Chapter 3

Three

P addy

"Hey, good job with the handling of the Kirkpatrick accounts. Profits are up and prices are down. We need to keep the flow steady so we can keep the suppliers happy at the current purchase price," Tadhg said, as we went over our current numbers.

New faces were always popping up in the market, and it was an unspoken rule that it was my job to keep the competition down to a minimum. There were still a few neighborhoods that needed that extra push to accept Sullivan protection, and we had to move fast.

If our rivals moved in, that territory would be lost unless we took it. Things were calm at the moment, and Tadhg didn't think it was wise to go starting any wars. While I was equipped for anything, I was in full agreement about things staying quiet.

Taking one last drag of my fag, I excused myself to get started on my daily runs. This money wasn't gonna make itself.

"Hey, I'll walk out with you. I'm heading out, too," Bellamy caught me. We joked and snickered until we were outside, but our guards went up when a man, a Black man, rolled up to us like he was ready to go rounds.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, ease up there, lad. You're a wee bit close, and you're looking a little lost around these parts." The man certainly didn't look like a gangster, and doing business with Black gangs put familiar faces on our radar. Hell, in his department store suit, he looked more like a banker.

"I apologize. I'm aware how this looks. The man at the door wouldn't let me in, and it's important that I meet with a Paddy Sullivan." My brow cocked at the sound of my name, wondering where a square like him got it from.

"Who's asking?" In a frantic state, he dug through the pockets of his trench, having Bell and I reaching for our guns out of instinct. We both eased up when he pulled out just a piece of paper with my name on it, and Tadhg's restaurant listed with it.

"An acquaintance, Nathan Moore, passed your name on to me. Said I could find Paddy here. Said he might be looking for work." I whispered to Bellamy that things were cool and that Nathan Moore was my mate from serving. He nodded in confirmation, and offered to stick around for support, but seeing that the man was harmless, I sent him on his way.

"You're talking to him. I don't know what Nathan told you, but I'm not exactly unemployed."

"So, you don't do bodyguard work?" I snatched the paper from his hands.

"And you said Moore referred you?"

"Listen, Mr. Sullivan, I'm not even trying to take up too much of your time. I was just wondering if we could talk, and you could hear me out." I let out an exasperated sigh, unsure of how long of a trip this was for him. What could it hurt to just hear the man out?

"Fine. Can I offer you a drink or something?" I said, escorting him inside to a private booth. A waiter approached us, and in a spirit of things, I ordered two whiskeys.

Having a better look at him, I suppose he could pass for one of those fellas in one of those jazz bands. Slicked back hair, a gullible smile and the energy of an entertainer. I wasn't too good with names or picture titles, but I wonder if he was someone I had heard on the radio or something.

"I didn't get your name."

"It's Vernon. Vernon Washington," he said with an outstretched hand. When the waiter came back with our drinks, I pulled a smoke from my suit jacket and he offered a match to help me light it.

"So, Mr. Washington, I don't know how far of a way it is that you've traveled, but I'm afraid that what you came here for might be a no. I don't travel as much as I used to for detail jobs, because I have to stay local for my family." He took a sip of his drink, followed by a clap of his hands.

"Actually, that's perfect, because the job is in Back Bay. My wife just needs a bodyguard. I'm doing a bit of traveling for work soon, and I can't leave her by herself under the current circumstances."

"Wait, it's you that lives in Back Bay," I questioned. I wasn't trying to make assumptions, but Back Bay was home to million-dollar houses, and last time I checked, there weren't many Colored folk living there. His wife must have been famous or something.

"Yes, sir. Me, my wife, and my son."

"What does your wife need a bodyguard for?" He mentioned earlier about him doing some traveling, but still, it didn't constitute needing a bodyguard. If there was one thing even a crooked cop would do, it was to actually serve and protect those bougie areas.

"My wife can't know this, but I believe she has a stalker. We've got some recent things in the mail, that I thought I was hiding well from her, but it's the things she didn't find that forced my hand. Packages and letters have been coming in the mail for months now, and I've been lucky to intercept them before she got to worrying. But you see, my wife is a famous singer and composer of music with a loyal, diehard fan base. Right now, she's working on new music from home because she's on tight deadlines with her label and studio. If she knows about this, she won't get any work done. I just can't have that." Well, that answered my question about what she did for a living.

"What's her name?" From his coat pocket he pulled out a card with her name and information on it. Pretty Washington. The name was kind of pretentious, but thankfully, I never heard of her to know if any of the entertainment outlets seen her as unlikable.

Being the family's enforcer had its perks. I wasn't tied down to any businesses like Bell or Cilly, and as long as I didn't go far, I could keep up with both obligations.

"What's the job pay? You never mentioned it," I asked, opting for another sip of my drink that I almost spit out when I heard the amount of his offer."

"Fifty thousand dollars."

"Let me get this sorted. You want to pay me fifty grand a year to watch over your wife?" He made this gesture with his hands that hinted that it was more he wasn't telling me.

"Actually, it would be more like six months. By then, she planned to go back on the road for a bit. There she'll be able to get her regular guy on detail. I do want to mention that there is one small condition." Fifty grand for six months? I only expected it to come with conditions.

"My wife can't know that I'm hiring you to be her bodyguard. If you take the job, your position on paper will require you to pose as our new nanny." I chuckled, knowing he couldn't be serious, but when he didn't join me in my laughter, I straightened up.

"You want me to pose as your nanny?" I questioned with a laugh. "I look like a fuckin' woman to you? Wouldn't your wife be bloody suspicious of you hiring a man to look after your wee ones?" He took a deep breath, downing the last bit of spirits in his cup in one gulp.

"She turns down every female nanny I've ever tried to break in. Besides, she knows times are changing. My wife is the breadwinner, and I've done seen male nurses. Times are changing. The woman needs protection and we both need a nanny." Fifty thousand was tempting, but being responsible for a kid that wasn't mine wasn't how I wanted to spend the next six months.

Besides, I had my own nieces and nephews that drove their Uncle Paddy mad, wasn't sure I could handle another.

"Thanks for considering me for the job, but I think I'm gonna have to pass. Nathan likely knows some other lads. I can't be the only person he knows in Boston." The man ran his palms over his face, taking one more deep sigh before slouching into his chair.

"The best I can do is sixty thousand, and if you take the job, I'll throw in my Jaguar, XK120." My eyes widened in shock. A car like that was a beauty. And there he was, just giving it away. Along with sixty grand. I put out my cigarette, leaning with my elbows on the table as I interlocked my fingers.

"How old's the kid?"

"He's six." Doing the math, órfhlaith's son was about that age, and he and I had no issues getting on.

"You say the job is only for six months?"

"Six months," he confirmed. I held out my hand for his to shake.

"Then you've got yourself a deal."