Page 18 of Southie
This isn’t good.
The man rubbed his neatly trimmed ginger-colored beard as if in deep thought.
“I’m not changing my mind,” my father said before the young man spoke.
The man’s jaw clenched. He touched the face of the Rolex watch, but the tension evaporated from his body before he responded to my father.
“I admire you, Mr. Jennings. Always have. I followed your career and believe you’re an honorable man, but I don’t think you realize who you’re dealing with, which is understandable. I’m not faulting you because you haven’t been living in Boston long, but to give you a heads up, Paddy O’Connor doesn’t take no for an answer. That’s why he sent me to deal with this little situation you’ve gotten yourself into. You’ve been refusing to do what we ask of everyone in Southie, and what you agreed to since you signed your name on the dotted line and opened your business in this neighborhood.”
Tilting my head, I blurted out, “Southie?”
My father groaned at my interruption. The man looked at me and frowned. Although I recalled hearing the name the night I met Mrs. Daugherty, I still couldn’t recall what it meant.
“The neighborhood your father has opened his business in. South Boston. The locals call it Southie for short.”
I nodded, and he turned his attention back to my father.
“I’m sure you were told the price of being in this neighborhood before the ink was dry on the contract to purchase the building. It’s something everyone who sets up shop here agrees to because they have no other choice if they want to run a business in Southie. Didn’t you agree to it, Mr. Jennings?”
My father remained silent, but his jaw clenched at the question.
“Daddy?”
“Not now,” he growled, slamming the palm of his hand on his oak desk.
I sighed, crossing my arms over my chest. His refusal to answer spoke volumes. Whatever terms the stranger spoke of, my father had agreed to them beforehand and now, he was refusing to do so. I was sure my father had thought because he was Roland Jennings and he was wealthy, he didn’t have to do anything unless he wanted to. The humble man that was my father died with my mother.
“Daddy, do what the man asks.”
“Stay out of this, little girl! This has nothing to do with you.”
My lips pursed, and I scooted back in the chair.
The stranger looked down at his watch, again, then back at my father before he continued. “Just because you are who you are doesn’t exempt you from the rules, Mr. Jennings. This is Boston not North Carolina. Famous or not, rich or poor, Paddy O’Connor runs Southie with an iron fist. He always gets what he asks of you. I know from personal experience.”
The stranger looked at me and something flashed in his eyes, but he closed it down before I could get a read on him.
“I’m not changing my mind,” my father sneered.
His head snapped back toward my father. The way his fingers tapped rapidly against his thigh showed he was quickly losing patience and becoming frustrated with the answers he’d received.
He drew in a deep breath. “Well, I’d like to come to an amicable agreement tonight, Mr. Jennings. Like I said before, I admire you. So, I’ll give you a few minutes to decide what you’d like for me to tell Mr. O’Connor.”
“I don’t give a fuck what you tell him! I’m not changing my mind.”
The younger man ran his large hand over his beard as though in deep thought. Temporarily lost in the movement of his hand, I imagined them caressing my skin as roughly as he did his beard. I whimpered, drawing the man’s attention. His smirk had me clenching my thighs, and his eyes dropped to the movement. Instead of looking me in the eyes, his gaze moved back to my father’s, which I was grateful for.
“What if I made you a proposition that may help both of us?” he asked. “This isn’t how I handle usually business because a side deal might come back and bite us both in the ass, but I’m willing to do this, this one time. However, Mr. Jennings, it’s a one-time offer which I need an answer for now.”
The young man looked from my father to me. Our eyes connected and my stomach fluttered. His intense, emerald eyes stared straight into my soul.
I looked into gorgeous eyes, gaze lowering to his plump lips and then to the rest of his body. He had to be at least six foot three, six foot four, and he was very muscular, indicated by the stretch of his white dress across his broad chest. My eyes widened when he caught me ogling him, and his mouth lifted at the corners.
“What kind of proposition could you give me that would change my mind, boy?” My father’s question caused him to pull his gaze away from me and back over to my father, who looked as though he had reached the end of his rope with the stranger. Just like the stranger had reached the end of his with my father.
I looked at my father and then the man who was around my age, maybe a few years older. I didn’t understand what they were discussing, but it had to be the reason my father had been so upset these past few months.
“I’ll pay your debts to Mr. O’Connor if you agree to certain terms.”
