Chapter 8: More like Bullets and Less like a Train
Murphy was nuzzled up on the couch, flipping through channels at light speed, more to keep his hands occupied then his brain. He moved over as I sat down, still a little drunk from earlier. I lit myself a cigarette and we sat in silence. My head was still swimming and I just wanted this all to stop. I took a long drag off my cigarette and sighed as I exhaled. I could see Murph look at me out of the corner of his eye. He knew something was wrong.
"Ya alright Deenie?" he said, turning the volume down on the TV.
"I suppose. I'm just a bit…confused is all." I admitted. I couldn't hold back anything from the boys, especially Murphy. He always saw through my charades.
"'Bout what I said earlier? There's nothin ta be confused about, love. Jus do what comes naturally. There's no reason ta complicate it." He answered thoughtfully. I nodded, settling myself into the couch.
"Yer right Murph. Ya always are." I mumbled. I saw him smirk slightly.
We sat in silence for the next half an hour. Just as I was about to ask what time Murphy thought it was, I heard rustling from the bedroom. Murph and I looked at each other, our eyes wide and we bolted to the room, hopeful. And there was Connor, my beautiful, wonderful Connor, now halfway off the bed, his face twisted in pain as he tenderly tried to get up.
"NOCCIE!" I yelled as Murphy and I dashed to his side.
"Not so loud Deenie! I feel like I got fuckin hit by a train!" Connor said, his voice raspy from disuse.
"Well, it was more like bullets and less like a train…" Murphy half joked, the pure joy etched into his words. Both of us were bursting with relief.
"Ya alright Murph?" Connor said anxiously as we laid him back down. I rushed to get him water.
"I'm alright. It's you we were worried 'bout. Nearly gave me an Aidey a fuckin heart attack ya did." He said quietly.
"But I'm fuckin I'm alive ain't I?" Connor argued, his boyish smile sneaking onto his face. Nothing would ever change him. I gave him water and he drank gratefully.
He looked at me and Murphy when he was done, eyeing us from head to toe before starting to laugh.
"Ya look like shit." He chuckled. I gave a look to Murphy as he did the same to me. His face was almost sickly, and his eyes had big, dark circles underneath of them, his hair was wild, sticking out everywhere and there was a bruise starting to form under his right cheekbone. I couldn't even imagine what I looked like.
"Speak fer yerself there man. Ya wouldn't be talkin if ya could see yerself!" I countered. Connor flashed me a smile and suddenly, I was remembering that night last year, his face close to mine, both of us trembling with nervousness and excitement.
"I gotta piss like a fuckin racehorse!" Connor said suddenly, trying to ease himself up. Murphy helped him up while I raced to make him some food, realizing he hadn't eaten in close to 2 days. We put him on the couch, surrounding him with as many pillows and blankets as we could find.
"D'ya think Smecker knew t'was an ambush?" Connor said between mouthfuls of food.
"I dunno. I don't see why he'd be settin us up. We're sorta a liability ta him aren't we?" I reasoned as I ashed my cigarette.
"Suppose someone's watchin us? Maybe someone who knows most of these fuckin scumbags?" Murphy said, handing us each a beer before plopping himself down.
"But who? No one really knows where we are. How would they even know?" Connor said, gingerly trying to reposition himself. I went to him and started fussing with his pillows and blankets. I saw Murphy smile out of the corner of my eye.
"Ma'd be proud ta know at least someone's lookin after us." He murmured affectionately.
"Well, lord knows someone has ta. Ya both need fuckin safety suits tha way ya attract trouble!" I said, laughing. "Anyways, I dunno who. But we'd best be fuckin careful from now on. No more jobs til this gets sorted out. Lord knows my heart can't take tha fuckin stress!" I said as Connor put a hand on my cheek. It felt nice. I put his hand in mine as Murphy started to grab his jacket and some cash.
"Where ya headed there?" Connor asked as I sat on the couch.
"Well, we're almost out of food, an more importantly beer, we can't have tha happenin right?" He grinned as he walked out the door.
Connor put his arm around me and he clicked on the TV. We sat in silence for a few minutes before I turned to look at him, studying his familiar face. My eyes started tracing the lines that I'd practically memorized by now. He looked at me.
"Wha? Something in my teeth?" He teased. I snorted loudly.
"I was so scared Noccie. I dunno wha I woulda done if ya hadn'ta woken up…" I said gently. The smile faded from his face and he brushed a few stray hairs from my face.
"I know Deenie, I know. But I'm here now ain't I? I'm not goin anywhere, love. Ya can't get rid o' me that easily." He answered, cupping my face in his hands.
"Who said I wanted ta get rid of ya? Ya think I want ta be stuck with Murph fer tha rest of my life? Fuck no!" I giggled. We just looked at each other, our eyes saying everything we couldn't speak. The boys and I didn't need words anymore. We'd been around each other for so long that they simply weren't needed. One look at each other and it was like we'd spoken a thousand words. Connor's eyes were staring intently into my own and I couldn't help but smile softly. These boys were my life. I needed them like I needed air, like a fish needs water and nothing on this Earth was going to take them from me.
"How long d'ya suppose we can keep this up? This whole saintly business of ours?" I asked. His face was serious as he contemplated my question.
"As long as it's necessary I suppose." He answered slowly. "As long as we're able ta. It's what God wants, what tha city needs and I'll be damned if I don't do anything about it. Tha real question here, Aideen, is who tha fuck is after us?"
I thought hard and long, trying to think of anyone we knew who could possibly know so much about us, or about what we were doing.
"Ya think it's got anythin' ta do with Yakavetta? Ya figure they've got t'be wantin some sort o' revenge." I considered aloud.
"It's possible. But wha d'ya think they'd be wantin with our pictures? They already know wha we look like, an we don't have any family in tha states." He thought, lighting a smoke.
"Dunno. Maybe they're bringin in outside guys? Who knows. We'll have ta tread this one carefully. I'm not goin through that again. I just got ya back, lord fuckin knows I ain't losin either o'ya again." I said as he squeezed me affectionately. I know he was nervous too. The last thing any of us wanted was one of us to die. There's no way I could handle that, same as the boys.
"We'll have ta call Smecker an see if he knowsa anyone who's been fuckin around recently. God fuckin knows the Russians and the Italians are still bickerin like fuckin teenagers over turf." Connor said, as I stole his cigarette and finished my beer all in the same notion. I got myself another beer, still taking drags off my stolen nicotine stick, contemplating how to go about this without putting ourselves in the line of fire.
"Aye, it seems he's our only option at this point. Soon as ya can walk, we'll figure this mess out. But wha's really buggin me is, how could someone have possibly known that tha two of ya were goin ta take 'em out? Smecker only told us hours before it all happened….an it's not like he's jus gonna walk around the precinct spoutin' how he's 'bout ta get someone killed." I said, confused.
"True. Maybe they had people watchin' out fer the likes o'us. I dunno, Deenie." Connor answered, the pain fully evident in his voice.
"Y'alright Con? Ya want whiskey stead o' beer?" I asked, concerned.
I'd spent as much time fussing over the boys as their Ma had when we were younger. Oh, how I missed that drunken women so bad some days; that lady could beat the devil. She was more of a Ma to me then my Aunt Fiona. She took me in most nights, sending me home only when the boys and I had fallen asleep, once again, in front of the television; one of us usually leaning on the others.
"Aye, whiskey would be fan-fucking-tastic right about now, m'dear." He said cheerily as I found the last bottle of our whiskey. It was a good thing Murph had gone to get more, the last thing we needed was to run out of alcohol.