Bratva Beast by B.B. Hamel
Fiona
There were a lot of Doyle family hangouts in West Philly. The old-timer uncles liked a place called Erin O’Malley’s, a real classic Irish pub. The top-level lieutenants hung around a strip club on the edges of the city called Sparkles.
And the younger cousins like to drink at this open air beer garden called Compact. It was one of those cool places with a weird name, all industrial metal and exposed wood with a staff that looked like they got a weekly tattoo together. Lots of loud club music, lots of rowdy people getting drunk. There was an inside section with lounge seats and ping pong tables and an outdoor courtyard with a gravel floor and long communal benches.
I found my cousins sitting outside surrounded by college kids from Drexel and Penn. They almost fit in—almost, except they didn’t have that air of privilege and money, didn’t have that fun-loving attitude. My cousins had an edge, even when they tried to look like they were normal guys, mostly because they never knew what it meant to have stability.
It was etched into the way they hunched over their drinks protectively and constantly looked around assessing the place for threats.
They lived in a world of danger, totally different from the rich Drexel and Penn kids. It didn’t matter if we were all the same age. We might as well come from different universes.
The one thing they had in common was they all drank like there was no tomorrow.
For my cousins, there really might not be.
Donal spotted me first. “Well, look at this,” he said, standing up and hoisting his liter glass of beer into the air. “The prodigal cousin has returned.”
“Shove it up your ass, Donal.” I grinned at him and waved.
“What’s up, Fiona?” Ferris said, waving.
Tully wouldn’t look at me. Only stared at his drink.
A couple other girls were there. Shannon, with her big blonde hair and loud laugh; Imogen with her heart-shaped face; and Cath with her slim figure and mousy looks. The boys were rowdy, clearly already a few drinks in, but Cath gave me a welcoming smile at least and I sat down next to her.
I didn’t have a lot of friends in the family. That was mostly my fault though—I pushed everyone away and did my best to interact as little as possible. They reminded me too much of my brother and my father, and I hated the way the family twisted everyone into this little mold, made them into perfect soldiers for Cormac and the other Doyle uncles.
But Cath was different. She was the nearest thing to a best friend I had, which was kind of sad, actually, because we weren’t that close.
“Where have you been hiding out lately?” she asked, giving me a big smile. She had dark brown eyes and long brown hair, and didn’t look at all like the other Doyles. I didn’t think she was actually related to me, but sometimes it was hard to say. The lines were always blurred, except for when the uncles wanted to marry one of the younger folks off, then suddenly they could remember who was blood with who.
“Oh, you know. Working at the bar then hiding out in my apartment.”
“What an exciting life.”
“Better than hanging around here with these morons.”
“Ey, I take exception to that,” Donal said, slurring a bit.
Ferris laughed loudly. “We’re a bunch of fun, Fiona. You’re just a big old stick in the mud.”
“Oh, got me,” I said, grinning. “At least I’ve got my own place. You still living with your ma?”
Imogen cackled at that. “You totally do still live at home. What’s wrong with you, Fin?”
“Aw, shut it,” he said, still smiling bashfully, and ruffled Tully’s hair. “At least I’m not a little runt like this one.”
“I’m not a runt.” Tully glared at him and pushed his hand away. “I think you guys give Fiona too much shit. No wonder she never hangs out.”
“Touchy,” Donal said. “Then again, yer always a bit touchy, Tull. What’s with that, anyway?”
“Leave him be,” Shannon said with an exaggerated sigh. “How about you go buy me another drink, Donal?”
Donal waggled his eyebrows at her and the group laughed. Fiona felt a sudden jab of homesickness—she missed hanging around with these guys sometimes.
But whenever she started to let her guard down, she always remembered what was waiting back in the neighborhoods.
Her father, his belt. The Doyle family and their violence.
There was a reason she got out and never looked back, even if it meant she’d never fit in anywhere—because as much as she hated the Doyles, she couldn’t shake them off. That family was a part of her, lodged deep into her core like the definition of her self.
She was different from all the college kids. She could lie to herself, pretend like she was better than her cousins—or at least not a violent bastard that sold drugs for a living—but it wouldn’t make a difference.
She was trash like them. Always would be.
“You look good, you know,” Cath said, leaning on her elbows and smiling up at Fiona. “Like, healthy or something. You been working out?”
“Hardly. My only workout’s the walk between my bed and the couch.”
“Sounds like mine.” Cath grinned but it quickly faded. “Seriously though, you look happy. Whatever you’re doing, keep it up.”
I patted her hand and looked away. I didn’t know how to tell her that whatever she saw in me was just the leftover glow from sleeping with Mack the night before.
She’d never understand. None of them would. Being anywhere near a Morozov was the same as betraying the family—let alone sleeping with one.
Or working with one.
“You watching anything good lately? You’re always watching good stuff. Like documentaries and shit.” Cath giggled a little and took a long swig of her beer. “Like that one about those whales, what was it called?”
“Blackfish,” I said, watching Tully. “Horrible stuff.”
“Fuck SeaWorld,” Cath said firmly.
“Did you just say, ‘Fuck SeaWorld?’” Imogen asked.
“Yeah, I did, seriously, fuck SeaWorld.”
“What’d SeaWorld ever do to you?” Imogen leaned closer, glaring. “I like fish and shit.”
“You ever see that movie Blackfish? They captured these like killer whales or whatever and kept them in this tank and it made them go crazy. And now all the killer whales in captivity are like psychos that want to murder people and shit, and they have these terrible abusive lives, and—”
“Okay, okay, geez, I get it.” Imogen grinned at me and rolled her eyes. “Every time she watches shit like that, she’s talking about it for months. Please don’t give her anything else.”
“You see Tiger King yet?” I asked, leaning close to Cath.
Her eyes lit up. “Tigers? Nah, I haven’t seen it.”
“It’s on Netflix. If you don’t have a password, you can use mine.”
Imogen sighed and rolled her eyes. “Great, now I gotta hear about tigers for the next month. Thanks, Fi, I can always count on you to roll up and ruin my life.”
I laughed and winked at her. “You love it though. I’m charming.”
“Pain in the ass, more like.” Imogen stood up. “Come to the bathroom with me, Cath. I’m gonna try to convince you to watch Vanderpump Rules instead.”
“I’m not going to,” Cath said, sing-song and grinning, and the two girls took off. Donal and Shannon were still at the bar, leaning close to each other.
Fiona watched them with a frown then shifted over to Ferris. “Hey, when did that start?” She nodded toward Donal and Shannon.
He frowned and shrugged. “Honestly? Maybe just tonight, I dunno. This is the first I’m seeing it.”
“Good for them, finding true love in all this shit.”
Ferris snorted. “You’re such a cynic, Fi.”
“Didn’t know you even knew that word, Fer.”
“We’re not all morons, despite what you might think.” He stood up and stretched. “Gonna get another drink and spy on those two. Tull, you need?”
“No, thanks. I’m good.”
Ferris shrugged and walked off, leaving me alone with Tully. I moved closer to him and leaned across the table. “How’s it going?”
“Fine.” He didn’t look at me.
“You still mad about the other day?”
“Yeah, Fiona, what do you want me to say? That you pressured me into some shit?”
“I’m sorry. It was really helpful though.”
“Whatever. Why’d you even come tonight?”
I chewed on my lip, considering. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“I’m not telling you anything else.” He glared at her.
“Just one thing. I just need to know how many guys are going to be at that drop.”
“God damn it, Fi. No way in hell. Even if I knew, I wouldn’t say.”
“Don’t be like that, Tull. You know how this has to go.”
“Screw it.” He slammed his palms on the table. “I’m sick of you, okay? Always looking down on us like just because you’re not working corner, you’re somehow better than everyone. But you know what? You’re just a fucking bartender.” He threw back his beer, chugged it down, and slammed the empty mug onto the table. “So you live on your own, good for you. Doesn’t mean you have to be a dick.”
His words hurt more than I thought they would. I leaned back, staring at him, not sure what to say when Donal and Shannon came back. She hung on his arm, her cheeks bright pink and her eyes shining.
“What’s this all about then?” Donal asked, looking between me and Tully. “What’d you do, Tull?”
“Not me,” Tully said, standing. “She’s the one being an uppity bitch. You said so yourself last night.”
Donal grimaced. “Come on, man, you don’t gotta—”
“It’s fine,” I said quickly. “I can be an uppity bitch sometimes. Honestly, I get it. I don’t come around much.”
“We just wish you would hang out, that’s all,” Shannon said, looking awkward.
Tully stormed around the table. “I’m out of here.”
“Tull,” Donal said, but I quickly got to my feet.
“I’ll talk to him. Really, it’s my fault. We had an argument about something the other day and he’s not over it.”
Donal’s eyes were shrewd as he nodded at me. “Go on then, uppity bitch.” He smirked slightly, and I couldn’t tell if he was joking or what.
I didn’t stick around to find out. I hated the way they thought of me and hated that I could see myself in all their accusations. I held myself away from the family for a reason—there was too much pain and suffering, and I couldn’t sit around and watch these guys get themselves killed.
To them though, I probably did seem selfish and arrogant.
I caught up with Tully outside the bar. He tried to light a cigarette and cursed as the lighter clicked over and over.
“Here,” I said, putting my hands around the flame to block the wind.
He glared at me, but eventually it caught. He sucked in a deep pull and blew the smoke away.
“Thanks.”
“Since when did you smoke?”
“Took it up recently. Do I look cool?”
“Yeah, Tull. Real cool.”
He didn’t smile, only brushed his hair from his eyes. “I wish you’d stop asking me stuff about the family.”
“Why don’t you trust me?”
“You know why.”
I looked down at the sidewalk, staring at my feet.
I knew why—I wasn’t one of them.
Not really, and that was my own fault.
I held myself apart. I wanted to be different, wanted to be better, even if that hurt to imagine.
But the truth was, I never would be, not entirely.
No matter how hard I tried, I’d never escape where I came from.
“Would it help if I said I’m sorry, and that it’s for a good reason?”
He shook his head. “Not really.”
“All right, Tull. I get it. Can I give you a hug then? As an apology.”
He hesitated, glanced over my shoulder. Probably making sure nobody saw.
“Fine.”
I pulled him against me and hugged him tight. I was a little rough about it, grabbing at him all over, trying to be funny. He grunted a laugh and seemed relieved when I let him go.
“I’m gonna head out. You should go back inside. You don’t gotta ruin your night on my account.”
“No, it’s fine. You stay. I’ll finish this and come back in.”
I patted his cheek and shook my head. “Sorry, Tull. I tried, but it’s not the same, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.”
I walked off, leaving him there to finish his cigarette alone. I hurried, moving faster once I was around the corner, then faster when I got a few blocks away.
Until Mack’s truck pulled up in front of me and he rolled down the window.
“Get in,” he said.
I leaned against the door. “I shouldn’t accept rides from strangers.”
He smirked at me. “I have a feeling you don’t mind the danger.”
“True, and you seem nice enough.” I got into the passenger side and he drove off.
“You get what you came for?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Tully wouldn’t talk and I didn’t get a chance to try the others.”
“Why’d you leave then?”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a phone and held it up. “This is why.”
Mack frowned at it. “Your phone?”
“Not mine. Tully’s.”
His mouth fell open. “You stole the kid’s phone?”
“I figure, if he knows something, it’s in here. And if he doesn’t, then we can use it to ask someone that does.”
“Shit, Fiona. That’s devious. Do you think he’ll realize you took it?”
“I doubt it. They’re all getting drunk. He’ll probably assume he lost it.”
Mack laughed, shaking his head. “You don’t happen to know his pin, do you?”
“Of course not. But I can try…” I typed in 1234. The phone didn’t open. “Or maybe…” 0000 didn’t work either. “I’m out of ideas.”
“Don’t worry. I know a guy that can help.” Mack took the phone from me and shoved it into his back pocket while he headed back to the house. “Well done. I’ll admit, this is even better than I expected.”
“I’m pretty amazing when I really put my mind to things.”
He laughed and squeezed my knee.
I stared out the window, thinking back to that group, to the person I could’ve been if I didn’t work so hard to get away from that life. Cath seemed happy, and so did all the others—even if their lives were spent afraid and running away from the death and pain that hovered right on the edges of their awareness. They laughed loud and made fun of each other and acted like a real family—
Because the alternative was to wallow in the horror of their existence.
I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t fake my way through it.
And that hurt so much. I wanted to be a part of them, wanted to have that family again. I wanted that feeling of belonging somewhere.
Instead, I cast myself out, and distanced myself as much as I could.
The only thing that kept me around was Connor.
Now though, I didn’t know what I’d do if this didn’t work and we couldn’t bring my little brother home. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to pick up my shattered pieces, or if there would even be much left of me to put back together again.
