Jimmy opened the back door of the SUV, and Catherine gingerly climbed out as to not wrinkle her new dress. The cobalt blue material hugged every delicious curve of her body, turning Jimmy into a walking contradiction. He loved the way the deep hue made her copper curls and blue eyes pop, though he'd lost count of how many times he nearly socked Luke for having wandering eyes. His gaze followed her hand as she smoothed out the non-existent creases, his heart pounding when he noticed the glittering diamond she for some reasons unbeknownst to him, wore around her finger.
Looking around at the rows of multi-million dollar homes on the block, Catherine tried to figure out what kind of criminal kingpin could fit so nicely into the uppity neighborhood. It made her feel uneasy, seeing how this potential buyer had no problem flaunting their illicit wealth. Catherine was used to a different class of criminal, and Jimmy could sense her apprehension.
In Irish, he told her to relax. But Catherine was the kind of woman who couldn't help feeling even more on edge when told to chill out.
"These are the kinda fellas who'll turn on ya in a heartbeat if they get picked up," she said.
Jimmy couldn't disagree with her. This far into a life of delinquency, he liked to think he had a decent gauge on who the squealers were. Based on his past conversations with the potential Italian associate, he had a good feeling.
"Just trust me, yeah? Have you ever seen me shake on a bad deal?"
Popping the clasp of her clutch, Catherine reached inside for her compact and lipstick. Shoving the clutched into Jimmy's hand, she opened the compact and stated applying the classic red shade. "No, but I have seen ya waste your time on eejits. They're mafiosos, Jimmy. Ya tried workin' out a decent deal with the plastic Paddys from Boston and Chicago, but they've no idea what makin' a deal with us means. I'm tellin' ya, this isn't gonna be any bloody different. Don't you agree, Luke?"
The pudgy Irishman's gaze ping-ponged between Catherine and Jimmy. It was awkward being dragged into the conversation, not wanting to upset Jimmy or make Catherine feel her reservations weren't valid. As a senior officer who accompanied Jimmy to Boston and Chicago many a time, he found himself agreeing with her.
Deciding it would be best for everyone if he just stayed out it, Luke admitted, "I don't like it when Mummy and Daddy row, so why don't youse just drop it."
Jimmy rolled his eyes, shoved the clutch back to Catherine when she finished with her lipstick. "They're La Cosa Nostra, not plastic Paddys. The Italians are nothin' like the blokes we've tried dealin' with the past. Trust me, a chuisle."
Tucking the small bag under her arm, Catherine shifted her weight. She was in a new, cheap department store dress and pumps that pinched her feet like hell. Closing a deal that would end up putting hundreds of thousands of pounds into hers and Dessie's pockets was the only thing that would make the money she dropped shopping worth it.
"Okay," she relented. "I trust you." Hooking arms with Jimmy, the trio walked up the long driveway. "Who's the lad? You haven't told me yet."
"Jimmy Cacuzza - head of the Cacuzza crime family. They make their money off the usual: movin' counterfeit shite, stealin' shipments meant to go to retailers, labor union extortion. And as I've recently discovered, they've moved into the small arms business, buyin' a wee stock from Samcro, so I figured—"
Catherine interjected before they reached the doorstep. "Ya figured why not convince him to cut out of the wee middle-man and get their supply straight from the source."
"Aye," he kissed her forehead, "remember, tits up, O'Toole."
As Jimmy unhooked his arm from Catherine's to ring the doorbell, Catherine readjusted her pushup bra to enhance her already enticing cleavage.
Luke shook his head, always hating being the third wheel when the two of them were together.
It was an unusual welcoming when Jimmy Cacuzza opened the heavy front door to greet them. After stepping inside, Catherine and Luke exchanged a look of what the fuck? when both Jimmys went in for the handshake-hug combo like they've known each other for years.
She had a feeling Jimmy was far more acquainted with Cacuzza than he originally led her to believe. If her intuition on Jimmy was right, she guessed he's known about Cacuzza buying guns from Clay for some time now.
Nor was this the first time he's reached out either. They seemed far too comfortable with one another. If this were the first meeting, Jimmy wouldn't be so seemingly relaxed and he never would have agreed to a house call.
As the two men struck up the usual small talk on news and weather, Catherine's attention was caught by movement in the spacious kitchen. She looked over Cacuzza's shoulder, almost losing her composure at what she saw.
Puttering around, preparing a meat, cheese, and olive board, was who Catherine presumed to be the wife, based off the massive canary diamond on her bony finger.
Now the last minute shopping trip made sense. Jimmy didn't want her in jeans, Dr. Martens, and flannel button-down because she wasn't there to turn on the charm. Jimmy brought her as his arm-candy to reel Cacuzza in.
What better way to build stronger rapport than a mutual fondness of firearms and young, beautiful women?
He pulled the exact farce seven years ago when he brought her to Malta to meet with Sean Rourke, underboss of Boston's most prominent Irish-American crime family. Instead of negotiating a deal on M16 rifles, Catherine had been forced to play the role of the docile mistress and endure hours of brain-melting conversation with Rourke's side piece.
It happened previously in Moscow when Catherine introduced Jimmy to Misha. And then when she connected the Russian arms dealer with Dessie, she was cast aside again.
She did all the leg work, just to be told to go off and sit pretty.
Not this time.
She had once been the True army's chief of staff and now sat on the council of ONH for fuck's sake.
She more than earned the right to be at the negotiating table.
"And who would this beautiful woman be?" asked Cacuzza.
His gaze traveled up and down her figure, soaking in all of Catherine's attributes. He couldn't deny she was strikingly attractive, though the Irish, ivory-toned redhead wasn't his preference.
Catherine would've been insulted by Cacuzza's blatant staring if it hadn't been for Jimmy placing his hand on her ass. All she could focus on was how his fingers were kneading her flesh.
Slightly embarrassed for not introducing her sooner, Jimmy pulled Catherine into him. "This is my w-"
Realizing Jimmy was about to introduce her as his wife, she acted fast. Breaking out of Jimmy's hold, she quickly extended her hand to Cacuzza, offering a firm handshake that said, "this is purely business."
"Catherine Dennehy; I'm senior finance officer for Óglaigh na hÉireann." It was a ballsy move to separate herself from the True army, though now feeling spiteful over Jimmy's hidden agenda, she wanted to make sure ONH's interests were being protected. "We're the supplier to the True IRA. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cacuzza, and thank you for taking the time to meet with us."
Catherine swore she felt the last ounces of Jimmy's soul leaving his body as she spoke those last words. She was completely undermining him - she came under the agreement that she'd not bring up her involvement in - let alone the existence of - ONH.
Oops.
A flirtatious smile spread across Cacuzza's face as he turned over Catherine's hand, kissing the back of it. Not wanting to be rude, Catherine didn't pull her hand back right away.
"If I had known Jimmy was bringing you all this way from Belfast, I would've agreed to meet sooner. It's a beautiful day, let's enjoy it while we talk inventory and numbers."
Conjuring her most kittenish smile, Catherine started following Cacuzza through the foyer. Behind her, Jimmy motioned for Luke to go ahead of them, before he gripped Catherine's bicep to stop from walking any further.
"Ow, what the hell-"
"What the fuck was that?" he lowly hissed, spinning her around. "We had an agreement that you'd keep ONH outta this. The whole point of this meetin' is to get him to drop the middle-man; how am I supposed to that when you've just outed me as one?"
Prying Jimmy's bitting fingers from her arm, Catherine fluffed her curls. "That agreement was invalidated as soon as I figured out your wee scheme, Jimmy. You're not makin' a deal unless it's worth our interest."
Jimmy pursed his lips. There was nothing he could say in his defense. If he were in Catherine's position, he would have done the same thing.
"Do you love Dessie?"
"W-what?" stammered Catherine. "Of course I love Dessie."
"Brilliant. Because if you fuck this up for me, a chuisle," he brought his mouth a hair's breadth from her ear, "I will wage a bloody war against youse, and make you watch as I slit his goddamn throat from ear to ear."
He already made her watch as he slashed Dessie's face, this was a warning worth heeding. Catherine tried to hide the fear in her eyes but failed miserably. In an attempt to talk him down from the ledge, she promised Jimmy she wouldn't screw up this up for him and reminded him that getting Cacuzza on board would be good for both the True army and ONH.
Without another word, Jimmy headed to catch up with Cacuzza and Luke.
Taking a deep breath, Catherine mentally slapped herself, wishing she had never opened her mouth in the first place.
To say time got away from them was an understatement.
It was early evening by the time Jimmy, Catherine, and Luke were on their way out of Cacuzza's. They were gathered in the foyer, with Cacuzza's wife, Giulia, trying to force leftover cannolis into Catherine's hands. With a belly full of homemade pasta, meatballs, and pastries, and her head swimming in wine, she graciously accepted the treats with plans to eat them later while submerged in a hot bubble bath.
Giulia tightly embraced Catherine in a hug, kissing both her cheeks before moving on to Jimmy and Luke. A smirk tugging on the corners of Cacuzza's mouth, he went in for a hug goodbye, too.
"Let me know when you get back to Belfast," he pecked her cheek, "and we'll set up a time to get you and Dessie on the phone to hammer out the final details."
Catherine's heart nearly exploded from a combination of excitement and nerves. She and Jimmy had knocked the meeting out of the park; now the fate of their deal rested solely on Dessie's shoulders. The hard part would be convincing her husband; it wouldn't be as easy of a sell as it had been to the mafioso.
"Of course. I'll get in touch with Cameron and Edmond to set somethin' up so you can see the stock of Kalashnikovs we export from Dublin."
"Let's try to do it while you're still Stateside. There's something very alluring about a gorgeous woman handling a high-power rifle."
Catherine cocked her eyebrows and smirked. "My husband says the same thing, Mr. Cacuzza."
"He's a lucky man."
"Aye," she chuckled. "I remind him of that every day."
After their final goodbyes, the Irish trio headed out.
Halfway to the SUV, Catherine linked her arm with Jimmy's. Her feet were killing her more than the pounding from her red wine-induced headache. "I've gotta get these wee feckers off."
Leaning on Jimmy for balance, Catherine took off the pumps. Wearing them all day before having the chance to break them in was the worst idea Catherine had in a long time. The backs of her ankles were rubbed raw with throbbing open sores, and her pinky toes each bore a blister. Not to mention her calves were on fire from the five-mile run she just had to go on earlier in the morning.
"Mother'a Christ," Jimmy huffed getting a good look at Catherine's battered feet. He took the pumps from her hand. "Why the hell would ya do that to yourself?"
"My Ma always told me beauty is pain. Even you can't deny how bloody amazing my legs look when I'm propped up in those torture devices."
Jimmy shook his head, unable to wrap his mind around the ass-backward thinking Catherine approached fashion with.
They were silent as they approached the SUV. Luke was already inside, buckled in with the engine roaring. But before Jimmy opened the back door so Catherine could climb in, he handed back her shoes so he could light a much-needed cigarette. Taking a drag, he passed it to her.
"How do you think it went in there?"
"Is that a serious question?" she patronized, blowing out a cloud of smoke.
Taking it from her fingers, he tucked it into the corner of his mouth and unbuttoned the first two buttons on his shirt. "Don't be givin' me lip. Yeah, it's a serious question."
"I think it went well." Catherine plucked the cigarette from his mouth, taking another drag before putting it back. "However, I can't help feelin' as though he's stringin' us along. I don't see him breaking loyalties with Clay."
"Aye; I don't see that happening either." Flicking the cigarette into the street, Jimmy scrubbed his face with his hands. "What the fuck are we gonna do?"
"Hey," crooned Catherine. She placed a hand on the side of his neck, stroking his jaw with her thumb. It was impossible to miss the anxiety clouding his pale blue eyes like a raging storm. Putting together an entirely new faction of distributors and buyers was starting to overwhelm him. When Jimmy was stressed and overwhelmed, that meant bad news for everyone as his coping mechanism entailed nothing more than lashing out in hostilities. "I know it's way easier said than done, but you gotta take a breath and try not to worry too much. It'll all come together like it's supposed to."
"I hope to God you're right."
Catherine hoped she was, too. She couldn't go back to Crossmaglen empty-handed. If they didn't find a new buyer while she was there, she'd have no choice but to tell Dessie about Cameron and Edmond when she got home.
Jimmy looked at his watch. "It's almost six and we've an hour's drive at least back to Sacramento. I dunno if you'll make it Charming in time to see Filip before visitin' hours are over."
Her heart sank into her belly. The whole point of this trip had been to see her uncle, not help Jimmy save his ass from the wrath of the Kings if he lost yet another supply of the highly sought Russian commodities.
"That's okay," she lied. Jimmy could hear the disappointment in her voice. "I'll see him tomorrow. I've a wee feelin' that seeing Fiona is probably all the excitement he can handle in one day."
Kissing her forehead, Jimmy then opened the door so Catherine could get into the backseat. Once she was settled, he closed it, conveniently forgetting to tell her that she'd be going with him, and the lads from Fermanagh and Oakland to collect an order of M16s at dawn.
She'd see Chibs whenever he saw fit.
"Ya mind the company?"
Glancing to his left, Jimmy saw Catherine in the archway of the living room. A soft smile spread across his lips. She looked impossibly adorable in a pair of blush pink cotton shorts and a loose white v-neck. Her hair was tightly French-braided into pigtails; of course, there was a glass of wine in her hand. Taking off his reading glasses, Jimmy patted the empty spot beside him.
Strutting over, Catherine sat with her legs tucked underneath her. She rested her head on his arm, taking a sip of wine.
"Can't sleep?" he asked, turning down the volume on the television.
"Aye." She left it at that, unable to bring it upon herself to say her bout of insomnia was Filip and Dessie induced. Glancing down at the piece of paper Jimmy was holding, she tried deciphering his notes. "What are ya workin' on?"
Slipping his glasses back on, Jimmy stared blankly at his handwriting. "The lads I met with in Chicago last week - they're offering decent hardware that I could desperately use, but I don't think I can swing it since you and Dessie stole the cigarette operation right out from under me."
Catherine's cheeks burned with shame. She knew the jab was intentional. He wanted her to feel worse than she already does. Reaching over Jimmy, she set her glass down on the end table beside his scotch before snatching the paper from his hands. She swung her legs out from under her so they were resting across his lap. Gnawing on her thumbnail, she looked at the numbers. If she couldn't give him back his largest source of income to buy materials with, the least she could do is offer her professional advice.
"Let's see what you can shuffle around."
"I appreciate your willingness to help," Jimmy said, snatching the paper back, "but I don't take business guidance from those who've double-crossed me."
"Ouch. Don't you think that's a bit harsh to say?"
Taking off his glasses again, he set them and his notes on the table. "I'm sorry, does the truth hurt?" Picking up her wine, he drank half of it despite Catherine's protest. "I dunno how you drink this cheap merlot. Cabernet Sauvignon is what ya should be drinkin' if you want a good red."
Thankful Jimmy diverted the conversation before it became awkward and uncomfortable for the both of them, Catherine pointed her pinky finger in the air. "I didn't know I was in the presence of a wine connoisseur."
"I'm the furthest thing from a wine connoisseur. My expertise lies in scotch, thank you very much."
Catherine furrowed her brow. "Ya sure about that? When you were in Maghaberry, I found the bottle you stashed in your desk and it was fuckin' rough."
"It was rough because you don't how to appreciate a quality single-malt." He exchanged her wine for his scotch, passing it to her. "Try this. It's a lot smoother than what's in my desk drawer."
Catherine took the glass from him, tossing back the sip that was left. The harsh booze instantly irritated her throat. Jimmy fought the urge not to laugh, but that was a battle lost when she broke out into a coughing fit. Catherine shoved the glass into his hands, grabbing the pack of cigarettes off the coffee table and lighting up.
"That's your first mistake, a chuisle. You don't just knock it back like it's a shot of Bushmills. You sip it; enjoy the flavors."
"Believe me," she said, trying to ignore the nauseating burn in her belly, "I'm not drinkin' that shite for taste, I drink because I wanna forget how crappy things've been."
Jimmy was caught off guard by her brazen confession. If her home life wasn't weighing her down, she never would have made such a remark. Propping his feet up on the table, Jimmy took Catherine's free hand. Much to his surprise, she started playing with his fingers.
"Be honest with me, Catherine. Is Dessie helping out with the boys?"
Catherine felt like he was backing her into a corner. If he didn't have inside information, he wouldn't have phrased the question the way he did. There was no use in lying, but she didn't exactly want to tell him the truth either.
"He's doing what he can."
Jimmy snickered, "So he's spending the majority of his time working and playing video games."
"That's not fair," she scolded, dropping his hand. "Between managing the legitimate businesses and stayin' on top of responsibilities for the Ra, you work just as much as he does."
For reasons he couldn't quite explain, Jimmy was rubbed the wrong way by what she said.
"Unlike him, my work is all I have. When I go home at night, I don't have wee ones or a wife waitin' for me. Leaving you with all the responsibilities at home when you're devoting just as much time as he is to the cause isn't fair. You need to set him straight."
Catherine gestured for the wine and Jimmy handed it to her. She took a long sip, melting like butter at his fingers stroking the length of her soft, silken leg. She digested his words, trying to come up with an excuse for how lousy and alone Dessie was making her feel.
"This is what works for us - this is our arrangement. He puts in the extra hours at the garage so I can be home with the boys. That means the cooking, cleaning, laundry, disciplining...that all falls under my jurisdiction."
Putting his knee-jerk emotions aside for just a moment, Jimmy felt genuinely sorry for Catherine. She'd been a single mother for nearly five years, then unexpectedly had a baby with a man who said he wanted a family, but struggled all his life to accept the obligations of fatherhood. Neither of them knew what a meaningful partnership was supposed to be.
"Just because he works more hours at the garage doesn't mean he gets a pass to be an absent father and husband."
"He's not absent," she was quick to defend. "He's - he's tired. And burnt out. So if he wants to plop down in front of the telly and play Call of Duty or spend a few hours at the pub after work, I'm not gonna stop him."
Jimmy cupped her jaw. The tip of his thumb traced her lower lip. "He doesn't deserve you."
Catherine shook her head. "These days it feels like I don't deserve him."
Jimmy couldn't believe something so idiotic left Catherine's mouth. Hearing her say she was the one who didn't deserve the likes of Dessie Dennehy only reinforced his axiom that she was beyond exhausted.
"What in the hell would possess you to think that?"
She shrugged. "I'm still adjusting to having a newborn again, ya know? The expected stress of Danny on top of Eamonn and Sean is wearing me out more than I thought it would. More times than not, I'm passed out on the couch before Dessie even gets home. And since he's got the sex drive of a bloody teenage boy, I'm worried. Being Stateside is the calmest I've been since we brought Danny home, because I know he's too busy takin' care of the boys." She rambled, "I mean, I know I have nothin' to be worried about with Dessie, but - I never told anyone, but Darragh strayedwhen I was like eight-months pregnant with Sean. I guess I'm just livin' in the past."
Realizing what Catherine was saying, Jimmy took the forgotten cigarette lazily clenched between her fingers and took a drag. Stubbing it out in the ashtray, he gazed at her. The thin shred of guilt he carried for the last five years over being the one who tipped off the UVF on where they could find Darragh, vanished. He would've contested to Simon Townsend's assassination a lot sooner if he had known Darragh cheated on a heavily pregnant Catherine.
"Why the fuck didn't you tell me he screwed around? You know I would have had it taken care of!" His tone was a lot harsher than he intended it to be.
"I couldn't tell you! After you threatened to have me kneecapped and then told Darragh what happened between us on the trip to Newry, we didn't say a single word to each other for two-bloody-years!" Catherine took a breath. "Besides, what he did was karma for what we did."
Listening to Catherine use their sexual past as a reason to defend Darragh's transgression bothered him more than it should.
Bitterly, he spat, "Are you gonna defend Dessie fucking around on you, too? Jesus Christ, Catherine, when did you turn into such a wee pussy?"
"Oh, go fuck yourself."
Having enough of him and the conversation, Catherine darted up from the couch and started walking away. Before she had a chance to leave the living room, he blurted,
"Dessie - he's havin' an affair."
Stopping mid-stride, Catherine spun around. Crossing her arms along her chest, she couldn't wait to hear what evidence he had to back up such a bold accusation.
"What makes you so sure of that?"
Leaning forward, Jimmy rested his forearms on his knees. Despite her cool demeanor on the outside, her darkened eyes gave away the storm of anxiety raging deep within. He'd be lying if he said it didn't bring him great satisfaction to be the one to break the news to her. Maybe then she'd take off the fucking diamond ring that taunted him nearly every hour of the day.
"Donny told me he saw Dessie with a blonde lass at a pub in Newry. Had his hands all over her and his tongue down her throat. They ended up leaving together, I guess."
Catherine bit her bottom lip, forcing her gaze away from Jimmy as she tried not to laugh. She had a feeling this conversation was bound to come up sooner or later. Though she was surprised it had taken Jimmy this long to something. More than once she had warned Dessie people would talk, but he was adamant he didn't care.
"Donny's a fool." Catherine covered her face with her hands to hide the fierce blushing. This was the last thing she wanted to get into, however, she couldn't have people - especially Jimmy - thinking her marriage was on the rocks. "The blonde...that was me, Jimmy."
"Excuse me?"
"Dessie and me - we...we like to role-play."
Catherine swore she watched Jimmy blackout for a split second. His brain couldn't comprehend his Catherine Mary swooping down to Dessie's smutty level.
"...the sex I'm havin' with Dessie is the best I've had," he remembered her telling him at Christmas.
His heart pounded. His hands shook.
Standing, Jimmy closed the distance between them. When he spoke, his words were laced with vicious jealousy. The covetousness consumed him more than it ever had in the past. "What the fuck do you mean?"
"Ya know, role-playing. It keeps things spicy. Some nights I'll put on a wig and he'll pick up a stranger at the pub. I love it when he'll be the handyman and I'm the broke housewife who can only pay him in sexual favors. And then there's his so original personal favorite of me bein' the naughty schoolgirl and he's the headmaster."
Jimmy cracked. He couldn't believe the sweet, pure virginal girl he once had in his bed turned into such a harlot. Naturally, he blamed Dessie, for there was no other way to explain why she'd agree to such...nonsense.
Jimmy liked to consider himself a devout Catholic and the years of listening attentively to the nuns during his time in Catholic education only ended up hindering his sexual repertoire. There were four moves in his toolbelt at best; role-playing was the last thing he'd ever think to partake in.
Unwarranted images of Catherine costumed in her St. Dominic's uniform, bent over Dessie's knee as he spanked her bare ass raw was too much for him to handle. Tenaciously clenching his jaw, Jimmy exploded with anger.
"Fiona was fuckin' right about you! You are a goddamn whore," he snarled.
It took every ounce of self-control Catherine could muster to not punch Jimmy right in the mouth. Those were rich words coming from a man like him. One who seemingly had no issues bedding her when she was still only a teenager. She laughed at his irreverent holier than thou attitude.
"Where the fuck do you get off callin' me a whore, huh? Just because I have an active, healthy sex life with my husband, doesn't make me Mary-bloody-Magdalene." Catherine was smart enough to understand his anger was working in tandem with deep-seated insecurity. She had felt it too when he refused to leave Fiona for her.
"Does it make you jealous, Jimmy?" she taunted. "Does it utterly destroy you to know that it's another man who fulfills every single want and desire I have, and not you?"
Raking his fingers through his hair, Jimmy wanted to rip it out by the roots. More scathing depictions of her and Dessie together jested his imagination.
"I fulfilled you. I was enough; all that you needed!"
When her fury should have mirrored his, Catherine stayed calm. She refused to allow him to provoke her; there was nothing to be angry about. His reaction did nothing but fill her with pity. It was a pathetic sight, seeing just how insecure he really was.
"If you were enough, I wouldn't be with Dessie. Think about this, too...if you weren't so boring, I never would have shagged Happy. You lost the best thing you ever had. And now, while I'm screamin' for Jesus, bein' filled with a fat cock and a finger up the arse, all you're gettin' is a sad blowie from Siobhan Kavanaugh."
If you weren't so boring.
Those words rang louder and louder in Jimmy's ears.
He took a step forward Catherine. She flinched, preparing herself to feel the stinging torment of a punch.
Instead, he bent down slightly and gripped her hips, tossing Catherine over his shoulder.
He'd show her just how boring Jimmy O'Phelan could be.
