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“We know it’s not your fault,” said Titus. “Do we dare order any food?” She gently shook her head.
“Not unless you want diarrhea for the next four days.”
“Lovely,” smirked O’Hara. They heard the doors open, and four men walked in, all carrying police batons. It was very old school, classic 1950s gangster movies. They all laughed, watching as the men swatted their own hands with the batons.
“You were told to order liquor or leave. Now you’re going to leave the hard way,” said a big man with no neck and eyebrows that met in the middle of his forehead.
“Oh, I think not, my friend,” said Titus, standing to his full height of six-feet-six. His son, Dom, stood beside him. The men all shuffled on the balls of their feet as each man stood, towering above them. No doubt the gangsters outweighed them, but there was nothing that could take the place of their training and abilities.
“One chance to rethink this really stupid move,” said Irish. The big man smirked at him, raising the baton above his head. Before he could even make a move downward, Irish had it ripped from his hands, tossing it through the window of the restaurant. Glass shattered, forcing cold air into the restaurant.
The second took a run at Titus, and he only laughed, moving aside like a matador at a bullfight. Gripping the back of the chair, he slammed it over the man’s head, then swept his legs from beneath him. Face down on the floor, he zip tied his hands.
When the third man saw the fate of his friends, he hesitated but must have been weighing the options he would be left with if Quinn found out. Reaching toward the back of his jacket, he felt for the pistol that was always there. Instead, it was swinging from the finger of Dom.
“Lose something?” he asked. Liffey gave a fast roundhouse kick, dropping him to his knees, his face covered in blood. The fourth man stood with his mouth open, shaking his head.
“You have no idea what you’ve done. This wasn’t personal. It’s our jobs. A job we’re forced to do. Quinn will come for you.”
“Call him,” said Titus. “Call him right now and let him know where we are. I’d like to meet this man.”
“Mister, you don’t want to do that, I promise you.”
“Call him, or I’ll burn the whole fucking place down.” The man nodded, stepping aside and making the call. They could hear Quinn’s voice screaming over the phone and grinned at one another.
“He’s on his way. Give him about forty-five minutes.”
“Okay. Now tell that fat fuck back there cooking to make us some lunch. If he so much as sweats a drop on my plate, puts anything disgusting on it, I’ll blow his brains out,” said Dom.
“Fix them some lunch,” said the man. The chef nodded, and the young waitress gave them a look to let them know she would watch him.
“Why do you have to work for him?” asked Liffey.
“Working off a debt, man. That’s all. All of us. He gets us into these investment schemes, or some of the guys lose to him in poker or with the ponies, and then he owns you. Interest so high it can’t ever be paid back. And God help you if you’ve got kids. Especially a wife or daughters.”
“And do you?” asked O’Hara. “Do you have a wife and daughters?”
“Not me,” he said, shaking his head. “They do.” He nodded toward the men on the floor, and Irish stood, cutting the zip ties from their hands.
“Does he have them?” he asked the first man.
“Not now. It’s been years for me. Once my wife was over forty, he wouldn’t touch her. So, she left me. Rightfully so. But he took my little girl. She was just eighteen. Fucked her up so bad, she’s in an institution for the rest of her life.”
“Why haven’t you gone to the cops or to the feds?” asked Dom.
“You really don’t know who Quinn is, do you?” said one of the men. “He’s got people in his pocket everywhere. Everyone owes him money or a favor. Everyone. Cops, judges, feds, they all are at his mercy because he’s got photos of them with women or records of their gambling debts.” Titus knelt in front of the four men, handing them a stack of bills and a plain white business card.
“Call that number and explain what happened here. Take the money, get your families, and drive. Don’t buy a train, plane, or bus ticket. Just drive wherever you need to go. When you’re a few states away, lose the car and buy another. Don’t come back.”
They all stared at Titus, unsure of what to do. Was this a trick to test their loyalty?
“He doesn’t offer a free ride to everyone,” said Irish. “Take it and get the fuck out before he gets here.”
The four men stood, taking the card and the cash. The man who had no wife or children just stared at him.
“I don’t know who you are, but you should leave before he gets to you. You’re good. Obviously, a helluva lot better than us, but he’ll find a way to own you.”
“Nobody owns us,” said O’Hara. “Nobody.”
