Page 85 of Lucky Strike

Dad sits and I drop into a chair beside him, crossing one leg over the other. “How was Cleveland?” I ask. “Have you gotten the results back? Mom’s been kinda tight-lipped.”

“I asked her to keep a lid on things,” he says. “No need for everyone to be in a state of panic, not with everything else going on.”

“Dad, please.” I lean forward, rubbing my eyes. “Will you just tell me? It’s stressing me out, not knowing.”

“They switched up the beta blockers I’m taking, so that should help. And they’re thinking of alcohol septal ablation.”

“What the hell is that?”

“Basically, they’ll inject alcohol into the artery that supplies blood to the muscle that’s thickened. That damages the thickened tissue—in a controlled way—and hopefully reduces the obstructions.”

“That sounds … awful,” I say with a grimace.

“Either that or an implant. Can’t say I’m thrilled about it, but it’s minimally invasive.” He takes a sip of whatever’s in his mug. “I’ll still have to take it easy for a few months, but it’s my best bet.”

“Modern medicine, eh?” Grampa interjects. “How they figure this shit out, I’ll never know.”

“Whatever works, right? When do you get it done?” I ask.

“I’m flying back to Cleveland at the end of October.”

“Why so late? Why can’t you just go now?”

“These things take time, Con,” he says, holding his hand up. “Besides, I have a few loose ends here I’d like to tie up first. I want to go into this with as few distractions as possible. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What’s up?”

“You know Heath Murphy’s been wanting to meet.”

I roll my eyes. Saoirse meets formally twice a year already; I don’t know why he can’t just wait until September. Unless … “He wants to move the vote up, doesn’t he?”

“Of course he does.” Dad chuckles. “He’s anxious about how my health is affecting the syndicate’s rep, about the weakness it might be projecting. All this shit with the Bratva—he’s really riled up about the trouble down at Benny’s. There’s a lot going on.”

He’s not wrong—there has been a lot of trouble lately. After years of relative peace, it seems like things are fraying at the edges. People turning on us, attempted and successful robberies, fights. Loath as I am to admit it, Heath may be onto something.

“He might be right, but I don’t see what moving the vote up is gonna do. It’s not like you’re dying, Dad.”

“No, but I’m just about at the end of my term. And even if I wasn’t, I’m tired.”

Grampa squeezes Dad’s shoulder as I look on, trying to swallow theache in the back of my throat. My father has always been larger than life. To me, to everyone around him. But now I see the lines around his eyes and along his forehead where it used to be smooth. I see the subtle gauntness in his cheeks, the exhausted slouch of his body. I cast my gaze to the window. Sunlight dapples through the feathery Honey Locust tree on the other side, sprinkling shadows across the floor like petals. “You’re gonna be okay, Dad.”

“I know I will. But I need you to step up now.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Everything you’ve been doing. You and Tristan have done an exceptional job balancing your own shit with Kelly Logistics as well as Saoirse. I know it’s a lot, but I couldn’t be prouder of you two.” His face cracks into a kind smile. “I’d promote you both if I could, but that’s not how it’s done.”

“Dad.”

“You’re the head of this family now.”

I look at my grandfather, hoping he’ll step in, but he just nods and I realize they were probably discussing this before I got here. I shake my head, stomach rolling. “No.”

“Yes, Conlan. You’ve been at my side, preparing for years. You knew it was coming.”

“Dad—”

“You know what to do. Keep the heads of each family close. Listen to them. Accept their advice. Don’t be prideful; don’t ever feel like you’re above anybody. Some people will need favors; some will want jobs done. You’ll consider each request and take care of them, no matter what. Make sure the people around you feel valued, and make sure they don't think for one fuckin’ second that we're weak without me.”

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