Authors: K. Ryan
"That's Mr. Drama Queen to you. And you
are
coming out tonight. Come hell or high water, I'm getting your ass in a club, or something, and only there will you be able to drink, dance, and finally be merry again."
My face must've sparked with something he recognizes because he just shakes his head. "Don't give me the
I can't drink hard liquor argument
because you and I both you know you can drink wine and I'll have you know that you can drink wine at any bar in this city."
Damn, he's good. I blow out a deep breath. "I really don't want to."
"I know, sweetheart," Bennett smiles and pats my shoulder. "That big world out there is scary, but that's what I'm here for. Hey, I'll even play some old school stuff for you while we get ready."
He swipes through some screens on my iPad and lifts it over his head like a boombox. When N'Sync blares through the tiny speakers, he bops to the beat, throwing his right arm out as he sings along to mimic the music video we'd spent too many hours dancing to in high school.
"
Bye, bye, bye—bye bye!"
Luckily for me, he's too engrossed in doing his best Justin Timberlake impression and I snatch my iPad out of his grip before he knows what hit him.
"Hey—"
I hit pause on the music and shake my head. "Please don't make me."
"Even if I have to drag you by that head of beautiful ginger hair, you're going."
"My knee hurts," I try instead. I'm grasping at straws here, but this is the only real hand I have left to play.
Bennett doesn't miss a beat and balls up his fists to faux-rub his eyes. "Her knee hurts! Oh, boo hoo! Poor baby!"
My mind shifts gears, falling into old, comfortable habits, as I mentally prepare my next argument. There are so many reasons why I shouldn't have to do what he says, so many reasons why I'm just not ready—
"Oh my God!" Bennett jabs a finger in my face. "You're making a list, aren't you? I can see your twisted little mind working."
"Shut up," I snap. "You know it makes me feel better."
His hands fly up in defense and he takes this moment, since his hands are already by his head, to smooth his perfectly coiffed hair.
"Trust me," I snark back at him. "There isn't a hair out of place. I think you've got enough product in there to set this whole building on fire."
He shoots me a bitchy stink eye. "That better not have been a flamer joke. We've been over this already, Rae. You just can't pull those kind of jokes off. You never get the punchline right."
Now I'm ready to pounce. "Oh, you little—"
My phone rings, cutting me off and saving Bennett from the proverbial tongue-lashing he'd been about to receive. Unfortunately, that's also when I glance at the caller ID.
Against my better judgment, I swipe across my screen to answer. "Hey, Luce. What's up?"
Bennett's eyes widen and he starts shaking his head furiously, motioning for me to hang up. I wave him off and step away to put some space between us so he can't grab the phone away from me.
"Hey, Rae Rae!" my little sister chirps into my ear and my eyes squeeze shut at the sound of her voice. She's already drunk and it's barely 9:00. Great. "Can I have Benn's number?"
"What?" I frown. "Why do you need Benn's number?"
Bennett pales in front of me, his mouth hanging open in horror.
"Um, you know...wait. Is he there with you? Can I just talk to him?"
"I don't understand the question."
She just laughs into my ear again and it's so melodramatic and so superficial, I'm tempted to hold the phone away from my ear just to drown it out a little. "Well, you see the thing is, we're outside Na Soilse and the bouncer won't let us in because we're not on the list. I thought Benn might be able to get us in."
"What the hell do you want to get into Na Soilse for?"
It's so mind-boggling, especially the fact that she's even in that part of the city now, and I just can't wrap my head around how she could be so stupid, so careless, so
reckless
.
"Jack Flynn's fighting there tonight," she tells me as if that's the only logical explanation.
"So? You shouldn't be anywhere near that place. What if Dad finds out? What if someone takes a picture of you there for Christ's sake? How are you going to explain that...if you live long enough to even get out of there?"
"Geez, would you calm down?" Lucy laughs and mutters something to one of her air-headed friends. "If Benn gets us in then what do we have to worry about? Besides, it's not like we're going to do anything except enjoy the show. And it's my birthday, Rae. All I want to do is see Jack Flynn with his shirt off, all dirty and sweaty, while he pummels the other guy into the ground."
"That's a terrible idea."
In a long, ill-advised list of bad decisions, this is by far her most thoughtless one to date.
"Stop being such an old lady. Is Benn there or not? Do you want to just give me his number?"
That's the moment Bennett chooses to strike and swipes the phone right out of my hand.
"Hey, Zero," he greets her flippantly and holds the phone away from his ear when she screeches something at him. "Shut up and let me talk. I'll see if I can talk Patrick into letting you in if and only if you ask Raena to come out with you for your birthday."
There's just no time to process what's happening to me because Bennett hits the speakerphone button and all I can hear is my sister screaming, "COME OUT WITH US, RAE!"
Bennett grins like the cat who swallowed the canary and waggles his eyebrows at me. Somewhere in between my sister's bellowing and my best friend's cackling, I finally find my bearings.
"Sorry, Luce—"
"Oh no!" she cuts me off before I can launch into my long list of reasons why going anywhere near a club owned and operated by the entire Callahan family is the worst idea in the history of terrible ideas. "It's my birthday and since it's my birthday, I should get everything I want."
"Like she doesn't already," Bennett mutters under his breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing, sweetheart. Carry on."
"Whatever," she grumbles and now the attention is back on me. "Rae, it'll be so much fun! Who doesn't want to watch a hot guy with his shirt off? I just want to get close enough so I can see all his tattoos!"
My sister is missing the point, but this is nothing new. Yes, seeing Jack Flynn with his myriad of tattoos on display, all sweaty and dirty, would be nice. I've only heard about him, but from what I've heard, the guy, with all his hulking, sculpted muscles, ferocious intensity, and dark masculinity, has bad boy practically engraved on his forehead.
But hearing about him and actually seeing him in person are two very different things. Because seeing him in person means we'd be in Callahan territory and in Callahan territory, my sister and I are more likely to get screamed at, spit at, and finally thrown out on our asses before we could even get two feet in the door. And even though Jack Flynn isn't related to the Callahans by blood, he's part of their family all the same.
My
family, at least to the Callahans and everyone associated with them, is responsible for a multitude of bloody sins against their community. I'd even heard my father referred to as the
diabhal,
which, thanks to Google translate, means devil in Irish. Seeing as how he's using his position as mayor to systematically push them off their properties through higher taxes and rent to make way for the richer Italian community in North Boston, the label is pretty on-point.
Lucy is only guilty by association. I, on the other hand, deserve all the animosity they'd serve up and then some.
Light eyes flash across my mind—I'm trapped in a blurry, crimson haze of blinding pain, but I can still make them out. I can see the horror radiating in them. The shock and the panic I find in his eyes is all I really remember, but it's enough to keep those seeds of doubt festering. That dread and that insurmountable terror that I'd made the wrong choice all those years ago in listening to my dad instead of my gut.
Sean Callahan is in prison because of me and because of that, Na Soilse is the last place I should ever step foot in.
"Come on," Lucy pleads through my speaker phone. "It's my birthday."
"Yeah, Rae Rae," Bennett mimics her tone, jutting out his bottom lip in a fake pout. "It'll be, like,
so
much fun. You
have
to come watch sweaty guys beat each other up!"
"I'm gonna pretend you weren't just making fun of me on my birthday," Lucy's harsh voice rings out and that only makes Bennett's Grinch-like smile widen.
"It's your birthday? Really? I hadn't noticed."
Lucy huffs and I can practically see her stomping her foot because she isn't getting her way. "Shut up, Benn."
"Uh, correct me if I'm wrong, Zero, but you sort of
need
me here. It would behoove you to play nice for once. And, I'm just gonna come out and say it, but it's really shitty of you to only invite your sister out just because you need me to get into some stupid club. You should've invited her a long time ago."
I blow out a deep breath and my eyes lift up to the ceiling. This is getting beyond ridiculous and it's time to end the charade.
"Hey, Luce?" I interject before either of them have a chance to continue their little game of snide one-upmanship. "Maybe Benn will be able to get you in, but I'm not coming. And don't even try to talk me out of it because you know exactly why I shouldn't be there and just so we're clear, neither should you. But do what you want. If you can get in, I hope you have fun and I hope you don't get yourself killed."
Bennett's eyes are glued to the ceiling by the time I finish my speech and he shakes his head at me in a familiar mixture of annoyance, frustration, and worry. Since I've been back in Boston these last three months, I feel like my interactions with Bennett have teetered somewhere between all three of those emotions, but I guess if I were him, I'd want me to deal with all my shit a little bit faster too.
But because I've never been good at things like feelings and talking about said feelings, I've chosen to wallow in self-pity and disappointment instead.
So, I hit the end button on my phone before anyone else can say anything. There. It's finally over. Bennett's mouth parts, but it snaps shut again when my phone rings on the counter. We glance down at the caller ID and Bennett's horrified face mirrors my own terror. This can't be a coincidence, especially since this particular caller rarely dials my number.
I swallow hard and finally swipe across my screen to answer. "Hey, Dad."
"Have you spoken to your sister tonight?"
I wince at his clipped tone, not to mention the fact that he didn't bother to even say hello, and it's all I can do to just keep myself from hanging up on him. Who am I kidding? I'd never do that. And that's half my problem right there.
"Um, yeah. Why?"
"Did she happen to mention anything about where she was going tonight?"
My lips part, but nothing comes out and that's exactly the kind of opening he's looking for.
"Because I was told she's currently on West Broadway. Do you know anything about that?"
Of course the only reason he's bothered to call me is to check up on Lucy. Why else would he take precious time out of his day to speak to me?
This would be the perfect opportunity to give Lucy a taste of her own medicine, but my sister is about to get herself into some trouble tonight in more ways than one and I'd rather attempt to save her from it than throw her even deeper into the snake pit. Bennett watches me carefully, taking stock of every tick and every single one of my movements, and he purses his lips together when I let it fly.
"Well, I think her and her friends were going to a new restaurant on Broadway. She told me they're all going downtown after that."
The lie rolls off my tongue a little too easily and guilt wraps its fingers around my throat. It's just a compulsion I've never been able to shake. I'm like that addict who knows she needs to get her ass into AA, but just can't put one foot in front of the other. Lying has just always come so naturally. I know it's bad for me and that it definitely won't end well, but I just can't stop.
"So Luciana isn't going to be on that side of town for the rest of the night?" my dad's voice sounds a little more relieved now. I might have managed to convince him without even having to try that hard.
"Nope," I reply a little too quickly, but I can't take it back now. "They're probably already headed to some club she wanted to go to in the theatre district."
There are a few beats of uncomfortable silence from the other end and I shift anxiously from side to side, my palms sweaty and my heart racing. Maybe this is exactly why I can't stop myself from lying—the high of almost getting caught. It's a rush I haven't felt in awhile and one I used to feel on a nightly basis back when the lies were for my own benefit and I actually got away with it from time to time.
I know exactly what he's thinking. The election. Always about the election. Always about appearances.
In six months, each district in Boston will vote on their city council reps as well as the mayor, and this
time, my dad is more anxious about it than usual because
this
time, Brennan Callahan, the oldest son of Roark Callahan, is running for South Boston's rep in District 2. My dad will most likely have no issues getting re-elected to yet another term as mayor, but that's not the source of his anxiety. If Brennan Callahan wins, and he probably will, my dad can forget all his plans to expand North Boston into District 2 because he won't be able to push Brennan Callahan around the way he does the current city council rep and he knows it.