"Funny," I muttered, knowing I probably deserved it.
"How is she?" he asked, his smile disappearing.
"She's fine. Just shaken, I think. Fuck me straight to hell, Fionn, they knifed her right in the bloody street. They could have killed her if they'd wanted to, and no one would have been able to stop it." Fionn winced slightly, taking a seat on my couch. I sat down across from him, leaning my head back for a moment, letting out a long exhale, trying to relax. I'd been tense for two days it seemed. "I let them know they have a deal."
Fionn leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "It was a warnin', Brogan. But they'll call 'em off now that you've made a deal. She's safe."
"Yeah." I sat up straight. Fionn was regarding me. "I fucked up," I admitted.
"Yeah, ya did. Ya made a bloody balls out of everythin'. Now ya gona make it right."
"I'm trying. God, I'm trying."
"That's the shot." Fionn smiled. "Who's got ya back?"
I smiled despite myself. He always had. "Thanks, mo chara."
"It's gona be all right. You've done this kind of work before. I know ya don't want to, but, it's not a bad thing to stay on the right side of the mob." He shrugged.
"Yeah," I said, not wanting to get into the reasons I'd been hoping they'd take a cash deal instead of bargaining with my talent for numbers. I'd even offered to pay double what Stuart owed them, and they'd turned me down.
"Now what are ya gona do about Courtney?" Fionn asked, probably as much to turn my mind from the deal I'd made with the mob.
I sighed again. "Manage her as usual."
Fionn shook his head. "Ya need to tell her to feck off. She's manipulatin' ya."
I wasn't stupid. I knew she was. I just wasn't sure what to do about it. Because she was also legitimately scared. Due in large part to what I'd done all those years ago-or more to the point, what I hadn't done.
"And now," Fionn continued, "she's gona come between ya and Lydia. Ya should have seen Lydia's face when ya went upstairs with Courtney last night. I almost kicked your arse meself, ya wanker. But I can see you've been kickin' your own arse so I'm gona be satisfied with that. For now. Ya don't want to tumble with me, mo chara. Ya know that doesn't end well." He winked. We'd only gotten in one physical fight, when we were younger, over something trivial that I could barely recall now. It'd been a straight draw, and we'd both shook hands and let go of whatever the issue had been.
I let out a small sound that might have been a laugh if it contained any humor at all.
We talked business for a few minutes, Fionn telling me about the kid I'd caught stealing food from the food truck and how he'd set him up with a courier job. So far he was a hard worker and was doing well, which was good news.
Talking mundane business helped calm me and get my mind back on track. After a bit, Margaret came downstairs and said Lydia was all taken care of, no problem at all, and she'd given instructions on how to care for the stitches over the next few days, which she gave to me as well. I thanked her profusely, kissing her cheek as she left.
Once Fionn left, I made Lydia a sandwich and carried it up to her room, knocking softly. The room was dim, the bathroom fan was whirring, and she was curled up on the bed, fast asleep. I watched her for a few minutes, despair making me feel sick. I could have lost her today. And I'd only just gotten her back.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Lydia
I came awake slowly, my eyes adjusting to the dim light, my memory temporarily held at bay, though I had the feeling something wasn't quite right. I enjoyed the brief moment I knew I had before recollection would tumble in, making me aware of exactly what the something was. As I turned over, the minor ache in my side brought the happenings of earlier that day rushing back. I let out a small sigh, sitting up slowly so as not to pull my stitches.
"How do ya feel?" I startled slightly, noticing the outline of Brogan sitting in the chair by the window.
"This is the second time I've woken up to you sitting in the dark in my room, uninvited," I said. "It's kind of creepy. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"
He stood and came over to me, sitting on the edge of the bed. "No, Lydia. I don't want to do a thing to hurt ya. Not ever again." He sighed, tossing something on my bedside table.
I looked over, seeing what was a dark yellow folder, dirty and tattered, notes written all over it in what appeared to be Gaelic. I looked back at him. "What's that?"
"It's nothin' now. What it was, though, was the thing that kept me goin' when I had nothin' else."
I sat up higher, propping myself on the pillows behind my back, bringing my legs up so I was sitting Indian style, and reached over and clicked on the small reading lamp on my bedside table. It illuminated the room with a soft glow, allowing me to see Brogan gazing at me with those soft blue eyes, his expression grim.
"What do you mean?"
He ran a hand through his short, dark hair. "When we left your estate that day . . ." he paused as if just the very mention of that day still brought a deep ache with it, "we traveled to the Bronx. We had actually started out there before my dad applied for the job with your family. We'd heard there was a big Irish population, knew a few folks who knew folks. Anyway, that's where we returned. We found a small fleabag apartment to rent, and my dad, he," he inhaled and let it out slowly, "he pawned my mam's wedding ring just to come up with the security deposit and first month's rent."
"Brogan," I whispered.
He shook his head as if I shouldn't stop him now. "In the beginnin' I did anythin' I could to earn some money-just to feed us. I got in with some other guys-Russian lads-in similar positions who knew how to make some quick cash. We, ya know, scalped tickets, acted as lookouts, delivered messages, stuff like that. I knew I was workin' for mobsters, but I didn't care. It was feedin' my family when I had no other way to." His expression was defensive for a hint of a moment, but it slipped quickly into shame before he averted his gaze.
"Of course," I said. "I admire you for doing whatever you had to do to survive. It was very brave."
He paused for a brief moment as his eyes met mine. He shook his head, almost imperceptibly before he looked away again, continuing. "My dad, he looked for work and claimed he couldn't find any, but it's hard to find work when you're drunk nine hours a day."
Even in profile, I could see that another look of despair crossed his face and a lump formed in my throat. Oh Brogan, if I had known . . . I would have done anything to help you. Guilt surged through me once again at my own teenage naïveté. I hadn't even considered Brogan's family was experiencing that type of poverty, had no real knowledge of struggle, desperation. And I was so ashamed of my own ignorance.
"I met Fionn who was in a desperate situation, too, and we became friends." He gave me the first glimmer of a smile. "Of course, it doesn't take long for Fionn to grow on ya. But it was more than that. I trusted him when it was hard to trust anyone. And it made it so it wasn't so lonely, ya know? The scrapin' and scroungin', with Fionn it almost became . . . fun-he made a game of it. His own survival tactic, I suppose, but it helped me, too. Helped . . . balance me, I guess. And he's never let me down. Not once. Even when I deserved it. Even when I asked him to do things that went against his own morals. Which makes me a shite friend."
I leaned forward and placed my hand on top of his where they sat in his lap. I was still uncertain about us, but I cared about him and couldn't ignore his pain. "You'd do anything for him, too. I can see that and I know he does as well."
He took a deep breath. "Yeah. I would. Anythin'." He paused before continuing. "Anyway, we did any job we were asked to do. Through different jobs, they found I was good with numbers and started givin' me tasks that were more administrative in nature. Eventually, I was helpin' to do their books, accountin', stuff like that. Some of the guys I worked with were real arseholes. I saw them do things to others that turned my stomach, and I did nothin'. Not a feckin' thing, though it went against everythin' in me." He paused, the expression on his face so bleak my breath caught.
"If you had, they might have fired you, or worse. You needed that money. It was smart to keep quiet. Look where it got you in the end." I lifted my chin, asserting my point, defending him . . . to himself.
"Lydia . . ." he said quietly but didn't look at me. Again the small head shake as if he couldn't accept my statement. "I started keepin' some records, names, took things with me I shouldn't have, told myself I'd get them back for the way they preyed on others who were helpless for no other reason than because they could. Someday when I had the power, I told myself."