The Trouble Girls

by E. R. Fallon

  “Have a seat at the bar.” She smacked the bar stool next to hers. “We’ll be going into the back once the others arrive.”

  “All right. Got anything to drink?” he asked as he sat down.

  Violet moved the whiskey over to his side.

  “Got a glass?” he asked next.

  Violet reached behind the bar for one.

  “Thanks,” Derrick said as she handed it to him.

  Derrick opened the bottle and poured his drink. Back when Violet’s grandfather ran the gang, he had a strict rule about no heavy drinking or drugs, and Violet and her mother had continued the rule despite her mother constantly breaking it. They wouldn’t even sell drugs, that’s what separated them from the other gangs.

  Derrick had a drink and then went to pour himself another.

  “Careful,” Violet said, and she didn’t like having to remind him.

  Aware of the rules, Derrick closed the bottle and moved it back to her side.

  Violet looked at the clock. “I’m going to check to see what’s taking my mother so long,” she said to Derrick.

  She got up and as she made her way to the front door, it opened with Catherine and the remaining two men, Jake and Patrick, who everyone called Pat, appearing.

  “I can’t see anything,” Catherine said then turned on the light.

  “Mom,” Violet said. “You know why it isn’t on. Someone could see us.” She got up and switched it off.

  “Who? The police?” Catherine said. “They’ve barely noticed us before. No one’s out there, sweetheart.”

  Violet sighed because she knew about her mother’s stubbornness.

  “Yeah, Violet, I’m sure we have nothing to worry about,” Pat said.

  “Yeah, Cathy’s right,” Jake said.

  The circumstances weren’t unusual because the men, even Max, frequently took her mother’s side, which wasn’t too surprising to Violet since some of them had worked for her family going back to her grandfather and had known her mother longer than they’d known her.

  “I’m leaving it off. Let’s just go into the back, all right?” Violet told them. “Then we can stop debating about this. I’m getting a headache over this nonsense.”

  “Do you want us to kill someone, is that why you called us here at this God-awful hour?” Pat, the blunt one of the group, asked.

  Catherine shushed him. “We don’t talk about that outside the backroom.”

  Pat shrugged. “Sorry, Cathy.”

  Jake leaned over the bar.

  “What are you looking for?” Derrick asked him.

  “A drink,” he replied.

  “Violet’s got a bottle of whiskey on the bar.”

  “Oh, I didn’t see it.” Jake felt for the bottle and grabbed it. He held it up in the moonlight trickling into the pub. “I’ll bring it in the back with us in case one of us gets thirsty.”

  “You know the rules,” Catherine said.

  Violet saw the irony in her mother’s retort. It wasn’t like Catherine’s drinking problem was kept secret, but no one talked about it.

  “We’ll just have one each,” Jake said.

  “Derrick’s already had one,” Violet said. “And to be fair, so have I.”

  They made their way into the kitchen and Violet turned on the light there since it wasn’t visible to the outside. Catherine took out the key to the secret room and Violet and the men waited for her to open it. Jake took a swig from the bottle and Violet grabbed it from him.

  “You aren’t even gonna use a glass?” she said.

  “I’m sure you didn’t,” Jake replied.

  “Yeah, but it’s my bottle.”

  Violet handed it to Pat. “You want one?” she asked him.

  He declined.

  Catherine took the bottle from Violet and left it outside when they stepped into the windowless room.

  Violet pulled the string attached to the ceiling bulb to turn on the light then she shut the door. There was a table and a few folding chairs in the small room and she and her mother and Derrick sat, while Jake and Pat, who were lower down in the organization, leaned against the wall.

  “You were right, Pat,” Catherine said, looking at him.

  “Who’s the lucky bastard?” Pat asked.

  “Name’s Joseph O’Connor. He owes us thousands through Max and keeps brushing off Max every time he confronts him about it. He doesn’t take us seriously, so we’ll have to show him just how serious we are.”

  “Want us to give him a beating?” Pat said.

  “I think we’re already past that,” Catherine replied. “Max sent Anton over to the guy’s house to give him a beating and even that didn’t work. He’s still not taking us seriously. He thinks he doesn’t have to pay up. We need to send a message to those in the neighborhood who are considering doing the same thing.”

  “Maybe Max shouldn’t have let him place all those bets,” Jake remarked.

  “Max ain’t his minder,” Pat countered. “You know how this business works, and these people know what they’re getting into when they get involved with us. We’re not saints, and they know it.”

  “It isn’t just the bets that are the problem,” Catherine said. “He borrowed money from us to place those bets.”

  “Where’s Anton anyway?” Derrick asked.

  “Anton’s not going to be joining us tonight—or ever again,” Catherine said.

  “He’s dead?” Jake asked, and his face whitened. From his tone, Violet wondered if he thought that Catherine had killed Anton.

  “No,” Violet said. “I caught him using again.”

  The men nodded and didn’t ask questions; once Catherine made a decision, it was final.

  “About this O’Connor,” Violet said. “Keep it quick and get rid of it clean. We don’t want a mess like that last time.”

  The last time the guys had eliminated someone, they used the warehouse Violet and her mother owned on the waterfront to butcher his remains then put them in oil barrels to drop into the Hudson River at night. They’d never cleaned up after themselves after, so Violet and Max had to deal with the disgusting mess, and Max had complained he’d ruined his favorite shoes.

  “What do you mean?” Jake asked.

  “Put a bullet in his head then break his bones and shove him into a barrel in one piece, is what I mean,” Catherine said bluntly. “Don’t chop him up like the last time. When it’s done, call the pub and one of us will answer the phone. I’ll need confirmation it’s done.”

  While some gangs hired contract killers for the type of deed Catherine was asking, Violet and her mother’s crew had continued Violet’s grandfather’s reign of brutality and chose to carry such grim tasks out themselves, which was why even the Italian mob respected them.

  “You’ll get a bonus, of course,” Violet told the men. “For your trouble.”

  The men grunted in approval, but it wasn’t as though they had much choice; if they denied Catherine what she wanted, then they might find themselves on the other end of her wrath.

  Catherine handed Derrick the man’s address. “But don’t do it near his home.”

  “He’s got a wife and kids?” Derrick asked.

  “A wife. No kids,” Catherine replied. “Follow him, get him into the van. And then do it somewhere far away. We aren’t monsters.”

  They kept the van in the warehouse and used it to transport those that they needed to deal with, and when they weren’t using it for that, they were using it to pick up supplies for the pub.

  “Any special requests?” Pat asked. “I know you had said you wanted to send a message.”

  Catherine shook her head. “His death will be clear enough.”

  Back in the day when Violet’s grandfather ran the mob, he’d sometimes leave a severed finger or two where someone could find them.

  Violet swallowed at the thought and was thankful her mother lacked his morbid humor.

  Violet checked the time. “I should be going. I don’t want Tommy to wake up and I’
m not there,” she told her mother.

  “How is the big guy?” Jake asked her with a smile. Her mother had thought Jake had a crush on her, but Violet felt he was just the most outgoing member of their crew.

  “He’s well,” she said. “But he won’t be happy about Anton leaving.”

  “Yeah, I remember you said he really liked Anton,” Jake replied. “That’s too bad.”

  “Go,” her mother gestured for her to leave.

  Violet got up and said goodbye to the men. She knew her mother wouldn’t give them their bonus until the act had been completed.

  She exited the dark pub for the city streets. Daylight was fast approaching and Violet hurried home to get Tommy ready for school before he woke up and saw she wasn’t home. She crossed the street quickly and avoided getting hit by a taxicab. The women she’d said hello to earlier were leaving for the day and one of them yelled at her to be careful.

  “You’re gonna get killed someday if you keep doing that,” the woman said.

  Violet nodded and smiled at her, but the truth was that there was so much danger in her life that risks like that didn’t seem like much.

  Violet entered her apartment building and ran up the stairs. She quietly put the key in the lock and entered.

  “Mom?” Tommy said in front of her. “Where did you go?”

  “Hi, big guy,” she replied, ruffling his hair, but he was already almost as tall as she was. She thought about what to say, not the truth. “I needed to go for a walk to clear my head.”

  “You do that a lot,” he said.

  Violet smiled at her son but was saddened by his words. Tommy was right; there were a lot of middle-of-the-night meetings at the pub, and sometimes people were killed afterwards and Violet knew about it, and although she had helped clean up after the killings, she had never participated in them directly.

  “Come on,” she said. “You need to get ready for school.”

  Tommy looked around the living room. “Where’s Anton?”

  “He had to . . .” Violet paused. “He’s gone, Tommy. I had to throw him out because he wasn’t being honest with me.” There wasn’t any other way to put it.

  “He lied to you?” Tommy asked.

  Violet nodded.

  “What did he tell you?” he asked.

  “Anton had a problem,” she said delicately, to preserve her son’s innocence. “It wasn’t good. He couldn’t live with us anymore.”

  “Will he still work for grandma?” Tommy asked. Her son knew that Anton had worked for his grandmother but not the true nature of their business. Tommy thought that Anton worked at the pub, which had been easy to pretend since Anton had hung around there a lot. But that would stop.

  “I’m afraid he can’t anymore,” Violet replied.

  “Why not? Does it have to do with his problem?”

  Violet nodded. Tears pooled in her eyes at her son’s virtue, and she wiped them away.

  “It’s okay, Mom, you don’t have to tell me more.” It was in Tommy’s nature to not want to see people upset, especially his mother.

  Tommy went to his bedroom to prepare for school and Violet made them some breakfast. After they had eaten, Tommy put his backpack on his shoulders, and they left the apartment to walk to the local Catholic school he attended.

  Her son looked dashing in his school uniform and Violet patted his shoulder tenderly as they walked. Tommy looked over at her and smiled.

  “You know, I’m old enough to walk to school,” he said.

  “I know, but we live in New York City. It’s dangerous,” she replied. “Let’s wait until you’re at least a teenager, okay?”

  Tommy nodded.

  Once they arrived, she said goodbye. He was at that age when he didn’t want a hug, or, God forbid, a kiss, from his mother in front of his schoolmates. His school wasn’t far from the pub so she went to the shop at the corner for a cup of coffee and then headed there. Halfway on her way there, her hands shook as she thought about what her men could be doing at that very moment and she dropped the cup on the ground. Was she getting soft, or was it because each time they did something like that it meant they were one stop closer to getting caught?

  She sighed and picked it up and threw it away in a trash can.

  She made it to the pub and found her mother already there, perhaps she had been there since Violet left her—Catherine never seemed to need much rest despite her drinking. Camille hadn’t arrived yet but was due to come at any moment.

  Catherine poured a cup of coffee for each of them and gestured for Violet to join her at the bar before they opened for the day.

  “Hear any news from the guys yet?” she asked her mother.

  Catherine shook her head.

  Violet put the coffee cup to her lips but was suddenly too anxious to drink any. She put the cup back down and watched her mother drinking her coffee.

  “How can you drink when I’m too nervous to?” she asked.

  Catherine shrugged. “I’ve gotten used to it over the years, and you will soon.”

  “I know, but some things you just don’t get used to. These kinds of things, especially, could attract the police. I worry.”

  “Don’t, sweetheart.” Catherine touched Violet’s hand on the bar. “It’s never been a problem before.”

  Violet nodded but her mother’s words wouldn’t quell her worries.

  After a few minutes, they got up to prepare to open for the early drinking crowd, and in this neighborhood, there were many. Max came in a few minutes later, followed by Camille.

  Hours later evening arrived, and the pub began to get crowded for the night. The phone rang in the kitchen above the noise and Violet looked at her mother and then ran to answer.

  “Hello?” she said, putting her hand to her other ear to block out the sounds of the pub.

  “Job’s done,” Derrick said on the other end of the phone.

  Violet hung up and walked out to the barroom and approached her mother, who was chatting with a few customers. She motioned for Catherine to come with her. They checked to make sure no one was in the ladies’ room and then stepped inside.

  “Derrick called. It’s done,” Violet told her mother by the sink.

  “That’s good to hear. I’ll make sure the fellas get their money.”

  “I’ll let Max know,” Catherine said. “I’m sure he’ll be pleased.”

  5

  Camille sweated as she worked behind the bar and tried to keep up with the orders of the big crowd in the pub. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Violet leaving the ladies room with her mother and wondered what they were up to. Catherine walked upstairs, presumably to talk with Max. What about? Camille could only guess.

  The pub door opened, and Johnny Garcia strode in. Camille was surprised to see him, but maybe she shouldn’t have been, since he’d said he’d return to see her. One thing was for sure, he wasn’t going to give up easily.

  He grinned at her from across the room and approached the bar. He found room at the end of the bar and waved to get her attention, but she’d already seen him and was ignoring him. When he started calling her name, she had to look at him.

  She threw her bar towel over her shoulder and went over to face him.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I’m here to see you. I said I’d see you soon, remember?” Johnny smiled. “Where did you learn bartending?”

  “From working at various places,” she said, then stopped when she realized he was trying to have a conversation with her. “I’m busy, as you can see.”

  “I realize that,” he said.

  Violet eyed them from across the room.

  “My bosses don’t know why you’re in here,” Camille told him.

  Johnny glanced at Violet. “I can see that.”

  “Why don’t they like you?” she asked, but she thought that she already might have known why. “I know you’re a gangster.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “They did
.”

  “They’re trying to get you to stay away from me,” Johnny replied. “Are you going to listen to them?”

  “I haven’t decided yet,” Camille said with a smile. “Did that guy you were hassling in here the other day ever pay you?”

  “No, but I’ll make him.”

  “And if you can’t?” But Camille thought she already knew the answer, yet she wanted him to tell her, to confirm what Violet and Catherine had said he was.

  “Me and my guys will have to hurt him.”

  “So, it’s true, then, you are a gangster. Is that why they don’t like you?”

  “They probably don’t like me because I’m Cuban.”

  “That’s terrible,” Camille said. “But I don’t think that’s why.”

  “Me and the Irish don’t exactly get along,” Johnny said.

  “I’m Irish,” Camille replied.

  “I know.”

  “Why don’t you like us?” she asked.

  “It’s personal.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Okay, I will. They killed my father and his gang leader, a guy named Tito Bernal, Irish gangsters did.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that.”

  “Thanks. But why would you have known that?” Johnny asked.

  Camille realized she’d slipped up. “No reason,” she quickly said.

  “It was a long time ago,” Johnny said after a while. “I took over recently. I used to have a real job before that, but this is more lucrative. I’m taking a risk by even setting foot in this place, but I knew the guy frequented here and I want my money, and then I just had to see you again.”

  “I hope I’m worth it,” Camille cracked a joke.

  “I’m betting you are,” he flirted.

  “What are your plans for the gang?” she asked him.

  “I got lots of them, one of them is to avenge my father.”

  “Why are you telling me that?” she asked, thinking how they had something in common.

  “Because while I don’t know you well, I have a feeling I can trust you.”

  “You’re taking a big risk.”

  “Then it’s one I’ll just have to take.” Johnny smiled. “Go on a date with me.”

  “Maybe. When?”

  “When does your shift end?”