Текст книги "The Long Game"

Автор книги: J. Fynn

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CHAPTER THREE

“YOU KNOW, THOSE are meant for drinking, not staring at,” Jimmy Boy said, settling himself in the lawn chair next to me with a sweating glass of Guinness in each hand.

“Sláinte.” I grinned and raised my own glass, then followed the toast with a gulp of the thick stout.

“That’s how it’s done,” he said, tipping back one of his.

“But I’ve got an empty hand,” I said, gesturing to Jimmy Boy’s dual drinks. “I’m already falling behind.”

He chuckled. “I’ve gotta take up the slack for old Seldom Fed over there.” He pointed to a portly, middle-aged man sitting alone at the end of a long bench that ran along one side of the pavilion. “He’s taken the pledge again, mostly to get that goat he calls a wife off his back for a few more months. He looks miserable, poor old fool. I think he was better off listening to the banshee wail about his drinking.”

Seldom Fed O’Hara had earned his nickname by eating like a starving man who’d finally been blessed with food. Apparently, giving up the drink only increased his appetite because he already had a heaping plateful on his lap and was attacking it with a fork. I wondered what Jenny O’Hara would have to say about it when she returned from the church with the other wedding guests. Although many of the men didn’t bother attending the service—we preferred to stay behind to start the drinking portion of the festivities early—most of us weren’t bold enough to dig into the food before the rest of the clan had returned.

Jimmy Boy emptied the glass in his left hand and started in on the one in his right. He downed a quarter of it in one swig, then belched loudly. “I’ll tell you, Shay. Living is sucking the life outta me.”

I grunted in amusement. “Yeah? How’s that?”

“All…this.” He waved his arm in front of him as if he were trying to shoo away imaginary flies. “I know you’ve only been going out on the road for two years or so, but I been conning since I was twelve.”

“Right, but you’re only twenty-three. You sound like you’re coming up on retirement.”

“Sometimes I wish I was. Honestly, the only reason I give your big schemes any attention at all is because I figure a big score would make it possible to take it easy for a while. Maybe get married, give Maggie a couple grandkids.”

I took another sip of beer to buy time before I responded. The alcohol was already beginning to make things seem a little dream-like. Other Traveler men could drink several pints before feeling anything, but I tended to approach drinking the way the women did—as something only done on special occasions.

“If you hate conning so much, you could always give up the game,” I finally managed after giving the alcohol a little time to loosen my tongue.

Jimmy Boy sputtered on Guinness. He swallowed hard, laughing as if I’d made the funniest joke he’d ever heard. When he caught my awkward smile, the laughter died. His brow knitted in confusion.

“For all my bitching, I honestly can’t imagine not going out on the road once in a while. Settling down and giving up the game sounds great, and it’s worked for men in other clans, but you know what would happen if one of us just up and quit. While everyone else would be out on the road, I’d be here alone. I couldn’t stand all these people going on like I never existed.”

I blew out a long breath and relaxed back in my chair. “It’s just that sometimes you make me nervous. You start going on about packing it all in for a simpler life, and I start to worry about what that would mean for me and Maggie.”

“I’m talking outta my ass is all. Hey,” he said, clapping me on the back. “We should talk to Uncle Pete and Hollywood about—”

Jimmy Boy didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence. Car horns blared from the front, and everyone in the pavilion turned their attention toward the sound. The honking continued, and vehicles appeared on the lane, traveling in a slow procession. The parade of Cadillacs, Lincolns, and late-model pickups crawled past us. Metal clanked as each car circled around, shifting the coins the owners had dropped into their gas tanks to bring good luck.

In the back of every truck, two or three girls perched on lawn chairs, poised like beauty queens and twice as painted up. In stark contrast to the men, who’d been drinking at the pavilion in rumpled slacks and collared shirts, the women wore huge gowns filling the space of each truck bed with a wash of pink, purple, and green. The jewels they wore in their hair and the sequins coating their dresses glittered in the dying sunlight. Young men gathered around the edges to get a better view, some standing, some pulling up chairs and settling in for the show.

I stayed in my seat but craned my neck, trying to see beyond the fence of onlookers. The young women on display were almost unrecognizable and not only because unmarried men and women rarely spent time together outside of formal occasions. Each one was so heavily made-up that she resembled a porcelain doll more than an actual human girl. They all beamed, clearly enjoying the attention.

Once the pavilion was surrounded, wedding guests began unloading from their vehicles. The groom and a younger man, who I guessed was his brother given the similarities between them, climbed out of a silver Lexus, grinning in matching designer tuxedos. They made their way across the cement floor of the pavilion to a row of chairs decorated with flowers and ribbons for the wedding party. Next, a stout man with a shock of white hair stepped from a black Cadillac. Pop Sheedy stooped for a moment to help his wife out of the car and then rested both hands on his burgeoning belly, offering his elbow to Bridget. The groom’s father was next. Rail-thin and well over six feet tall, he ducked his head to clear the doorframe of his own black Cadillac. Apparently, he had no wife to help from the car and so crossed quickly to his sons.

Next, the community procession began. Women with new babies to show off came first. Next, some of the older married women, who took this opportunity to show off new jewelry purchases instead of children. Finally, the unmarried girls began climbing down from truck beds, aided by the young men who’d had the privilege of driving them. They walked slowly through the pavilion, circling around the huge floral arrangement in the center of the floor in a loop of brightly colored satin, tulle, and organza.

The last car door opened. Rosie Sheedy, a baby-faced seventeen-year-old girl with black curls teased to a height that defied gravity, took the hand of the young man who’d chauffeured her to the party. A pang of jealousy tightened my stomach as her gloved fingers closed around his, and I was secretly glad that he struggled to get her out of the Lincoln Town Car with any grace. Her hoop skirt crumpled as she squeezed herself through the door, but immediately sprang back to life, forming a three-foot barrier around her legs on all sides. The dress was an irritating shade of teal blue, but I could easily look past her bad taste in clothing given who her family was.

Rosie turned her back to the pavilion and reached inside the car to help her sister make a grand entrance. A head appeared, crowned with a sparkling tiara. Ringlets of dark hair bobbed as both Rosie and the driver pulled the bride’s arms, struggling to free her from the car. For nearly ten minutes, the trio fought with the bride’s enormous dress, shoving sections of it in every direction to manipulate it through the car door. Finally, Mary Sheedy burst from the car like a cork from a champagne bottle. Her sister caught her and set her on her feet again, both girls giggling.

Mary and Rosie Sheedy were Irish twins, only eleven months apart in age, and they were so similar it was sometimes hard to tell them apart from a distance. There was no mistaking which was the bride this day, though. Mary strode to the center of the floor, making a concerted effort not to wobble under the weight of her dress.

I leaned closer to my brother. “If the competition over having the biggest dress doesn’t end soon, these girls are going to have to be wheeled around on carts.”

Jimmy Boy offered a smirk in response.

Mary’s dress was certainly a sight to behold. The skirt was made up of at least a dozen layers of fabric held aloft by a wire hoop skirt, and Mary had to spread her arms to their fullest width to gather the sides in her hands as she walked. Huge stars made of gold and silver sequins trailed their way down the front of her skirt in two lines. The bodice of the dress had genuine pink diamonds sewn along the collar and extending to her waist in a V-shape down the front and back. All the glittering gems, along with a little help from a glass-and-a-half of Guinness, were making my head cloudy. I closed my eyes for a moment, hoping the feeling would pass.

Once Mary had completed her laborious journey across the pavilion, Rosie helped her arrange the dress so she could take a seat on the throne next to her new husband. The dress spilled out over the chair’s sides, and Mary seemed to hover above it rather than sit in it, boosted by the fabric of her gown. Pop Sheedy stood and raised a glass to toast his daughter and new son-in-law. The entire reception rang out in a chorus of well wishes and congratulations. He beamed with pride as he looked down at his bedazzled offspring.

In spite of their garishness, what these celebrations really represented was the deep love Travelers had for their children. Yes, they were a way to display wealth and compete with other families, but the expensive floral arrangements and ridiculous gowns were also honest expressions of affection.

“So now we’ve got a Georgian in our clan,” Jimmy Boy said, though I could barely hear him over the loud music that had just started up. No one was dancing yet, and the scene reminded me of the one middle school dance I’d managed to sneak off to, with young men on one side of the pavilion and girls giggling in small groups on the other.

“Guess so. Pop and Bridget went over for Dandelion McNamara’s funeral last week and arranged the whole thing there. Apparently, this kid has shown a lot of promise or something, so they made him a match for Mary even though he’s only nineteen,” I said. “At least that’s what Bridget told Maggie.”

“I heard they paid his family five hundred large to seal the deal, but you know how numbers have a way of growing when Traveler women get to talking.”

I shrugged, lifting an eyebrow. It was entirely possible that the Sheedys had paid such a substantial sum to make a good match for their daughter, but half a million dollars was a large dowry even by Southern Traveler standards. Still, speculation over the bride-price was as much a tradition at Traveler weddings as the fancy gowns and festive music.

I glanced over at the couple again. A line had formed in front of their table; one person from each family was tasked with presenting a gift to the couple. This was yet another opportunity to show off, but it appeared most people had decided to wait until later in the evening when food and drink might make Pop more open to being impressed by their gifts. I reached under my seat and pulled out a thin package wrapped in simple brown paper. Maggie’s wedding gifts were never as expensive as those presented by other members of the clan, but they were always highly prized. This particular gift even came with instructions. Instructions I wasn’t excited about delivering. I thrust the package at my brother.

“You’re the oldest—you give it to ‘em.”

Jimmy Boy shook his head, pushing it back toward me. “No, thank you. Maggie gave it to you. You can go up there and tell them about the magic feathers.” He stood and excused himself by lifting his empty glasses in explanation.

“Thanks for your help,” I called after him, but if he heard me, he didn’t bother to look back. I growled in annoyance and pushed myself to my feet to join the line.

Although there were only a few people ahead of me, each one took his fair share of time fawning on Pop Sheedy and his family. I bounced on the balls of my feet as I drew closer to Mary and her new husband and wished again that Jimmy Boy had accepted my offer to do the job instead. Although I’d been staring at my feet for most of the wait, when I was next in line to present my gift, my gaze flicked over the wedding party, and I was surprised to find Rosie Sheedy looking at me. Our eyes met, and she immediately dropped her gaze, smiling at her hands.

“Congratulations on your marriage.” I handed the package to Mary but couldn’t keep my eyes from moving back to her sister.

Mary tore the brown paper and peeled it back, revealing two snow-white feathers. She squealed in delight, showing them first to her sister, then to the groom. The groom looked up at me in confusion.

I exhaled through my nose. Here we go. “They’re from a pair of swans,” I said, reciting the speech Maggie had made me memorize. “They mate for life—swans, I mean—so their feathers are supposed to guarantee a long life of love and happiness.” I paused, mentally preparing myself for the next part, which I directed toward Mary. “Maggie says to sew one into your pillow and the other one into your husband’s pillow to…um…” I cleared my throat. “…ensure fidelity.”

I felt my cheeks grow hot but forced myself to keep my expression neutral. The groom smirked and muttered his thanks, but it was Rosie who once again caught my eye. She hid a smile behind her hands and leaned over to whisper something into Mary’s ear. Both girls giggled again, and Rosie winked at me.

I remembered my promise to Jimmy Boy and took a step back, though it was the last thing I wanted to do.

“Anyway, congratulations again,” I said and crossed the floor as fast as I could without actually breaking into a run.

When I reached my seat, Jimmy Boy had a fresh beer waiting for me. I took it, gulping the bitter liquid greedily.

“Easy, tiger,” Jimmy Boy said. “Pace yourself, or you might end up like that one over there.” He pointed to someone behind me.

I turned around just in time to see Judd Sheedy stumble over to a keg. Pop’s youngest son had a habit of strutting around the Village like a self-important peacock, which had earned him the nickname “Prince,” but he also had a habit of drinking himself into a stupor any chance he got. He pulled a plastic cup from a stack on a nearby table but fumbled it clumsily. It hit the floor and slid several feet away from him, and rather than going after it, he angrily pulled another cup from the stack, which tipped over and scattered across the tabletop. Judd ignored the mess and helped himself to the keg, then emptied the entire cup at once, crushing it and tossing it aside. He swayed, clearly unsteady on his feet. I wondered if one of his older brothers would appear to help him find a seat before he ended up on the floor, but no one seemed forthcoming. Eventually, he found a support beam to lean against.

“That boy’s a menace.” I shook my head. “Where’s he been all night anyway?”

“The last I saw him was this morning when we passed by the pavilion, but who knows where he got off to after that? You’re lucky he didn’t notice all that stuff between you and Rosie over there.”

“All what stuff?” I said.

“I saw the looks she was giving you while you were standing up there,” Jimmy Boy said. “And you saw it, too.”

I fought a smile. “I didn’t see nothing, and neither did you. Drop it, Jimmy.”

“Well, I would, except the girl is still gawking at you, which makes it a little hard to let go.”

I looked up and met Rosie’s eyes. She’d joined three other girls standing a few feet from the line of guests still waiting to present their gifts. When we made eye contact, Rosie turned her back to me, and the group of girls erupted into chittering laughter.

“I’m going to ask her to dance,” I said. “There are plenty of people around. What’s the harm?”

“What’s the harm?” Jimmy Boy caught my arm and yanked me to a stop. He lowered his voice to a loud whisper. “Those Sheedy boys have whooped better men than you for looking at her funny. You think they’re going to sit by while you dance with her?”

I knew he was right, but the alcohol and my wounded pride urged me on. I pulled my arm away from Jimmy Boy and handed him my empty glass. I scratched at the tip of his nose as I moved across the floor, vaguely recalling something Maggie had once told me about an itchy nose heralding an argument. It was enough to slow my feet for half a second, but the sight of Rosie ahead of me pushed it from my mind just as quickly. As I approached her from behind, I cleared my throat to get her attention. Her friends wore matching grins, but they faded into the background as Rosie turned around.

I didn’t give her a chance to speak. “Dance with me.”

She looked surprised by my abrupt demand, but her smile broadened when she nodded. Her eyes seemed even bluer than usual as I took her hand and led her to the floor.

Rosie laid her hands on my shoulders, and I wrapped mine around the sides of her waist. I had to bend forward a little so my legs were far enough back to avoid treading on her huge gown.

“In a million years, I never thought Buffer Reilly would ask me for a dance,” Rosie said, giggling again. “If someone had told me that an hour ago, I’d have called him a liar.”

I lifted the corner of my mouth, pretending not to care about her use of the nickname. I knew she didn’t mean any offense by it, but it never stung any less when I heard it. “The Buffer” had been the insult of choice for the boys in the clan who were less forgiving of Maggie’s decision to keep me in school. A “buffer” was a country person, a non-Traveler, someone who didn’t belong. In their minds, it was the worst thing a person could be called, and I agreed.

“You know,” Rosie continued, obviously unaware she’d said anything wrong, “my sister knew she’d get a husband from Georgia. She told me she’d caught a ladybug when my parents were leaving for the funeral, and when she let it go again, it flew straight northeast, toward Georgia.”

“Is that right?” I smiled and pulled her a hair closer.

The superstition was popular among the girls in the clan, but I’d never put much store in a ladybug’s ability to foretell the future. Our swaying continued, and I started scanning the crowd of people over her head. Jimmy Boy had struck up a conversation with our da’s brother, John, and I was glad he’d found something to distract him from his unease over my dance with Rosie.

“Do you want to go somewhere with me?”

My attention snapped back to her. “What’s that?”

Her smile was coy, but there was nothing shy in her gaze. “I thought we could go for a walk or something.”

I glanced around. “I don’t—”

“No one will even notice we’re gone.” She took her hand from my shoulder and tangled her fingers in mine. “Trust me.”

CHAPTER FOUR

I ALLOWED ROSIE to lead me from the dance floor and out of the pavilion. I glanced behind me as we walked, wondering how accurate Rosie’s prediction had been. No one had followed after us or even seemed to be looking in our direction, and I felt the tension in my shoulders ease a little.

“We should have a little privacy back here,” she said.

We’d stopped behind a white trailer painted with the logo of a local sound equipment rental company. I could still hear the music and murmur of conversation from the pavilion, but it was faint at this distance.

“So…” I cast around for something to say. I’d spent my share of nights thinking about what I’d do if I was ever alone with Rosie Sheedy, but conversation hadn’t been a big part of it.

“I’ve had my eye on you for a while, you know that?” Rosie pressed herself against me—or at least tried to with the barrier of her skirt getting in the way.

“That so?”

“It is. Pop has been talking about marrying me off for at least a year now, and I’ve made sure your name is on his radar.”

I laughed. “I’m pretty sure it isn’t, no matter how many hints you’ve dropped.”

“You’re wrong,” she said. “He thinks a lot of you.”

I leaned back so I could look her in the eye. “You’re joking, right? I’d be willing to bet Pop doesn’t thinkabout me one bit.”

“Of course he does,” she said. “But I don’t want to talk about him right now.”

It vaguely registered that her fingers were tugging at my belt, but all my focus was on what she’d said. He thinks a lot of you.

Rosie abandoned my belt and wrapped her gloved fingers around my neck to pull my face toward hers. Her tongue was clumsy against mine, and it occurred to me that this might have been her first kiss. It wasn’t unlikely. Despite her boldness—and mine—unmarried men and women enjoying each other in dark corners wasn’t exactly aboveboard as far as our clan was concerned.

A scraping sound forced me to break the kiss and look around. “Did you hear something?”

Rosie shook her head and redirected her efforts at loosening my belt.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I said uneasily.

“No one’s going to come out here. Quit worrying.”

I heard the metallic flick that signaled she’d been successful in her mission, and the cloth of her gloved fingers grazed my abdomen as she went after the button of pants. My body responded, and all of a sudden I was too impatient to let her finish without my help. She giggled at my eagerness. The sound reminded me of the tinkling bell on the door of the hardware store.

She pressed another wet kiss to my mouth. “Tell me you love me,” she said.

I knew I could lie and she’d never know, but my mouth refused to form the words.

“No more talking,” I said instead and bent to kiss her again.

My brain registered the scraping sound again an instant before something slammed into my side with enough force to knock us both to the ground. Rosie yelped and tried to scramble out of the way, but she couldn’t get far with her legs tangled in the unwieldy dress. Pain exploded in my shoulder as it slammed into the sun-hardened dirt. I lifted my head in time to see Judd Sheedy pull back his arm. Instinct took over. His fist hurled toward my face, but I rolled out of the way and it slammed into the ground instead. Dark splotches of blood from his broken knuckles stained the soil, but the injury didn’t seem to slow him down. He lunged at me again. I fell backward, and all the air in my lungs erupted in one breath as my back hit the ground and his full weight crashed into my chest.

“You little shit. I’ll kill you.” Judd thrust his bloody fist into my ribs.

I pressed my forearm into his throat, trying to force him off. The smell of alcohol oozed from every part of him, and his eyes refused to focus. Rosie shrieked again, though I had no idea if she was worried for her brother or for me. I braced myself for another wild punch, but before he made contact, his head snapped back and his weight was lifted off of me.

“Easy now, Prince,” Jimmy Boy said. He set Judd on his feet and used his bulk to keep the thrashing drunk trapped against the trailer.

“Get the fuck off me, Reilly. I’m going to kill him, and you’ll be next if you don’t let me go.”

Jimmy Boy laughed, although there was no way he found any of this funny. “All right. You’ve made your point, and Shay’s learned his lesson.” He glared at me over his shoulder. “Haven’t you?”

“Sure,” I said. I got up and held out a hand to Rosie. She stared at it for a second, but then let me pull her back to her feet. “Are you okay?”

Rosie bobbed her head but pulled her hands away and wrapped her arms around herself protectively.

“I’m going to let you go now,” Jimmy Boy said. “But no more scrapping, you hear? I can’t imagine Pop’ll look kindly on you fighting at your sister’s wedding.”

“Fuck you,” Judd said and spat in my brother’s face.

Jimmy Boy’s mouth clenched into a hard line. He moved with more speed than I would’ve thought him capable. Grabbing Judd by the throat, he lifted him an inch off the ground and held him against the trailer. Judd sputtered and clawed in vain at Jimmy Boy’s hand.

“I’m trying to be polite, Prince, but you’re pushing me to my limits. Now take your sister back to the party and go find a place to sleep it off. Yeah?”

“Let’s go, Judd,” Rosie said. She put her hand on Jimmy Boy’s shoulder, and he opened his fist. Judd crumpled to his knees, gagging as air rushed back into his lungs.

Jimmy Boy stepped back to give Rosie room to drag her brother back to his feet. When they’d disappeared around the side of the trailer, Jimmy Boy turned to me, and for a second, I thought I might have to fight him next. Instead, he shook his head as if I were a disappointing child.

“Listen, I know I promised—”

“Whatever you have to say, save it for Pop. There’s no way he’s not going to hear about this. And when he does, you’re gonna wish I’d let Judd kill you.”