Page 5 of Hustle

“You’re too sweet, Evi. Maybe they were smart. But the goddamn Stacys are going to take this block by hook or by crook.”

“Mostly by crook,” Evi nods.

“By eminent domain,” I insert. That’s the problem. Everyone here wants to talk about prayers and fighting and good vs. evil.

It’s just business. Law, business, and property: exactly the language I understand and know how to fight. How to win.

If Evelyn will let me, that is.

The developer that’s making a play for the area and buying up waterfront property is from one of Boston’s richest and most corrupt families. It doesn’t hurt that the developer’s brother is the sitting mayor. The honorable mayor isn’t above helping out with legal action when owners say no.

Southie’s city councilors are fighting tooth and nail, but corruption runs deep in Boston politics. And let’s face it, the idea of “economic development” is enticing. Their development will displace more than just these shops when the rents skyrocket.

“You’ll fix that, Seamus,” Rico says, nodding emphatically. “Okay now, what kind of pizza will it be? You kids used to be big fans of pepper and onion?”

“That’ll be great,” Evelyn says as we slide into a booth near the front of the restaurant.

Rico heads off to the kitchen, and I’m left with a slightly uncomfortable feeling that I get when I’m out of my element. It’s not too often I find myself in an aging pizza joint these days. It’s textbook neighborhood Italian, right down to the checkered red and white plastic tablecloths.

“I’m not letting those fuckers get my shop or Rico’s or any other place in this neighborhood,” Evelyn says, her voice a whisper. “Seamus, I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

Now is my chance to see if I can bridge this chasm, and make Evelyn see reason. Not that we have a great history of that working out great.

On one level, her defiance and independence are maddening. On another, it’s alluring as hell.

“They’ve got a lot of power.” I reach out and tentatively put my hand over hers. Her nails are painted a bright blue. Electricity shoots through my body, a razor’s edge of desire, at the skin-on-skin contact. “But I think if we sue them…”

“Fuck that, Seamus,” she snatches her hands away. “You’re always playing it safe. I’m going to send them a message.”

The familiar blanket of cold reserve settles over me, and I work hard to ignore that my hand still burns where we touched. I sit back in the booth to put some distance between us. “What does that mean, exactly?”

She twirls a black studded bracelet around her wrist. “You’re not the only one who knows people, Seamus. The Carneys have interest in this as well.”

I don’t know whether to punch something or laugh.

“Oh, come on,” I sigh, exasperated already. “You can’t go all hard-core mafia on this. It’ll play right into their hands. Both the Carneys and the Stacys. Neither have your interests at heart.”

“Look at who’s telling me to keep my nose clean,” she crosses her arms across her chest.

“It’s me you’re talking to, Seamus. Charging your clients five hundred bucks an hour to make them think you’re fancy doesn’t change the fact that you’re a Southie hood rat just like me, and your father’s the legendary fucking boss of organized crime around here.” Her voice cracks. “For now, anyway. Soon, I mean we won’t even have Murphy looking out for us anymore. And neither of us want to let him down.”

I flinch and a sick feeling twists my stomach. My father’s cancer is progressing. It won’t be too long now.

The fact that she’s bringing it up is a stark reminder of Evelyn’s lack of self-control. The passion. The intensity. The temper. But there’s fear there, too, and I know she’s not the only one feeling it. Or the pressure to make my father proud.

She seems taken aback that I’ve flinched. “Oh, fuck, Seamus, I’m sorry,” she says. “I was just running my mouth. I didn’t mean to pile on.”

It doesn’t lessen the sting, but I’m world class at keeping things in perspective. I have my brothers, at least. I’m not sure if she has anyone given how talented she is at pushing people away.

As I look at her, a flush creeping up her cheeks, I feel like I’m eighteen again and half in love with a girl that’s too wild, too unpredictable, and too unwilling to make compromises for this to work.

There was a time when all I could imagine was fighting, getting out of here, making a way in the world.

For Evelyn and me both.

But I’d had so little to work with: my brains, my willingness to work hard, and a bigger vision than anyone around me. It was going to be an uphill battle all the way and I couldn’t fight for my place in the world if she was going to fight me every step of the way.

Letting her go? The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

---