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Once again I held my hand up and once again, he shut up. Scratching the side of my neck, I glanced out the window; the clouds above were slowly turning from white to gray, and from gray to black.
“So, what you are telling me is not only did I get robbed, but I got robbed by a bunch of kids, is that right?”
“Sir—”
“Is. That. Right?”
He nodded, adjusting the brown cabbie cap on his head.
“Okay.” I laughed, standing up.
“Okay?”
“You said you were going to see these kids, so let’s go. It’s only two blocks up the road right?” I reached into my jacket and pulled out a hundred dollar bill, turning back to my favorite old waitress behind the bar and sliding it across the counter to her.
“How many times do I have to tell you the coffee is only twenty?” She grinned.
“How many times do I have to tell you that doesn’t even cover seeing your beautiful face?” I replied.
She tried to make a face at me, but she couldn’t stop the grin forming on her cheeks, the wrinkles on her face more prominent now than ever.
“Ever the charmer. How does your wife put up with that mouth of yours?”
“I could tell you but you’d get me in trouble now, Beatrice.” I winked at her, grabbing a toothpick before walking toward the door.
Beatrice had worked at Eastside Diner for almost thirty years now. I’d come every Monday with Declan at first, and now Neal, and always ordered the same thing. She knew it, but she still asked anyway. Five years ago, I bought her the diner so the poor woman could finally retire, but she was so damn enthusiastic to be the owner she now came every bloody day, working harder than she had before.
Stepping out into the cold, I saw Fedel made a move to the car, but I shook my head, walking toward Flannery. He said nothing, just stuck his large scarred hands into the pockets of his trousers and put his head down, obviously thinking far too hard.
“Hi, Mr. Callahan.” Two young girls, maybe three or four years older than Dona, waved to me once we got closer to the neighborhood.
“Ladies.” I nodded to them, moving to give them space on the sidewalk. They giggled, whispering to each other as they walked by hand in hand.
“Mr. Callahan!” A set of teenagers, this time, four boys, rushed across the street. Fedel tensed, but there was nothing to worry about.
“My pops said if I wanted a job to ask you,” the first said, his front tooth chipped.
“As if, Bertie. If anybody workin’ for the Callahans it be me.” The second—and shortest—of the four puffed out his chest. They all just laughed at him.
“In your dreams, Eirnin!”
“Gentlemen,” I said, and they all shut up, looking back at me as if they had forgotten I was there for a second. “If you want to work with my family then you got to be smart…ask me again in ten years.”
Walking around them, we continued on. The two blocks felt like two miles because of all the people who stopped me just to say hello. The East Side had always been home to the Irish, and if they were Irish, they knew who I was, and if they knew who I was, they had to show respect. It was basically an unspoken commandment.
“This is it,” Flannery said when we stopped at a rundown townhouse with what had once been a green door; most of the paint was now chipped away and instead it looked brown. Flannery glanced back at me, motionless.
“Are you expecting me to fucking knock?”
Skipping the stairs two at a time, he walked up to the door and pounded on it.
“I’m coming! I’m coming!”
A second later the door swung open and a short pale woman with her black hair in a loose ponytail and dirt all over stepped forward.
“Flannery? What are you—” Her green eyes slowly panned over to me.
Smiling at her, I took the toothpick out of my mouth and stepped up. “Ms. Feidhelm, are your boys in?”
