J. Fynn - The Long Game

“My hangover will be gone in a few hours, and with any luck, you’ll be gone a few minutes after my dad gets his hands on you. So, all in all, I’d say I’m feeling pretty good.” He turned to walk away but then apparently decided taunting me was too fun to abandon. “And don’t touch anything, Buffer. I know you’re not used to having all this expensive stuff around. We don’t need your filthy handprints all over everything.” A malicious grin spread across his face. He turned his back again and disappeared down the long corridor.

“What an ass,” I said under my breath, then pressed my palm against a framed mirror that hung on the wall beside me. When I pulled it back, a smudged handprint appeared on its otherwise impeccably clean surface. I knew it was juvenile, that I might as well have stuck my tongue out at Judd’s retreating form, but the act of disobedience felt good anyway.

I scanned my surroundings. I’d never been invited to the Sheedy home before, and this wasn’t how I’d imagined it happening. Best case scenario, I was in for one hell of a lecture, but Pop had always been a man of few words. More likely, his three other sons would get a chance to finish the fight their youngest brother had started last night. I cursed my own stupidity for the hundredth time and vowed again to both drink less at parties and start listening to my brother’s advice where women were concerned.

Despite Judd’s admonishment to stay put, I wandered down the hall a ways, cautiously looking around at the ostentatious décor of the Sheedy mansion. Religious icons abounded, displayed in the form of paintings; wall-mounted crucifixes; and a side table where the Holy Mother stood on a white lace doily, flanked by St. Bridget and St. Jude, each on their own clouds of lace.

On one side of the hall was a set of double doors, which were closed, muffling the voices of the people behind them. I paused in my exploration, convinced I’d heard my name spoken from inside the room. The voices fell silent, and I moved away from the door quickly, afraid I’d be caught eavesdropping.

The double doors swung open, and Rosie stepped out. When she saw me waiting in the hall, she stopped abruptly. We stared at each other for a moment.

She smiled, and after a second, I grinned back. “Hey. Are you okay?”

She glanced into the room she’d just stepped from, then without a word, sprinted up the stairs. I stared after her, debating whether her smile had been a positive sign or if she’d just heaped all the blame for last night on me and was happy she’d gotten away without punishment.

“Come in here and have a seat, Shay.”

My heart thudded in my ears at the sound of Pop’s voice coming from inside the room. I could only guess what he’d been told already. If I was here for a scolding, I’d apologize and ask what I could do to make it up to the clan. If I was here for a beating, I’d take it like a man and maybe get in a few good licks myself. I squared my shoulders and attempted to look a lot calmer than I felt, then walked into the office with as much confidence as I could muster.

“Close the doors behind you,” Pop said.

He sat behind a huge mahogany desk that filled the center of the room, and I got the feeling this was what appearing before a judge would feel like. I pulled the doors shut and slid into the seat across from him. I glanced around, still trying to decide how to begin. My eyes landed on a framed picture mounted on the wall. It wasn’t the clumsily painted watercolor seascape that had caught my attention, but the fact that one side of the gilt frame had separated from the wall several inches. Pop followed my gaze to the wall behind him, then reached out and pushed the painting back into place. He cleared his throat and turned back to me.

Showtime. “I know my brother and I behaved badly last night,” I said, but Pop put up a hand to stop me.

“Shay, I didn’t send for you to get an apology. No one was hurt, and nothing was damaged. I know you boys were letting off a little steam.” He flashed a patriarchal smile. “ Gotlath noks yahr. And with four sons, I know that better than anyone.”

I was familiar with the saying, but I rarely spoke the secret cant of the Travelers and had to search my memory for its meaning. It came to me after a second.

“Youth likes to wander,” I said back in English. “I’m not entirely sure what you mean, sir.” This seemed too easy. He wasn’t angry enough, and I wondered if Rosie had lied for me or for herself.

“I suppose that’d be my way of saying young people will sometimes stray from their path, but it’s not the end of the world.” He chuckled. “Youth likes to wander, Shay. Sometimes it can lead to drinking a little too much at a party and picking a fight. Sometimes it can lead to a small indiscretion behind a trailer.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. My mind raced with all the explanations I’d made up during the restless period between last night and this morning, but none of them seemed right now.

The old man barked with laughter. “You look like a fresh-caught fish,” he said.

“Sir, I’m not sure what—” I stopped. What did he know? What had Rosie and Judd told him?

“If you have something to say, sublia —” Pop used the cant word for boy. “—now’s the time to say it.”

I felt like my stomach was full of stones. If I were caught in a lie, it would only make things worse. “I know I shouldn’t have left the pavilion with Rosie last night, sir,” I said to my knees. “I guess I just got caught up in the celebration and all. Prince had every right to try and whoop me for it, but I swear it’ll never happen again.”

To my surprise, Pop Sheedy laughed again, so hard tears welled in the corner of his eyes.

“Shay, are you so naïve as to believe I didn’t notice the two of you sneaking off? We protect our children in this clan, even when all they need protection from is their own hormones.” He erupted into another round of rasping laughter, slapping his palm onto his desk with a loud thwack. “Believe me when I say, I wouldn’t have let either of you get into too much trouble.”

I shifted uncomfortably in the rigid chair, wondering how closely he’d been watching. “So I’m not in trouble?” I asked when Pop Sheedy had finally stopped guffawing at his own cleverness.

“You’re not in trouble, and that son of mine was awfully sorry to hear it. But there’s one reason you haven’t been dragged for this and one reason only.”

I stiffened. Dragging was what I’d been most afraid of—more than getting my ass kicked by all four Sheedy boys. Dragging meant rumors, open hostility, and shunning. It would ruin any chance I had of improving my position in the clan. It would ruin my entire family. “What reason?”

“The reason is this: I think you could be a great asset. I’ve watched you since you were a tiny thing, and it’s clear to me you’ve got…” He paused as if searching for the right word, “…potential. Tomorrow, you’re getting an opportunity to prove I’m right in keeping your little slip-up quiet. An arrangement was made to sell a trailer to a fella down in Terrebonne Parish.”

I frowned. “Don’t trailer sales usually take a while to set up?”

“Wedding plans weren’t the only thing happening this week. We put an ad in the papers a few days ago hoping a gull would bite while everyone was back home for the celebration, and it looks like we had a bit of luck. You’ll be headed down there first thing tomorrow morning with Jimmy Boy.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. This was exactly the opportunity I’d been waiting for. Jimmy Boy and I had run our fair share of driveway paving scams and pigeon drops, but we’d never had the means to get into trailer sales. My excitement threatened to overwhelm me, but I tried to keep my body still and voice steady. “Pop, I want you to know how grateful I am for this chance. I don’t think I can tell you how much it means to me.”