Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 86360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Shorter than I am, he’s balding, with curls of gray at his temples and in his beard. The only resemblance between the two of us are the McCarthy family green eyes.
Vicar of Holy Family, the church that stands behind my family’s estate, Father Finn’s association with the McCarthy Clan is only referenced by the locals in hushed conversation. Officially, he’s only my uncle. Privately, he’s our most trusted advisor. If Father Finn’s come to this meeting, he’s got news for us.
He holds the door open to my father’s office, and when I enter I see my father’s already sitting at the table. He’s only called the inner circle this morning, those related by blood: Nolan and Cormac, my brothers, Boner, Father Finn, and me. If necessary, we’ll call the rest of The Clan to council after our first meeting.
“Boys,” my father says, nodding to Nolan, Boner, and me in greeting.
My father sits at the head of the table, his back ramrod straight, the tips of his fingers pressed together as if in prayer. At sixty-three years old, he’s only two years away from retirement as Chief, though he keeps himself in prime physical shape. With salt and pepper hair at his temples, he hasn’t gone quite as gray as his younger brother. He jokes it’s mam that keeps him young, and I think there’s a note of truth in it. My mother ten years his junior, they’ve been wed since their arranged marriage thirty-three years ago. I was their firstborn, Cormac the second, and Nolan the third, though my father’s made mention of several girls born before me that never made it past infancy. My mother won’t talk of them, though. I wonder if the little graves that lie in the graveyard at Holy Family are the reason for the lines around my mother’s bright gray eyes. I may never know.
I take my seat beside my father, and pierce Nolan and Boner with stern looks. Boner’s fucking right. Nolan’s eyes are bloodshot and glassy, and I notice he wobbles a little when he sits at the table. Irishmen are no strangers to drink, and we’re no exception, but I worry Nolan’s gone to the extreme. I make a mental note to talk to him about this later. I won’t tolerate him fucking up our jobs because he can’t stay sober. I watch him slump to the table and clear my throat. His eyes come to mine. I shake my head and straighten my shoulders. Nodding, he sits up straighter.
Cormac, the middle brother, sits to my left and notices everything. Six foot five, he’s the giant of our group, and, appropriately, our head bonebreaker. With a mop of curly, dark brown hair and a heavy beard, he looks older than his twenty-five years.
He nods to me and I to him. We’ll talk about our concerns about Nolan later, not in the presence of our father. Or any of the others, really.
“Thank you for coming so early, boys,” my father begins, scrubbing a hand across his forehead. I notice a tremor in his hand I’ve never noticed before and stifle a sigh. He’s getting older.
“It came to my attention early this morning that Father Finn has something to relay to us of importance.” He fixes Boner and Nolan with an unwavering look. “And since some of you haven’t gone to bed yet, I figured we should strike while the iron’s hot, so to speak.”
I can’t help but smirk when Nolan and Boner squirm. When Boner’s father passed, one of the few gone rogue in our company, my father took Boner under his wing and treated him as one of his own. I love the motherfucker like a brother myself. Though he’s got a touch of the class clown in him, he’s as loyal as they come and as quick with a knife draw as any I’ve seen, his aim at the shooting range spot-on. He’s an asset to The Clan in every way. When he’s fucking sober, anyway.
Now, under both my gaze and my father’s, he squirms a little. My father keeps tabs on everyone here, Boner no exception.
“I think it best I let the Father speak for himself, since he needs to leave early to celebrate mass.” None of us so much as blink, the Father’s duties as commonplace as a shopping list. We’re used to the juxtaposition of his duties to God’s people and to us. We have long since accepted it as a way of life. He has a certain code he doesn’t break, though, and out of respect for him, we keep many of the inner workings of The Clan from him. We give generously to the church, and though God himself may not see our donations as any sort of indulgence, the people of Holy Family and Ballyhock certainly do.