by J. J. McAvoy
They did not speak. However, there was nothing they could say…their actions would speak for themselves as would mine. Entering my master room, I took off the towel around my waist, tossing it onto the couch before my bed…a gift of my aunt’s, who’d done the whole remodeling of the mansion after my father’s death per my request and to the annoyance of both my siblings. By the time they’d finished breaking down walls, putting up new ones, and recreating the whole floor plan, the room looked unrecognizable. Gone was my parents’ modern classic bedroom, and in its place, my rustic one, double in size with dark mahogany from floor to ceiling.
There were no doors, except a single one to enter and leave. Walking to my closet, the lights brightened in a row as I passed my suits, heading straight to the middle tabletop, and scanned my finger. The lid slipped back, allowing me to lift the very last gift my mother had gotten me before her death, a silver Diamond Back Colt revolver 38 Special, the words Che sarà, sarà engraved on the wooden butt of it.
Loading a single inside, as I did every morning, I put it to the side as I reached for a suit. It did not matter which; I’d be burning it at the end of the day.
Ringgg.
“Is she here?”
“Yes, sir,” Toby stated.
Not replying, I hung up.
Not even a second later, I could hear her voice from behind the door.
“Ethan?”
“Here,” I said as I buttoned up my navy shirt.
She entered, wearing a bright yellow tailored suit and black heels. Her hair was dyed a copper-blond and cut right above her shoulders.
“Nana, we’ve spoken about this. You’re seventy-three. You can’t go around upstaging twenty-year-olds like this.”
“Flattery.” She pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “I can testify all Callahan men have mastered it. Unfortunately for you, years of exposure have made me immune.”
“Should I switch to insults?”
“Would you like to die?”
I smirked at that. “Are you threatening the Ceann na Conairte?”
“Is that what you’ve become now?”
My jaw clenched as I reached for my tie. “Grandmother, I haven’t had breakfast yet. I’d advise you to take heed and stop.”
“Oh well…” She gasped, taking a seat on the leather bench against the wall separating suits from the rest of my clothing. “Only because you’ve advised me.”
“I turn twenty-eight on Saturday.”
“I am aware.”
Was she? “That’s a year older than my father when he’d gotten married to my mother.”
She laughed. “Is that why you’ve been agitated…well, more agitated…than normal lately? Had your grandfather not forced him, he would have waited till he was—”
“Thirty.” No matter what, for him to be respected as head of the pack, the Ceann na Conairte, the rules, yes, rules set by my senile, also dead great-grandfather, and passed down from father to son, demanded we marry.
“You still have two years.”
“Aren’t grandmothers supposed to be worried they’ll die before seeing their great-grandchildren?”
She sucked her teeth angrily. “Are you saying I’ll die before you get married? Me, who’s lived to see your great-grandfather, your grandfather, great uncle, and father murdered? I’ll somehow have a shorter life than you?”
Turning around toward her, her eyes narrowed and eyebrows arched.
And it was funny to see her act so gentle and relaxed… “After almost twenty-eight years, you’d think you’d understand my sense of humor by now?”
“You’d think after almost twenty-eight years someone would have told you that you aren’t funny in any sense.”
To appease her as best I could, I tried self-deprecating. “As if a Callahan man would listen to the opinions of others.”
She didn’t want to, but she smiled anyway. “Why have you called me here?”
“I’ve found a wife—”
“Come again?” Her eyes went wide as she stared at me.
“A wife,” I said very slowly. “I’ve found one…well, her.”
“Ethan, a woman isn’t a cat! What do you mean you found her?”
“It’s a long story. Nevertheless, she’s going to need your help. She’s not exactly Callahan material—and before you ask, I do not know her. She is a tool in a very important game, a tool I need you to secure without a doubt so she’ll be ready by my birthday.”
She stared at me shocked, confused, annoyed until she finally snapped. “Ethan! I swear to God, if you do not stop being so cryptic—”
“You are aware that someone of the Irish in Boston isn’t pleased with this family, correct?”
She grinned, rising to her feet. “Jealously must be hard.”
“I would not know,” I replied, and she merely made a face as I continued. “Nana, that is all I can say for now.”
Sighing, she stood in front of me and reached out to place her hand on my cheek, but I backed away. Unfazed, she dropped her hand and spoke again, “You do realize marriage in this family is undoable, correct? You know nothing other than she isn’t Callahan material, which is the most important thing for her to be, and yet are willing to sacrifice the rest of your life, privacy, and peace, simply so your grand plan can come together?”
“If it means protecting this family’s name and legacy, I’d set myself on fire.” I felt my whole body tensing as I spoke. “I will not be the son who inherited the kingdom only to let it crumble at my feet. That is not my fate.”
“You do know this is why your cousins are scared of you, correct?” She pouted. “They think you’d kill even me in order to win…let alone them.”
I stared at her a long time. She was testing me, wanting to hear what I’d say, and so I didn’t answer. Reaching over, I grabbed the gun and placed it in the concealed shoulder holster under my arm before grabbing my coat and offering her my arm.
“Would you like to join me for brunch, Nana?”
“Fine, you can tell me all about where to find this girl,” she replied, walking toward the double doors to exit.
“Ethan…” Her voice trailed off as she eyed me dangerously, when again I didn’t answer.
“Ricker Hill.”
“PRISON?”
“Didn’t I mention that?” I paused by my door, hand on the handle.
“NO, you fucking did not!” She cursed, and I couldn’t help but smirk.
“And here I thought you didn’t judge, Grandmamma—”
“Well, you were wrong for once.”
“Once out of a million is hardly a bad record. Shall we go?” I held the door open for her.
Her nose flared and she looked as though she wanted to smack me. However, she maintained her composure upon seeing both Toby and Greyson standing in wait.
“This isn’t over.”
How could it be? It hadn’t even begun.
TWO
“Does the walker choose the path, or the path the walker?”
~ Garth Nix
ETHAN
They all clapped as I stood before them, the camera flashes nearly blinding, and yet I was unfazed, far too used to this: speaking to other wealthy and/or important people, in a luxurious ball room, talking about how much we cared about this city, our beautiful Chicago, and all the ugly people who chose to live in it…myself included. Ugly because we all knew, what this city was built on, and we knew how hard it was to grow up here, how jaded it could make you. And yet we took pride in it.
“It is with great honor and privilege that I stand here before you all. Yesterday, TIME Magazine named me the most influential mogul of the decade, and because I am a Callahan I cannot humbly accept anything,” I said, causing a few of them to snicker.
“Especially when I know it’s not true. A decade ago I stood at the precipice of maturity, savoring the last few moments of freedom before responsibility dawned. Ever presently aware that the shoes I was to step in were impossible to fill for any huma
n. The right foot, a size nine, four inch, white Prada heel with crystal embellishments just because…and the left foot, a size thirteen, custom Paul Costelloe Derby Shoe in leather and never suede because a man should always see his reflection when he looked down…”
Damn this speech. And I knew without a doubt who I had to thank for it.
“My parents revolutionized this city. My father reinvigorated the private sector, which is why, today, Chicago stands as the leading city in job creation. The policies my mother and her administration applied have made not just Chicago, but universities in all of Illinois, find ranking spots within the top five schools in the country, with over eighty-seven percent of its residents holding high school diplomas. A percentage so shocking that Peter McBurg, one of my mother’s greatest critics, wrote this morning: ‘my hometown of Chicago, which was once synonymous with names like Al Capone and the Mafia, has now become synonymous with Mark Zuckerberg and Silicon Valley. I’m not sure if I should weep or sing.’”
More ugliness…now that the city had improved we didn’t talk about that, we talked about the dark ages because they missed the chaos. The old Chicago. The irony of it all was almost too much to bear.
“We should honor the men and women here today, who worked relentlessly to push the vision of my parents long after they had passed and graciously allowed me to take all the credit for it. As their son and on the behalf of my whole family, I thank and applaud you all for your hard work and success.”
Stepping back, I clapped. One by one, they all got up from their seats, whistling and cheering loudly. My grandmother leaned in as I did, my arm around her shoulder for the cameras, her face pressed against mine, causing me to tense, though I was sure she didn’t notice.
“Donatella’s speeches are getting far too self-deprecating for my liking,” I whispered to her, hoping to distract her.
She smiled as we both turned to the cameras. “The girl has a gift. I almost cried.”
I smirked at that. My grandmother hadn’t cried since my father had died and nothing was changing that…she ate nails for breakfast just to keep her tongue sharp.
“Senator Forbes.” She stepped away toward the balding man walking toward us.
It was at that point I felt myself go on autopilot, standing beside her and making small talk I wouldn’t remember with people I could barely stand. Amused at how seamlessly I fit in with them…me, the man who said Chicago was rid of its beasts, while being the most beastly of them all. Amused because I could see it, the cracks in the elegance and nobility they’d all tried so hard to craft for themselves. Chicago was now home to the smartest people in the country…hell, the world…and the media praised us. Brutal, ruthless, Chicago now tamed. Ha. Tamed beasts were far scarier than wild ones…they knew exactly who they were killing and had the patience to wait. Yes, Chicago was still savage. It was just the arena of savagery that was changing.
“Mr. Callahan.” Toby nodded at me.
I fought the grin trying to spread across my lips, drinking the rest of my champagne to mask it.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please excuse me. No rest for us moguls, it seems.”
“You’re always escaping us, Mr. Callahan.” Senator Forbes pouted…it was ugly. “My daughter will be here any minute and she’ll kill me for letting you escape.”
“I’m sure I’ll meet her one of these days, Senator Forbes, and if she’s half as beautiful as your wife, I’m sure I won’t be able to miss her.”
“You are as good at lying as your damn father.” Senator Forbes laughed.
“Walter!” Senator Forbes’ wife scolded.
I kissed my grandmother’s cheek, whispering, “Call when you are tired of wasting time with these senseless idiots.”
“Of course, dear.” She smiled, not even a little bit fazed.
As I walked from her and toward the exit, Toby followed along with Grey and two other guards, the rest staying with my grandmother.
“What did you get out of this…Mr. Downey person?” I said once we got on the elevator.
“He still refuses to talk to anyone but you,” Toby replied, pushing the button.
“And here I thought you could be persuasive.”
“If I were any more persuasive he’d be dead.”
I didn’t reply because there was no need to once the doors opened. We walked through the gold and ivory lobby, not toward the front or even the back doors but through the restaurant. The whole place was packed, which I guessed I couldn’t complain about. More money for me. Once in the kitchen, the chefs and staff pretended not to see us as we walked to the back room. Naked and tied to the wall with an actual fish head stuffed into his mouth, was Mr. Downey.
“Welcome to Chicago, Mr. Downey. I hear you’ve been asking for me?”
IVY
There were many rules to surviving in a prison. The first, and the most important was keep all your holes shut. You didn’t see anything, you didn’t hear anything, and you sure as hell didn’t smell anything either. That was the easy part… What you had to do in order to keep the holes below the waist shut, now that was hard…often times dangerous. But I saw what happened to the girls who didn’t take that risk and I was not interested in being broken like them.
“Aww, aren’t you pretty? Wanna be friends?” Dallas, one of the bigger, newer female inmates, laughed like a wild hyena, grabbing another new girl’s chin. They had been processed together so I’m guessing that’s why she locked onto her so quickly. “Come on…it’ll be fun. Give me a little kiss.”
The girl tried to move from the cafeteria table, but Dallas grabbed her arm. I glanced over to the guards who, like always, pretended not to see anything.
It’s been thirty-seven days, they’re due for a reminder...but it’s mac and cheese day. I frowned back over at the golden dish that I could be happily eating, when Dallas’ voice reached me again.
“Believe you want to be my friend.” Dallas wasn’t looking at anyone else, which meant I’d catch her off guard. Thirty-seven days without an incident was pushing it, Ivy.
“Damn it!” I muttered then sighed stepping out of the lunch line bitterly. Walking over to their table and before Dallas could land her hot lips on the girl, I put my tray in between their faces.
“HEY!” Dallas smacked the tray.
“Leave her alone, Dallas. She’s just a kid.”
Dallas jumped onto the table, mostly because she needed to. Being four foot eight wasn’t going to even scare the cat in the yard, let alone me.
“What did you say to me?” she yelled at me.
“I said leave her alone—”
“Or you’ll do what, chica? Huh? You know who I am?”
I looked at the two other women…and I used that word sparingly…as they stepped up behind her. Rumor had it Dallas’ boyfriend was some real badass gangbanger on the streets. Good time to remember that one, Ivy.
“Yea, now you got nothing to say, do you, princess? You’re kinda cute. How’d you like to be my friend?”
The moment her short, stubby fingers pushed my head to the side, I grabbed her legs before she could blink and pulled her off the table, the back of her head hitting both the table and the seat. On the ground, I took my tray and shoved it into her mouth.
“Bitch!” One of the masculine two came at me, landing a kick right to my ribs, as I pulled the tray out of Dallas’ mouth and hit the chick’s eye, punching right into her throat and again into her nose.
“You…” A second one came at me, but I was so lucky she was as dumb as she looked because she tripped over one of Dallas’ shoes. When they came off I had no idea, but damn…old girl went down harder than a ton, her chin hitting the edge of the table…damn.
“You crazy ass—” Dallas jumped onto my back like a damn monkey, pulling my hair, so I did the only thing I could. I jumped and allowed myself to fall back right on top of her.
“Ahh…” she cried out, letting me go. Rolling off her for only a second before turning around, I punched my h
ands into her face, over and over and over again, until my knuckles hurt so badly I grabbed the tray on the floor beside me and shoved it right back between her lips.
“Dallas, you’re new here,” I said, blowing my blond hair out of my face before continuing on, “but people don’t call me princess. They call me Psycho Ivy. It’s not very creative, I’ll give you that, but it gets to the point. You touch me, you end up in Medway. You come at me the wrong way, you end up in Medway. You disturb my peace, you end up in Medway! We clear?”
She tried speaking against the tray, but I held it hard.
“I’m going to need a yes or no from you, Dallas, before the riot squad enters!”
“Uhghghs!” She struggled, but I pinned her down.
“What was that?”
“EVERYONE DOWN!” The cavalry came in with their damn black suits and everything. Letting go of her, I laid down on the ground with my hands over my head.
“You’re so fucking dead,” Dallas muttered to me. “You. Your whole family. Everybody gonna die.”
Turning my head to her, I smiled.
“I got no family, Dallas. I’m in here for a long time. So unless your boyfriend cuts off his dick, he ain’t touching me. And we both know he don’t have the balls for that.” When I leaned in she tried to lean in. “Should I write out instructions for him?”
“You’re sick in the head.”
“Yea, I told you that…a few times in solitary will do that to you.” I winked just as they zip tied my hands and feet like always.
“O’Davoren! I should have known!” Jimmy yelled as he lifted me up with some other guy.
“I want it noted I didn’t get to eat lunch, boys!” I yelled, relaxing. “And seriously, it doesn’t take two of you to pick me up.”
“SHUT UP, O’DAVOREN!”
“Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of a Dallas lass. Be alive, or be she dead, I’ll grind her bones to make my bread…hahaha! Dallas! Dallas!”
“That’s it! Shoot her up!” he yelled.
“No!” I screamed, struggling in their arms. “You can’t do that! No! No! Let go!”