Boston Blood

Forty five

Dublin, 1985.
Cillian sat in the back seat of his father's car, silently. Paul had picked him up from Robbie's a few hours ago, after they had gotten rid of Micka's body, he assumed. His father sat stoic-faced in the driver's seat. He didn't seem too worried about what had just happened to Micka, in fact, Cillian thought his dad actually looked a little relieved. Cillian was well aware of the danger his father's line of work imposed but it was the first time Cillian had ever witnessed anything with his own eyes and it was the first time he had ever seen a dead body. 
He felt a shiver run through him, remembering the black eyes of Micka lying in the snow, blood soaked and lifeless and suddenly felt an overwhelming feeling of distain towards his father and Tommy Ryan and an even more confusing feeling of worry for the girl he had just met. The look of horror on her face when the shots pierced the air, she was terrified but still managed to think if her little brother upstairs. She could have been killed but she got up to make sure he was okay. He had never seen anyone so brave in his life. She was amazing. 
"Who shot Micka, da? Who was it?" 
Paul sniffed and stared at his son in the rear view mirror. His face twitched slightly as his eyes pierced his son's worried ones. 
"Son, there's a lot you don't know about what I do and I'd like to keep it that way. You know my work is dangerous and I wish you didn't have to see any of this. That's why I was so glad that your mam took you to Boston. I know how unhappy she was and I do not blame her one bit. I hated to see you both go but I knew it was for the best. I thought you would be safe over there, away from all this shit..." Paul trailed off as Cillian saw him shift in his seat. 
"What do you mean, you thought we would be safe in Boston?" Cillian couldn't mask the fear in his voice as he silently pleading with his father to tell him what was going on. 

"Cill, the men responsible for the shooting tonight... They were hired by someone. Someone who was too much of a fucking coward to come do it himself. Tommy was the target, Cillian. Not Micka."
"Who hired them, dad?"
"Your uncle Aidan."

Cillian's heart nearly jumped out of his chest. "What? How? why? I don't understand. He must have known you would be there. What if he shot you?" He couldn't comprehend it. His uncle, the man he knew was extremely dangerous but also looking out for him and his mam in Boston, tried to kill Tommy? Why?
"Look, I wasn't okay? I wasn't the target and I know that he certainly didn't think you would be there. He may be a deranged scumbag but he's still my brother and he cares about you and your mother, a lot. He would never hurt either of you. No, his problem is with Tommy and everyone who works for Tommy, including me."
Cillian gasped. He didn't understand. Sure, he knew his father and Aidan had fallen out years ago and Aidan had left Ireland to start a life in Boston, away from his brother but now, just because his brother worked with Tommy Ryan, he was going to risk getting him killed? Cillian felt sick to his stomach and his father had pulled the car into their drive in without him noticing. 
Paul turned off the engine and turned around to face his young son. 
"Look. Your uncle and I have a troubled history. When we fell out and he moved to Boston. He used to work with us, you see but he was getting sick of Tommy and how powerful he was becoming. He was jealous and wanted to be number one. So he swore that once he got to Boston, he would become even more powerful and feared and that's exactly what he's done." 
"But why bother trying to kill Tommy over here, then? I don't get it." 
"Aidan is a troubled man, Cill and unfortunately, we're very alike in some ways. He, like your old man, here, can't seem to rid ourselves of our grudges. Aidan hates Tommy but he's afraid of him, also. Tommy is trying to expand the business. Boston is a very lucrative place and Tommy has people over there who he's been linking in with, trying to get his name out there and Aidan is terrified that he'll succeed and put him out of business. That's why he tried to kill Tommy tonight. Well. that and the fact that he's always been jealous that Margaret chose Tommy." 
Cillian scoffed, homourlessly. "What? Uncle Aidan and Frances's mam were together?"
Cillian saw his father smirk. There was a look on his face that he couldn't place but Cillian was sure it resembled some sort of victory. 
"No but he loves Margaret, always has, but she never liked him. She always thought there was a dark, twisted side to him and the older I get, the more I'm starting to see that side myself. She chose Tommy back when we were kids and Aidan never truly got over it. Tommy was never aware of this, of course. Margaret is a smart woman and always knows that it's best to keep her husband in the dark about certain things. Anyway, there are other, much more juvenile reasons for your uncle's and Tommy's feud and it all comes down to love. The one thing that can and will fuck everything up and make us do stupid things. It's the one thing that we're willing to risk everything for." 
Paul's smile grew wider, baffling Cillian. He had no idea what his father had to smile about. His brother had just tried to kill his best friend and wanted them all out of business. Why was his father smiling and why was he getting all sappy?
Paul could see the confusion plastered on his son's face, eliciting an extremely out of place laugh. 
"Look son, you're going to go back to Boston and keep your head down and get a degree and a good job. You're going to look after your mother and work hard and keep your nose clean, you got it? I know Aidan checks in on you and I know you now mustn't like him very much but he loves you and your mam, okay? It's me he has a problem with, not you. He can't believe that I chose to stay here and not come with to Boston but I had my reasons to stay." Paul was mumbling slightly and Cillian was struggling to keep up. "I love you, Cill and I wish I was a better man. I know you're not proud of me because of what I do for a living and I am so sorry that you had to see that tonight. I've done some terrible things but I am trying to be better and I want you to know that I am so proud of you. You are so smart and strong and I know you're going to do great things and I want to say that I wish I was half the man you're going to be." 

Cillian recoiled at his father's words. He was stunned. He knew his father loved him but to be so open and vulnerable and honest like this? It was a touching moment, one that Cillian knew he'll never forget. 
He lay in bed in his old room replaying everything that had happened that night. The clock said 7 a.m. but he was wide awake, having not slept a wink. He couldn't stop thinking about what he saw and what his father said. He should be worrying about his uncle's temper and unpredictability and his father's safety but all he could think about was what his dad had said about love. How it was the one thing someone would risk everything for. Frances's face spun around his head. He hoped she was okay. How must she be feeling right now? She hates her father, he knew that by the way she was around him but anyone could have been killed tonight, including her. She must be terrified. 
Cillian sighed and got out of his bed. He crept down the stairs and grabbed his jacket and his father's car keys. He didn't have his full licence yet but it was early and he was hoping the roads would be clear enough for him to make the short drive.  

A few minutes later he was parked down the road a bit from Frances' house. He didn't really know why he was there. Jesus, he had only met the girl last night but there was something about her. He just needed to see her and make sure she was okay. He hadn't got the courage, just yet, to go to the house so he just sat in the car and watched the house, hoping she would appear. She did. 
She was wearing a pair of old jeans and a coat and her wild brown curls were pulled up into a pony tail, exposing the slim curve of her neck and her frost-bitten, rosy cheeks. As she walked through the side gate and into the front garden, she was calling back to someone, her mother, he assumed. She got onto the step ladder and secured a chuck of cardboard against the window frame. Cillian watched her in awe as she went about her business like she was just doing a daily mind-numbing chore. After she had sufficiently blocked up the shattered window, she then took the hose from the side of the house and began rinsing the remainder of Micka's blood from the frozen grass of their front garden. She had a look on her face that Cillian couldn't decipher. Her brow was furrowed like she was deep in thought. She was clearly furious and frightened, but there was also a hint of determination and defiance.
She finished cleaning as much of the blood as she could and visibly sighed as she wrapped the hose around her arm and went back around the side and into the back garden.
Cillian didn't want to do it but he found himself getting out of the car and walking, tentatively, towards the garden. He put his hands in his pockets and felt something. It was the coat he was wearing the night before and he had forgotten to take it out in all of the commotion. He smiled as he remembered watching her lips as she took a cheeky swig. The sound of Frances' voice coming from the side of the house made him jump. He quickly lost all courage and left the item on the wall before running back to the car and hopping in. He watched her as she looked around in confusion once she spotted what was on the wall. He slumped down in the driver's seat and watched her, eagerly, as she picked it up and smiled. Her eyes locked on the silver car for a moment and she smiled again before putting the hip flask in her pocket and shutting the front door behind her.