Chapter 3

Three

C illian

After a short ride through town, we were met with some Scoundrel soldiers in our gang at the agreed mutual ground. It was an unspoken agreement that Lower Roxbury was a mutual ground, and that no blood would spill here unless someone wanted to get try something stupid. The rule was, none of the other gangs stepped foot in each other's neighborhoods without prior permission. This was my first encounter ever breaking bread with Black gangs, but apparently my brothers were already on first name bases.

We walked the rest of the way to the church, the fear consuming me spreading to my legs mimicking walking through cement. It was taking all my fucking power to match the pace of the others, but somehow, I kept up. No one else understood. No one else would be in a rush to sign over their freedom to some woman they never met before. And to a Black girl, no less.

Of all the things I thought I'd ever be forced to do, I couldn't believe it was this. Truthfully, I had never had eyes for a Black girl. Why would I have when there was really no need to in Boston. I was knee deep in Irish girls, both American and Old Country born, who were always ready to drop their knickers for a kiss on the forehead and empty promises.

The way Pa put Bellamy in the hospital for even catching him galivanting in South End had taught me enough about where I was allowed to go and who was allowed to be seen with. We didn't mingle with folks who weren't our own kind, and we certainly didn't do business with Black folk.

All that's changed now, and according to the big brother on top, I would have no choice but to do what he asked of me. All I prayed is that she was somewhat decent to look at. Irish lasses, that was what I was used to. Thin and slim frames was what I preferred. From what I've encountered with Black girls, they weren't exactly known for their small and svelte body types.

But what if she had an unsorted smile? What if the woman only had one eye? What if she had a bloody mustache? The list of things that could be wrong with her made me fucking sick to my stomach. I grabbed for Paddy, Bellamy catching wind of my discomfort as I struggled with the will to stand. "Bel, Paddy, I think I got a bad dose of it," I admitted, nearly collapsing as both flanked me on each side to help me stand.

"Here, let me talk to him," Bellamy volunteered, whisking me off to the side as the others went on ahead. He gave me a light pat on the cheek meant to slap some sense into me, but everything happening just didn't feel real. "Hey, stop acting the maggot, Cilly. Straighten up! We don't need you getting cold feet." I took a deep breath, seconds away from hyperventilating.

"Bell. I ain't built like you. I can't handle the kind of woman you pull. Those big girls, I ain't sturdy enough for all that woman."

"Hey, hey," Bellamy interrupted, giving my face another pat, pointing an index finger between my eyes. "See there your mind goes bringing up unimportant things. Already going to her size."

"Come on, Bel. You all don't even know what she looks like. What if she's fat? What if she's ugly?"

"Cilly boy, now you listen to me. You're either fat, or you're ugly. When it comes a woman, they ain't never both. Now I get it. You don't have an appreciation for voluptuous women. That's my thing. That's what I like. But just know the three of us, we're your brothers and we ain't never going to steer you in the wrong direction. So, pull yourself together," He said, with a pat to my shoulder.

"There isn't a woman in Boston you can't handle, and ain't a woman in the world strong enough to resist a goddamn Sullivan. Look alive, Cilly boy. Everyone's waiting."

I took another deep inhale, praying to God that I didn't shit myself. I wasn't the most charming of my brothers, that title went to Bell and Pad. But the lasses I did win over, weren't the ones people called wife material. Gorgeous to glance at, yes. Bedroom skills to fuck you into hell, absolutely. But personalities only a parent could love. No brains, just nice tits and good pussy. For me, that was the only requirement. All I needed women for was a good time.

Especially when they fell in line with all the fucked-up shit I like to do to them. Other than that, there was no use for one. Love and all that shit was a fantasy folks cooked up to keep you faithful and provide hope for the future. Only people who truly believed in love were damn poets and the men that served that didn't think they would make it back home.

She'd be twenty-two, they said. At least the one thing she wouldn't be was an old maid. Finally, we reached the back alley of the church where we are met by my future bride's mother and father.

"Which one of your boys is it?" The woman asked, as Paddy struck me to take my cap off, as Tadhg pushed me forward to greet her.

"You might remember my youngest brother, Cillian. Will he do?" The mother took a few steps closer to me, somewhat tall, made taller by expensive heels. She was light skinned with curled hair, almost like a white woman. Ehhh, maybe a white woman was pushing it. She could pass for Indian or Arab, or something like it, as her eyes were this eerie shade of hazel that looked too light for a Colored woman. She wasn't all that big though. Also wasn't what I called a looker, either. Yet she was the one appraising me, deciding if I was good enough. She was old enough to be my mum, so she must have been the mother. Maybe her daughter was as light as she was.

"He's taller than I remember."

"Had a growth spurt," I murmured, wondering where I knew this woman from for her to remember me.

"Do me a favor and smile for me. With all your teeth now," She insisted. It felt odd smiling on cue and being put on display for a stranger, but in an attempt to keep things civil, I did as she asked.

"Come on, Martha. You've given him the onceover, will he do?" Tadhg challenged, his tone irritated. She walked back over to her well-dressed husband, the anticipation of her silence having me sweating bullets. For all I knew Black women were drawn to specific things about men. What if she couldn't find anything she found attractive about me?

"You said he would be blonde."

Tadhg laughed."What I said was he was a strawberry blonde, but that it was heavy on the strawberry. But enough about that. We're wasting precious time. Will the lad bloody do?" She rolled her eyes, offering a lazy shrug.

"Fine. I suppose he'll do." Cheer and laughter filled the back alleyway as my brothers took turns man handling me for meeting her approval. One by one, we all entered the church through the side entrance as Tadhg took me to the side and I was able to steal a glance of my appointed bride on bended knee at the altar. Like her mom she was more on the slim side. But other than her back, I couldn't make out much else.

"I want to take a minute to talk to you, Cilly. Would you take the damn pick out your mouth?" Tadhg challenged, reaching for it himself and tossing it to the chapel floor.

"Before you do this, I want you to remember something. It was Pa who wanted you to do all ten years when you got sentenced. All this here, was two years in the making. Whatever happens, we all did this for you. So that our little brother could have a bloody chance of a future." I took a huge gulp, fearing for the worse.

"Holy fuck, she must look like a troll." I cut my eyes in her direction as Tadhg took my face in his hands.

"Remember lad, we did this for you. Everything we've done is for the future of this family, so don't go ‘round fucking it up. Now go, we've only got the chapel for another hour."

Slowly, I approached the altar meeting my bride's stance on the ground, as a thick white veil covered any chance of seeing her face. As the priest began his sermon, I couldn't help focusing on the only part of her that I could see. Her dark hands. Any hope of being pale like her mum had been cancelled out. But if it was any consolation, she had nice hands. Small and delicate, with her nails painted a soft light pink.

The time had approached where she was asked to lift her veil and my eyes darted in her direction, unable to fight my curiosity. I had to see, and what I witnessed, I wasn't expecting.

She was quite the opposite of hideous. The woman beside me was like no lass I'd ever thought was real. She was… really fucking stunning. A wicked smile formed on my face as I turned back to my brothers to signal them the okay sign, but the truth was, it was hard to stay focused on my brothers. Her presence had truly captivated me.

She possessed a sweet face, full cheeked and inviting, with thick perfectly arched brows that framed her smiling doe eyes. Her lips were seductive, a flattering heart shape, her upper lip a wee bit darker than the top, and her nose was that of a button, which added to her feminine poise.

But it was her hair that pulled her whole look together. Wild and majestic, like the mane of a lion, but instead falling in tight curls. I'd never seen hair so different look so beautiful, and when she turned to look at me, her innocent gaze nearly stole my breath away. I didn't know a woman could be so…dazzling.

Whatever she was thinking, her eyes masked her emotions, but I knew mine couldn't lie. Was her heart beating as fast as mine? Because at the rate mine was pounding, they'd be picking up my heart right in front of us. Her dark skin was clear and smooth, like a chestnut, and I swear, her rich shade might have been my new favorite color. At the sound of my spoken name, I was snapped out of the enchanting trance her beauty held me in. As I was requested to know if I took Elizabeth Stanton to be my lawful wedded wife. Elizabeth…

Her name was Elizabeth.

"I do."

"And do you, Elizabeth Stanton, take Cillian Sullivan to be your lawfully wedded husband?" Anxiety clawed its way through threw me at her hesitation, an exhale of relief escaping at her slow but final response.

"I do." The priests joined our hands, hers dark, mine pale, winding the ribbon of the hand fast, an Irish symbol of our families becoming one. For the first time all night, my heavy worry had left me.

"In the eyes of God, you may now kiss the bride." I leaned in, pressing my lips into her full ones, the tenderness causing the veins in my cock to stiffen. She tasted of something sweet and pleasant, like summer plums, and ripe fraocháns, but her effort to kiss me back had been almost nonexistent. I suppose that was to be expected; both of us being strangers to each other.

"I now pronounce you, husband and wife." The last-minute planning of the wedding left no room for a proper reception afterwards. Before I could get a word in with my new wife, Bellamy was pulling me away. Paddy and Tadhg stepped away to talk to the bride's father, likely to sort out some last-minute business.

"Well?" Bellamy probed.

"Well, what?"

"What do you think about the lass? Do you like her?" Stealing another glance in her direction, her mother and another female family member helped her stand to her feet. My cheeks burned red as once again, I took in a bird's eye view of her beauty.

"I didn't reckon she'd be so pretty," I said, a smile forming that I couldn't fight. Bellamy patted me on the shoulder, handing me a wallet sized photo of my bride that he pulled from his waistcoat pocket.

"Good. Hold that for safekeeping." My once good mood shifted into a field of frustration.

"You tosser! You know what she looked like the whole time?"

He shrugged.

"What did it matter? You were gonna do what we told you to do, but yeah, there was this part of me that wanted to see your freckled arse humbled. Look at your tickled arse. Can't stop smiling." I couldn't even hide it.

"I can't help it. I just…I guess I never really gave myself a permission to really look before. Pa was always beating the importance of us bringing home Irish girls. Are they always that beautiful?" Bellamy laughed.

"Why do you think I can't stay away? Sure as hell wasn't to be reckless and rebellious. With every beating Pa inflicted to keep my cock loyal to white girls I told myself, that if you have to beat someone into loving certain people, then you weren't meant to be you attracted to just one thing. What's the matter? You look nervous."

Embarrassment flushed my cheeks again, this time for a different reason. I was no stranger to laying down with a woman, but my lineup had been nothing but Irish girls with no prior experience to whether Black girls would have different needs. Or functions. Hell, I didn't know where to start.

"As you know, I ain't never been with no Black girl before. What do I have to…" I hesitated, struggling to find the words. "Is there anything different or special I got to do when… you know when it's time to do the vertical?" At that Bellamy smugly laughed, the way one might when they weren't taking you seriously.

"Oh, Cilly boy, you and the others make me laugh. A Black woman is a woman . She ain't no fucking Martian. There isn't anything different you have to do, but the way I see it, the Sullivan curse is either going to work for you, or against you. All that perverted shit you like to do ain't gonna be something you can easily do until she trusts you. You think a Catholic girl is hard to convince to let you choke her when you fuck her? A broad that's Pentecostal is going to prove harder just to put your hands up her skirt. And a Southern Baptist lass, forget about it! Her legs are gonna be harder to pry open than a can of sardines."

That was to be expected. Most women wanted to convince you that they weren't that kind of girl, and the ones that fought the hardest with words, melted at the promise of pleasure. Now, I may not have held many women in high regard, but I still had a reputation to uphold. Couldn't have any woman leaving my bed unsatisfied.

"So Black girls, do they…" I started, my voice lowering to a whisper. "Will they let you put your tongue down there?" He made a subtle gesture with his hands, his expression twisting into a grimace.

"Ehhh, it's a hit or miss. Some are enthusiastic, others not so much. It depends on how well you do it, I reckon. But first rule in point. Be very, very, very generous. I'm talking foreplay, kissing, touching, the full monty. You tank the first time and she may not be so eager the second time. Just treat her special. This is your wife now. I shouldn't have to tell you that in God's eyes, it ain't right if you mess around on her. That's one thing I can say about Pa. He might not have been a romantic but I've never known him to step out on Ma."

He was right. Our father was the furthest from a passionate lover but he took care of our family, and saw to it that our mother never had to work, whatever that was worth.

"And another thing, be good to her. Those Black lasses, the one thing they got others beat on is that they're fucking loyal. You go around and fuck up enough times, you'll chase a good one away. There was this one lass, met her before the time was right time for us. Could have been the one."

It was an unspoken fact that Bellamy had had a long-term girl that Pa spent years trying to sabotage to get him to stay devoted to the family. He never brought her around and we never asked about it because he would've never told any of us anyways. But for the first time I was curious.

"Whatever happened to her?" Bellamy laughed, but it was a sad laugh. One that didn't reach his eyes.

"I fucked up the right amount of times. Haven't seen her since. Biggest regret of my life was not proving to her that I worshipped the ground that she walked on. Kind of left an emptiness in my heart. A part of me don't want to feel that way about anyone again. Hurt too much to lose it the first time." Hearing him speak on it, I never knew my brother had a sentimental side. He was always the ladies' man. A sweet talker that had women fighting to chat him up. The idea of him doting on one lass was foreign to me.

"I didn't know Bell, I'm sorry. Did Pa know?"

"Who do you think likely orchestrated it? One day I was checking up on her and the next, any trace of her was gone. I know you know where that leads. If she's still out there, I just pray that she's safe and alive. And I hope she stays the fuck outta Boston."

"Damn, that's fucked up." He slapped my shoulder, shifting the focus back on me.

"Yeah, that's enough about my jaded love life. How are you going to spend your first night married?" My smile returned.

"Well, I haven't shagged in over three years, so if my night goes well, I'll be knee deep in pussy. Don't blame me if I'm a little late reporting for work in the morning. If you know what I mean," I joked, to where Paddy materialized, catching me in a slight headlock.

"You may not even know how to use it proper after three years wanking. Might want to take it slow tonight before you put the Sullivan curse to shame," he jested. There may have been a list of things I was rusty at, but things like pleasing a woman you never you forget how to do.

"Where's Tadhg?" I asked.

"Oh, he's just outside talking to the father about some last-minute changes. We're going to front your father-in-law the cash to open up a club and bar in Roxbury, and the plan is to start expanding into Black neighborhoods. Your new Pa claims that Black folk got money to spend and we got money to earn." As if on cue, Tadhg returned outside with my father-in-law, signaling me over, as our guardians walked us to the car that would be taking us to our new flat.

"This is Seamus. He'll be seeing you off to where we put you up in. Figured a nice drive there together would give you a chance to get to know each other," Tadhg said, as I opened the door for her, her small frame climbing into the car, as I closed the door behind her. Her father cornered me, leaving me with a stark warning.

"You watch that girl. She's a whole ass firecracker. Gave me trouble all the time. I'm only telling you because she's your problem now. Don't let that angelic look on her face fool you."