Page 21 of The Games We Play
6
IRIS
“Young Iris,” Cillian says as I enter the house to see Michael the following Saturday.
He always used to call me that when I petitioned him for anything as a child.
There’s an age gap between me and my brothers. Mom struggled with fertility issues. I’m twenty-seven, Thomas is twenty, and Michael is nearly seventeen. There are two half siblings somewhere with Dad’s side piece. I’ve got no intention of getting to know them.
When I found out that we might end up in foster care, with Michael separate from Thomas and I due to the extra care he needed, I pleaded with Cillian to take us all in.
In fairness, the man had. But I see him collecting his pound of flesh from Thomas, who works as one of his soldiers.
“Cillian.” I stopped calling him Uncle the day I moved out of his house to go to college, determined to be independent. I took out loans. I took care of myself, holding down two jobs. I was a lousy lifeguard who didn’t like getting wet all that much, but a great barista. You want a leaf or a flower on your coffee espuma, I’m your girl.
Then, four months after I graduated, I found out he’d paid off my loans without my permission.
“I sent Michael out for a walk so I could speak with you alone for a few minutes.”
I slip my coat off my shoulders and lay it down on the arm of the sofa. Cillian glances at it disdainfully. So what if it came from a secondhand store as opposed to his bespoke navy suit from an atelier in Manhattan. “What did you want?”
Cillian gestures for me to sit, and I do. He takes the chair by the fireplace and crosses one leg over the other. Light reflects in the shiny patent leather of his shoes.
“How’s the leg?” he asks.
I fold my arms across my chest. “Perfectly fine and healed, given it’s been over a month since it happened. Thanks for asking.”
The corner of Cillian’s mouth lifts with a smirk. I might be the only person on the planet who talks to him like that. “Fair point. I should have sent something.”
I roll my eyes. “Or you could have just picked up the phone and called.”
He nods once. “Or you could let me move you closer, so we see you every day.”
My house is cheap, a rental in a less salubrious part of Asbury Park, so I can save money for a deposit on a mortgage. But it’s slow going. With an old car and a classroom that is meagerly stocked with supplies, there isn’t much left over at the end of the month. I’m an expert bargain hunter. But even if I only put ten dollars into my savings each month, I’ll feel like I achieved something.
“I know that will come with a price. And it’s where my job is. So, no thank you.”
Cillian huffs. “There’s a price to everything anyway. Why suffer? You don’t belong in a place like that.”
I shrug. “Maybe, but I don’t belong in a place like this either.”
It’s the dance we always do. Cillian wants to bring me into the family firm. Not because he thinks I’ll actually be good at it, but because I’d be under his control. It worries him that I’m an outlier who remembers how Dad was killed during a weapons exchange with the Iron Outlaws motorcycle club that went bad. The trial revealed it was simply men doing illegal stuff trying to screw each other over. What made it worse was Mom had passed away from cancer shortly before.
Cillian taps the chair arm with his fingertips. “I have a proposition for you.”
“I’m not interested.”
“Your time for objecting has passed, Iris. We had an agreement, you and me. You would stay away from any part of this life, and I’d look after your brothers in it. You begged me to look after them.”
I shake my head. Of course that’s how he’d frame it. “That isn’t what happened. I’ve never wanted a part in this life. I couldn’t live with the choices you make. And I wasn’t old enough to get custody of the boys when all this went down, when Dad died. We were going to go into foster care. You were the only uncle I could persuade to step up and take us in so we could stay together, and because Michael needed us. But I didn’t think you’d groom Thomas into becoming you, because you never had boys of your own.”
Cillian’s nostrils flare, the closest thing I’ve ever seen to him losing his temper. “Watch your words, wee Iris.”
I take a deep breath.
“My proposition,” he continues. “I want you to befriend Spark. Get close. Intimate even. And then I want you to find out details about their plans for the docks.”
Just the mention of his name sets my pulse racing. I can’t believe what came over me. How I touched myself like that in front of a stranger. I’m not even sure I can look him in the eye ever again.
