Boston Blood

Twenty one

Frankie nearly knocked over the massive coffee table in an effort to get closer to the T.V. She didn't want to believe that the face she was looking at belonged to her little brother. O'Shea and Cillian must be trying to trick her. No! It's not him. It's not. It can't be. Why would he be with my father?

As if O'Shea could read her mind, his sickeningly happy voice chimed; "It's him, Frankie. It's Michael."

Frankie couldn't catch her breath. She thought she was going to get sick. She raised both hands to her head and pulled on her hair in frustration and horror. "You're lying!" She screamed but couldn't peel her watery eyes off the screen. None of this made sense. What the fuck is happening?

"Frankie, you can sit here all night and try to convince yourself that this isn't happening, but it is. Your father tracked Michael down when he moved State-side and has taken him under his wing. My men tell me young Michael is a chip off the old block. He's learning quickly and has already helped your father and the Italian scum expand their Coke and weapons distribution market. He's doing well. For now."

Frankie swallowed the bile that was stinging her throat. Michael was helping Tommy sell drugs and guns? He's helping Tommy and working with the Italians?

"No." Her voice was barely audible.

No! It can't be him! Why is he with my father? What the fuck is happening?

Frankie's breathing was becoming fast and heavy. Her head was spinning and she had to hold onto the fireplace for balance. The hot flames were burning her already blood flushed cheeks. She closed her eyes as the blazing tears spilled over. That was it. Any hope she had in the back of her mind that she wasn't going to have to go through with this had been ripped away. She loved Billy and Mary. And it had been a long time since she had felt that close to anyone. She had felt ashamed for her outburst a few minutes ago and the realization that her stupid temper could have caused them harm. But now that Michael was involved? She had to do it. She had to do whatever it was that O'Shea wanted her to do. She had failed Michael. She didn't protect him and it was her fault he had been taken away. She wasn't going to have another innocent life on her hands.

Fuck!

Her entire body trembled with anger and devastation. The mixture of conflicting emotions swirling through her mind were making her dizzy. She was sure she was going to refuse to help these bastards in their sick game. She had put her hatred for her father behind her, hadn't she? Well, she thought she had. But staring at Tommy's smug fucking face and knowing that he must have manipulated Michael in some way had dragged all of the painful memories and fury back with force. Images of her mother's body, Michael's petrified face, The nuns, Sinead all came flooding back. This was all his fault.

She wanted to shoot the bastard herself.

She straightened up and took deep breath, feeling extremely overwhelmed and exhausted.

O'Shea's voice was almost giddy when he spoke. "so... I'm assuming this has changed your mind?" Frankie reluctantly peeled her eyes away from the image of her brother's face and turned to glare at O'Shea. His smile was wide and taunting.

Frankie ran her shaky hand down her face and let her fingers linger over her lips, trying to hide the fact that they were trembling. She was surprised when she heard Cillian's voice. She had momentarily forgotten there was anyone else in the room.

"That's enough. Turn it off." His eyes were stabbing Frankie's. She couldn't understand the look on his face but she thought he felt sorry for her. Someone burst through the door, then, immediately breaking the tension in the room.