Page 5

PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA

Shane O’Leary’s phone buzzes in his pocket at the same moment he pushes off the dock in the fishing boat. Gina’s pretty face appears on the iPhone. He’s busy, but he never ignores calls from Gina.

“Hey, beautiful.”

Gina doesn’t acknowledge the compliment, but he can hear her smile.

“It sounds so windy,” she says. “Where are you?”

“Chaz needed some help at his lake house. We’re on his boat.”

Chaz is futzing with the engine, paying O’Leary no mind.

“Tell him hi for me,” she says. “It’s getting dark. You two be careful.”

O’Leary nods, not saying anything. “I may lose the signal soon, hon. Everything okay?”

“I’ve got some good news, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Anthony got invited to a party tonight.”

Their thirteen-year-old son has acted withdrawn lately, depressed, and Gina’s been losing sleep over it.

“That’s great news. See, I told you, it would just be a matter of time till he made some friends at the new school.”

“I hope so.”

O’Leary feels a tiny weight lift. Hope. Like they say, you’re only as happy as your least happy kid. And Anthony is their only kid, and Gina’s world.

“You tell him to take it easy on the booze,” O’Leary says. “And, like my old man used to say about the girls, nothing below the waist.”

“Stop it,” Gina says, playfully. “He’s not that kind of boy.”

“I know he’s not. I’m just playin’.”

“And I don’t recall you following those rules when we were kids,” Gina says.

O’Leary smiles. “I blame those tight jeans you used to wear.”

Gina giggles. “You really think he’s gonna be okay? I’m the one who wanted him to go to that school and—”

“Don’t start up with that again. The school was the right choice. You’re an amazing mom. He’s gonna be fine. You’ll see.”

“What time will you be home? I miss you.”

“You shouldn’t wait up. But how about we go out tomorrow night? A date.”

“I’d love that.”

“Maybe get out those old jeans of yours…”

Gina giggles again. God, he loves that laugh.

“Babe, the line’s breaking up, so I’d better go. Tell Anthony to have a great time.”

“I love you,” Gina says.

“Right back at you, sweetness.”

O’Leary tucks the phone in his pocket.

Chaz is steering the boat, pretending not to be listening. His gray hair blows in the gusts. He’s looking his age, even in the merciful half-light.

“Kids,” O’Leary says to him.

Chaz makes a curious expression. “Something up with Anthony?”

“You know we moved him to the Academy. Fucking rich kids. He’s been having a rough go of it.”

“That’s a damn good school.”

“Yeah, so good they won’t name the school after anyone. At the orientation they said no one person would suffice, if you can believe that tripe. Cost me a new gymnasium and they also made it clear my name wouldn’t go on it.”

Chaz gives a knowing nod.

“Still, can you imagine, my kid, me, the guy who was kicked out of school in tenth grade…”

Chaz chuckles. “I remember that. Your father was pissed. Remind me, why’d you break that gym teacher’s nose?”

“He was always harassing the girls—they didn’t do shit back then for that kind of stuff. Then, he tried to touch the wrong girl.”

Chaz smiles. “I’m surprised Gina didn’t break his nose first.”

“You and me both. But my old man didn’t care about chivalry.” O’Leary reflects briefly on the beating he took for that. “Anyway, some of Anthony’s new classmates invited him to a party. So maybe…”

“That’s great news. He’s a good kid.”

“Yeah, I just worry, you know? I’ve got the biggest estate in the neighborhood and none of these Ivy League fuckers ever invite us to anything. I just don’t want my kid to pay because of where I’m from, because…” He lets the sentence die.

“I’m sure it’s gonna work out.”

Twenty minutes later, far from shore, Chaz slows the boat to a stop.

O’Leary looks at Chaz’s silhouette. “Does it get easier? The worrying about the kids?”

Chaz releases a laugh, shrugs. “You’ve met Patrick, what do you think?” Chaz’s son works for O’Leary and is a hothead. He’s filled with more piss and vinegar than even O’Leary was in his twenties.

“What about my old man?” O’Leary asks. “You were his right hand. He ever wring his hands about us kids?”

Chaz hesitates.

“I’m fuckin’ with you,” O’Leary says.

“It was different back then,” Chaz says, defending O’Leary’s brutal father even now.

“Anthony’s different than we were,” O’Leary says. “He’s a gentle boy.”

“I feel the same way about my grandson.”

“We don’t deserve the gift of gentle boys,” O’Leary says. He blows out a breath. “Let’s do this.”

Chaz steps to the center of the boat. Yanks off the blanket covering a large mass stationed in the middle.

Even in the dark, the white of the man’s wide eyes is visible. He starts to grunt under the duct tape covering his mouth. Chaz leans down, tests the chains anchored to heavy cinder blocks.

O’Leary nods.

Chaz says, “Allow some last words?”

O’Leary shakes his head. “You work in my territory without permission, you don’t get any last words. You get what’s coming.”

“His people are gonna hit back at us,” Chaz reminds him.

“And I’ll be waiting.”

With that, Chaz and O’Leary each grab an arm and throw the man overboard.