by L A Cotton
My pocket vibrated and I scrambled to find my cell. If it was Jackson, then I didn’t want to miss him, but as my eyes fell on the screen, the room closed in around me. The grainy image of Jackson being served drinks by a topless waitress caused a pain to stab in my chest. The message accompanying the image said:
ARE YOU SURE YOU CAN TRUST HIM?
Tears brimmed my eyes and the urge to scratch at my scars pulsated through me. But I refused to be beaten. Whoever was doing this to me—to us—was purposefully trying to drive Jackson and me apart, to force a wedge between us, and I couldn’t let that happen. For as much as it hurt to see him like that, I had to believe it was innocent. Part of the job, he had told me. I pocketed my cell phone and pretended as if everything was fine.
After twenty minutes, it wasn’t working. I could think of nothing but Jackson and strippers and mobsters. Elena had coaxed Dennis into dancing with her and even Nate and Lydia were loosening up. Jamie was trying his luck with a girl from my poetry class, and I slipped away unnoticed, moving through the house on autopilot. I needed air. Clarity. I needed something, because being in Chastity Falls, away from Jackson, wasn’t working out so well for me.
I pushed past drunken groups of guys, and girls vying for their attention, ignoring the small group smoking weed in the games room, the smell wafting into the hallway. Bursting through the door at the back of the house, it opened out into the yard, and just like two years ago when I’d attended that first party at the house, it was full of half-naked bodies, tangled limbs, and couples lost in the moment. But I managed to shut it all out. Leaning my head back against the cool bricks, I inhaled two deep breaths. My pocket vibrated again.
WHAT ARE YOU RUNNING FROM?
My head snapped down and my eyes searched the crowd for a familiar face. For signs of someone watching me. It beeped again. I hit open.
YOU REALLY SHOULDN’T BE ALONE. BAD THINGS CAN HAPPEN AT PARTIES.
Chills spread through me and I hugged myself tight squeezing my eyes shut. When I finally opened them, my gaze fell on a familiar face over by the grill. Relief swept through me. Paul and Mari were huddled together with their heads close, but things seemed tense.
“Hey guys,” I said as I approached them.
Paul smiled, but I could tell it was forced, and Mari swayed slightly as she said, “Ana, look Paul, it’s Ana. Fancy seeing you here.”
I shot Paul a questioning glance. Mari was wasted, but he just half smiled apologetically.
“How’s it going?”
“Good, it’s all good, right baby?” Mari draped herself over Paul and giggled.
“Someone had a little too much tequila,” he whispered to me, propping Mari up with his arm.
“Do you want some help getting her back to the dorm?”
“If you don’t mind. I didn’t realize how drunk she was until we came outside for some air.”
Hooking an arm around Mari’s waist, the two of us started in the direction of the gate. Mari giggled again swaying back against our arms.
“How long have you been here? We didn’t see you inside?” I asked Paul as we rounded the yard and hit the main path around campus.
“Not long. Mari had a thing, and she’s still feeling a little silly over what happened. Sorry about that, by the way.”
“No apologies needed. I’m fine. It’s fine.”
And I have far more important things to think about.
I looked down and caught a couple huddled against the fence in the shadows of one of the trees. Hidden from prying eyes, the guy swept the girl’s hair away from her face and palmed her cheeks. His huge frame sheltered her face, but something about him looked familiar. My eyes strained to see them in better detail, but the gate crashed in its frame behind us, startling the couple. The guy jammed a hand into his short hair and stepped away. Gone was the guy being attentive to his girl, replaced with someone who was afraid of getting caught. He inched away from her and into the dim light, illuminating the profile of his face. I gasped drawing his attention. Shock registered on Dennis' face, mirroring my own, but it wasn't until I noticed the girl step up behind him that my heart sunk. Cassie stared back at me, tears glistening in her eyes.
Paul called back to me and I blinked, too drained to deal with what I'd just witnessed. I looked at them both one last time before setting off after Paul and Mari.
Chapter 22
~ JACKSON ~
“Jackson, good to see you again. Perhaps this time we’ll get to chat properly,” the man introduced to me again as Bobby gripped my hand between his two rough and calloused palms.
“Yeah, I’d like that,” I muttered taking in our surroundings.
We were at Paradise Lost. Just like my first trip out to Seattle with Perkins, he had picked me up, driven us to the run-down motel outside of town, and now we were at the club waiting for the meeting. I’d let Perkins drag me to a different strip club last night. He seemed lonely. Desperate. I hated it—hated that Ana knew what I was doing—but if it meant getting him on my side, I could tolerate it. I'd have to.
“Gentlemen.” The same woman as before appeared from the doorway to the meeting room. Dressed in a long dress with a slit up to her mid-thigh, most of the men eyed her unabashedly. I’d asked Perkins about her on the drive over. She was Annie O’Connor, Frankie’s wife and business partner. By all accounts, Perkins made them sound equal over man and wife, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she was going to be a problem when the time came. Women created drama, I knew that firsthand, and I did not need drama. Not with what I was planning to do.
“Follow me, kid.” Perkins pushed past me and followed the other guys into the room.
The nervous energy bounced around in my stomach. Standing around in the bar area, waiting to be called in, I’d almost slipped a couple of times and asked about Dad outright, but tonight would be better. Once the alcohol was flowing and the guys were into the poker game and the ladies, it would be easier to ask questions without seeming suspicious.
I took my seat next to Perkins and let my eyes wander around the table. The same eleven men sat in their assigned seats with O’Connor heading the table. His upper body and face remained hidden in the darkness, only a plume of smoke drifting into the sliver of light beaming across the end of the table indicating his presence.
“Thank you all for coming. Jake, you want to kick us off?”
A thick-necked man cleared his throat and started updating the room about his business in Tacoma. It was the usual; strip joints, drugs, and he had some kind of laundering business going on. Another four men had spoken before O’Connor turned his attention to Perkins.
“Perkins, what do you have for us?”
“Everything’s good, boss. Profits are up in Reibeckitt and Chastity Falls. College business is good.”
“And the incident in Reibeckitt, the young man in ICU? Is it going to be a problem?” O’Connor’s voice was cold and Perkins cursed under his breath, so quietly that only I heard him.
“No problem there, boss. Maconey has an airtight story and we use unidentifiables, you know that. We- hmm, we weren’t aware you knew of the situation, boss?” Perkins was sweating. I could see the beads of moisture forming and rolling off his shiny forehead.
O’Connor slapped his hand down on the table. He didn’t slam it, but that made the gesture more ominous. All heads focused to the end of the table.
“I make it my business to know. Tell Maconey to expect a call.”
Annie O’Connor came into view as she bent into the shadows to talk to her husband. His hand coiled around her waist as they whispered low enough to mean we couldn’t hear them. When she straightened, O’Connor’s voice said, “Discretion is paramount. Always has been and continues to be. If something happens that could shine the light in places we’d rather remain unnoticed, come to me immediately. Are we clear?”
A chorus of mutters rang out around the table. Glancing over at Perkins, the sweat continued to pool on his head and he removed a tissue
from his jacket pocket to dab away the moisture.
“Jackson, anything to add?”
My head whipped up to meet the man shrouded in darkness. “Hmm, I think Perkins covered it.”
“Next time, you report for Chasity Falls.”
I didn’t reply. O’Connor wasn’t asking me, he was ordering me. Perkins shot me a confused look, as if he hadn’t expected O’Connor to bring me into things so soon, but it was exactly the kind of break I needed.
~
Later that evening, after returning to the motel to eat and shower, Perkins and I were driving back to Paradise Lost for O’Connor’s poker game. I’d avoided asking Perkins too many questions, but there was something bothering me.
“Hey, why didn’t Uncle Marcus and Maconey tell O’Conner about the bad coke?” Just saying his name caused bile to rise in my throat. He didn’t deserve my words. But I had to try and switch off the simmering rage that had taken hold since Ana and I had visited Agatha.
“You noticed that, huh? It’s not as bad as it looks. Since everything that happened with Calder and Braiden, the heat's been on for Chastity and Reibeckitt. Braiden was your uncle’s attempt at fixing that clusterfuck before someone ended up dead. Dead people in towns as small as ours don’t go unnoticed for long, kid. Someone would have started asking questions eventually, and questions lead to investigations, and Frankie cannot afford that. Been there, done it, and it almost ruined everything.”
Perkins settled back in the driver’s seat and navigated the road into the city, the Space Needle lit up in the distance. Leaning my arm against the window, I watched the city lights whizz by. Dead people don’t go unnoticed for long. Perkins words stuck in mind. Dad’s murder had remained unnoticed for the best part of twelve years. Marcus had help moving his body and clearing up any evidence, Agatha had corroborated as much. She had heard others arrive, all signs of the shooting gone with them. But who else was involved?
“Here we are, kid. Mingle tonight, loosen up, hell, try and enjoy yourself. This is going to be a regular gig; you may as well get into the swing.”
Perkins parked across the street and we walked the short distance to the club just as he had done the first time we came for poker. Last time, I’d sat and observed, turning down invitations to play. Invitations to take one of the waitresses upstairs. But tonight, I intended on doing more than just observing.
Tonight was the first step in getting some answers.
~
Drinks flowed throughout the evening. Pat, Bobby, and a couple of the other guys seemed to constantly have a Cuban between their lips, and Perkins was already making an ass of himself hitting on the topless waitresses. Although, by the way they just smiled and giggled, brushing his advances off, it made me wonder if they were used to it.
I’d spent the last hour moving from small group to small group. Joining in with conversations and taking shots with Iain and Decker, two of the younger men present. I’d learned that Pat represented Eugene, Bobby was from Springfield, Iain and Decker came from as far as Idaho Falls and Pocatello, and Jake operated out of Tacoma. Perkins had explained, back at the motel, that Frankie ran Seattle. It was a hub of sorts, but he had links with other Irish families on the West Coast. Each man with a seat at the table represented a different area. Some worked close together like Marcus and Maconey and Pat and Bobby, and others seemed isolated, but one thing was certain, the network was well organized and the one pulling the strings was O’Connor.
“Can I get you a beer, kid?” Bobby joined me at the bar, his belly protruding over his gray slacks, salt and pepper strands of hair combed over to one side in an attempt to cover the balding patch on his head.
“I’m good.” I hooked my fingers around my bottle and waved it in front of him.
“So, how are you finding it all?”
Shrugging, I said, “Okay, I guess.”
“I remember my first meeting. Almost shit my pants sitting around the table with men I’d grown up fearing and worshipping…”
My eye’s widened. “Wait, you knew about all of this when you were a kid?”
Bobby nodded. “It’s different in different families, kid. My old man didn’t keep secrets, and he sure as shit wouldn’t have kept something like this from me. I always knew who he was and who he worked for, but Marcus, well, he thought it was better you and Braiden didn’t know the whole picture. Not until you were older.”
“Guess I grew up,” I muttered more to myself than the old man sat beside me.
A thick hand clapped me on the back and Bobby grunted. “Guess you did, kid. Guess you did. I gotta say, and this stays between the two of us, I’m glad it’s you sitting here and not that loose cannon of his. Crazy son of a bitch if ever I met one.”
I kept my lips pursed, considering how far to push Bobby. He seemed willing to talk, but I didn’t want to say the wrong thing. He had confirmed my suspicions that Braiden was serving time because he was drawing too much attention to Chastity Falls, the family, and, by association, O’Connor. I still wondered whether the order came from O’Connor himself or if it was Marcus’ attempt to fall in line.
“Bobby, can I ask you something?”
He drank down his tumbler and replied, “Sure, kid. Fire away.”
“Did you know my dad well?”
“Know him? I loved the man as my own. We all did. Your old man was as good as they came, Jackson. Sure, he was in for life, like the rest of us, but there was just something about old Mikey Pierce that drew people in.”
Bobby stared out across the room lost in his thoughts. “I see the same sparkle in your eye, you know, but he didn’t want this for you. Did you know that? After your mom had died, it hit him hard. The life, being a father, it was a struggle. We all saw it.”
A firestorm ignited inside of me and before I could take it back, I said, “But Uncle Marcus was there for him. For the both of us.”
Relieved that it came out a statement rather than a question, I studied Bobby as I waited for him to answer. He had to be at least sixty. A whole generation older than Marcus and Dad, would he have been here. He knew things, that much was obvious, but he also seemed considerate and observant.
The fire raged a little more.
“That he did, kid.” His face hardened. Not much, but just enough that I caught the change. “They had a lot in common, your old man and Marcus. Both robbed of the women they loved too soon, both left to raise kids. Marcus did what he thought was best for you, I’m sure.”
I felt a but in his words, but he didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t want to push. Not yet.
“Listen to this old fool. I blame the free liquor. It’s good to have you around, kid. You ever need anything, you come to me, got it?”
I nodded and remained seated as Bobby excused himself and headed back to the poker table.
“What did Bobby want?”
Startled by the voice behind me, I turned to Perkins and scowled, “Not cool, old man.”
Perkins grinned. “Never was the cool one, kid.”
“It hadn’t occurred to me that people here would know Dad so well,” I said, the lie rolling off my tongue with ease.
“Michael? We all knew him, kid. He was well liked and respected. You’ll find no trouble from anyone here.”
“Because I’m his son?”
Perkins nodded. “Your name carries weight, kid. Hasn’t been heard around here for a long time, too long, but all that can change now.”
A tiny sliver of guilt shot through me. Perkins was a good guy, someone I had even come to regard as a friend, and I didn’t like lying to him. Keeping things from him. But he was Maconey’s right-hand man. I didn’t know how much I could trust him, and I had no intentions of finding out. Still, I could use him to find out more about Dad.
“Do you remember what happened?”
“Your dad’s accident?” Perkins asked, inhaling a lungful of tobacco from the cigarette hanging out of his mouth.
I nodded hoping he would take the bait.
/>
“The details are sketchy, kid. They usually are when shit goes wrong. Your dad and Marcus were up in McMinnville on one of their regular runs but there was a smash and grab. A couple of guys from one of the local gangs caught wind of the drop and tried to muscle in. Your old man got caught in the crossfire.”
This was the first time anyone had ever given me any details surrounding the circumstances in which Dad died—except for Agatha. There was no way of calling Perkins’ bluff. Either he believed the lie he’d been told, or he was in on the truth and had a cover story ready to tell me for when the day came that I asked.
I remembered the year after Dad died that I had asked Uncle Marcus what happened and he looked me in the eye and told me it was Dad’s time to go be with my mom. As a nine-year-old kid, I didn’t question him. Why would I? I asked again a few years later, but, by then, Braiden and I were handling small jobs for him and family perseverance came first. You could ask questions, but you rarely got a straight answer. Everything was done in the name of the family business. Discreet and low key. Eventually, I stopped asking.
Until tonight.
The inkling of guilt I’d felt earlier at lying to Perkins branched out and took hold. I had been young, yes, but how could I have been so naïve? The urge to call Ana came over me, but it was only ten and there was still a long night ahead. It was time I needed to observe, learn, and listen. I had to switch off everything else and immerse myself in the moment.
Because, for as much as it killed me, time was running out.
Chapter 23
~ ANA ~
The bed dipped behind me and I smiled, relieved Jackson was home. It was early, still dark outside, but he was here. Safe. Cold hands skimmed underneath the jersey covering my body—his jersey—and I yelped quietly at the sensation of warm meeting cold.