Page 24 of Cillian

“Queenie?” I called out softly, determining if she was truly asleep before slipping out of bed. Fighting with my pants to go each pant leg, I'd hoped to be back before she even noticed. If I was lucky, what I planned to do next wouldn’t take me long at all.

***

“Pull over by the dock, Pad. And remember, not a word of this to anyone, especially not Tadhg.”

Since my release, I promised my eldest brother I'd be on my best behavior. The thing I could count on when it came to Paddy was that he and I were shit at being on our best behaviors.

We always gave into the worst part of our natures, and I knew to get this job done quick and clean, that he was the only one I could ring this late in the night. He reached over to the glove compartment, dangling a vile of coke in front of my face.

“It's been a while, Cill. You need a bump?” Tempted, I refused, throwing it back in there before cocking my pistol, and tucking it in the back of my trousers.

“No, I want to be sober for this one. Do me a favor and help me get him out of the trunk.”

Paddy took a drag of a cigarette and a sip of something from a flask that he pulled out from his waistcoat.

Together we exited the vehicle, heading toward the trunk. The tied-up man, squirmed and let out a scream of terror when reunited with the sight of our faces. I held him by the legs while Paddy pulled him from his underarms as we laid him down carelessly on the hard pavement.

Behind the tape that covered his mouth, he seemed to be saying a whole lot for a man claiming to be innocent. Open to the entertainment, I ripped away the thick tape masking his lips as his face twisted in a tight grimace of pain.

“I don't know what that lying nigger bitch told you, but whatever she’s said, none of it is true.” Bringing my pistol level with his eyes, I released the safety, using everything in my power not to shoot him where he stood.

“Careful how you talk about my wife, old man. If anyone's the nigger bitch, it's the fucking pervert with a gun pointed to his head. I only ungagged you to give you a chance to make good with God.”

“Please, if you could just listen to me.” At this point, I’d grown tired of his voice, crying and whining like wee little baby. Fighting back patience, I lifted the barrel of the gun to his neck and pulled the trigger, the contact of the close-range shot causing a gaping hole, that made him gag and splatter blood all over my face and dress coat. He was either going to bleed out or choke to death on his own blood, as either were fine by me.

“Changed my mind. A tosser like you don't deserve God's forgiveness.” Soon, the gurgling of blood came to an end, Paddy slowly clapped, followed by another long drag of his cigarette before releasing it into the cool night air.

“Jesus Cilly, that time in the bucket made you more impatient than an adulterer sneaking out past midnight. You used to drag it out. You used to finesse that shit. Now it's just pew pew. I've had enough of you. What’d the cocksucker do to garner a night call?” I bummed a fag off him, as I lit a match and let the pull of nicotine relax my lungs.

“A sick thing he won't ever do again.” Paddy flicked the butt of the cigarette on the dock's pavement, just inches where the doctor’s lifeless body laid.

“Works for me,” he replied, before helping me tie cement blocks to his feet, as we threw the bloody corpse in the depths of the Boston Harbor.

Ten

Queenie

Rolling over in the bed, I reached out, surprised to find myself alone. Where was Cillian, I wondered as I rolled back over my side to see the clock read 2:52am. Did he retreat to the guest room?

I'd given the okay for him to stay with me, as everything about his presence last night had consoled me long enough to fall asleep in his arms. I don't know why I sought his stability and comfort. In just the past few days, nothing had flowed right between us. Neither of us had truly wanted to be here.

He blamed me for stealing precious years from his life, and for the longest he had been the boogey man haunting my thoughts. But then I saw another side to him, one who saw me through something hard and traumatic, in ways I didn't know a gangster like him was capable of.

To wake up without him, the space here had felt empty. Lost. Perhaps even a bit scary. Fighting back nerves, I stood from the bed to go to check on him in the tiny guest room. Maybe it wasn't that small but it was half the size of this room, and given that he was a larger man, I couldn't see him being comfortable in that teeny twin bed. No matter how much he claimed it to be more comfortable than prison.

Skittering to that room, I knocked, the blood draining from my face to learn he wasn't there. My heart filled with relief to hear the jingle of keys struggling outside the front door, and I quickly removed my scarf to fluff some life back into my curls and tied the scarf at the waist of his dress shirt to give the top more shape. When he didn't make his way instantly to the bedroom, I exited to investigate, only to find him in the second bathroom removing his clothes. Blood stained and reeking of nothing but death.

“Cillian,” I called out, though when he turned to me, my mind drifted back to the moment he had done something unspeakable. “What did you do? Please, please don't tell me that you went and did something terrible.” He turned back to the mirror, placing a gun on the bathroom sink.

“It’s best of you don’t ask then. I don't want you worrying all night about nothing that's worth speaking of.” Frustration climbed its way through me as I fought the urge to just obey him.

Yes, it would have been easier not to know, but was this what it was going to be like being married him? Only knowing the surface without the reason behind his actions? Pretending he was kind and good, when he was really just the opposite?

Maybe that was the way the women of my mom’s time were. But I was tired of being stuck in some corner being told how to act and being told what to be. If I was going to be this man's wife, I had to know everything about what that meant. I was tired of being told that because I was a woman I wouldn't understand.

“Cillian, just when I was putting aside my biases and seeing a good man in you, you come home wearing what looks like someone's blood all over you. I only asked you for a few hours. And it was nice, from what I can remember. But then you go off in the middle of the night and do something foolish. Who the hell are you, Cillian Sullivan? Because the man that comforted me hours ago isn’t the man that came walking through that door just now.” He turned to me, calm in his resolve, his blue eyes gleaming with controlled rage.

“What do you want from me, Queenie? To tell you that I'm a saint? When I leave this house, the man I'd like to be…for you, I have to leave him here. Because out there I have to be the wolf, because the wolf is the part of me that can do what it is I do. I'm gonna be bloody terrifying sometimes. I'm gonna do fucked up shit after fucked up shit. I can't fix the way I am.

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