The Untouchables(67)

None of them spoke, two pulled out knives, and others guns before leaving. I watched them retreating into the dimming darkness like monsters from the depths of hell.

Breathing in the wet grass and the fresh air, I looked up at Shamus’ home to find Coraline staring down at me. She winked before closing the window.

Stalking forward like the monsters before me, I couldn’t help but think about what a lucky man I was, how revered our family was, and I couldn’t wait to share that greatness with any child we had. Walking forward against the howling winds, I stared at the flame shining through the window of Old Man Doyle’s home. It was the only thing that really made his home stand out from the rest of the broken down buildings. When we were kids and Liam, Neal, and I would come visit Shamus, and we would always find him here; smoking and drinking himself into a coma with a deck of cards in front of him.

No matter how hard Liam had tried to sit in that room with us, he couldn’t. The smoke hurt his lungs so badly he would have to leave. Shamus would tell him to stop lingering where he didn’t belong, and Old Man Doyle laughed each time, telling Neal and I how we needed to teach our brother how to be a man.

“Liam is never going to amount to anything, boys. It’s a sad fact that sometimes not all men are not created equal, sometimes the weak fight and then die off.”

Neither of them knew it, but I saw Liam at only twelve years old, standing at the door. He had gone out just to take a breath and came back to prove himself. With a haunted look in his eyes, I watched a part of him die. Through the fog of smoke, he met my gaze and I knew he would never forget. He walked out the door, pretending he was never there to begin with.

“I was expecting Liam.” Old Man Doyle sat across the poker table with a cigar in his mouth and his pistol on the table.

Walking forward, I took a seat at the table. “This is below my brother’s pay grade.”

“And not yours?” he snickered, dealing out cards for me.

“I’m doing this as a gift to my cousin, no payment required,” I replied, grabbing the cards.

Laughing, he shook his head. “Who would have thought that the little mutt would become all this?”

Staring at the Royal Flush in my hands, I simply shook my head.

“I did,” I said, showing my hand. He stared at it for a moment before reaching for his gun. But before he lifted his hand, I put a bullet into the side of his face. His body crashed onto the floor and his blood flowed towards me like wine on the surface of marble, forcing me to rest my legs on the card-riddled table. Grabbing his cigar, I smoked the rest just as my phone rang.

“Yes, Neal?”

“Tell me you’re having a shittier time than I am.” He sighed into the phone.

“No can do. I just won a poker game and I have a pretty good cigar in my hands. Life here is good.” I smirked, looking down at the old man.

“Well, fuckiedy-do-da-day, then. Can you please tell me who the hell this Roy bitch is? I just got word that he’s got high-end snow-cones for sale.”

“High end snow-cones? Where did someone like him get that much smack?”

“I don’t really give a fuck. We’re still trying to figure out who put a bullet in President Monroe.” I had almost forgotten about that.

“Deal with the presidential shit. I’ll let Mel and Liam know about Roy. We’re heading home in a few hours, then you can hand back the crown.”

“Heavy is my head,” he replied.

“Neal, was that a Shakespearean reference? When did you learn to read?” I laughed.

“Fuck you!” he said, before hanging up.

“Love you too, cousin,” I said to no one. Rising from my chair, I walked towards the window and blew out the lone candle.

“Goodbye, Granduncle. Tell Grandfather I said hello.”





TWENTY-ONE

“Being powerful is like being a lady… if you have to tell people you are, you aren’t.”

—Margaret Thatcher





MELODY

Drumming my fingers on the table, I scrolled through the polls appearing on my phone.

“I’m going to kill your brother, Liam. I swear it.” How hard was it to make people like you?

Taking my phone from me, he tucked it into his front pocket and leaned into his chair before flipping through his book. “Political polls don’t mean shit. There’s no point in worrying about it. Once we land, we’ll fix this, seeing as how my brother can’t find his balls.”

“He quoted Shakespeare earlier this morning.” Declan laughed, buttering his toast in the aisle over.

“Seriously?” Coraline grinned, stealing his breakfast before he had a chance to reap the spoils of his work.