Cillian (The Sullivan Scoundrels Book 1), page 2
After wearing a grey uniform for three years, I couldn’t wait to wear something decent. Being one of the top three Irish organized crime families in Boston sure had its perks. Couldn’t be a gangster without style.
“So?” outstretching one arm, bringing a cigar to my lips with my free hand. “How do I look?”
“Like a motherfucking scoundrel,” Bellamy boasted, before suggesting all the places we could eat. Our area of Boston was dubbed New Dublin on the count that it was nearly ninety percent Irish, so there was a pub at every corner. But being back home, only one place would do it for me.
Darragh’s—a place co-owned by an uncle on my mother’s side and Oisín—my late father, was the best place to make my time back feel official. Unbeknownst to me, the entire neighborhood had planned for my release, as a big welcome was waiting for me by the time we’d even walked into the pub.
“Rounds for Cillian on me!” various voices around me, some familiar, some new to me roared all over the pub.
“Is that Cilly? Littly Cilly?” A middle-aged woman with a heavy Old Country accent, emphasized my growth spurt. When I went in, I was only five-foot-five. In the time my family stopped coming, I’d grown well over six-feet.
“Not so little anymore,” I shrugged, reaching for a hug. It was hard not noticing all the pretty lasses sitting nearby at several booths in walking distance.
Leaning on the back of one of the booths, I flashed a smile and proceeded with, “Ladies,” met with coyness and the type of giggles a man like me went wild for, especially after a three-year bid.
My eyes went from the dark-haired lass to the blonde one. I wasn’t as attracted to her but she was a safer choice, as Oisín’s words were still stuck in my head after all this time. Go for them blonde and dumb. Which was odd given his forty-year marriage to our mum, a ginger.
“So which one of you ladies want to give me a—”
“Cilly, come on. Get some food in you, there'll be plenty of time for that type of thing.” Tadhg forcibly plucked me from my seat.
“Why you trying to ruin my play? A man’s got needs, you know?”
Paddy sat opposite of me, leaning in to intervene. “Trust us. We're doing you a favor. The blonde may look innocent, but last time I heard, she’s got the clap. Or at least that’s what the last man that’s been with her would say.”
“Let me guess. You’re that last man?”
“I never said I was perfect,” Paddy joked. Without a moment’s notice, Darragh laid a jug down at our table, dipping each mug inside to fill them generously.
“Welcome, lad. Can't say how good it is to see you on the outside.”
“Good to be on the outside,” as one swig of my stout made me instantly want to fall back and finish the whole jug on my own.
“We got something cooked up real nice for you.”
“Aw, you shouldn't have,” Paddy interrupted, like he'd been talking to him.
“I'm fucking starving. I want my energy up for when I drain my balls in a lucky lass tonight,” I joked, which was met with an immediate silence and uncomfortable shift in posture from my brothers. Why were they acting so strange?
“We got you set up in a penthouse suite,” Bellamy changed the subject. “Figured you’d want privacy after three years away.”
If I hadn't already been suspicious of my brothers that should have given me pause. My brothers had never trusted me to live alone. I'd always either lived at home with Mum and Pa. When things got tense—when I became Oisín’s personal punching bag—I’d stay with Bellamy just to heal up.
“Oh yeah? Where at?” I asked, letting my hunger hide my suspicions.
“Stormridge,” Paddy answered.
“Stormridge? But that’s close to Black territory.”
“But it ain’t Black territory. Its…diverse,” Bellamy dismissed. “We think you’ll like it,” he insisted.
Before I could blink, plates of traditional Irish food were put before me, forcing any foreboding signs away. Tearing my teeth into soda bread for the first time in years, was as sweet as making love to a new woman for the first time. Shit, maybe even a second time.
Warm, savory mixtures of carrot and mutton forced me back home in our birth city of Cork where I had been lucky enough to reside until I was six.
“The food must be good, huh?” Bellamy taunted.
“I've been fucking craving it,” I said, washing it down with a gulp of Guinness. “Only thing that could top it is bringing a lass back to this so-called place of mine—”
“What is with you and pussy today? You can't enjoy a day out with your brothers?” Paddy wasn't the oldest, but he sure did hold whatever privilege he had over me.
“You'd have a one-track mind if the only thing you've been fucking was your hand for three years.”
“You don't want anything or anyone here, Cilly,” Tadhg interrupted, ripping off a piece of the lamb of the plate in front of him. “Just eat your food and take the day, one moment at a time.”
“That and Paddy’s fucked half the lasses here,” Bellamy joked under his breath.
“Don’t act all holier than thou, Bell. We all know what you spend your disposable income on. Restraint and you ain’t the best of mates,” Paddy challenged.
“Well.” Bellamy looked around the room. “Around these parts, I do.” Bellamy had come out the womb a lady’s man. But because he had a type, he’d find no comfort here. Of all of us, he was the one who looked the most like Pa outside of Órfhlaith.
The only brother with dark hair, he took full advantage that he could pass for Italian, Greek or Jewish. You’d think being Irish was enough, but it was a not-so-secret that he preferred lasses anything but white. But because Pa would have never allowed him to be with one, he had a weakness for prostitutes.
No one could fight like him either. It was why he moved out so much sooner than we all had, as no one had ever lifted a fist to Pa before Bellamy. Pa still controlled him through the family business, but he’d always been who I looked up to when it came to learning how to fight.
“Don’t get too drunk, Cilly,” Tadhg advised. “You’re gonna want to be sober for where we end up next.
I fucking knew my brothers wouldn’t let me down. Probably never ate so fast in my life. Next thing on the list had to be a whorehouse.
***
“Not exactly what I had in mind,” I said, admiring and inspecting the firearm. “But can't say I haven't missed the weight of one of these in my hand.” There was something about shooting that made my cock hard. First round always reminded me of that initial thrust during a good fuck.
It wouldn’t have been what I choose to do, but it was at least in the top three of my favorite things, so my brothers knew me well. “Where did you get these?”
“New connect,” Tadhg answered in a way I knew I wouldn’t receive a follow up.
“Let’s see how these babies hold up,” I said, and all four of us took our positions and proceeded to shoot our intended targets. It’d been a while since I fired a gun. It surprised me that my brothers trusted me so soon with one, given why I was in the pen. I was in a good space, letting the collective sound of rounds put me at peace.
“You're getting rusty, Cilly boy,” Paddy teased, but coming from him wasn't much of an insult. He was the only one of us who’d gotten drafted, making him the only one of us to serve the country.
It was a strange thing to say, but he came back…different. He don’t feel like he used to. War turned his nerves into literal steel. Time overseas made him bold enough to challenge you to a game of Russian roulette, knowing it’d blow his brains out just to show prove he wasn’t afraid to lose.
Serving made him an expert marksman, and he definitely took the jobs that your hands got a little dirty for. Which was such a contrast to his looks. He was definitely one of them pretty boys who didn’t act like it. Real Hollywood type, blond hair and movie star looks. Had it not been for his murky eye, to the opposite sex, he was practically a heart throb.
Pa gave it to him the worst though. And it made him a bully to anyone who challenged him.
Bringing my pistol to eyes view. I took four shots each to the forehead of all of our marks. Paddy would always be the strongest shooter, but I wasn't rusty. Not by a longshot.
“Well, nice to see you ain't lost your balls.”
***
Time with my brothers drunken roughhousing and making a day of it had been the way to go for my first day out. One fucking miscount of an event and we were fighting on the streets of Boston.
“That growth spurt must have improved your boxing skills,” Bellamy joked.
“Well, I dealt with Pa and you all my whole life. Yesterday was the only day I took a beating lying down.”
“I knew it. Tell us who had it in for you and I’ll take care out it—” Tadhg interrupted.
“I said I was fine. Prison is just full of a bunch of miserable fucks. I can take care of myself. I can pull my weight in this family.” Gone was the time where my brothers fought my battles and cleaned up after me. The time was now to behave in a way that actually helped the family rather than hurt it.
“That’s good to hear,” Tadhg squeezed my shoulder. “Because where we’re heading to next is gonna require you to.”
Unsure of what his cryptic words had meant, it wasn’t long before Tadhg was leading us to our next destination. Not to say he was a particularly cautious driver, but I’d never seen him have so little regard for speed limits, stop signs and red lights.
“Wherever we gotta go ain’t worth dying for,” I yelled from the backseat.
“We don’t have a lot of time and there’s still something we need to do.”
Once we reached our destination, the air in my lungs hitched. No one mentioned Pa all day, but now I was confident where we’d stopped was why.
“Get out of the car,” Tadhg demanded.
Everyone had managed to get out but me. I wasn’t ready for this. “Do I gotta?”
“Cilly, you’re the only one of us who hasn't said goodbye. If you're going to start a new life, you need this for closure.”
Meadow Oak Cemetery
The setting sun was starting to mix with the eerie fog of New England weather, as it brought back so many memories at once. Pa wasn't a loving father, but he was the only father we had known. Seemed like he hated us from the moment we all popped out of our mother's snatch, but where would we all be without him?
Walking past gravesite after gravesite, the deafening silence made me wish I had something to distract me. “Which one is it?”
“Not long now. Just up ahead,” Tadhg assured, as each of them stopped as if waiting for me to approach it.
“This is it,” Paddy replied, asking me if I needed a drink since my feet hadn't moved.
“Fuck this.” I tried to turn back only to have Paddy and Bellamy manhandle me back to the direction of the grave. They practically had to drag me to the gravestone and force me to my knees before it became real.
Oisín Sullivan
Father. Husband. Businessman.
Bottled up anger, fear, maybe even a little resentment started to surface. As much as I wanted to deny it, Pa was dead.
“You good?” Paddy called out.
“I could use that drink now,” my voice broken and weak. “This man used the beat the shit out of us. But it still fucking kills me I wasn’t there for his funeral.”
“You didn't miss much,” Bellamy defended but it didn’t make me feel better about it.
“Didn't even get to—” as my attempts at conveying strength got the best of me and tears came against my will. “Didn't even get a chance to say goodbye.”
“That's why we're here—”
“It's not the same and you fucking know it!” Channeling that built up rage to interrupt Paddy.
“What was the service like?” I asked, deadpan.
“Big. A lot of people showed their respects. It would have been what he wanted, side from you not being there,” Bellamy assured.
Taking another swig of whiskey. “To Oisín. Most the time he was a fucking bastard, but he was still our father and deserves our respect.”
Handing the flask over to Paddy, he said his peace for the second time. “To Oisín, hopefully he’s in a better place.” As all it took was another drink to get Paddy to tell the truth.
“Who am I kidding? He's probably in hell. Because that's sure as hell where we’re all going since all of us got the Sullivan curse.” He laughed.
The Sullivan’s curse. Not a single one of us—not even Órfhlaith—had escaped it. It certainly explained why Pa had five children. Didn’t matter what we got from our mother, we were all doomed with the Sullivan curse.
Having it came with an insatiable libido, well-endowed cocks on the male side—dangerous curves for Órfhlaith—and at its worst, a penchant for unnatural things.
I’m talking despicable…deplorable…deviant…degenerate…diabolical sexual tendencies.
The average person would clutch their pearls to the shit we like to do. Dark stuff no Catholic woman or man should have any desire to do.
We don't always act on it. But if we didn't talk amongst each other, we’d convince ourselves that no one harbored such taboo thoughts. Couldn’t be a coincidence, not a single Sullivan had a normal sexual appetite. So, we deemed it the Sullivan curse.
Paddy handed Bellamy the flask, but he didn’t feel like sharing. “I said my peace last year. There ain't much left to say after that.”
“I’m good,” Tadhg seconding. Against his nature, Tadhg suggested if I was going to cry, to get it all out. He didn’t want to see me shed another tear over this man again. To my surprise, Paddy reached out to me and joined me for a hug. A real one, not a headlock like before. After pushing everything down, I took another drink and decided this was it. Either I got laid or…there was no other option.
“This was a fucking lot, Tadhg. You wanted me here for closure, and I didn't argue. Now I'm going to have to push back a bit. If I don’t get my cock sucked or find a woman to bury my balls in, I’m gonna do something that winds me back in prison.
“That’s the thing, we’ve been meaning to tell you something,” Paddy interrupted.
“And you're not gonna like it. Might be best you have another drink—” Bellamy insisted but I had had enough.
“What the fuck is going on with the lot of you? Every time I mention being with a woman, you change the subject or say it's not a good time. You've all been acting mad all night. What are you not telling me?” I asked in a winded whirlwind.
“Cillian, you know we love you, right? We weren't gonna let you rot in some fucking prison cell for ten years like Pa fucking intended,” Bellamy spat with an anger infused with hate.
“What does that have to do with anything?” My impatience growing thinner by the second.
“There's a reason you're out seven years ahead of your sentence. And it sure as hell ain't good behavior,” Paddy chimed.
“I don't understand.”
“Your key witness recanted,” Tadhg finally admitted. “We've been quietly setting things into motion. Bought a judge. Fished through the best attorneys or loopholes we could find. But what really got you out was the witness recanting. Sadly, a deal like that don’t come around for free.”
“You’re still not making sense to me.”
“You asked about the cocaine and gun connect. Officially, we don’t do business with the Callahans no more. No one does.” If the Callahans were off the table, that meant technically we were the biggest plate on the table. Only family giving us a run for our money was the Callahans, what could have made them lose favor in three years?
“What does that have to do with me?”
“One of our connects has relations with the witness’ people. When they came to us with a promise to recant, our ears were open. But we have reason not to trust each other. So as an act of good faith, someone on their side is to be arranged to be wed with someone on our side to ensure the peace between both parties.”
All of a sudden it began to register why I was met with silence whenever it came to me being with a woman. “Hell fucking no—”
Any attempt at running was thwarted by Paddy and Bellamy holding me down. “You don’t have a choice, Cill. The wedding’s the last stop,” Tadhg concluded.
“That’s why you wasted the day, because you promised me to some hag?” I looked to them accusingly.
“If we had told you, you would have tried to run—”
“You damn right I would have run. Why it gotta be me?”
“Because,” Tadhg hit me with his stoic blue eyes. “The lass was just as reluctant. Wouldn’t even consider it if the arrangement wasn’t to someone closer to her own age. That left Bellamy and me out. Paddy would’ve been too much for a lass like that. You’re the right age, it’s done.”
“Plus,” Paddy lips curled into sinister smile. “You did shoot a priest out in the open, so in a wicked sort of way, it kinda has to be you,” he ended in a laugh.
“She must be hideous,” I accused, trying to outpace my beating heart and shortness of breath.
“We don't know what she looks like but…there's something else we have to tell you. And this is the hardest part. It’s understandable if there’s a little pushback.”
“As opposed to marrying someone I don’t know?”
“Yeah, and you might need another drink for it,” as Paddy handed me the flask again.
“The lass in question. She’s a Colored woman.”
Trying to study my brother's reactions, I hoped a smile would crack to convince this me with this was a prank. “You gotta be codding me?”
“We're afraid we're not.”
It all took a second from my calm madness to become downright livid. “I ain't marrying no fucking Black girl.”
“What's done is done. It's already arranged, so if you go back on it now, there'll be consequences.”
“Why can’t you get Bellamy to do it? He's got his cock buried deep in one of them every other week!”
