Unfinished Business: A Bastards of Boston Novel

by Carina Adams

  Out of all the people who’d come, the ones with children surprised me the most. Yeah, they were Rob's little sisters and brother, but there was no way in hell I'd want my young, impressionable pre-teens to see a teenage pregnancy as a positive thing. Yet, here they were, giving hugs and talking about what great parents the happy couple would be. Gag.

  I didn't know what Rob’s full story was, I didn’t really want to, but I knew it wasn’t pretty. While he lived with his uncle Liam, his sister Katie, who was just a bit older than me, had been adopted by one couple, and his younger sister Meghan and little brother, Colton, by another. Their moms seemed like nice women, but apparently weren't very smart.

  Then again, there had been a time when I thought my own mother was brilliant.

  I rolled my eyes once more and thought about punching the giant pink crepe stork that was standing in the middle of the gift table; maybe then he'd stop looking at me with that goofy grin of his. It didn’t matter where in the room I’d tried to hide, the creepy paper bird stalked me, his gaze watching my every move.

  He wasn’t the only one. I felt their eyes on me–the strangers who didn’t know the real me. Yet when I glanced around the room, everyone looked away, avoiding me at all costs. I made people nervous. Me.

  I snorted. As hilarious as it was, and as much as I enjoyed being left alone, I could understand. It made sense.

  I wasn’t the sweet young woman who blushed at the idea of pre-marital sex as Katie appeared to be. Nothing about me was sweet or innocent. In fact, my sexual history was part of the reason my mother had dragged me to this god-awful party. The reason she wouldn’t let me have a moment’s peace.

  The therapist she and my dad had forced me to talk to claimed that my mother felt guilty and was trying to make up for past wrongs. Apparently, mommy dearest was desperate to show me she loved me, that she had time for me, and that she was sorry.

  What utter bullshit.

  I knew she loved me. I didn’t want her constant attention. She’d had her chance and hadn’t seen when her daughter needed her the most. But it was in the past. I’d moved on. I didn't need her to have guilt.

  It was laughable that the same people who half tried to convince me I was too young to understand what had happened to me, that none of it was my fault even though they watched me with weary eyes, were the ones who were here celebrating. Narrow-minded idiots. If I’d gotten pregnant not one of them would’ve thought that baby was a blessing.

  Rob and Ali’s baby, though? The one conceived between the loser and the beautiful debutante, the couple that probably wouldn’t still be together a year after the birth of their precious bundle of joy, was being treated as if it were the miracle child. Ugh.

  People were afraid of things they didn't understand. They were terrified of me. They definitely didn’t know how to talk to me, how to treat me like I was a normal teenager. Half had followed the trial on the news, the other half gossiped about it behind closed doors. None of them knew what had happened, but one thing was clear—I was to blame. Damaged goods. A pariah.

  The freak who knocked up the beauty queen, though? He got high fives from most adult men because Ali 'was a keeper' and she was told how lucky she was that her boyfriend would stand by her, even though he was the reason she'd just gained thirty pounds and a forever burden. Society had some seriously fucked up views about what was perfectly acceptable and what was unforgivable.

  "Hey brat." The words were followed by a quick tug of my hair, as if he were five. "I'm glad you came."

  I turned, sneering at the boy next to me. I despised him. Everything about him, and I meant everything, from his annoying Boston accent that made him sound stupid to the way he acted like we were still friends, irritated me.

  I’d never understand what a girl like Ali saw in a boy like Rob. He was short and skinny, so much smaller than my brother, and I could almost guarantee I weighed more than he did. His tiny size could’ve been overlooked if just once he wore a pair of jeans that weren't four sizes too big and covered in grease and God knows what other stains, or a tee shirt that didn't have some horrible band's logo on it. He was gross.

  At least today he was wearing clean jeans and an ugly plaid flannel button-down. His dark hair, which looked like it got washed maybe once a week, and that was being generous, was worn in a messy style that hung down over dull, brown eyes. He was the least attractive boy I'd ever seen.

  Yet there was something about him, something I couldn’t identify, that made me wish things were different. Whenever he got too close to me, the hair on my arms pebbled into goose bumps. Every now and then I caught a weird look in his eyes. I didn’t care what my parents said. The kid was nuts. He had a dangerous side, one that everyone else seemed to ignore.

  I was about to tell him to get the hell away from me when I caught my mom's warning look from the other side of the room. I bit back my agitation and offered him a fake smile. "Congratulations."

  His eyebrows disappeared. We'd spent enough time together for him to know that civility was not something to expect from me anymore. The smile he gave me lit up his face, transforming him.

  "Thanks! Matt should be here, ya know, 'cause he's gonna be her godfather. But maybe you could step in and help in his place?"

  It was my turn to be surprised, and I almost laughed at his ridiculous request.

  "No." I glanced over at my mom's table, not happy when her eyes met mine. She really could stop watching me anytime now. I smiled at Rob again, and through clenched teeth gave him a better answer. "Listen, I'm only here because my mom made me come and be nice. I'll sit there and smile and play your stupid party games, but that's it. We're not friends, so let's not pretend we are, okay?"

  His face went blank before he took a step closer, blocking the rest of the guests from my view. Then he gave me another fucking smile. "Most of my family is here today. Which means almost every single person I love is together under one roof. Nothin' you can say will ruin this day for me. So, save it.”

  "Whatever." I shooed him with my hand. “Go away.”

  "Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?" His eyes narrowed, and he reached out, fingers closing around my upper arm almost painfully before he pulled me toward him with a strength that surprised me. "Are you high right now? At my kid's baby shower?"

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  His nostrils flared. “Bullshit! I can smell it on you. How the fuck did you manage to get weed?”

  I looked away, refusing to acknowledge the wounded look in his eye. This was my life, my body, not his. I could do whatever the hell I wanted to.

  “Who sold you dope, Cris?” he demanded, voice low and angry.

  Part of me wanted to snap at him, and tell him exactly how I’d managed to score. I was that bitchy. Yet something held me back. Matty loved this asshole. I loved Matt.

  “Last time I checked, you weren’t my brother,” I hissed, refusing to answer his question and avoiding his eyes.

  He shook me. Actually shook me. Hard enough for my teeth to rattle.

  “You’re right, I’m not. He’d drag your pathetic ass outta this room and beat some sense into ya. Instead, I’m gonna find whoever sold to ya, and beat their ass.”

  I lifted my head, eyes narrowed. Screw him.

  “Not gonna tell me, huh? Fine. I’ll go have a chat with your mom…” He dropped my arm and turned to walk away, but I reached out, grabbing his shirt, stopping him before he could go tattle.

  Asshole.

  We might not ever have a normal mother/daughter relationship, but my mom and I had managed to get some trust back between us. If Rob ratted me out now, that would be gone and she’d start going through my room again. Then she’d find the letters from Dale. If she found them, hell would break loose. I couldn’t let that happen.

  “Wait!”

  He stopped but didn't turn back to me. Glancing around, I could see some of the other guests starting to watch us; it was only a matter of time before my mom realized som
ething was wrong. We couldn’t do this in front of other people.

  I let go of him and walked as calmly as I could to the door, hoping he’d follow. As soon as the sun hit my face, I bounded down the steps and crossed the driveway, hurrying before I lost my nerve. The sound of his boots crunching the gravel let me know he’d followed me.

  When we made it to the shady side of the barn, just out of view of the house, I pointed at the crushed joint partially hidden by a rock on the ground. “I didn’t buy and I didn't bring. Someone here had some and I only took a couple hits.”

  “Bullshit. You mean to tell me one of the grandmas in there was toking it up with you?" He jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the house, disbelief filling his voice. "No one here smokes that shit, and you know it.”

  I shook my head, holding up my hands in surrender. “I swear to God.”

  He narrowed his eyes again. Jeez, the majority of the time we spent together was filled with one of us glaring at the other. He obviously felt just as strongly for me as I did him. If two people hated each other as much as we did, they should stop interacting.

  “Who?” His voice demanded an answer, one I didn’t want to give.

  I shook my head. He’d been happy earlier, and as much as I wished I could say I hated him enough to ruin that joy, I didn’t have it in me. The truth would crush him. I knew in that moment that I could never tell him who had invited me to smoke, even if he ratted me out.

  Rob rolled his eyes.

  “Fine. You keep lying to yourself, kid. No one believes your stories, but you. Someday, you’re gonna grow up and realize I was just tryin' to help.”

  White-hot pangs of hurt trickled into my chest. I hated that he didn’t believe me. I lashed out. "I didn’t ask for help. And I don't need it from some dumbass who talks like a moron and isn't smart enough to keep his dick in his pants, or at least wear a condom when he couldn't.”

  "Good Christ. You really think you’re a princess, don’t you? Fuckin' grow up!" he yelled, his face contorting in anger.

  I snorted, trying to cover the sadness that washed over me. "Suddenly, you’re the mature one just because you knocked up your girlfriend? 'Cause that’s real responsible. Remind me again, where did you meet my brother?"

  “Never said I was mature," he fired back, glaring down at me. "I said one day you would grow up and realize what a pain in the ass you were."

  I moved my arms, mirroring him. “I'm the pain in the ass? You do realize, you aren't actually a member of my family, right?” The hurt that crossed his face caused little pangs of guilt to prick my heart, but I was too angry to care. “You're the replacement son because Matt can't be here. Once he’s out of juvie, my parents will forget all about you.”

  “Whatever.” He shot me a nasty look. “I’m only out here ‘cause I promised your brother I’d keep an eye on you, and protect you the way he would if he were here. But he can't be, can he? You and I both know whose fault that is, don’t we? Ever think it’s not Matt your parents are trying to replace?"

  My mouth fell open, tears burned my eyes, shock at the accusation rocked me to my core. Matty getting locked up had been his own fault, not mine. He had refused to listen to me. No, when I’d needed him the most, my brother had been just as narrow-minded as everyone else.

  That day would haunt me forever.

  When he’d come home early from practice that horrible afternoon almost two years ago, my brother had found Dale and me in the living room. Matt had flown into a rage unlike anything I had ever witnessed. I’d never been afraid of him, not once in my twelve years, but in those moments, he’d gone crazy, lost his mind, and I’d been terrified.

  What he’d done… I shook my head trying to drive the brutal memories from my mind. I’d tried to stop him, tried to stand in his way. Instead, I had lost the person I loved most and I wasn’t sure I’d ever get him back.

  “You’re a stupid dick who doesn't know anything," I raged at the boy who would never understand my loss, could never grasp how miserable I was. How lonely.

  He raised an eyebrow. "I know enough, and that bugs you, doesn't it?" His voice was taunting. "I have a family to think about now, and your shit is really getting old. But you go ahead and be a little brat causing drama wherever she goes.”

  "You're right!" I snapped back. "You do have a family to think about. So, instead of babysitting me and lecturing me about lies, maybe you should be talking to your girlfriend about drug use while pregnant.”

  Rob’s faced turned dangerously dark. “What's that supposed to mean?”

  “You wanna know who gave me the weed? It was your precious little Allison. She stood right there”—I waved my arm angrily at the wall behind him—“and offered me a hit. Complaining about her pregnancy the entire time.”

  I took a step back as his eyes widened in rage and his fists clenched at his sides. “You’re a fuckin’ liar,” he spit out, his jaw clenching as his angry eyes roamed over me. “Never will learn your lesson, will ya?”

  “I’m not lying!” I cried, my voice full of desperation.

  “The fuck you ain't! Ali doesn’t do that shit. Unlike you, she isn’t a selfish little twit who constantly puts the people who love her through hell!” Before I could say anything, he took a step toward me, leaning in close. “Are you really so fuckin' spoiled that you have to be the center of attention all the time? Can’t handle that someone else is happy, so you get high and make up shit? I thought you'd learned your lesson after the trial."

  I felt a tear roll down my cheek as my hands balled into fists. “I hate you!" I screamed.

  "Oh, little girl.” Rob smiled snidely. "You haven't even begun to realize how much." He turned and started to walk back to the house. "Don't bother coming back inside—I don't want you anywhere near my family. I'll tell your mom you're not feeling good.” He was halfway across the yard before he stopped, glancing back over his shoulder. "I made a promise to your brother. I always planned on keepin' it. But now? I’m going to watch every move you make and enjoy making your life hell.”

  He rushed across the yard in long strides as he hurried back to the party. I kicked the barn, screaming in anger, over and over until my foot ached and my toenails felt like they were bleeding. He hadn’t believed me.

  It was happening again. I’d told the truth and been called a liar. There was no point in being honest because no one believed me.

  As the angry tears rolled down my cheeks I realized how much I despised Rob Doyle. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he’d turned his back on me when I’d needed him the most. Not a thing.

  I’d hate him until the day I died.

  I blinked away the memory. Katie was still snoring softly next to me, so I leaned my head against hers and let the warmth of her body comfort me.

  5

  Rocker

  "Fuck, I didn’t think I’d make it off that roof alive,” Tank mumbled as he slammed the back door of my truck and immediately reached for his cooler.

  My crew had finally taken a much-needed break, and the only place we could get a little privacy on this jobsite was my beat-up old Ford Centurion. The thing was a fucking beast, but I’d gotten a good deal and Uncle Liam had helped me restore it. Plus, we could all fit without being stuffed in butt-to-nut.

  I took a bite of my sandwich and leaned my head back against the headrest, bracing one hand on the steering wheel. It had been one hell of a long day, and it wasn't even noon. This job was going to kill me.

  I loved being a carpenter. Hell, I'd take the bitchiest, most demanding customer over working for some prick at a regular nine-to-five, any day of the week. There was something therapeutic about hitting shit with a hammer.

  I hated being a sub-contractor for the company we were with now, though. I needed to remind myself daily that I was lucky the general contractor had hired us to begin with. Four men, all in their early twenties, three with criminal records who were prospecting with a local MC, weren't exactly the kind of workers most GCs
wanted.

  One day, we'd make something of ourselves and we'd be the company everyone with a dollar to burn would hire for remodels. Until that day, I'd put up with the bullshit and be thankful we didn't have to depend on the club for jobs.

  I’d rather clean the fucking sewers than give the Bean Nighe another piece of me.

  “What are we doing tonight?” Tank asked, breaking the silence again. He’d always been the talker.

  "I don't know about you, but I'm studying," Matt answered from next to me.

  "Seriously?" Tank asked, the word muffled by his food.

  Matt nodded. "Yeah, seriously. My Human Service Systems professor is a pain in the ass. If I don't have this paper finished and on her desk first thing Monday, she'll give me a zero."

  Jeremy, the fourth member of our crew groaned. "Dude, I forgot about that paper! She just assigned a case study, too.” He sighed. “If I don't pull at least a C in this class, I'll lose my scholarship."

  I watched Tank shake his head in my rearview. "You two assholes can study tomorrow. Let's hit the clubhouse tonight. All four of us."

  "What clubhouse?" Jeremy asked, causing both Matt and me to turn toward the back seat, eyeing him and wondering if he was serious. He swallowed his bite and then gave us a dirty look as he realized Tank was talking about the Bean Nighe clubhouse.

  "Not a fuckin' chance in hell. My dad would beat my ass if I even thought about stepping a foot inside Bean Nighe territory."

  "You mean to tell me that you really don't want to prospect for us one day? Not even when we're running it?" Tank's voice was filled with genuine shock.

  Slasher had started the club back in the seventies, after he’d gotten home from Vietnam and had trouble adjusting to life stateside. The club, the brothers, the parties, and the slutty women were all Tank had known growing up. As much as he detested his dad, the club was his norm. He genuinely couldn't understand why someone wouldn’t want to be part of it.