Page 40 of Hustle

“Evi, I’m fucking lost here. Why did you talk to Finn? I thought we were working together?”

She takes a deep breath, exhales and tries again “Seamus. Like I said, I care about you. But you know I’m a Southie hood rat, and you know I’ll do whatever it takes to save this place. If that means making deals with the Carneys, so be it.”

What the hell?

I recoil. “Evi, you can’t mean that. We talked about this. They’re not interested in helping anyone but themselves.”

It’s not just that I hate the Carneys. It’s that I wouldn’t want anyone that I care about caught up in their messes. They don’t often end well.

She nods. “It’s so much simpler that way. I get that, Seamus. It’s you that I don’t understand.” She pins me with those big gray eyes.

“What are we? What is this?” She sweeps a hand toward me.

There’s an almost desperate edge to her voice.

“We’re friends, Evi. More than that. We’re family.”

It’s the highest compliment I can give. My whole life is about protecting my family. And Evi? She’s fast becoming a core part of how I look at that.

“Family,” she says coolly. Her eyes narrow, and it hits me that this might not be the right thing to say, even though I mean it in the most intimate way.

I try again.

“Yes,” I reach for her and her cat swipes at me. I pull my hand back. I just need her to spell it out. We don’t have to keep missing each other like this, but I’m not skilled at reading Tarot cards or reading minds.

“Evi, what are you really asking me?”

“Can you leave? I’m sorry, Seamus, but I’m really tired. Can we talk about this later? I don’t want to be another family obligation to you.”

Taken aback, I get to my feet. “Yeah. Sure, Evi.” I walk to her door and turn the deadbolt. “Lock this behind me?”

She nods, and I leave. My chest feels tight, like I’m having a goddamn heart attack. What the fuck does she want from me? I’d give her anything if she’d just tell me what she needs. Not all obligations are burdens. I call a cab and head home, eager to revisit that expensive bottle of whiskey.

13

Seamus

It’s Sunday brunch at the Kildare, my family’s bar. My brothers and I started calling these beer-soaked breakfasts brunch as a joke years ago, and it stuck. We’re all crammed into a back booth, my brothers shoving each other jovially, insulting each other as they do so.

It’s the Boston Irish way. We can make fun of each other as much as we want, but if anyone else tries to, they’re dead.

“Seamus, you’re quiet,” Kieran says, tapping a pool of ketchup out over his eggs. “You okay?”

I don’t want to admit what’s bothering me. Sighing, I say, “the injunction got overturned already.” I push my food around my plate. Evi would make fun of me for my spinach and egg white omelet. We haven’t talked since she asked me to leave her loft a week ago. Has she been spending time with Finn Carney? Just the thought sends a shockwave of jealousy through my body. I wouldn’t need Kieran to kill him. I’d do it myself.

“We knew that would happen,” Kieran said, taking a swig of Guinness. “Stacy’s stacked the courts with hordes of his lackeys. So what’s next?”

I gesture at his face. “You have a beer mustache.”

He grins and swipes it off with a meaty fist. Kieran is a big fucking dude.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “They’re going to do the paperwork to legalize Stacy’s fucking land grab probably by the end of next week. I let Evi down. I let the whole neighborhood down.”

I feel the weight of it all sink down on my shoulders. I’ve lost before, and I didn’t like it, but this is different. The Stacys were going to take a chunk of our neighborhood. My father would live to see me lose that for him. Heat floods my cheeks as the shame passes through me. The rambunctious energy of the table quiets, and everyone is looking at me.

It makes me want to run away, up north, to a nice quiet spot where I could take a break from the weight of this responsibility. Away from my father’s illness. Away from the confusion that’s Evi.

The silence hangs like a shroud.

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