bothering anyone, I merely called Granddad and got the address from him. It turned out my grandparents weren’t even quarter of a mile up the street, also in the yuppie part of Charlestown. Their home wasn’t much different from Dylan’s except it was a light sand color and there was only one car, a ‘67 restored black Chevy Impala, in the garage. It was my grandfather’s pride and joy and every time I saw that car, I was reminded of Sam and Dean Winchester on Supernatural.
I walked up the steps and rung the doorbell. The door was promptly opened by my grandmother. She was older and there were more wrinkles around her warm blue-gray eyes but she smiled and embraced me immediately.
“Oh, Elvira, you have grown into a beautiful woman,” she greeted before her lips brushed my cheek. “You must drive the men crazy everywhere you go.”
“Not quite but thanks for the compliment, Grandma,” I replied.
She seemed to hesitate before she opened the door. “We weren’t expecting you so soon. Patrick and Clara are over with Kieran—”
“I promise not to make a scene, Grandma. Remember, Kieran belongs to them, and I would never do anything to contradict that. I swear.”
She slipped an arm around my shoulders and ushered me in. “I just put on another pot of coffee. How about cup, honey?”
“That would be great,” I responded and stopped as a rambunctious four year old crashed right into my legs.
“Kieran, honey, you can’t attack every person who comes to visit your grandparents—”
Patrick stopped talking as soon as he saw me, and glared at me with cold blue-gray eyes.
“I came by to see Grandma and Grandpa but who is this little person?” I inquired as I knelt before him, and came face to face with large gray-blue eyes. His hair was flaxen blond and he had strawberry preserves all over his cheeks.
“My name is Kieran,” he replied in his soft voice, “and I am four years old. Who are you?”
My heart thundered in my chest and I tried to push the pain as deep as it would go. “My name is Evie and…I’m your cousin. Your father and my mother are brother and sister. How are you, little man?”
“I’m good but I think I ate too much brekfass because my tummy hurts.”
I reached out to touch his hair, so much like his father’s when he was his age, but Patrick swooped in and grabbed Kieran so fast, he made the Airbus seem slow. “Come on, little guy, let’s get you cleaned up.”
Clara, his wife, walked into the living room, and her lightly tanned face drained of color as soon as she saw me. “Elvira! What are you doing here?”
I suddenly felt like I’d been dropped into an episode of the Twilight Zone. “I’m here to visit Grandma and Grandpa. I had no idea you were here—”
“Patrick’s job took us to Connecticut, and we now live in New Haven. We had a long weekend due to Pat having some vacation time. It looks like you are the queen of bad timing. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were here just to see Kieran.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Clara. I’m not here to snatch your precious bundle but one day you will have to tell him about us, you barren bitch,” I said before I could stop myself.
Her hazel eyes grew wide with surprise. “Well, well. It looks like the more things change, the more they stay the same. Nice to know my son wasn’t in the room when you decided to use that kind of language with me.” She planted her hands on slim hips that had never, and wouldn’t ever know the experience of childbirth. “Yes, that’s right, he’s my son! Your mother signed the paperwork on your behalf and as far as the law is concerned, Patrick and I are Kieran’s parents.”
“What is wrong with you? I have already told you I am not here for him—I came to see my grandparents, and all the sudden I have committed some kind of crime for being here? What is wrong with either one of you?”
Granddad walked into the living room; his cornflower blue eyes glanced coldly at Clara. “You leave my baby alone. We raised Evie from the time she was an infant. She always comes to see us. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Why don’t you go upstairs, and help your husband with your son.”
I breathed a sigh of relief before I ran over and embraced my grandfather. “How are you, Pops?”
I never really called him or my grandmother my grandparents unless we were in polite company. For the first eight years of my life, they had been Ma and Pops to me. I didn’t even know I had real parents until I learned the woman I called Aunt Athena had actually given birth to me, and my father was her husband she’d finally tied down to marry her. That was explained to me a week before she and my real father had come to pick me up and take me to Los Angeles where I would have a rich and glamorous life.
My so-called life with my real parents wasn’t that great after all. I was surrounded by nannies and I rarely saw my parents at all. I went to the best schools but the kids made fun of my “strange” accent. It was miserable and I would have traded it in a heartbeat for the streets of Dorchester with Ma and Pops in a minute. However, there was no going back—not then and certainly not now.
I suppose Ma and Pops were pretty disappointed when I came to stay with them for the summer of 2007 and ended up preggers with my cousin’s best friend’s kid. If they were, they didn’t show it. They were nothing but supportive while my mother cried a lot, and my father tried to be “pragmatic” about the whole situation.
It all worked out in the end because Clara, Patrick’s wife, couldn’t have any children, and it was against church policy to try any “artificial methods of becoming pregnant.” Both my uncle and his wife were hard-core Catholics who followed the church’s teachings like the goddamn Holy Grail. They thought of me, an unwed, fifteen-year-old, giving birth to a child, was an anathema to the Church’s practices but my misfortune was their reversal of bad luck. It was decided they would adopt the child, and Father O’Malley oversaw it with a Church attorney.
When I gave birth, there was an announcement but it was that Patrick and Clara McKenna had welcomed a seven pound, two-ounce son into the world. They named him Kieran, and before I could get out of the hospital, Finn was gone. My mother had paid for her brother and Clara to take a long trip back to Ireland. At least long enough to get me away from Boston without seeing the man who had impregnated me and loved me more than life itself again before we left Boston.
I traveled back to Los Angeles with my parents and started school in late March, just a couple weeks after giving birth, and told e
veryone who would listen I’d been kicked out of one of the most prestigious boarding schools in Switzerland therefore no one knew the truth. Not even Monika was privy to the news and we didn’t keep secrets from one another but this was one I held next to my heart and never let go.
The following year was rough for me but I was safe with the knowledge Kieran was in the hands of a family who truly wanted him and would do anything to keep him safe.
Now that I was back, I was considered a threat but why would Patrick or Clara think I would want Kieran back? He didn’t know me, and the only parents he knew were them. What would I, as a nineteen-year-old who would be twenty in less than a couple of weeks, do with a preschool-aged kid? I wasn’t even sure I wanted children yet these two were somehow convinced I would sweep in and take their precious bundle? They were both delusional, and crazy as shit house rats as far as I was concerned.
I looked down and realized I was so angry my hands were shaking. Grandma grabbed one of my hands, and glared at Clara as if she should be ashamed before she sat me down at the breakfast table. She poured me a cup of coffee, and coupled this with a plate of sausage, two eggs over easy and two slices of toasted white bread. She set down her strawberry preserve in front of me and sat across from me.
All the sudden, I was transported back to my childhood and I smiled as I began to cut my sausage and took a satisfying bite before I buttered and covered my bread in strawberry preserve. The two over easy eggs were slid in between the bread. I loved to make a messy egg sandwich and bite from it with a bit of sausage between bites.
“Why doesn’t it surprise me you haven’t had a decent meal? They’re not here long so if you ever want a home-cooked breakfast or dinner, you know where to come, okay?” Grandma remarked before she patted my right hand.
“Thanks, Ma.”
Her blue-gray eyes watered a bit before she grabbed a napkin and dabbed at her eyes. “You have grown into a beautiful young woman, and no doubt Finn has seen you again. How did that go?”
I rolled my eyes as I bit into my sandwich. “He wanted to devour me but Mom says I have to get myself taken care of before we can you-know-what. She’s not ready to be a grandmother.”
“Silly cow, what the hell does she think she is now? It makes no difference if Kieran is adopted out to her brother—he’s still her grandson. She’s always been like that. She wasn’t ready to be a mother either. Why do you think you spent the first eight years here? Her career was the most important thing in her life. Now look at her, embarrassing herself with that young man. For God’s sake, the guy is only five years older than her nephew.”
“I suppose if she’s happy then who are we to criticize, right?”
“You’re just the same. She’s lucky to have you as a daughter. You always look at life in the best terms. Yes, you’ve made some mistakes but what young person doesn’t? You were in love, and it’s plain as day you still are.”
Grandma and I were suddenly interrupted with the sound of clicking heels against the hardwood.
Someone whistled. “Wow, look who’s back in town. Hey, Grandma. How are you doin’ you little silly cow?”
I turned and faced my cousin and Dylan’s youngest sister, Fiona. “Nice to see you again too.”
“Who said it was nice to see ya? What are you doing here?” Fiona inquired as she placed her hands on slender hips.
I could admit this now that we were more or less the same age but when we were kids, I was jealous of Fiona. She was such a beautiful woman and completely Irish with beauty that would make most men cry.
She had long, dark brown hair, which ended at lower back, bright cornflower blue eyes, and perfect Irish features. She was a better-looking Emily Blunt if that was possible. Her body was still slim with large, high-sitting C-cup breasts and a flat stomach. She wore a short red skirt and a white halter-top that looked like purchases from some cheap store like Hot Topic or Forever 21 but even though her clothes were inexpensive and Chinese-made, they molded to her perfect figure.
Fortunately, despite her promiscuity and rampant drug use, her alabaster skin was perfect except for a brand new bruise, which was turning purple on her upper arm. She was accompanied by her best friend, Chloe, a surly redhead with a smattering of freckles but still equally beautiful as Fiona.
“Want some breakfast, dears?” Grandma inquired as she got up while Fiona and Chloe sat down at the table.
“That would be great, Grandma,” Fiona replied as her blue eyes glared angrily into mine. “Anyway, what the hell are you doing here?”
“Where’d you get that nice little souvenir on your arm?” I inquired out loud.
“That fuckin’ Jig she dates,” Chloe responded in anger.
“He’s only half-black—it’s not his fault his mom fucked some Caribbean bastard. He’s as Irish as you and me. After all, he’s from Belfast,” Fiona snapped.
I laughed out loud. “Oh…my…God. You are seriously not dating Brandon Cleary?”
“Yeah, so what? He works with your boyfriend,” Chloe interrupted. “You should know they are business partners since he doesn’t trust anyone other than Dylan if they aren’t from the home country. That was pretty funny when they came back from Ireland, and the immigration officer thought Brandon’s Irish passport was a fake. He had to really to turn up his Northern Irish accent. He finally had to start speaking Gaelic just to get past the fuckhead—sorry for the language, Mrs. McKenna.”
My grandmother laughed. “No worries, Chloe. I remember when you were in diapers, and I was young once too you know.”
“So, what are you doing here again? You never answered that question.”
“I transferred to Boston University and I didn’t want to go back to L.A. so I came straight here.”
Fiona chuckled. “Well, I know it wasn’t the weather that brought you here. Granted the summer will be lovely and fall will be…well, fall, but are you ready for your first winter here in almost five years? They haven’t gotten any better you know, despite all that talk about global warming and all that other crap.”
Strike one: Fiona was a gorgeous woman but she was also the same idiot I remembered when we were children. It was true, I had rarely done a college paper in my life but it wasn’t because I was stupid. It was just easier to pay some student on a full-ride to do it for me.
Fiona had never been particularly smart in school, and this was the reason why she never went to college. Brainpower and Fiona simply did not mix and the woman was genuinely dumb as a box of rocks.
“Just because the winters are still cold, and it snows doesn’t mean global warming doesn’t exist,” I replied before I polished off the rest of my breakfast. “If you cracked open a book or hell, just spent a day on Google, you’d know that.”
“Oh, listen to Ms. Fancy pants,” Chloe chided as Grandma set their plates in front of them. “Don’t let us little people get in your way or anything because you’re just so smart, and full of knowledge.”
I shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, it’s not like we’re gonna find any candidates between the two of you for Good Will Hunting—”
“Not unless it’s sucking Matt Damon’s cock before he married that Spic bitch,” Chloe interrupted.
“Um, do you know how to talk about any ethnic group without insulting the whole population as a whole?”
“Not really. Look at that half-guinea, half-Spic bitch Dylan is dating. I would have done him in a heartbeat, and look who he’s stuck with. She’ll be preggers before you know it. It’s not like those types take care of themselves, and to top it off, she’s a fucking Oxyball addict.”
“Makes her nice and pliable for my brother dearest,” Fiona said with a mouth stuffed full of food. “My brother would rather them just lie on their back than do all the heavy lifting. You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Elvira?”
I winced at the use of my full Christian name. I didn’t mind when my grandmother did it but to hear it out of Fiona’s perfect mouth really incensed me. I finished m
y coffee, stood, took my plate and cup to the sink before walking out of the kitchen. The last thing I heard was a burst of laughter between the two women.
My grandmother had joined my grandfather on the sofa. They were busy talking to Patrick and Clara. I leaned over, kissed and hugged both. “I gotta get going but I’ll be back over again. Nice to see you again, Uncle Patrick and Aunt Clara…take care of little Kieran.”
“Kieran’s fine,” Clara snapped before she joined hands with her husband. “See you again I’m sure.”
“Not in this lifetime if I can help it,” I murmured under my breath as I waved to my grandparents and left through the front door.
The day had already warmed up and the sun shined through the trees as I walked down the street. It was times like this that really made me love this area of the country. It was like the Bermuda Triangle—once it had you in its clutches, it was hard as hell to leave. That is why so many people who had grown up here never left. I would have never left if it had been my choice because I adored Boston.
By the time I got back to Dylan and Finn’s, both men were up while an already-stoned Carmelita greeted me with a smirk on her face.
“Oh, the bitch is back. Where did you go anyway?” she inquired out loud.
“To my grandparents down the street,” I replied though I was addressing both Dylan and Finn instead of her.
“Like their new house? I bought that one before I bought this one. I didn’t want them stuck in Dorchester a minute more than they had to,” Dylan explained as he sucked from a bottle of Budweiser.
“I can make some coffee if you want me to,” I said noticing it was barely eleven in the morning and yet my cousin was already hitting the booze.
“That’s okay. Finn is the sober one and actually doesn’t start getting high until the evening but me—any time is Miller time.”
“Even if you’re drinking a Budweiser?”
Dangerous Games Page 5