Bibi wasn’t alone. Stuart, her older brother, the golden child of the Sullivan family, sat in the driver’s seat of the luxury car, drumming his fingers impatiently on the top of the steering wheel. She sat beside him, couched in soft leather and fur. Already second-guessing himself, Daegan slid into the backseat. The heir-apparent turned and looked over his shoulder. “I’m Stu.” Close-cropped brown hair and piercing blue eyes. “Daegan.” “I know. Close the door.” As Daegan yanked the door shut, Stuart st epped on the accelerator. Tires squealed, slush sprayed, and Daegan began to feel as if he were in a trap—one of those rooms where the walls ever so slowly begin to move closer together, promising to squeeze the living breath out of anyone in their steady, relentless path. “I suppose you wondered why we came looking for you,” Stu said in a voice that sounded as if he were modulating the debate team. He was a lot older than Daegan, over twenty, and smooth as expensive glass. He’d been wearing a tie but it had been tossed carelessly over the seat. His wool sports jacket was navy herringbone, his features definably patrician, and he drove with his hands barely on the wheel, as if by the sheer power of his will the Cadillac responded to him. Through the city streets they sped, past the tenements and warehouses of Daegan’s neighborhood. “You are curious, right?” Stuart prompted when Daegan didn’t answer his question. Sullivan’s blue eyes met his in the rearview mirror. “You’d like to know why we’d bother looking you up.” “It crossed my mind.” Stu glanced over his shoulder, flashing a thousand-watt smile. “We— Bibi and I—thought it was time you met the family.” Daegan felt a tic stirring in the corner of his jaw. “What if I don’t want to?” Stuart slammed on the brakes. Daegan flew against the front seat. The big car skidded on the ice, nearly turning sideways near an old boarded-up warehouse and fish cannery. “Then you can get out,” Stuart said in that same near-bored voice. “Oh, don’t!” Bibi interjected. She pushed on the lighter and was fiddling with a tape in the dash. “And stop driving like a maniac, you’re going to kill us all.” She placed an arm over the back of her seat and twisted to face Daegan. “It’s going to be fun.” “Fun?” Daegan r epeated, mentally kicking himself. “Sure. Collin’s going to be there and...” Music drifted from hidden speakers. Rolling Stones. Not really an upper-crust band. “Let’s spend the night together. Now I need you more than ever...” “Collin?” Daegan’s throat threatened to close. His half brother. The boy Mary Ellen had always compared to Daegan. Collin, of course, had always come up short every time in Mary Ellen O’Rourke’s biased opinion. He was thin, blond, and pale like his mother, not strapping. Often sick. In her words, “a snot-nosed wimp.” Bibi found a cigarette in her purse. “Yeah, and Bonnie and Alicia, too.”
“Your choice,” Stuart said as he glanced at Daegan in the rearview mirror with those placid eyes. But in the blue d epths, Daegan saw something else, a bit of evil. He didn’t have a glimmer into Stuart’s mind, but there was just a hint of a smile on his face, a wicked little ghost of a grin that indicated he anticipated a great sport, one in which Daegan would be a primary player. “Where are we going?” “As I said, to a party—a very private party.” Stuart’s eyes, in the mirror, narrowed just a fraction. “What kind of party?” he asked, more nervous than ever though he’d never admit it. “One for all the cousins,” Stuart said. “Kind of a coming out party. For you.” “Oh, Stu, stop it.” Bibi lit her cigarette and took a long drag. “You know, I was wrong. This was a shitty idea.” “Whose was it?” Stu asked. “It was just a joke,” she said, smoke sifting from her nose. “I had no idea you’d actually go for it.” “But it’s brilliant, darling,” he said and touched her lightly on the cheek. So they’d cooked this up together, whatever it was, and already Bibi was regretting her part. Not good; not good at all. Get out, Daegan, get out now while you still have some pride. “Where is this party?” “Out of town. At the lake.” “Daddy’s summer house,” Bibi said, frowning. “What’s it gonna be, O’Rourke?” Stu demanded. “You think you’re man enough to face the family?” In the de ep cushions, Daegan bristled. He’d never been one to turn down a dare, even when he knew he was going to regret it. “As long as my old man’s not there.” “Frank?” Stu snorted the name in disgust. “Don’t worry. This is a closed party. Invitation only. Uncle Frank didn’t make the cut.” “But I did.” “Yeah.” There was a smile in Stu’s voice. “You definitely did.” He twisted the wheel, and they were off again, the smooth engine of the Caddie purring through the night. Daegan had ridden in his share of cars, even though his mother didn’t own one, but this was the best. The lights of the city swirled past the shaded glass windows. Music and smoke drifted through the warm interior. He started to relax and listen to the Stones. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Daegan changed his mind when the electronic gates of some obscure piece of Sullivan real estate parted and Stuart nosed the Caddie along a snow-crusted lane. Several other cars had passed through the wrought-iron fencing and left de ep ruts in the otherwise pristine drifts. Fir trees, their boughs laden with a heavy blanket of white, were overburdened compared to their naked counterparts—stark, leafless maple and oak trees that seemed to lift their black skeletal arms to the sky. Daegan’s mouth was dry and he’d kill for one of the cigarettes that Bibi so carelessly smoked, but he didn’t say a word, not even when the forest parted and a house the likes of which he’d never seen before came into view. Sprawled upon the banks of a vast lake, three stories of red Sullivan brick rose upward. On either side,
single-storied wings sw ept away from the tall center. White stone edged each corner, and six or seven chimneys, one of which spewed smoke into the clear evening air, stood like sentinels on the roof. Tall windows glowed in the night, the panes shimmering with ice, black shutters open. A behemoth of a house. Daegan bit his tongue. So this was how the Sullivans lived. It was enough to make him sick when he thought of the hours his mother put in at the textile mill, how her feet and back ached each night, how she rubbed the knots from her fingers and the back of her neck after getting off her shift, how she waited by the phone, smoking silently, hoping he would call. Stuart parked near the porch behind a new Jaguar. Smoothing the sides of his hair, he flashed Daegan one of his killer smiles. “Show time.” “Oh, Christ,” Bibi groaned as she jabbed out what had to have been her third cigarette. Pursing her lips, she offered Daegan a look of apology as they climbed out of the car, then, as if embarrassed, wouldn’t glance his way again. The air was crisp, cold, and clear, the night silent. No noise of city, no smell of exhaust, no ever-present throngs of people bustling around. No, this place, in its mantle of white, was serene and stately. Stuart reached the door and flung it open, motioning gallantly for Daegan to enter. Impulsively Bibi took Daegan’s fingers in her hand and squeezed. “If this gets too hairy, let me know. I’ll get you out of here.” “I can handle myself,” he said, yanking his hand away and stuffing both fists into his front pockets. If this was going to be a sideshow, so be it. He wasn’t going to come out looking like a wimp and leaning on a woman. The interior of the house reminded Daegan of a seldom-used museum. A swe eping staircase rose from the hallway to the second floor, split and climbed to the third. Oak floors were polished to a mirror finish then decorated with rugs that looked like they came from some place in the Far East. Antiques and mirrors, tables and lamps, living plants and paintings of dead ancestors filled the corners. Music was playing through hidden speakers—some classical piece performed by an orchestra. “This way,” Stu said, leading them through a short hallway where Daegan heard the first sound of voices. “... I don’t care; this was a dumb idea. Mummy will kill us if she finds out,” the nasal voice of a girl complained. “What is this surprise of Stu’s anyway? Really, he can be such a bore.” “If it weren’t for Stu, how much fun would we ever have?” whined Collin. Though he’d never met him face-to-face, Daegan had heard his voice often enough at a distance. He gritted his teeth. “I love surprises,” another younger, female voice said excitedly. “Mummy will skin us alive.” The first girl—probably snotty Alicia. Daegan felt as if a rope had settled over his neck. With each st ep, the noose tightened. “She’ll never know.” Collin again. Hell, this was a crazy idea. What was he doing here? Why had he agreed to come? “Whatever Stu’s cooked up, you can bet it will be good.” Daegan’s stomach clenched into a knot of apprehension, and he wondered what had possessed him to leave the familiar and comfortable surroundings of Shorty’s Pool Hall. He didn’t have to be told that he was about to st ep into the middle of a three-ring circus and he was the main attraction. He slid a glance in his eldest cousin’s direction, but
didn’t get a clue as to his true motives. Just what the hell was Stuart Sullivan’s game? As he had before, he tried to look into the older boy’s mind, but to no avail; Stuart’s thoughts were as closed to him as a sealed vault. They walked into a room that spanned the back of the house, and for the first time in his life, Daegan met his half-brother and-sisters. Silhouetted against a brilliant, crackling blaze, Frank’s other children were clustered around a huge fir eplace faced in marble. For a split second, Daegan thought he caught a glimpse of his own personal vision of hell. “Oh, shit,” Collin said softly. The glass in his hand nearly fell to the floor. “What’s the meaning of this—?” the taller girl, Alicia, asked. Her blue, frosty gaze landed on Daegan with all the warmth of an arctic storm. Her skin was pale, her mouth set in condemnation. “Stuart, how could you?” Bonnie, smaller than her sister, bit her lip. “That’s—” “We know who he is,” Alicia snapped, fury burning in the sudden hot spots on her cheeks. “You said we were going to have a party!” she said, seething as she glared at Stuart. “We are. A private party.” Stuart was as calm as Alicia was enraged. “I thought it was time we all got to know each other.” “Bastard!” “Not me,” Stuart said easily and Daegan wanted to strangle him. Bonnie just stared at Daegan as if he were the reincarnation of the devil himself. “We’re all family here,” Stuart said. “Pleeeeease.” Bibi reached into her leather handbag for her cigarettes. “Give me a break. Family?” “Sure, we are. Daegan’s our cousin and their brother.” “Get this straight, Stuart. He’s not my brother,” Alicia said. She tossed her long, blond curls over her shoulder. “He’s—” “Here. In Uncle Robert’s house. Why?” Collin asked, folding his arms over his chest. Slender, with even features and smooth skin, he was dressed in a wool sweater and slacks, his dark blond hair combed neatly. Bibi clicked her lighter to the end of a cigarette. Bonnie flopped down on the cushions of a tufted couch and continued to stare at him as if he were an oddity under a microscope—an interesting organism she couldn’t hope to understand. “Because it’s time,” Stuart said, striding over to the bar and lifting a crystal glass from a dust-free shelf. He sorted through an array of gleaming bottles. “I don’t know about you, but I’m sick to death of hearing about him —well, not to my face, of course—but behind closed doors. I thought we should all meet each other and get it over with. Come on, Collin, you have to admit, you’ve been curious for a long time and you”—his gaze sw ept back to Daegan—“I know you wanted to see what we’re all like. You used to climb up in the tree by the church on Sunday mornings, just to catch a glimpse of us going into Mass.” Daegan wanted to deny it, but just shrugged. No reason to lie. Obviously Stuart had watched him. “You sneaky little bastard,” Alicia spat out. “You were spying on us?” Her voice rose an angry octave.
“Yeah,” Daegan admitted, sick of her holier-than-thou attitude “It wasn’t a big deal,” Stuart said as he found a bottle of scotch and poured himself a stiff shot. “It wasn’t as if you were stripping or running around in your bra and panties, now, was it?” “Stuart!” Bibi cut in. “Just pointing out the obvious.” Alicia’s mouth rounded in horror. “You’re disgusting,” she told her oldest cousin, and Stuart had the audacity to grin back at her. “I don’t think so. Anyone else want a drink?” “No!” Alicia said swiftly. “Sure.” Collin nodded, then tossed back the remains of the one he’d been working on. “Why not?” Bibi asked. Stuart’s gaze found Daegan’s and held. “How about you?” Daegan knew he should ke ep a clear head, but he couldn’t resist a taste of rich man’s fare. Besides, his throat was dry as sand. “Yeah.” “You’re pouring him a drink?” Alicia shook her head in disbelief. “Stuart, you can’t just haul him up here and—” “Can it!” Bibi cut in. “Isn’t this illegal?” Bonnie’s little eyebrows drew together and she chewed on her lip nervously. “We’re not old enough—” “Highly illegal,” Stuart assured her as he passed out the glasses and clicked his to Daegan’s. “Welcome to the family,” he said mockingly as the fire popped and hissed. “You’ll never find a worse set of lying cutthroats, cheats, and whoremongers than the Sullivans of Boston.” “I won’t be a part of this.” Alicia’s body quivered in outrage and her nostrils flared in disgust. “You’ve gone too far this time, Stu. Too damned far.” Stuart’s eyes sparkled. “That’s what you love about me, isn’t it?” His wink was slow and sexy, and Daegan’s stomach re volted when he realized that Stuart got his kicks by manipulating everyone, making them all uncomfortable. He wasn’t just playing with Daegan, but the whole damned family. “It’s what I hate about you,” she clarified. “Then let me point out that you’re a part of it whether you like it or not.” Stuart’s smile held zero warmth. “Sit down and shut up.” “I will not—” “Do it,” Collin ordered, and Alicia, in all her self-righteous rage, refused, stood her ground, and rested a hip on the polished surface of a babygrand piano. Her jaw was set so tight the skin over her chin was stretched thin. “I think Stuart’s right.” “You always think he’s right,” Alicia charged. “Use your own brain for once, Collin. That is, if you have one.” “I am always right.” Stuart seemed to be enjoying himself and he sent an unreadable glance to Collin. Daegan’s skin crawled. There was more going on here than just his personal humiliation; people’s emotions were in volved—emotions that they all tried to hide and hold secret. Collin cleared his throat and settled into a club chair near the window.
“It’s probably time we all got to know each other—” “No way! I didn’t come up here to freeze my ass off and meet the son of some gutter—” “Don’t!” Collin warned, his lips flattening over his teeth in what Daegan assumed was an unusual display of anger. Then, in his most cultured voice, the modulation the perfect mimicry of his sisters, he intoned, “Come now, Alicia, let’s not sound common.” “Like him?” She pointed a long finger at Daegan. “He’s the son of Daddy’s whore, or don’t you remember?” “Nice to meet you, too,” Daegan said, unable to hold his tongue any longer. Usually, in a new situation he was quiet, just listened and watched, waiting until he discovered which way the wind was going to blow, but he’d had enough insults for one night. His patience was running thin and anger shot through him. These people—his family, if that’s what you’d call them—were just a bunch of bickering, petty snobs looking for a night’s entertainment to disrupt the boredom of their perfectly planned lives. Who needed it? Curiosity satisfied, he tossed back the scotch, hoping it would be smooth and smoky, but it burned a hot path down his throat and splashed into his already roiling stomach. It was all he could do not to cough and he felt that invisible noose around his neck tightening another notch. Bibi laughed nervously, but Alicia was far from amused. “I suppose this was your idea,” she surmised aloud. “Yeah, but I was only joking.” Bibi tapped the ash from her cigarette into a silver tray. “So was I,” Stuart said with that naughty-boy twinkle in his eye and Daegan decided he wasn’t going to stand around and let people talk about him as if he wasn’t in the room. He strode to the fir eplace, where he warmed his shins and ran a finger along a dark wood mantel that was decorated with antique lanterns and candles. “Who owns this place?” “Daddy,” Bibi said. “That’s open to debate, isn’t it?” Collin stared at Daegan with mild curiosity. “The firstborn son of our parents’ generation was Uncle William, a war hero in World War II, and killed three weeks before he was going to be married. Since he left no issue, the next in line was Robert, quite a bit younger, but older than the youngest brother. My father. Yours, too, if the local gossip can be believed. “So, I guess, if we follow the same traditions that have been in the family ever since the old country, most of the estate will pass on to Stu because of his birthright or some such rot.” Stuart laughed and the sound rang through the cavernous rooms. “Unless I die first. Then... well, either Bibi gets it or Uncle Frank does. I’m not sure how Grandfather’s will was written.” “Like hell,” Alicia said, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “I’m willing to bet that you know where every dime, nickel, and penny of the estate is and who it goes to. You know, Stuart, just because you’re lucky enough to be the firstborn male of the firstborn male—” “Second born. Remember poor Uncle William,” Collin interjected. “Doesn’t matter. I’m just saying that just because Stuart was born first doesn’t make him smarter than the rest of us.” “Just luckier,” Stuart said. Collin st epped closer to his older cousin, as if Stuart needed protection from Alicia’s wicked tongue. Stuart seemed unruffled; if anything, he appeared amused by this little party he’d put together. Collin finished his drink and set the glass on the bar. “Arguing and picking at each other isn’t getting us anywhere.”
“Amen,” Bibi said under her breath and offered Collin a fragile smile. “What’s the point?” Alicia demanded. “The point is that we all have a bastard in the family,” Stuart said, “and I was just wondering what we’re going to do about him.” The imaginary rope around his neck snapped with the flare of Daegan’s temper. “Nothing.” He’d seen enough. These people were pathetic, all consumed with their family’s wealth and not giving a damn about anyone else. He slammed his empty glass onto the mantel and glared pointedly at his eldest cousin. “There’s nothing you can do about me and I’m sick of this. If you want some cheap entertainment, go out and watch a porno flick, or laugh at the poor or torture a cat or something but leave me alone.” He turned and strode quickly out of the room, his heels clicking loudly against the gleaming wood. “Wait!” Bibi ran after him. “He’s not going anywhere,” Stuart said confidently as Daegan strode out of the room and down the hallway. He couldn’t catch his breath in this stuffy old house filled with antiques, hot air, and inflated, prejudiced opinions. What had he been thinking when he’d slid into the seductive interior of the Cadillac? “Idiot,” he ground out, his fist clenching. He slammed it into one of the walls, splintering the old plaster. What a fool he’d been to come here! Why hadn’t he listened to his own gut feelings? What twisted sense of curiosity had lured him here? Every instinct had warned him to avoid the Sullivans like the proverbial plague and yet he’d allowed himself to be seduced; he’d wanted to be a part, just for a few seconds, of the family. Well, now he knew what they were made of and he didn’t like any of them. Including Bibi. She caught up with him and grasped his arm. “Look, Daegan, please. Just stop for a second.” He didn’t break stride, just threw her off. “I’m sorry.” “Forget it.” “No, really, Daegan—” Spinning around so quickly his body slammed up against hers, he grabbed both her arms and pushed her against the wall. A picture of Rose Kennedy rattled and fell to the floor, glass shattering everywhere. Bibi’s eyes widened in fear. “I don’t want your apologies,” he growled, feeling not the least bit of remorse when she tried to pull away and he only pinned her in his punishing grip. “I don’t want your excuses, and most of all, I don’t want your pity.” He let go of her then. “I should never have come here.” “Why did you?” she demanded. Good question. A damned good question. “I was stupid and couldn’t help myself.” Walking through the front door, he heard other voices getting closer. Great. Stuart and his flock of ninnies were following after him to see what the poor, pathetic bastard would do. “It won’t happen again.” As he strode down the icy st eps, he thought about “borrowing” one of the Sullivan fleet, but decided against it. With his luck, one of them would press charges. It galled him to think that for even one second he had envied them and wanted to be acc epted. Well, not anymore. For all he cared, everyone bearing the last name of Sullivan could rot merrily in hell. The path that led behind the lake house to the indoor tennis court was covered with snow, a smooth white blanket glazed with ice. Cool, pristine, glossy, much like the facade of the Sullivan family.
But that facade was now marred by the appearance of Daegan O’Rourke, the bastard son who had reared his head like the straggly brown weed that poked through the snow cover, corrupting the serene winters cape. Yes, he was an insipid weed that threatened to crack the smooth veneer of the family. Not that the Sullivans were perfect. They had their share of blemishes. Liars and adulterers, drinkers and cheats. But Father O’Meara was always reminding the parishioners that no one was perfect, that God had made man a flawed creature. Original sin started with Adam and Eve in the Garden. Maybe that explained Frank Sullivan’s incredible lapse to have conceived a bastard out of wedlock, let alone encourage the kid by continuing to mess around with his mother. No sin goes unpunished. But now, were they all going to have to pay for Frank Sullivan’s sin? Was this bastard son planning to insinuate himself into the family? The tennis court was chilly inside, but light flooded the shiny floor at the touch of a switch. A basket of balls would help ease the tension brought on by the unwanted bastard. The nerve of Daegan O’Rourke, coming here and thinking he could possibly belong, thinking he would ever be acc epted as a Sullivan when in truth he was a mistake of nature, a stupid accident. Well, he would be hard-pressed to pass himself off as a Sullivan. A tennis ball lingered in the air as if suspended, then went soaring over the net. A second ball hovered for a moment before it, too, was slammed onto the court. Each serve a blow to Daegan O’Rourke. Each forceful swing a strike at his skull. Each direct hit a vow of the violent pounding he would suffer if he ever dared tangle with the Sullivans again. “It won’t happen again,” Daegan had promised during his hasty exit. Perfect, because never would be too soon to see the dark, handsome face that resembled Frank Sullivan more than any of his children—his real children. If Daegan O’Rourke was smart, he would ke ep his distance and stay far, far away from the Sullivan clan. He would learn that the Sullivans were a family to be reckoned with. And if he didn’t? He would have to be stopped. Daegan didn’t see any of the Sullivans for two months. After hitchhiking back to the city from the mansion on the lake, he avoided any place he thought a Sullivan might show up. Which wasn’t hard. Before Stuart’s little get-together, the whole tribe had acted as if he hadn’t ever existed. As far as he was concerned, they could go back to that scenario. His good luck ran out one blistering cold day in February. He worked after school for a fuel company. Shoveling coal, pumping oil into huge trucks, and stacking cords of firewood were his primary jobs— backbreaking labor that helped ke ep him out of trouble and honed his muscles. He didn’t expect Bibi to show up, but as he walked away from the manager’s office, his meager paycheck folded in his back pocket, he blew on his fingers for warmth and saw her leaning against the fender of a silver Corvette. Several of the guys changing shifts slowed their stride. Whistling, they eyed her long legs and big bust along with the sleek lines and wide tires of her car. Daegan didn’t know which was likely to give them more of a hard-on—Bibi’s sultry pout or the menacing throb of the Corvette’s engine.
“Daegan!” She flagged him down, waving frantically. Homer Kroft, a forty-year-old guy with a beer belly and oil on his hands, glanced over his shoulder and winked at Daegan. “Looks like you got yourself an admirer,” he said with a low, leering laugh. “Boy what I wouldn’t do to ride in that—or on her.” “Enough,” Daegan said swiftly though why he chose to defend Bibi’s honor was beyond him. She only spelled trouble. Sullivan trouble. After Homer and the rest of the workers had left the shipping yard, Daegan approached her warily. “Slumming?” “Maybe.” She managed a smile. “What is it you want?” “To see you.” “Why?” “I wish to God I knew,” she admitted with a vexed little frown that showed how perplexed she was with herself. “I just didn’t want you to think that we’re all horrible.” “Aren’t you?” She smiled a little and gnawed at her lip. “Not all the time.” “Humph.” What was he doing talking to her? “If that’s all you wanted to say—” “No! I mean I’d like to make it up to you.” “Don’t bother.” “I—I think we should try to—” “To what? Be friends?” he demanded, angry all over again. “What is it with you, huh? Didn’t you get enough kicks last time?” “Whether you like it or not, you are part of the family.” “Don’t kid yourself,” he snapped, shoving his face close to hers so he wouldn’t have to shout. His hand fisted and he wished he had something, anything, to hit. “My old man has never said one word to me. Not one, Bibi. Oh, sure, he gives Ma some money for the rent, but he never seems to find it in his heart to see that she’s promoted to a better job, and when he shows up at the apartment, I make sure I’m out. It’s easier that way. He isn’t reminded of his mistake and I’m not faced with the fact that my old man is ashamed of me. Almost as much as I’m ashamed of him. And just so we’re clear on this. I don’t like you or anyone else in the family. I think you’re all a bunch of shallow, greedy, overbearing snobs who have nothing better to do than plan your next tennis match and argue about what stupid charitable committee you plan to be a part of. All anyone in the family cares about is money. The truth of the matter is that if I’d had a choice, I’d rather be related to pit vipers!” She wasn’t the least bit unnerved. “Frank’s an asshole.” “You got that right.” “If it makes you feel any better, he barely speaks to his other kids. But not everyone’s so bad.” “Of course not,” he mocked. “You’re all a bunch of goddamned saints.” With that he stalked off and felt his paycheck in his back pocket. Wages for two weeks’ work. Probably not enough to make one payment on Bibi’s flashy car. Not that it mattered.
His breath, a short burst of angry air, fogged. In his wake, he heard a car door open and slam shut. An engine roared. Gears clicked. Tires squealed in a sharp U-turn. Within seconds she was driving in the alley next to him, wheeling around the trash cans and crates, her window rolled down. “Can I give you a lift?” “Oh, sure. How about to Jamaica?” “I’m serious.” “So am I.” “Jamaica’s an island.” “Guess that’s a ‘no.’” “Daegan—” “Listen, Bibi, just st ep a little harder on the pedal under your right foot and drive away.” “Why do you hate me?” He barked out a laugh. “Take a guess.” “I said I’m sorry.” “Fine. You’re sorry,” he said angrily without glancing in her direction. “Listen, I don’t even know you and that’s the way I’d like to ke ep it.” He glanced skyward, past the sharp angles of fire es capes and the high brick walls scarred by graffiti. Some of the boarded-over tenements were nearly two hundred years old and had once housed Irish immigrants when they first set foot on American soil—Sullivans and O’Rourkes of generations gone by. The Sullivan family had thrived in the new land, working, saving, buying wisely, and amassing a fortune, while the O’Rourkes, for the most part, had become laborers generation after generation. As his mother toiled in the textile factory, so would he in some other dead-end O’Rourke job. He might even drink himself to death as his granddad had. Clouds, as gray as his thoughts, scudded across a sky that was darkening as night approached. Bibi was driving beside him, ke eping pace, her window rolled down, her blue eyes stormy. She, a Sullivan, would never know an empty stomach or a thirst for money so powerful he was willing to sell his soul to break the cycle of O’Rourke bad luck. Maybe Bibi, in her need, could offer him a way out, but then he’d have to swallow his much-prized pride. “What have I done that’s so wrong?” “Set me up.” “I... I didn’t mean to.” “Cruel joke, Bibi.” “It wasn’t supposed to be.” “Sure it was.” “But I didn’t know it,” she said. “Really, Daegan, don’t despise me because of Stu’s perverted sense of humor.” This was a mistake. “I don’t despise you.” “You act like it.” For the love of God, he nearly felt sorry for her. What was wrong with him? She was putting on an act, using her endless female charms to try and find a way to humiliate him again.
“What if I told you I want to know you?” she demanded. “I’d say you were a bored rich girl looking for a cheap thrill.” “I’m not.” He didn’t answer, just k ept walking. What a sight they must look, him greasy and tired from a long day at the fuel company, her impeccably well groomed as she wheeled her expensive car through the narrow, refuse-filled alleys. A cat scrambled out of their path and watched from the top of a trash bin. Bibi sighed loudly. “I do understand, you know. I don’t fit in either. Never have. Stuart and Collin are always together, laughing and talking and ke eping secrets. Alicia’s a first-class bitch and Bonnie’s just a kid.” “What do you care?” he threw back at her and the question ricocheted through his mind. What do you care, O’Rourke? Why even ke ep up this conversation? “I don’t like being left out.” “It’s not so bad.” Christ, the irony of it. Now he was trying to make her feel better about some tiff she’d had with her shit of a brother and cousin. “Why don’t you go and lay all this on Alicia?” He reached into his jacket pocket for a pack of cigarettes and shook one out. “We don’t get along.” “What a shame.” He couldn’t ke ep the sarcasm from his voice. “I was hoping we could be friends.” “No you weren’t. You’re not that stupid.” “You really are a bastard, you know that, O’Rourke?” The same old bad taste climbed up his throat. “So I’ve been told.” “Don’t take it to heart.” He jabbed a cigarette into the corner of his mouth. “Why’re you interested?” “Because you’re part of the family—the interesting part,” she said boldly. “And I want to know you better.” “Why?” Her smile was sincere. “Believe it or not, I think I like you.” “Jesus, quit kidding yourself!” He clicked his lighter to his cigarette and, as the tobacco caught flame, drew in a de ep calming drag. “You just find me amusing right now.” “Maybe, but that’s good enough for me,” she said as she gunned the engine and the Corvette leaped forward, nearly knocking him over as she sped through the alley. “Getting to know me is a mistake,” he muttered, but she was already gone, the taillights of her expensive car flashing bright red in the alley ahead. His eyes thinned against the smoke as he thought. No doubt she’d be back. She had that stubborn look about her, one that said she didn’t give up easily. So what the hell was he gonna do with her?
He wasn’t wrong. A week later she showed up, waiting for him after work, her rear propped against the hood of her shiny car as he ended his shift and started walking home. Homer Kroft nudged him in the ribs with an elbow. “Looks like you got yourself a little piece of uptown.” “Shut up.” “When you’re through with her—” Daegan spun then, grabbed the older man’s arm. “Give it a rest, man!” he ordered, his teeth clenched so hard they ached. “Okay, okay.” Homer raised his hands in mock surrender. “Jesus H. Christ, back off.” He wandered off toward the bus station and Daegan approached his cousin. “I thought I told you to leave me alone,” he growled as he walked up to her, ignoring the wolf whistles from some of the guys during the shift change. “I can’t.” “Why not?” She cocked her head to one side and smiled. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe I’m just a natural masochist. I can’t help but hang out with people who don’t like me.” “I never said that.” Or had he? He couldn’t remember. “Then let me buy you a cup of coffee or a drink or something.” She opened the car door. He laughed. “I’m not going to fall for that again.” “You can drive,” she said, holding the keys in front of his face, letting the metal dangle and clink provocatively before his eyes. He didn’t know what to say. Was she joking? The car was powerful and fast. His throat went dry with anticipation. His fingers itched to grab the keys. “You’re not serious.” “’Course I am.” “But—” He looked down at his greasy overalls and felt worlds apart from her. The way he wanted it. “Don’t worry about it. The car’s been dirty before.” His heart started pounding hard and fast at the thought of wrapping his fingers around the steering wheel, tromping on the accelerator, and feeling the surge of power that came with all that hors epower. Then he thought of his mother. Nothing the Sullivans gave was without a price—a high price. “What do you want, Bibi?” he asked suddenly. “Just to get to know you.” “Oh, hell!” “I’m not lying,” she said, and he touched her then, grabbed her wrist and tried to see into her mind, but the door was closed and the only impression he received was the quick beat of her pulse and the sensation that she was hoping to do something wild and unconventional, something that was against all of Daddy’s rules. Seduced beyond his power to say no, he licked suddenly dry lips. This is a mistake, O’Rourke, his rational mind insisted, but desire overruled logic and he lost the mental battle. He stared into her eyes and realized she knew she had him just where she wanted him. “Where would we go?” he asked.
Her smile hinted at sex and mystery. “Wherever you want, Daegan. It’s your call. I’m just along for the ride.”