Page 22 of Southie
When I lay back in my bed and closed my eyes, I prayed for a peaceful night’s sleep; something I hadn’t had in a long time. He was hundreds of miles away, and I was safe. My fears of Franklin drifted away as my eyes closed.
Chapter 5
Liam
Two months later
The chorus of giggles echoing through my grandmother’s house threw me off, but the aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifting in the air pulled me closer to the sound. No one should have been here on Saturday morning. The nurse came on weekdays and family could be ruled out. None of those sorry motherfuckas would show up unless they needed money, and Nana wouldn’t sound this happy for them.
Imagine my surprise when I arrived at my grandmothers’ house, after leaving one of the most grueling workouts I’d ever had in my life under Roland Jennings, to see his beautiful and sexy daughter who I’d had the pleasure of meeting a few months ago.
The woman who’d starred in multiple X-rated dreams when I returned home that night and ever since then.
Sleep came hard every night since the day I met her. Vivid images invaded my nights full of passion, ending in endless hard-ons that no amount of jacking off would cure. Even the occasional hook up hadn’t been able to push her from my mind. For me to get my dick hard and to nut, I had to imagine her.
Images of her riding my dick, me between her thick luscious thighs, or her longs legs wrapped around my waist, caused me to toss and turn all night long. No matter how hard I tried to push her out of my mind, for the past few months, I dreamt of the beauty sitting at the dining room table with my grandmother like they were old friends. She was drinking a cup of joe and laughing at whatever vulgar thing my grandmother said like she was family.
My grandmother, Angelica Daugherty immigrated to the States when she was young from Cork, Ireland. She was a devout Catholic who attended Mass and Confession religiously. If anything would keep the seventy-nine-year-old Irish Catholic woman, who stood only four feet nine inches, from meeting Saint Peter and walking through the Pearly Gates of Heaven, it would be her mouth. She cursed, was lewd, and talked shit with the best of them.
Despite her sharp tongue and wicked sense of humor, she opened her home to anyone. I’d told her many times not to do it because it wasn’t safe, especially for an elderly woman who lived alone, but the fiery redhead that is my loving grandmother told me to fuck off anytime I mentioned it.
At this moment, I didn’t fault her for opening her door to a stranger. It allowed me to see the lovely Ms. Jennings under more favorable circumstances.
Most of the time, I came to my grandmother’s house on the weekends to visit and sometimes during the week if I had a few minutes to spare. Today, I came to shower, change, and make sure she didn’t need anything before I met Gerald for breakfast. I’d be going out of town later to meet up with a girl I usually fucked when I had the time or when I got that itch. Now seeingher, the itch was unbearable.
My grandmother still used public transportation against my wishes to get to church and back home. Those were the only times she left home because I stocked her fridge and pantry so I could prepare her meals on the weekends. During the week, a nurse took care of everything else, including her meals and cleaning.
It had been a few years since my grandfather passed away from a heart attack. I hated her being here alone all the time since I was the only one from the family who came to see her. My father didn’t, for obvious reasons, and my Uncle Ray was an ass wipe who didn’t care about anybody but himself and that self-righteous bitch he was married to.
Aunt Samantha, my grandparents' only daughter and youngest child was murdered years ago because of her husband’s involvement with the Italians.
My rat bastard cousins didn’t care about our grandmother but had no problem hitting her or me up for money when their parents didn’t want to give them any. Out of the dysfunctional Daugherty clan, I was the one left to take care of her.
They were so engrossed in whatever they were laughing about, neither one noticed I’d come in.
I placed my duffle bag on the floor and stood in the archway's opening, which connected the compact galley kitchen to the dining room. I leaned up against the frame of the opening with my arms across my chest and stared at the beautiful woman chatting it up with my grandmother like they had known each other for years.
This spectacular woman, who had invaded my dreams after only meeting her for less than thirty minutes, brought a smile to my face while I watched her interact with genuine interest with my grandmother. When we first met, she’d had her hair carelessly pulled into a ponytail. Today, a mass of mahogany brown curls with streaks of blond throughout landed midway down her back, framing her makeup-free oval face.
I liked it more this way. I vividly saw my fingers gripping her long locks while I made love to her, staring into her almond-shaped, chestnut brown eyes. I saw my hands running over her flawless caramel-colored skin that held rich, deep red undertones while her body thrashed underneath me. She had a perfection I’d never seen on another woman. Ms. Jennings was the most gorgeous woman I’d ever had the privilege to lay eyes on.
The night in her father’s office, emotions rose within me I’d never experienced with another woman. Those feelings and the crazy thoughts that invaded my mind, I knew I should ignore. I recognized the need to fight the pull I had to her. Nothing good would come of me pursuing her, but that didn’t negate the fact that I wanted her.
When she walked in on my meeting with her father, her natural beauty stunned me, but my attraction to her went well beyond her looks. I had a primal need to have all of her—not just her body, but her heart and soul too.
The fear that had reflected in her eyes as she stared between me and her father, I’d felt that shit in my chest. I wanted to remove all traces of it and fill it with something else. For one reason or another, I hated her fear of me which, before her, I could give a shit about. I only required people to respect me. If they feared me, that was on them.
At the time, her reaction hadn’t been something I’d wanted to dwell on. I’d been there to do a job, not examine the foreign feelings that had twisted my stomach into knots from her mere presence. Staring at her interact with my grandmother, the same knots wrenched in my gut
The feeling she was mine.
Her father had refused, for months, to pay Paddy, and Paddy sent me as the last resort. She’d made my job much more difficult. I was there to collect what he owed Paddy, not catch the scent of pussy. However, it was a scent that had me fantasizing about a life with a total stranger. It had me constructing a life I’d said I never wanted. My mind reeled at the crazy thoughts swirling through me and, watching her now, I questioned my sanity.
My father had been in the same position as Mr. Jennings. Just like my Pops, he’d made a choice to deal with Paddy O’Connor. My father had chosen to rack up debt with Paddy; Roland knowingly disregarded his obligations.
The realtor had explained to Roland Jennings the terms of setting up shop in Southie beforehand, and he’d ignored them. My father and Mr. Jennings were both made aware of the consequences of their actions.
Did I pity either of them or their present circumstances?
