Chapter 7

Seven

C illian

Was this what rock bottom felt like? Destined to suffer with the pleasure of my own hand for the rest of my life. No one would lay down with me and nothing made my cock hard—even if I was paying for it.

The Sullivan curse had never been more burdensome, because only one woman would do it for me. Even if she let me touch her, I could never be myself around her.

Returning to the pub defeated, I hadn't had time to go over the numbers or close a damn thing before Bellamy confronted me, asking if I'd got what I needed to get out my system.

"You good, Cilly boy? Did you get what you needed?"

"For now," I lied.

"Good, because Tadhg is asking for us. Said he got a meeting he wants me to lead with someone important but he wants you to be there. Get you back in the swing of things."

Maybe a night out would be good for me.

I certainly enjoyed my brother's company to what I'd have waiting for me at home. If Tadhg was asking for me instead of Paddy, maybe that meant he didn't see me as the immature spoiled kid who'd gotten locked up.

Making our way to the office in back, Tadhg had just came from the safe. It was one of many, as too much dirty money to clean required several locations, but this was just one of the few things I'd learned since I'd been out.

"Tadhg, Cilly's back. Tell him what you need from him," Bellamy wording it in a way that sounded like it wasn't the offer that I thought it'd be.

"Cillian, have a seat," Tadhg insisted, but since neither of them were sitting, neither was I.

"What do you plan to team up on me?"

"No, I'd just prefer you sitting down. Every time we tell you something you don't want to hear, it don't take long to where you have a gun in someone's face."

To prove I could follow orders, I took a seat but slid to the front so not to get comfortable. "What do you want?"

"Originally I'd had Bellamy set to meet up to Woodcrest on the count that he blends in better with Black people. We've got a meeting with someone on their side. One that can change a tide for us, but he's too prolific to meet up on our offer to talk business, alone."

"Why don't you just get to the point. You do always do anyway."

Tadhg shot Bellamy one of those you-didn't-tell-him looks, but all Bellamy could do was look away wanting no part in having to tell me. "Bellamy would be the better choice. He speaks their language and makes them comfortable, but this tryst is in its infancy and the trust hasn't been built long to be in each other's spaces freely. They don't feel safe in our space and for good reason. Until we're in a space where everyone trusts one another, we're willing to do anything to stay in each other's good graces."

"Again, nothing to do with me," I challenged.

"We're going out tonight, Cilly. But we need a favor," Bellamy eased into the conversation seeing my impatience grow.

"Your wife Elizabeth. Her father might not be a gangster, but he's well respected amongst Black Mecca. We ain't exactly known for our inclusive employment, but showing off a Black wife certainly wouldn't make us look bad." So, there it was. Everyone was seemed to be benefitting off this marriage but me.

"So much for a peaceful night."

"Don't look at it as a job. Look at it as a night out. Buy your wife a pretty dress. Keep your wine glass full. Before you know it, you'll be home and hungover. Be like you never left the house."

So much for him to say. Tadhg was forever a bachelor, not even after Pa advised him to wed so he can live to see grandchildren.

"Where am I supposed to get a dress from?" I asked annoyed.

"You're in luck. órfhlaith's waiting for the phone call as we speak. She runs a gown shop not far from Beacon Hill. All you got to do is confirm her dress size and Bellamy will pick up the dress and deliver it straight to your front door. A night out with minimal effort," Tadgh concluded, making it abundantly clear my attendance wasn't optional.

Bellamy offered me a ride claiming we didn't have time for me to see órfhlaith and figure out Elizabeth's dress size, so he'd would drop me off and wait by the shop. Being the youngest was horseshit. Not only did I have to spend a night with my wife, I was being robbed of another chance to see my sister.

***

The penthouse stirred with the same deathly stillness as when I left. Passing the guest room where I'd slept, I backtracked to the primary bedroom finding Elizabeth resting, a scarf different from the one on the nightstand, covering her hair.

I took no pride in admitting to myself how peaceful she looked…how pretty she looked, sleeping like she must not have had a care in the world. Her rest must've improved the moment I'd left; wish I could have said the same about my sleep. Not a day went by at wondering who that confidential witness had been. It took me months to sleep decent enough behind bars knowing how careless I'd been to leave a witness to that crime.

Now I was sharing space with her. Now I was fucking married to her. It was like the nightmare never ended.

Sinking my weight into the side of mattress, I shook her hand at first, deciding to be gentler with her than I'd been before.

"Hmmm…" she moaned, disoriented.

Lighting a cigarette, I thought against breathing it in, debating whether she smoked or not.

"Wake up, we're going out tonight." As her exhausted eyes softly peeked open, the weight that she couldn't sit around and do nothing blinked her out of her stupor.

"What's your favorite color?"

"Hmm…" she asked in the form a question, confused.

"Color," I tried to enunciate clearer. "What is your favorite color?" Pronouncing it more like an American so she'd understand me.

"I don't know? Pink?" She sat up, still confused.

"What's your dress size? You look about a six or an eight, but it's hard to tell with you." Especially given her wide hips and full breasts greatly deviated from the bodies I was used to.

"I usually make my own clothes so I don't know what my actual size. I just know my measurements?—"

"That's good enough." I interrupted, taking a drag from my cigarette. "Shoe size?" As I picked up a pencil and took down her measurements, shoe size and if she fancied earrings or not.

"What's the nature of tonight?" she asked out of curiosity, surprising me when she didn't give me attitude.

"What does it matter? I'm your husband. So, if I say you're going out, you're going. When the dress comes, you better be ready by then. If you need a shower, now's the time. I have no issue dragging you out of here in nothing but your bathrobe and slippers," I said, exiting the room to make the call.

"Make the dress pink," I commanded, before offering a hello or missed you yesterday .

"Good to hear from you too, Cilly."

"You would never know it considering you stood me up. What gives, anyway? Don't you love me anymore?"

As much as I loved my mum, emotionally, she checked out long before her untimely death. órfhlaith's the only mother I've really known. It's why it hurt that she didn't come yesterday.

"And what's this with you having a baby on me? Who's the father and when do I get to kill him?" I asked, and I could feel her rolling her eyes across the phone line.

"Lucky for you, the energy's no longer needed. He bled to death in a bar fight. Cheeky bastard couldn't keep his mouth shut even if it could save his life. Wasn't much of a father, so I'm truly better off," she admitted. Deafening silence had us both assuming the line had clicked but it was obvious we just didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry, I didn't come. I wanted my boy to see you. But looking decent. I didn't want his first memory of you to be getting out of prison." Understandable. órfhlaith's the one we protected from this life, even though she was aware of the empire that paid all of her bills.

Bellamy filled me in that she mostly did legit stuff, nothing that came through her shop was dirty, so she'd never get implicated if we ever got caught up.

" So, what does she look like?" Wasting no time asking about Elizabeth. "Bellamy tells me she's pretty but you know his type."

"She's nice looking. Dark. Not like Irish, dark. Black dark. Kind of shaped like you but you know, better looking."

"Fuck off," she laughed over the phone. "I imagine she's going to need makeup too. What's her skin color like?"

"I just told you!"

"But dark is so vague. Does she favor more of a Lena Horne? Or more of an Ethel Waters?"

"I don't know, whichever's the darker one," I argued, unaware of all that woman stuff. I finally settled on that I wasn't used to seeing women as dark as her in pictures, as órfhlaith claimed she could make that work. When she was done, she'd send Bellamy off with a package.

If I were being honest, I didn't care what Elizabeth wore or put on our face. I wanted the night to be over with, just so I could go back to ignoring she existed.