by J. L. Fynn
A dark-haired boy, still in footed pajamas, toddled into the room. I smiled at him, and he stared back at me with a curious frown. After apparently deciding I wasn't so bad, he scrambled over to hug my knee, then wiped his drool-slick face on my pant leg.
“Thanks, buddy.” I lifted him onto my lap. “Which one is this?” I asked Jim.
“Hell if I can keep them straight anymore. Michael Sheedy has more sons than Noah, and I hear they're trying for a girl.”
Most Travelers had only two or three kids. Families traveled together, and the more kids you had the more difficult it was to get out on the road. This little one had to have been their fourth, and apparently they weren't done yet.
“There's my little prince,” Michael Sheedy said, striding into the room in a white linen suit so crisp it would've put Colonel Sanders to shame. “Your mama's been looking for you all over the house.” He scooped the boy from my lap and carried him to his own seat behind the huge mahogany desk that took up most of the office space.
“Nice of you to join us, Michael,” Jim said.
I glanced at Jim from the corner of my eye. He looked terrible, with dark stubble on his cheeks and sleep-rumpled clothing. I wished he'd at least run a comb through his hair if he was going to be an ass right off the bat.
Michael ignored him. He pulled a bowl of M&Ms to the middle of the desk. “Go on, I won't tell your mama.” He grinned as the excited toddler dug into the bowl with two hands, pulling back only when his tiny fists were full to bursting with the candy. He stuffed both handfuls into his mouth at once, and slimy candy fell out, leaving a rainbow trail down his chin and down the front of his father's suit jacket.
Michael jumped from his seat. “God damn it, boy.” He dangled his son an arm's length away from his chest. “Bridget!”
The child's face crumpled, and he shrieked, squirming in his father's grip and spewing even more of the soggy candy. His mother appeared within seconds, her arms already stretched out to receive her son. “What did you do?” she scolded. “You naughty thing.”
Michael stripped off the jacket and tossed it at her. “Clean that up, would you?”
She nodded. “Come on, Judd. You caused your daddy enough trouble.” She scurried from the room, the toddler and jacket tucked under each arm.
“Do it now,” Michael called after her. “Before the stain sets in.” His instructions given, Michael retook his seat and pulled it closer to the desk.
“Sorry about that, boys.”
“It's fine.” I fidgeted in my chair. “He's just a kid.”
“Kid or not, he's a little dim, I'm afraid. Lucky I have three others to help carry on the family name.”
“He's what? Two? I'm sure he'll turn out fine.” I was spending a lot of time lately defending little boys to the men around them, but who knew if my patience came from not raising any kids of my own. It was hard to say what kind of father I'd be when I got my chance. The thought drew my mind back to the room, and the reason for my presence in it. I looked from Michael to Jim and back. “So, what's this big job?”
Michael held up his hands. “We'll get into all that. We're still waiting on one more.”
“You didn't say anything about a third.” Jim sat up in his chair. “You may not be able to do this job on your own, Sheedy, but we can handle it.” He slapped the back of his hand into my arm.
“I could do the job just fine,” he said with a pointed look to Jim. “I just think it'll work better with cons a little younger than myself. It's a very particular kind of game, see, and you need the right look to pull it off.”
“What's the game, Michael?” I leaned forward in my chair. I'd had enough of this cloak-and-dagger bullshit. I wanted to know what we were getting into, and I wanted to know now.
“Patience, Tommy. I'd just as soon not have to explain it all over again once she gets here.”
“She? Who the hell’s coming?” Jim asked.
In answer to his question, the doorbell chimed. A moment later, Bridget Sheedy opened the office door once more, and this time her usual sour expression was full of open disgust. “They're in here.” She pushed the door open wider so whoever'd just arrived could come in. When the girl passed Bridget into the office, she actually turned her head away as if trying to avoid a rancid smell. Bridget slammed the door closed again without another word.
The girl hovered between the door and us, ringing her hands so hard I was surprised she had any skin left. It took me a second to recognize her, and given the reception she'd just received from the lady of the house, her reputation was as bad as ever.
If the alarm bells were ringing before, they were clanging now. Michael Sheedy had assembled his A team: Jim, a closeted gay man with an increasingly worsening addiction problem; Marie Gorman, who'd been dragged by the entire Village for messing around with a country boy; and me, an orphan who'd abandoned his clan. He was up to something, and the chill creeping through my veins warned it wasn't something any of us should be a part of. But Michael soon made the reason behind his strange choices clear.
“Excellent.” He grinned. “Now that you're all here, we can get to business. If this works out, we'll be able to make a lot of money and maybe even repair a few damaged reputations in the process.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
“WHAT'S THAT SUPPOSED to mean?” I asked. I was on the edge of my chair now, ready to bolt from the room. “Whose reputation do you think needs repairing?” It seemed like a stupid question given the assembled group, but I wanted to know what he knew.
He shook his head, his mouth twisted into a pitying smile. “We all have sins,” he said. “Even you, Saint Thomas.”
“And what are my sins?” I asked in a much higher register than I'd intended. I cleared my throat.
“We all know our own sins, and I think we all have a fair idea about each other's as well.” He looked at each of us in turn, and I could see from the way Jim and Marie both withered under his gaze that I wasn't the only one feeling exposed. “None of it will matter, though, if you pull this off.”
So that was his game. He had something on each of us. Some way of controlling us. Some way that guaranteed we wouldn't turn him down or betray him once we had money in hand.
“What's the job?” Jim asked.
“I heard from a few contacts up in Chicago recently,” Michael said. “Apparently there's a big new hotel about to have its grand opening.”
Contacts in Chicago meant one thing. “Northern Travelers,” I said. “Those boys make the cons we run look like charity work. You've got some nerve getting mixed up with them, let alone dragging us into it.”
“Easy, Tommy. They may do things a little differently up north, but they're Travelers just the same.”
“They're nothing but granny-men.” Now I was on my feet. “They'll cheat an old lady out of her pension and not bat an eyelash! You couldn’t find half a conscience among the lot of them. I wouldn’t put it past them to scam a fellow Traveler.”
“Enough,” Michael said, slamming his fist into the desk. Marie jumped at the sound, and wrapped her sweater more tightly around herself. “I don't give a damn what you think about my associates, and all this shit about a conscience is pretty fucking rich coming from you.” He jabbed an angry finger at me. “Should we talk about what you're willing to do to your fellow Travelers?”
My mouth snapped shut, biting off the angry response I'd just been about to give. Jim's hand wrapped around my forearm and pulled me back into my seat.
“Tell us what we need to do,” he said.
“It’s simple, really. The con practically runs itself. The grand opening is in three days, and the owner's pulling out all the stops. That means a big crowd, lots of strangers hanging around who might have ill intentions, and lots of witnesses a young girl could reach out to if she were,” he paused for a second, “shall we say 'treated poorly' by a gentleman.”
“You have got to be kidding,” I said through my teeth. Jim put his hand on my shoulder to quiet
me, but I shook it off. “What the hell are you even talking about?”
“I'm talking about something a wealthy man who made a big investment in a family-friendly hotel wouldn't want a lot of attention drawn to. If our sweet Marie here were to catch the eye of the wrong man during the big party and he got rough, my associates guarantee the hotel owner would be willing to pay handsomely to keep it quiet.”
“I've heard enough.” I was on my feet again, shoving the chair out of my way as I headed for the door. Before I made it across the floor I turned back to glare at Michael. “No amount of money would be enough to convince me to do something this fucked up. I don't care if he'd be willing to fork over a million dollars.”
“Funny you should say that,” Michael said with a self-satisfied sneer. “Because that's exactly how big a score this could be.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“TOMMY, STOP!” JIM called.
My anger had quickened my step, and I was already half way back to his house by the time he caught up with me. “Save it. You're not going to talk me into running this con, Jim. If you and Marie want to get mixed up in Michael's sick game, that's on you, but I won't do it.”
Jim grabbed my arm and jerked me to a stop. “A million dollars, Tommy. You can't really be walking away from that. Think about what kind of life you could have with that kind of money.”
I was thinking about it. I hadn't stopped thinking about what kind of life I could have since I saw Maggie and Jimmy Boy again. A payday like this would mean we'd have no problem starting over, but I’d never be able to face myself or them if this is how I got it. “Forget it. It's not going to happen.”
“I need this, Tommy, and I need you to help me get it. You have to know what a haul like this would mean for me.” His fingers pressed harder into the skin of my arm. “No one will question me taking over the clan after pulling off something like this, and if I'm head of the clan, they won't be questioning anything else, either.”
“Jim, maybe it's time for you to stop hiding who you are. Look at you.” I yanked my arm away so I could gesture at his wrinkled clothes and matted hair. “You're miserable, and it's killing you.”
Jim scowled. “What are you saying, Tommy? I should just admit that I have a sickness and bring a date to the next clan wedding? Or maybe I can show up with him at my pop's funeral. That should be coming up real soon, and it would be a wonderful way to honor his memory.”
“Stop calling it a ‘sickness.’ Jesus, Jim. I don't give a damn how you do it, but if you don't stop denying yourself, it's likely your funeral that'll be next.”
I turned away from him and started walking again, debating whether I would go back to the house or just climb into my truck and drive away. If I went into the house, I'd ask Maggie to leave with me. To pack up Jimmy Boy and never look back. But I didn't know if I could handle her rejection again, and I had little to offer her except myself. Nothing to convince her things would be any better than they would’ve been when I left two years ago. She'd said no then, and my child was the only one she had to worry about. No matter how bad things had gotten with Jim, it was clear that some part of her felt obligated to honor her marriage vows.
“Wiley Jim,” Marie said, out of breath from her jog to catch us. “You're still going to do it, right? Even if he won't help?”
I spun to glare at her. “Do you even have a clue what Michael expects you to do? What you're going to have to say to convince those people to hand over even a single red cent?”
The girl, who looked even younger and more vulnerable standing this close, jutted her chin out at a defiant angle. “I know exactly what my part of the job is, and if I'm not afraid to do it, why should you be?”
“Afraid's got nothing to do with it, darlin',” I said. “I think disgusted is the word you're looking for.”
“Easy for you to be all high and mighty, Saint Thomas,” she said, the venom in her tone making the playful nickname sharp and bitter. “You have Pop to protect you when you mess up. I got no one.” She shoved at my chest with the heel of her hand. “Anyway, you could just up and leave again. I've got nothing except a reputation as a whore and dirty looks from all these damn busybodies.” She threw her arms out in a sweeping gesture that no doubt included every person in the Village.
“Do you really think taking part in something like this is going to change all that?” I looked from her to Jim. “For either one of you?”
“You heard what Michael said.” Her eyes were filled with desperate tears now. “No one's going to be talking about all that stuff in the past when they’re busy talking about us bringing in a record score.”
“And you're so sure Michael's right about that?”
“He has to be. He promised to arrange my marriage to Sonny if I go along with this plan.”
This came as a shock. Sonny was Michael's oldest boy and barely 18 years old. He was still young to get married, and tying his future to this miserable creature seemed pretty cruel, even for a scheming rat like Michael Sheedy. “What if he goes back on his word?”
“I know he won't, and anyway, my life can't get much worse,” she said. “From what he said back there, though, it certainly sounds like yours could.” The tears were gone as quickly as they'd appeared, and now her gaze was sharp and appraising. “Sounds like he's got a little dirt on you boys you might not want getting out. Trust me, I know what it's like to be dragged, and getting involved in a shady deal is a small price to pay to keep that from happening to you and the people you love.”
The people you love. My mind went back to the day Maggie and I had seen Marie on the edge of the Village. I'd worried then that my feelings for Maggie would get us both into trouble. Now that it was clear Michael knew the truth—about my own secrets and Jim's—there was no telling what would happen if he decided to expose us all.
At least with the money we got from this job, we'd have the means to get out for good.
I exhaled my resignation in one long breath, “Fine,” I said, trying to ignore the sour taste at the back of my throat. “When do we leave?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
I LEANED BACK against the passenger door of Jim's truck and closed my eyes. After I'd agreed to do Michael's job, Marie and Jim had both bounded off to pack what they needed for the trip. My own bag had still been packed from the drive down from Iowa, which meant I had plenty of time to stand around regretting my decision.
“God damn it.” I knocked my head against the truck cab. “What the fuck am I doing?”
“You're being a loyal friend,” Maggie said.
I jumped and swiveled around. She was practically next to me, and I hadn't heard her approach. “Where'd you come from?”
She smiled and shook her head at me. “Always so deep in your own mind you miss what's happening around you.” Maggie reached up to tuck an unruly bit of hair behind my ear. I grabbed her hand and pressed it to my face.
“I missed you,” I said, kissing her palm.
She moved to stand in front of me and took my face in both hands. “I missed you, Tommy. More than I realized until you were standing in front of me again.”
“Maggie.” I leaned my forehead into hers. “I don't know if I can do this.”
“You have to. He needs this. And I think you need this too.”
“But do you know what Michael wants us to do? This isn't a driveway or roofing scam. It's—”
“Shhh.” She put her fingertips to my lips. “I don't need to know. Maybe I'm better off not knowing. Anything Michael Sheedy pulls you into almost certainly can't be good, but if something doesn't change for Jim, he'll drink himself to death or worse.”
There was real pain in her eyes when she made the prediction. As much as their relationship had problems, I could tell that she genuinely cared about him. I was touched and jealous at the same time.
I pulled her against me and wrapped my arms around her. “I'll do what I can, but Maggie, when this is over.” I paused for a long time, thinking about how I w
anted to say what I needed to say. “When this is over, I'm out. I'm taking my share and leaving. For good this time.”
“I know,” she said, her cheek still pressed against my chest.
“And I want you to come with me. You and Jimmy.”
Maggie lifted her head to look at me. Her eyes searched my face. “Tommy.”
This time it was me who did the shushing. “Don't answer now. Just think about it. If this works, things for Jim will be a lot better, but nothing will change for you. You'll still be married to a man who can't love you, and separated from the one who loves you more than anything. Our son will grow up without knowing his father.”
“And what about this baby?” She pressed a hand to her belly. “He deserves to know his da, doesn't he?”
I covered her hand with mine. “You’re so sure it’s a boy?”
“It’s just a feeling I have,” she said, a faint grin turning up the corners of her mouth.
“You and your intuition.” I kissed her head. “I hope it’s also telling you that leaving with me will be best for both boys. And for you.”
“It’s beginning to,” she said, nuzzling into me again. “I don’t know if I could bear watching you drive away again.”
“Then don’t,” I said. I hugged her even tighter. “I still have a bad feeling about this, though.”
“I can’t believe Michael would be bold enough to put you or Jim in real harm,” she said. “Pop is still in charge around here, bad heart or no. And underneath the bravado, Michael isn’t much more than a scared little boy playing at being big.”
“Is that more of your intuition?”
“That’s my experience. I’ve been in his house. I’ve seen the way he orders around his wife, only to be manipulated by her the next second. I’ve heard what his sons say about him when his back is turned. He thinks he’s got the reins of the whole Village clenched in his fist, but if he’d bother to open his hand once in awhile he’d find nothing but air.”