Family drama

#ThirdTimesTheCharm: A letter from a mobster to his errant mistress

The following is a letter referenced in Third Time’s The Charm;

Beneath the tray was a bundle of letters, no envelopes, about an inch thick. Mary’s hands trembled and she quickly rubbed them against her pant legs to remove her sweat. She sent a brief nervous glance at the doorway and lifted the first letter up.

~~~

My dearest Mary,

I would say first, that I love you, except mostly these days I despise you the way a man can hate only that which he once loved more than life. I take joy in that, actually, because today I realized I still have a heart. How could I still hate you this much if I didn’t? The truth is I hate you because I still love you and I would give anything if I could stop. You wanted me in prison for my crimes once, well this is a worse punishment by far. I hope you are happy, wherever you are. No, I hope you are empty. Empty like I am. I hope you ache the way I do. For everything we could have had together.

I decided to stop writing you today. It’s not fair to my children. I held my new son in my arms last night and I made a promise to myself. I will not rest until I find you. It was better to let you run and hide when Big Joe was in charge, but now I’m the man in charge and I will find my son and bring him home to his sister and brother. But until then, I have to stop holding on to the past. I thought writing these letters would help. I know now, nothing will help but to see you in front of me instead of in my memories. I’m only left to wonder, which will win out when I see you again? The love, or the hate?

Until We Meet Again,

Mickey.

Read the rest of the letters here: Letters From Mickey Downey

#ThirdTimesTheCharm: A Letter from (a drunk) Mickey Downey to Mary Gates

The following is a letter referenced in Third Time’s The Charm;

Beneath the tray was a bundle of letters, no envelopes, about an inch thick…

~~~

My dearest Mary,

I struggle to write this. I guess I’m not sure if you care. I wonder if they’ll even give it to you. I guess it doesn’t matter because I’m not even sure if I’ll ever send it to you. I just can’t help but wonder if I’d stayed that night, hadn’t walked out, if I could have changed your mind. An hour. That’s the length of time it took me to lose everything that mattered. An HOUR and you were gone. I think they do that on purpose, the Feds. That way they can fill your head with lies and ~~manip~~ ~~manu~~ manipulations. Never noticed how long that word was before.

I guess I just need you to know I love you and Tommy and that’s a truth I need to make you know. But they won’t let me see you. They won’t tell me where you are. It’s inappropriate, my lawyers advise, in any case. That’s a long word too. Of course it is but you’re not just any witness are you? I know how this game works and ain’t that just the Goddamned joke of it all? For the first time I want to get to someone just because I need you to understand I was working on it. I had a plan and if you’d just waited. just waited a goddamned hour

I don’t know what the fucking Feds are telling you but I know for sure whatever you have to say it isn’t enough, so why do this thing? Why? What could they have promised you? Tomorrow I’m going to hope seeing me in court will make you see reason. If you were tired of it I mean I know you were but like I said I was working on it and you can’t take my son from me we could have worked something out

I hope there’s some way tomorrow

I don’t know maybe it’s best Big Joe is so pissed and Theresa just won’t shut the fuck up about getting her own baby and now I’m just alone

you’ll laugh because I just did that thing you can’t stand, lick the end of my pen. As if anyone ever died from that. I miss the way you nag. I miss tucking our boy in bed and I miss every fuckin thing

I should not write letters when I’m drunk. there. I nagged for you

I love you

Mickey

Read the rest of the letters here: Letters From Mickey Downey

“Second Chances” A Mickey&Mary Flashback (Warning: contains brief sexual material)

So a few weeks ago I asked you to tell me your favorite Mickey & Mary moment in The Downey Trilogy so far. I said I’d draw a winner and that person could request a M&M flash fiction; past, present, or future. I have two winners, Penny and Clyde. Penny wanted something “sweet”, and Clyde wanted a flashback to when Mary & Mickey got back together after finding out about the baby. He wanted to see “what has changed and what has stayed the same”.

What you have here is the bitter-sweet result. Even without reading Third Time’s The Charm, I think you will be able to see how much has changed between them, especially on Mickey’s part. And yet, when you do read Third Time’s The Charm, this flashback may help shine a light on what has not changed.

If you haven’t read the other Mary & Mickey flashback which takes place before this one, you can do so here.

And if you want even more insight into Mickey Downey’s convoluted mind, read his letters here.

Please note, this vignette contains adult subject matter, including sexual material and language.

Second Chances

By Genevieve Dewey

“But when I realized I was pregnant a few weeks later, I worked up the courage to tell him, hoping it might be just the thing he needed to make a clean break. Oh, don’t give me that look Tommy! I was nineteen! I was alone and pregnant. He said he loved me. But it was too late. They’d just gotten back from their honeymoon. But he promised he would take care of me. Foolish, foolish girl that I was, by the time you were born I had let him back in my heart and back in my bed.” – First, I Love You, Chapter Ten.

“I can remember the first night we got back together after finding out about the baby. I was overjoyed to have a second chance with you. You cried in my arms and I promised you I would always take care of you and our baby. I held you close and we would make love and sleep and make love again, never really letting go of each other. We were so close, so close I could feel more than just your heart beat, I felt like I knew the very dreams inside your soul…” – Third Time’s The Charm, Chapter Seven.

Twenty-Six Years Ago

Mickey slipped his hand into his jacket pocket again and grasped the key to his mother’s old brownstone. He closed his eyes as his fingers clasped it tight and allowed himself one more nervous, deep breath.

Nervous… over some girl. A nineteen year old girl. You gotta snap the hell out of it, he thought.

He opened his eyes to the sight of Mary frozen on the sidewalk about twenty paces away. Her face was blanched white, eyes startled and wary. He smiled tentatively, trying not to frighten her any more than his appearance outside her apartment building had clearly already accomplished. His mouth felt dry and his palms had a humiliating dampness to them.

He moved his left thumb and fiddled with the band of his wedding ring to remind himself he had no right to presume anything. No right to even hope.

“May I help you with those groceries?” he asked, remembering his manners at least.

She swallowed then nodded. He took the steps forward to take them from her, keeping her gaze. She looked not just peaked, but slightly unwell. Her trembling hand brushed her hair behind her ears then she looked down and fished out her keys from her purse.

“You, uh, you said you had something you needed to tell me?” he asked in the continuing silence.

She dropped the keys. He watched her pause on her way back up from retrieving them. He followed her line of sight to his ring. He quickly transferred the bag of groceries to his left hand. When her gaze met his again, she had lost some of her trepidation and simply looked tired. She nodded at nothing, as if having decided something then carried on into the building, still without answering his question.

He had placed almost all of her groceries in her nearly empty refrigerator before she did answer.

“I’m pregnant,” Mary said in a matter-of-fact manner.

It seemed to echo in the tiny apartment, or maybe that was his ears… or soul.

“I’m married,” he answered stupidly.

He cringed. Stupid, stupid… shit.

“I know that,” she countered, eyes finally flashing with something other than defeat.

“I just meant…” Mickey stopped and cleared his throat. “I just mean that if I could… that would be the first thing… I mean…”

He stopped speaking and rubbed his face.

“Michael…” he heard her soft voice say.

He dropped his hands and opened his eyes to see she had moved to stand a couple inches from him.

“I understand… you thought you had to marry her. Her father…” Mary began to say.

“No!” Mickey interrupted. “You don’t understand! And it’ll stay that way!”

She stepped back, a trace of fear returning to her face.

He grabbed her in that split second of shock and pulled her in for a desperate embrace. Damn words… they betrayed him, stood useless and obfuscating, against what his heart wanted to say. She struggled briefly then went limp against him. He dropped his grip only long enough to move one hand to her hair and bring her head back.

He claimed her mouth and let his lips speak far better than his feeble and contradictory words. He didn’t know whether it was to appease him or if she still returned his affections, but she kissed him back. She even seemed reluctant to part when he stopped the kiss.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against her bruised lips. He hated how his voice shook a bit.

Her eyes searched his and a single tear escaped. He stopped it with his mouth, kissing a trail back to her eyelid. He felt her nails grip his back and she both squeezed and shook him. Silent sobs quaked within her delicate frame. He stopped holding her and grabbed her face.

He kissed her again, this time less supplicating, more frantic. He was handling this all wrong, he knew. There was nothing he wanted more in the world than a second chance with her. But he knew what she was about to say; she wanted him to give her and this baby his name. And, of course, it was the one thing he couldn’t give her.

She pushed him away.

“We can’t,” she wailed.

She wiped furiously at her eyes as if she could banish the presence of pain.

“We can’t be together until you leave her,” she continued. “But once you do, we can start over with this baby. Be our own family.”

“I want to be with you,” Mickey replied. “More than you could possibly know. But Theresa and I just got married, Mary. It’s not as easy as you make it out.”

“What’s not easy? You said you loved me, not her. I’m having your child!”

Mickey held up a placating hand.

“I do love you. I want you and this child.”

“Then leave!”

“It’s more complicated than that. It’s been over a month since you and I parted. You said we were over…”

“Because I found out you were a—”

“Businessman,” he interrupted.

“And you refused to break up with her!” she continued furiously.

“I asked for more time. You said you never wanted to see me again.”

“That was before I…” she trailed off and walked over to the couch.

She sat on the dilapidated tweed monstrosity and wrung her hands. She rocked back and forth, looking ridiculously young and lost.

He felt like the lowest of bastards.

“Mary…” he said softly. “No matter what happens between us, or not, you don’t have to worry about supporting our baby alone. I’ll take care of you, both of you.”

He reached in his pocket and gripped the key again. He’d slipped it in his pocket on the off-chance she had reconsidered being with him and that was why she had called. He was glad he had, because he could give the brownstone to her now as a peace offering. Then maybe when she realized he was serious about taking care of her, she would give in and be with him again.

He sat next to her on the couch. She scooted a bit away. He sighed and held his palm out flat, the key in its center.

“This is the key to my mother’s house, where I grew up. Not far from here.”

Her head whipped over. She looked at him in genuine curiosity. He pressed his advantage.

“She asked me to give it to my realtor so he could find her a renter. I’d be happy to just let you—”

“No,” she interrupted firmly. “If I move there, I’ll pay rent. Directly to the realtor.”

He smiled a little. She had no idea how much easier that made it on him and his mother, to have Mary’s name on the documents and not his. Even if she stubbornly used her own money at first, it wouldn’t be nearly the amount that would actually exchange hands.

“Of course,” he replied. “But, let me pay half, and half the groceries, for the baby’s sake. I have to warn you, it’s not in the greatest shape. No one’s updated it in years. But everything’s in working order, which would be an improvement over this dump.”

“That’s fine,” she said eagerly.

He was pleased to see she was looking less forlorn. He moved his hand to her thigh. She stopped it with both of hers.

“Michael,” Mary warned. “We are not getting back together as long as you’re married.”

He took his hand back and nodded.

“I understand.”

Her brows knitted briefly and she tilted her head.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m glad you’re not angry… about the baby.”

“Angry at what? My own carelessness? It was that time on New Year’s, wasn’t it?”

She flushed and smiled down at her hands.

“I’m due the end of September, so probably, yes,” she mumbled.

He frowned as he finally did the math and realized she had kept the pregnancy from him longer than a month. He reached out and nudged her chin back up.

“It’s going to be alright, I promise,” he said.

He placed the key in her cupped hands.

“Take this. I’m sorry I can’t give you more just yet. Just… not yet,” he finished and stood up. “You know how to reach me.”

She nodded. He leaned down and kissed her on her forehead then hurried to the door before he lost his strength and started promising her more things he had no right to promise her.

“Michael?”

He turned in the doorway.

“I—I just needed some space. But I… I would like you to be a part of this baby’s life.”

She was wringing her hands again.

He smiled reassuringly. It was endearing how she thought she’d have to ask. If she only knew… he felt like he’d won the lottery; a baby would tie her to him forever.

“I’ll have the realtor drop by with the paperwork. You can move in anytime. It’s fully furnished. Just let me know when you decide to move, and I’ll send some men from the shipyard over to help. You shouldn’t be lifting anything in your condition.”

She released a tiny laugh and clicked her teeth. He thought he could hear her say something about overprotective men as he shut the door. He put his porkpie fedora back on and contemplated the nasty hallway floor. He’d give her a couple months, three maximum, alone in that three bedroom brownstone, playing the gentleman. Then he would start to show her how much better it would be with occasional company, leading to the occasional touch. No pressure.

His good intentions lasted a month.

On a bright sunny day in May, he told Theresa he’d be out of town for a week—and he would be, as Brooklyn was obviously not Riverdale. If it had been up to him, they would have picked a reasonable house on Staten Island, where he “worked”. He despised commuting. Unfortunately, one didn’t turn down wedding gifts from Giovanni Anastasio. But Theresa knew he hated that stuffy mansion, and used every excuse he could to be away, so she wouldn’t think anything of it. He wouldn’t have bothered with chicanery, except he had promised not to flaunt the fact it was a loveless marriage. And he figured a mistress and a baby might stretch the limits of her father’s patience.

Since it was Big Joe that insisted Mickey and Theresa get married in the old neighborhood, at the same Brooklyn church Mary attended, the fact they were immediately afterwards “gifted” with a home nowhere near Theresa’s rival had probably not been a coincidence. Nothing Big Joe did was a coincidence. Until now, Mickey had thought it a blessing since he seemed incapable of forgetting this slip of a girl through mere will-power.

He put in a brief appearance at the new financial office downtown then took the subway to Queens to make a very public show of visiting Luciano’s “social club”. Then he rented a car and drove into Brooklyn. He had a vague thought about changing his clothes but figured less people would recognize him in his suit and tie. In fact, they might just assume he was the realtor checking on the new tenant in the old Downey home.

It was supper time when he showed up on his mother’s doorstep—now Mary’s doorstep—with a bouquet of unopened red roses and a grin full of intent.

She had a nervous, but obviously delighted countenance.

“How are you settling in, Mary girl?” he asked.

“Mary girl!” she laughed.

Her eyes had dark circles under them, but her hair looked a little healthier, and her complexion was a bit less wan.

“That’s the second time you’ve called me that,” she continued as she tugged him inside. “The first time I almost thought you called me a marigold.”

“Well, your name’s Mary, and you’re my girl.”

“I’m not your girl,” she replied and waggled a finger like a schoolteacher.

It was totally incongruous with her youthful appearance dressed in jazzercise clothes, her hair in a bushy pony-tail. A slight thickness to her middle was the only indication she was pregnant.

“You’re a girl,” he bantered as he followed her into the little living room. “Anybody with a teen attached to their age is.”

He set the flowers on the end table nearest her and stood close enough to make her tilt her head up to look at him.

“And what does that make you?” she asked in a pert tone.

“A dirty thirty year old man,” he whispered, his lips just shy of hers.

She shuddered and caught her breath.

“Michael…”

“Aye, the lad’s a poet and di’n know’t,” he teased in an Irish accent.

He dipped his head to kiss her neck.

“Michael—”

He stepped back before she could push him away.

“So, do you need any groceries?” he asked quickly.

He walked towards the kitchen before she could argue. Being back in this house was making him feel… well, he didn’t know what. Alive? Young again? Filled with purpose?

He turned back around to see her contemplating him with a wary, but entranced, gaze.

This wasn’t even going to be difficult, he thought with a twinge of disappointment.

Then he felt a most unprecedented sense of guilt. It wasn’t stemming from the fact this was morally wrong, him manipulating her into being his mistress, but from the sudden clarity that she deserved much better. But the milk was already spilt. She had his child in her; she would be his responsibility regardless. He might as well make sure it would be a pleasurable arrangement for her.

Unexpectedly, she smiled.

“Would you like to stay for supper?” she asked.

There was just a hint of playful resignation in her voice, enough to tell him she recognized he had intended on wrangling an invitation from the beginning.

He ordered food to be delivered, and while they waited, he quizzed her on the status of her pregnancy and whether she was taking care of herself. He asked questions about her waitress duties at the restaurant. She seemed pleased by his interest, but he just wanted to make sure she would not be exhausting herself working in a different borough. He might see about finding her a desk job at a nice accountant’s office here in Brooklyn, or better yet, convince her she didn’t need to work at all.

After they ate, he insisted she lay on the couch while he gave her a foot massage. She was still staring at him like she couldn’t believe her own luck. He was the lucky one, he knew that. If she knew even half of what there was to know about him, she’d run for the hills. At least she already knew he was connected, so there was that.

When he heard her soft snores, he moved his hands from her feet, took his dress shirt off, and undid his belt. He tugged gradually at her stirrup pants and gently pulled them down to reveal her gorgeous, milky-white legs.

She murmured indistinctly in her sleep, but didn’t wake.

He slowly, firmly, moved his hands along her thighs, over her luscious hips, and underneath her baggy, bright-colored top. He began kissing her stomach and the under-edges of her breasts. As he gently took a rosy nipple in his mouth he reached one hand between her legs and caressed her nub.

She moaned and her hips arched in rhythm with his strokes. He lifted his head from her breast to study her face. Her eyelashes fluttered, but what glimpses he had of her eyes told him she was still more than half asleep. He dipped his mouth to her neck and nibbled just above her collarbone the way she liked. His fingers entered her and he was pleased to see she was very wet. Her muscles clamped around his fingers and she breathed out a long sigh.

He raised his head again, and just as her eyes fully opened and recognition dawned, he captured her mouth. He pressed her head down with the force of his kisses as he fumbled with his pants to liberate himself. Her hands pushed against his chest, but he scooped his other hand underneath her on the couch and pressed their bodies together.

“Oh!” she exclaimed as he entered her.

He kissed her a few more deep times then lightly dragged his lips along her cheeks. She was panting and breathless.

“Tell me to stop, and I will…” he whispered.

“You… you might’ve… asked before… oh, Michael…” she groaned in pleasure as he began to move faster.

He knew he wasn’t playing fair. But he never had before, why start now? He needed her with a desperation that felt like that last second of holding one’s breath before drawing air. There was something different when he was with Mary; he couldn’t put his finger on it. It wasn’t just the sex, it was being with her. There was no shortage of beautiful women in New York City, and she wasn’t even beautiful, more classically pretty in a wholesome, milkmaid sort of way.

But he was captivated by her.

Her smile seemed more radiant than the most cultured of society belles. Her laughter, more real and genuine than any he had ever heard. Everything about her was a novelty to him. Everything she did, unique and precious. He almost felt… cleansed in her arms. The idea someone so sweet, pure, and innocent thought him something of a prize… it was intoxicating.

He bit on her lips, drawing out gasps and squeaks, then grabbed her tight round ass and squeezed its cheek as he brought her hip up a bit. He finished a bit rougher than he’d planned, but he had been hard pressed for her since he woke up.

He allowed himself the physical and emotional release of laying on top of her for a few seconds then rolled them both over so they were side-to-side on the couch.

“Did you get a…?” he asked.

“Yes…” she breathed, eyes still closed.

He rubbed his hand up and down her back, watching the pulse in her neck and the sweat glisten against her pale, flawless skin.

“I guess that’s one advantage to you being pregnant; no need for rubbers.”

Her brownish-green eyes blinked open. She started to smile then it morphed into a frown. She looked a little nauseated.

“Are you… do you have morning sickness?”

Her frown deepened and she pushed from him to sit up. He snuck his hand under her top and ran his fingertips along her spine. She shivered.

“Mary?”

“Are you sleeping with her?” she asked, so softly that he barely heard her.

His mouth opened a few times, but he had no words to put in it. Had they been? Yes, of course. Would they now? He had no idea. He hadn’t really thought any of this out.

“She knows I’m in love with you and not her,” he finally managed to say.

That was true enough…

Mary seemed to have enough skepticism to look over her shoulder at him with narrowed eyes.

He chuckled.

“Mary, it’s a marriage of convenience. She has trouble standing up to her father. She wants a career and he wants her to be someone’s good little wife. Since I need his support to… properly run my business, we made a deal, her and I. That’s all it is between us, just a temporary arrangement until she finishes her degree in fashion.”

She frowned again then scooted a bit so she faced him more.

“I guess I can I understand that on her end. My parents didn’t approve of me coming here, wanting a singing career. It’s hard when you don’t want to disappoint someone you love. I wish that I could have found a way to follow my dreams and keep my parents happy at the same time.”

Such a sweet girl… feeling empathy for Theresa.

Little did she know; that viper wasn’t worth her concern. Theresa was a great ride-or-die sort of friend, but she rarely did anything out of love or compassion for others’ feelings.

“But I really don’t understand how it benefits you?” Mary wondered.

“See, the way it works in my business is… well, it’s sort of like the military. You have to work your way up through the ranks by proving your worth, by people who are higher than you promoting you. I need her father to vouch for me if I want to be Boss like him some day.”

Good god, man, shut the hell up. Why are you telling her this?

“So… it’s just a temporary means to an end?”

“Yes.”

Her tiny hand traced the Sicilian flag on his left bicep.

“Did you get this for him?”

“No, for my grandmother. She’s Italian.”

“I didn’t realize that… there’s a lot about you I don’t know,” she replied in a question laden statement. There seemed to be a catch in her voice.

He sat up and took her hands. He waited until she met his gaze. Her eyes shimmered with fresh tears.

“Mary, I would give anything if I could give you what you want right now, but I really can’t. But I do love you, and you love me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she replied in a strangled cry.

“We can be happy here. I can spend the rest of this week with you and see you as often as I can after that. I’ll be here for our baby’s birth, to help you raise him or her, and one day, we’ll be together all the time. I swear it. Just say you’ll take me back, and on my life, I will make it happen.”

He meant that. Absolutely meant it.

He just had no idea how the hell he was going to make it happen.

She nodded, flung her arms around his neck, and cried. He rocked her back and forth for a while then lifted her in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. He laid her down on the bed and kissed and caressed her until her sobs turned into sighs of pleasure again.

They never fully slept that night, just made love and dozed, and then made love some more. He found himself yet again whispering promises he had no right to make. He needed her to believe them, believe it enough for both of them. She told him of her plans for the baby nursery, her excitement in finding out her friend Claire lived only a block away, and how much she loved the idea of raising their child on a street with so many young families.

Her eyes sparkled with youthful dreams and he wanted, with his entire soul, to make them come true.

It was a shame he’d already mortgaged his soul away.

Missed any Third Time’s The Charm quotes?

Missed any of the quotes I’ve been sharing on Facebook? Here is a collection of them so far as we countdown to the release of Third Time’s The Charm! And stay tuned for an exclusive, never before seen, Mickey & Mary flashback coming soon!

Prologue

He opened his eyes and the sound of boyish laughter died in a ghostly echoing way, replaced by the terrible soul-searing sound of silence.

Chapter One

This guy… a handful of weeks into retirement and he’d already done a 180 and was acting like someone had stolen his favorite blankie from him – the same blankie he had just declared himself too old to snuggle with.

Chapter Two

James must have sent the flowers in a preemptive strike knowing he was going to be late. It was awfully sweet of him, she thought, and a cunning move. She really loved that about him. She couldn’t wait to show him how much tonight… whether he wanted it or not.

Chapter Three

“The first time, I ran away. The second time, you ran away. If they try it again, let’s just run away together.”

Chapter Four

“A man who doesn’t protect his family is nothing! Less than nothing. I’d rather be dead. You wanna do it your way, that’s fine, but I’ma do it my way.”

Chapter Five

Had he asked for twenty-four hours without any more surprises?
Hell, he’d like to make it a full hour.

Chapter Six

“One of the things I find most attractive about you is the massive sneaky streak you have.”
Kiki jumped and turned. She placed a hand to her racing heart and caught her breath at the huge grin on her fiancé’s face. She met it with one of her own.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Agent Hoffman.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s my line,” he answered with a chuckle.

Chapter Seven

“These are mine. You meant them for me. You might want to lie to yourself they were meant for you, but the lying to me stops today. Now,” Mary finished firmly.

Chapter Eight

The logical part of Tommy’s brain understood that maybe she had only done it to protect him as child and not because she wasn’t willing to be with a mobster. But the child in him resented the lack of a father when he had needed him most. Now that he was an adult, watching them together made him feel like it was all for nothing—the loneliness, the fear, the lies, and resentment.

Chapter Nine

“She has a sweet, giving heart,” Downey said, leaning back in his leather office chair.
“I know.”
“Girl like that just attracts predators.”
“I’m not a predator, sir. I’m just a man who’s in love with your daughter.”

Chapter Ten

“And you better start praying, amico, that she’s in pristine condition when we find her or I’m not gonna stop cleanin’ ’til a whore’s hooch shines, capiche?”

Chapter Eleven

Just one word, infused with naked desperation; half prayer, half enchantment. It felt like a freezing charm on her soul making her his prisoner, yet setting her free all at once. She had always felt that way with him, like a butterfly in a zoo exhibit, permitted to flutter about and live its life without restraint yet never truly free.

Chapter Twelve

Tommy flipped the watch over.
“‘Famiglia’… That’s it?”
“That’s everything.”

Chapter Thirteen

“Ye claim to love my son but ye sure as shite don’t understand him if ye don’t understand why he stayed away. Yer the one who left, ye daft woman! Wit’out even tellin’ him why or givin’ him a choice. Of course he’d be waitin’ fer ye to make the next move. That’s how the game of chess is played. At least he gave ye the respect of makin’ the choice to not choose.”

The Good Life

I am currently working on a full length Dom & Kate novel that I have tentatively called “The Good Life”.

It takes place after the events of The Bird Day Battalion and The V-Day Aversion and while Dom & Kate’s love story is still a major focus, this one will feature a romance for Kyle Anderson. There might even be a cameo or two from his work partner, Detective Tommy Gates from The Downey Trilogy.

I’m making NO promises on the release date so until then, here is the prologue (subject to final editing, etc):

The Good Life

By Genevieve Dewey

PROLOGUE

Fourteen years ago

“Hey, Motor Mouth!”

Katelyn continued walking, her arms pumping, hands balled and her eyes squinted in a fine line. This was the second week in a row that Dominic had followed her home from school. True, he lived next door, but he always took a separate route home. Except the last two weeks he had followed her and her—hopefully—boyfriend Humphrey the whole way mocking poor Humphrey’s name—he couldn’t help his name could he?—until Humphrey had refused to walk her home anymore. She figured Dom would stop then, but no, here he was.

“Come onnnnn, Skate…”

Katelyn swiveled on her heel and placed her fists on her hips.

“I…Told…You…To…STOP calling me that!”

Dominic ran a hand through his floppy curls—the only almost fifteen year old boy she knew who could have curls and still seem cool—then he grinned. He took a few more lazy strides to catch up and mimicked her stance. She complemented her glare with a pathetic sneer, pathetic because she sort of wanted to laugh at his superman pose. Dom had that effect on her, and it was one of the many things she hated about him. It was not natural or normal for a person to dislike another person the amount she disliked her obnoxious neighbor and yet he always knew how to get a laugh or smile out of her.

“Ok, I’ll stop calling you Motor Mouth. It’s your stupid brother’s nickname anyway.”

“Kyle is not stupid! And I meant Ska—”

“I was just wonderin’ if you wanted to come to my birthday party Friday night?” he interrupted in a lightning fast jumble.

She raised her eyebrows.

“I always come to your birthday parties, remember? And you come to mine. Because our moms are BFFs and we have no choice in the matter,” Katelyn replied, her nose in the air, and an impatient foot tapping. “And I thought it was on Saturday at two?”

He gave a carefree shrug and a lopsided grin but his eyes were on her front. She looked down at herself. Did she have a ketchup stain or something?

“No, I mean, my sister—you know how she just got her license? Well, she said she’d drive me and a few friends to Omaha this Friday night to watch hockey for my birthday. She’s going to just drop us off at the rink and go meet up with her friends, and she promised not to tell Mom because she’s cool like that. So I’m calling that my real party. Kandace is going. She said we can hang out at her friend Grace’s afterward.”

“Oh,” she said awkwardly.

That was possibly the longest thing Dom had said to her since she broke her arm after taking his dare to pop a wheelie on his skateboard. He had written her a horrible poem, horrible even for a nine year old. He called it ‘Ode to Skate’ and recited it to her after she got back from the hospital and his mother made him come over to apologize. It was really bad yet really funny. Which was basically Dom in a nutshell. But ever since he’d hit puberty he had been more prone to witty one-liners and snarky set-downs and avoiding her… until the last few weeks.

She frowned. How come Kandace hadn’t told her anything about this party? What good was it having a sister so close in age if she was going to keep stuff from her? Apparently she was just good for borrowing clothes. Katelyn shifted her feet and narrowed her eyes again. She wouldn’t put it past Dom to be playing some sort of prank on her.

“Won’t Demetria have to check in? I can’t imagine your parents will let her have the car the whole night.”

“Naw, you know how it is. Mom and Dad pretty much let her do whatever she wants.” His voice held resentment. She shook her head. He resented how his sister always got to do whatever, but speaking as the often overlooked kid in the large Anderson clan, she would love to have the amount of attention Ramona and Dino Valentini lavished on Dominic. The newly budding feminist in her also felt bad that Demi was overlooked not because she was one of many like Kate was, but because of the Valentini crime of not having a penis. In fact, new comers to the community were often surprised to learn the Valentinis had a daughter that was how much they forgot to mention her while they extolled Dom’s virtues to all that would stand still.

“Well… still… I don’t want to break any rules…” Katelyn began to say.

Dominic rolled his eyes and snorted.

“We’re not,” he drawled condescendingly. “We have permission to go into town with Demi. We are actually going to watch hockey. I thought you liked hockey?”

“I do! I just don’t want to get into trouble, that’s all. I’m going to be in high school soon. Stuff like that goes on your permanent record.”

“Stuff like what? What record?” he asked, looking confused. She noticed his eyes had made their way back to her front only lower this time. She was starting to feel self-conscious. She crossed her arms and his gaze rose to hers again.

“You know, your college resume? If you want to get the best scholarships to the best schools you have to have a flawless record.”

His mouth dropped slightly and his brow furrowed.

“I was actually thinking about studying my practice National Merit Exams this Friday,” she continued. “And you probably don’t want someone a year behind you tagging along anyway.”

His confused expression cleared up.

“Naw, that’s alright. Like I said, your sister’s coming and everyone knows you two hang out a lot. And that new kid Andrew is coming. He’s in your grade. Just no inviting Kyle, ok?”

“’Kay…” she replied softly. Her eyes were starting to hurt from keeping them narrowed for so long. She sighed. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“What’d’you mean? I’m always nice to you. We’re friends.”

It was her turn to drop her mouth in confusion. Friends? They hadn’t been friends since grade school. Friendly neighbors, yes. Constantly forced into celebrating holidays and birthdays together by their mothers, yes. But the way she saw it, that made them more like… like… distant family or prisoners in the same jail or something.

“Anyway,” he paused with a huge grin and tapped her shoulder with his fist. “Rumor is we’re gonna play Spin the Bottle at Grace’s after the game, so better practice your pucker, Skate.” He laughed and sauntered off towards their houses. She stared at his back for a full minute. He had to be kidding, right?

Only… not.

All through the Lancers game he kept bending forward from two spaces over and making kissing faces, sending the boys next to him into gales of laughter.

Jerk, she thought. He had obviously just invited her to be entertainment for his friends. She nudged Kandace in front of her. Kandy turned around, looked between them and threw an ice cube from her drink at Dom.

“Quit it, moron!”

The boys started laughing even harder until the people behind them said,

“Shut it, dumbasses!”

Their equally scathing reply was lost in the dun dun dun dun of the hockey rink organ and the surge of the crowd as the Lancers almost scored. The boys completely forgot about her and started dissecting the play and the ice and the wobble in the puck and blah, blah, blah.

Katelyn sighed. She liked hockey, but not that much. She mostly liked it when the players got into a fight and the Zamboni guy shot hotdogs. And to think, she could be home reviewing her P-SAT words with a nice pint of Ben & Jerry’s…

It didn’t get any better once they arrived at Grace’s on the west edge of town. It was practically her bedtime yet everyone was jazzed like it was midafternoon. Katelyn stifled a yawn and jumped a bit in guilt when she felt Dom’s hand on her back pushing her through the door to Grace’s large family playroom. She looked at him, expecting a snide remark but he just flushed a bit and dropped his hand like she had cooties. There were four people sitting in a circle around a Ouija board. Each of them had a bowl of popcorn and M&Ms in front of them.

“Hey! We started without you guys! Come pull up a patch of carpet,” a girl with jet black hair a few years older said. “I’m Grace,” she said to Katelyn then pointed at the others in the circle. “This is Tommy, and Cam, and Mindy.”

Dom waved and pointed to Kate and Kandy.

“This is Katelyn and Kandace, they’re my neighbors. And you guys already met Hayden, Andrew and Jaxson.”

Grace nodded. “You staying, Demi?”

“Sure,” Demi said in a bored mumble then flopped down next to Grace. She was still going through her Emo phase, which was not quite Goth, more like Goth-Lite. All of the black wardrobe and morose demeanor, none of the Morrissey and facial piercings.

“Ouija boards are dumb,” Hayden said. “Thought we were going to play Spin the Bottle?”

Dom nudged him. Grace and Demi looked at each other, eyebrows raised.

“I don’t care if we play Spin the Bottle,” Cam replied, looking amused. He grinned at Grace and she flushed and brushed her long hair behind her ears.

“I think Ouija boards are fun!” Katelyn interjected. “And we all just met each other. It’d be a little weird to play a kissing game.”

“What’s the matter, Skate, you chicken?” Dom asked with a huge grin.

His posse started making chicken sounds. She raised her eyebrows and pressed her lips together. Boys were soooo predictable. She felt Kandy’s hand on her elbow.

“That’s the point, baby sister,” Kandy said. “To get to know each other?”

Dom and his friends started laughing again then argued about who was spinning first. Once everyone sat in a cramped circle, Katelyn started praying under her breath that the bottle wouldn’t rest on her. But fate was not on her side because the instant Dom had a turn the bottle spun right to her. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he did it on purpose. His friends all started laughing again and Kandace pushed Katelyn towards the door.

“Go on. Two minutes,” Kandace said loud enough for everyone to hear, then leaned closer to whisper in Kate’s ear. “Just remember not to hold your breath.”

“What?” Kate whispered back, but Dom yanked her hand and shut the door.

The closet was dark and cramped, as closets were supposed to be, and Kate thought whoever invented the game of Spin the Bottle had to be a man because no girl would find it even remotely romantic. Dom’s hands fumbled on her until he found her face. When she could feel his breath on her face she leaned forward and to the side to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

“There. We can go back out when the timer goes off and you can say we kissed.”

He was silent but his face never moved away from hers.

“Dom?” she whispered.

She sucked her breath in as she felt his lips brush hers softly. It tickled with a prickly rush that made her want to rub her lips to make the odd sensation go away. But she never got the chance; his lips met hers again only firmer. The tingle went away, replaced with wetness and pressure. It… didn’t feel bad at all, but, it still felt… weird. Especially weird because it was her first kiss and she had never figured she would have her first kiss with the same boy who had potty trained with her.

She felt his tongue prod her mouth and she pushed him back.

“Dom!” she whispered as forcefully as she could.

“What?” he whispered back.

“What was that?”

“It’s called French kissing…”

“I know what it is, Dominic!” she retorted in a stern voice. “We’re not actually making out, were just supposed to pretend to!”

He was silent again. Then…

“We… we are?”

“Well, duh, Dom! We’re friends, like you said. Or were you just saying that and now you’re going to make fun of me with your friends?”

“I… no, I mean… yeah we’re… I mean no, I’m not going to…” he trailed off.

His hands left her arms and they felt cold from where his sweaty palms had been.

“Time!” yelled voices from the other side of the door.

Kate popped up and almost tripped over Dominic in her haste to get to the door. She breathed a huge sigh of relief after she opened the door. He stood up and rubbed his hands on his jeans. He looked pale and distracted.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

He looked up from the floor and flashed a quick grin, though he still seemed preoccupied. He shrugged.

“Sure. Think I just ate one too many hotdogs at the rink.”

He brushed by her and gave two thumbs up to Andrew. The boys guffawed, making Katelyn flush with embarrassment. She shot them all a furious frown and deliberately sat as far from Dominic as she could. Kandace tilted her head and looked between them then shared a quick look with Demi who rolled her eyes.

“I’m not playing anymore,” Katelyn said.

Her comment was greeted with a mixture of laughter and jeers.

“Hey, don’t make fun of her! She just doesn’t want to tarnish the memory of me,” Dom said with a smirk and traded high-fives with his posse.

“Or you were just that bad,” Kandy teased.

“Ooohh, ouch,” Grace laughed.

Dom glared at her but his grin slipped and he shot a quick look at Katelyn. Kate began to feel bad; it was his birthday after all…

“I’m sorry. I’m just not comfortable kissing strangers. Dom’s a friend so he doesn’t count,” Katelyn said with her chin in the air.

“Ouch,” Grace said again.

Katelyn couldn’t figure out why. Or why Dom was starting to look mad.

“I have to have the car back by midnight, so if we could wrap this up?” Demi half drawled, half whispered. She looked like she could just waste away from ennui. Katelyn had to give her credit, whenever Demi was in a new phase she went whole hog with the part.

The rest of the evening was fairly uneventful, but when she got in bed that night she thought about Dom and how, in retrospect, it was a really nice thing to invite her. She vowed to thank him properly the next day at the family birthday party. The only problem with that was, Dom pretty much avoided her the entire time. And come Monday, he didn’t follow her home. She was both disappointed and relieved. When he continued to avoid her for the next few weeks, she began to think he hadn’t meant it about being friends or she had hurt his feelings. On the third week, instead of reviewing SAT words at lunch with her friend Tracy she wandered over to the cubbie holes where the boys hung out.

“Hi, Dominic,” Kate said shyly. All the boys stared at her with dull eyes. Dom smiled a bit but he looked wary.

“Whatsup?”

“Oh, I was just saying hi.”

The boys started snickering. Katelyn flushed.

“Ok,” Dom said, eyebrows raised.

“Ok,” she replied.

Dom nodded, eyebrows rising even farther. Her flush deepened.

“Actually, I was just wondering if you were going to my Track Meet on Thursday?” Kate threw out, hoping to salvage her pride.

Dom shrugged but his face went back to normal and he sat up a bit.

“If football practice is over, I could maybe stop by,” he said. His friends all went back to looking bored, except the new kid Andrew.

“Are you two going together?” Andrew asked.

“Nah,” Hayden answered for Dom without looking up from his sketch pad. “Dom’s dating Mindy Potanski, where you been?”

Dom nodded but he looked at his shoes. Katelyn’s flush began to feel like the worst sunburn she had ever had. She had been worrying about hurting his feelings and the truth was he was just busy with his new girlfriend. She smiled brightly showing as much teeth as she could without looking like a horse.

“Yeah, we’re just neighbors and friends, right, Dom?” Katelyn replied.

“Right,” Dominic concurred without looking up. He looked bored again and started unfastening and fastening the Velcro on his sneakers. She thought he maybe even looked a bit sad but figured she was imagining things, because on Thursday—and every Thursday after—he showed up at practice and cheered the loudest.

Four years ago

“I can’t do this,” Dom choked out.

“What do you mean you can’t do this?” Kyle mumbled around a needle in his mouth.

“Ow!” Dom punched Kyle’s shoulder after he poked him with the other boutonnière needle.

Kyle stopped struggling with the flower, took the needle out of his mouth and let an irritated huff out.

“Can’t do what?” he asked again slowly.

“I got… man, I got… the worst case of cold feet right now,” Dominic confessed.

Kyle stared at him for what felt like an eternity. Then he took the needle and jammed it into the head of the flower.

“What the?” Dom replied.

Kyle walked over to the leather jacket hanging by the door, pulled out a flask and shoved it at Dominic.

Dom opened the flask and saw it was half empty. Well, that explained why Kyle was having trouble with a few simple pins, he thought.

Kyle put his fists on his hips in a very stereotypically law enforcement sort of way.

“I took a train from Omaha to Pittsburg with your mother, my mother, and two of my sisters for this mother-fuckin’ wedding. Do you have any idea how long that train ride is? As your best friend and your best man, I’m saying your ass is making it to the altar if I have to hog tie you and say your vows for you,” Kyle punctuated the end of his sentence with a finger jab.

“No one made you take the train with them,” Dom countered. “I honestly didn’t even know they still had passenger trains. My dad flew.”

“Please, your dad has some strange sort of immunity to your mother’s Catholic guilt trips and my mother’s passive aggressive snark. For the rest of us, when our mothers get together, there is no free will. It is sucked up into the vortex of impossibly long labors and an eternity of hellfire.”

Dom grimaced and took a long swig of whiskey. He blew his burning breath back out and let loose his worries.

“It’s just… Demi couldn’t make it…” Dom began.

“Half your family couldn’t make the trip, so what? Besides, like I said, Kandy and Kellie made it as honorary sisters. Two for one ain’t bad, right?”

“And Katelyn never RSVP’d…”

Kyle laughed.

“Katelyn hardly knows what day of the week it is these days she’s so obsessed with her Master’s thesis. I’m surprised the library at Omaha Wesleyan hasn’t just set up a cot for her.”

“And hardly any of our friends from back home made it. I just checked and the church is almost entirely filled with Isabel’s family…”

“Dom… Is it about the guest list or about the bride?”

Dominic winced. One could always trust Officer Kyle Anderson to cut to the chase.

“What if she’s… not the one?”

“He asks thirty minutes before the wedding,” Kyle drawled, sarcasm practically dripping in puddles around him.

The door opened and the wedding planner stuck her perky, painted face in.

“We’re going to start lining up soon, so if the groom and best man could join the FOG in the chapel?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, simply closed the door. Dom grunted. Izzy’s wedding planner referred to everyone in the third person and seemed incapable of speaking in anything but questions. Added to that, her voice was almost a carbon copy of the HR lady in Office Space. If he had expressed his doubts to her instead of Kyle, he had no doubt she would have answered with, ‘Does somebody have a case of the Mondays?’

“Effigy?” Kyle asked the door.

“F. O. G. Father of the Groom.”

“Ah,” Kyle said and grabbed the flask for a swig. “Speaking of, how come your dad’s not here giving you the pep talk? Why’s’got to be me? It’s sort of making me remember when we used to hate each other’s guts.”

Dominic grunted then walked to the chair by the window and sat down.

“My dad… Dad’s sort of the reason I’m having doubts.”

Kyle’s eyebrows contracted in confusion.

Dom shuddered as the hooch started making its way through his veins. He rubbed his face and continued.

“My dad took me aside last night after the rehearsal supper on the boat and said, point blank—and I’m not kidding here, Kyle—just point blank said, ‘I’m disappointed in you, son. A Valentini man never settles for his second choice. And he never lets a woman lead him around by a nose ring.’ And that was it. He just levels me and walks off.”

Kyle stared in open mouthed horror.

“You’re shitting me?”

“Naw, man, I’m not,” Dom replied. “I sort of lost my cool, followed him and told him if he objected he didn’t have to come to the wedding, and he interrupts in his Godfather voice—”

“Ah, geeze, I hate the Godfather voice.”

“Yeah, imagine living with it! Anyway, he says, ‘I’m done speaking about it. I’ll be there because I’m your father. This is what fathers do. God willing, you’ll know that one day. And God willing, it won’t be with her.’ And he walks off… again! He waits until the night before my wedding to tell me this.”

Kyle leaned his back against the desk in the room. He crossed his ankles then his arms.

“Well, bright side, I guess you know where you got the last minute thing from,” Kyle attempted a bit of a laugh.

Dominic shook his head.

“The thing is, what if he’s right? What if I’m just settling?”

The corner of Kyle’s mouth tilted up in a skeptical manner.

“Settling for a hot, rich, intelligent woman who can cook?” Kyle asked.

“Who happens to be my second choice,” Dom admitted.

“We should all be so lucky.”

“C’mon, Kyle. Help me out here. Do you think I’m making a mistake?”

“I think…” Kyle stopped and frowned at the dingy orange curtains for a while. Then he turned his gaze back to Dominic and took a deep breath, straightening as he did so. “I think this is the first woman I have ever seen you remotely serious about. You went through more girls than Imelda Marcos went through shoes. And I’ve seen you smile a lot more since you’ve been with Izzy. I think you two can be happy.”

“Yeah?” Dom perked up. He looked down and started straightening his tie.

“Yeah. And, also, I think you deserve better than to waste your life away pining for my obtuse little sister.”

Dom’s head jerked up.

Kyle smiled a bittersweet, wry smile. He pointed at his own chest.

“Cop,” Kyle said.

Dom laughed nervously and looked down at his shiny black shoes.

“You’re uh… technically only four minutes older than her,” he deflected and looked back up.

Kyle’s eyes widened dramatically.

“And yet… it feels like decades most days,” he stage whispered.

Dom chuckled.

Kyle walked forward, yanked the mutilated flower off Dom’s jacket and tossed it and his own into the antique wash basin by the window. He patted Dom on the shoulder.

“Feelings change. You and I hated each other once upon a time, remember? Then we didn’t see each other for years and we saw things differently. Now we’re best friends.”

“True,” Dom replied.

“So any lingering… whatevers and whatifs… you have for Kate have probably changed over time, too, and the next time you see her you’ll wonder what you were thinking. Plus, you do love Isabel, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Dom answered. He was pretty sure, anyway. He looked back over at the flowers. This was a pretty good pep talk. His Dad had always been full of doom and gloom anyway. Dom pointed at the mutilated flowers, feeling almost cheerful. “You know, Izzy’s wedding planner is going to have your head for that.”

“Excellent!” Kyle said and slapped his hands together. “And here I was worried I wouldn’t have adequate entertainment at the reception.”

Kyle opened the door and made a flourish of waving Dom through.

Dom stuffed the flask back in Kyle’s jacket and grinned. From this moment forward he would just simply stop thinking about Katelyn Jo Anderson. Done. He had a beautiful bride, a football career, and a bright future in Pennsylvania. In fact, after he sent his guests packing, he hoped he wouldn’t set foot in Nebraska again.

Except for holidays.

His grin wobbled a bit.

Then again, Katelyn probably wouldn’t still be living next door anyway after she got her degree.

His grin perked up.

Then he remembered he had promised himself he wouldn’t think of her anymore and his grin wavered a bit again.

Dom shook his head to clear it and clasped his hands in front of him waiting for the bridal music to begin. When the doors opened, he watched light from the gothic stained windows glint off Isabel’s sequined head dress. Kyle was right, she was movie star beautiful and talented and good with kids—probably a necessary skill when one was a pediatrician.

He was being stupid hanging on to a bunch of what ifs. He tried to catch Izzy’s eye but she was busy smiling and nodding at all the guests, pew by pew. His own gaze moved to look at his mother. Ramona Valentini wasn’t looking at either the bride or her son, she was staring dewy eyed at her husband of thirty years and he was staring back at her, love apparent in his expression. Dom looked back at Izzy.

Isabel took the steps up to the altar and turned to clasp his hands as they had rehearsed. Her eyes were calm and confident but there was no adoration like with his parents.

Maybe she was nervous, too, Dom thought. He took a deep breath and smiled. Then he leaned forward and gave her a chaste kiss.

“Ah, we haven’t gotten there yet, young man,” The Priest joked and the congregation laughed.

Izzy’s cheeks flushed and she didn’t return his smile.

“Dom,” she whispered in censure. “We’re already running late.”

He squeezed her hands.

“Late for a very important date,” he whispered and grinned.

She frowned and nodded at the priest in a meaningful manner. The priest winked at Dom then raised his arms wide and said,

“Let us pray.”

As they turned and dropped to their knees, Dom decided he must be right and she was just nervous like he was about taking such a big step. Ever since infancy he had heard the mantra ‘Valentinis only get married once’. Maybe the Alesios were the same and Izzy was under a lot of pressure to get this day perfect. He focused on the fun they would have bungee jumping in Australia as part of their honeymoon package. A wedding was just one day and if she wanted it perfect, he’d make that happen.

The very last thought about Katelyn Anderson he allowed himself to have was no matter how mad Katie had ever gotten at him he had always been able to make her smile, unlike Izzy. But maybe that was the difference between a friend and a wife. It was well past time he stopped thinking he could have both in one woman. He would just find a way to make Izzy smile even when she was mad, too.

After all, if there was one thing all Valentinis had in common, they loved to chase wind mills.

A Letter from Mickey Downey, Part Nine.

The following is a letter referenced in Third Time’s the Charm;

He let go of Kiki and fished a letter out of his pocket…

~~~

Dear Princess,

I am writing you this letter on the occasion of your seven month birthday. Why seven, you ask? Seven is a lucky number and I want as much luck infused into this letter as I can get. It’s actually my third attempt. The first was a bit too combative I think, a failure on my part to acknowledge the inevitability of certain things. The second, I dwelt a bit too much on other things I’ve lost and which should never be your concern. And so here we are, third time’s the charm, as they say.

I’m going to hold on to this letter until you are grown and ready to start your own family. Which I hope is long after my death. Just kidding. Today your mother wants to take you to Festa di San Gennaro which I think is a horrible idea because my mind spins with all the possible ways you could get hurt by the crowd or scared by all the noises and scents. When you have your own babies I think you will understand how consumed a parent can get with protecting their child, and that brings me to the point of this letter. I want you to know that I love you far beyond any earthly want or need and that as long as it is within my power–even if that power is only my two bare hands–I will do my best to protect you from harm.

The day I give you this letter, or have it given to you, will be the day you have found someone who will love and protect you as much as your father can. I do hope I will give you this letter someday because even at seven months old I can tell you deserve nothing less than everything your sweet, joyful heart desires. I truly believe you are a gift from a God who has no reason to give a man such as me anything. But I will cherish every moment with you until the day I give you away to another and then I will cherish the memories I have of you.

Please know, in this life and the next, I will always watch over you and love you.

Your loving father,

Mickey.

Read the rest of the letters here: Letters From Mickey Downey

#TheDowneyTrilogy: Get to Know Detective Tommy Gates

At the heart of The Downey Trilogy is the relationship between mostly Irish-part Italian gangster Michael “Mickey” Downey and his son Detective Tommy Gates.

You can learn a bit more about Tommy Gates here or get to know him through Mickey’s eyes here.

Here are some more interesting facts about Tommy Gates:

1) Tommy is named after Mary’s father Thomas Gates and of course, his middle name Michael comes from his father. No one ever calls him Thomas, though he probably wouldn’t mind if they did. Oddly, it does bother him when people call him Tom. He never got to meet his namesake as his grandfather died while Tommy was in witness protection.

2) He takes the Stanley Cup Playoffs very seriously and has been known to break up with a girlfriend or two when they failed to understand the importance of this.

3) He is a workaholic with a lot of acquaintances but only a handful of real friends.

4) He purposefully tanked his date with his partner’s sister Katelyn Anderson because his number one rule is never mix work and personal life. Of course, that was before he met Agent Ginny Sommers.

5) He donated all of his presents from his father to Goodwill until he was in his teens when he started sending them back (just like the letters). Mickey stopped sending presents and started transferring money to Mary’s bank account after that. On Tommy’s eighteenth birthday, Mary showed him the account she had put it in and said he could use it for college. Tommy still hasn’t touched it.

A Letter from Mickey Downey, Part Eight.

~~~

Dear Tommy,

First, I love you and think of you often. I keep hoping you will call but maybe I’ve just forgotten how busy a young boy gets. Or maybe you can’t call long distance? You can always call collect, just ask your mother how. I did try to call you on Christmas but there was no answer and no way to leave a message. I can’t understand why your mother wouldn’t have an answering machine. Perhaps I’ll send her one and a calling card.

What have you been up to since my visit? Is third grade a challenge? I don’t know why but I remember it being the first time I ever thought school to be fun. We finally started learning some math that was interesting that year. Do you like math like me? Maybe you like music like your mother. She is an exceptional pianist. I’m sure she’s forgotten to mention that as she’s quite modest. I know she teaches music but I’m not sure if she ever plays for recreation anymore. You should ask her to play something for you some time. Maybe you could even tell her I miss her beautiful voice. You don’t have to.

Anyway, your little brother is teething. In case you don’t know what that is, it’s when an ordinarily angelic baby become an impossible to please demon. And that is saying something with Joey. I think I mentioned he is usually as mellow as you were as a baby so this has been quite the adjustment for both of us. Ah well, this too shall pass. Your sister Kiki is having a blast in Kindergarten. She has a whole tribe of boys and girls she has convinced that she is actually a princess and somehow gets them to bring her things and give her their desserts. But here’s the kicker, son, she kept all of it and had an ‘auction’ on the playground to sell it back to all of them. Then she gave her teacher the money. I asked why and she said, ‘so she can buy us some good snacks for story time. No one likes carrots and crackers.’ HA! As a father I’m torn between pride at her entrepreneurial and management skills and pointing out that the establishment frowns at that sort of ‘business’. Or so the government and my lawyers tell me. I can’t wait to see what sort of scheme your brother dreams up in five years. I actually woke up in a sweat the other day thinking about what sort of shenanigans he could come up with if he’s anything like me.

Ah speak of the devil, he’s up again. I’m beginning to greatly appreciate the sacrifice your mother made raising you with only a part time parent to help. I guess it’s time to hire an au pair. That’s a fancy word for live-in babysitter.

I love you (I know I said that already–can’t be said enough). Hope to hear from you soon.

Your Loving Father,

Mickey

PS- I put the calling card in with this letter and another business card.

Read the rest of the letters here: Letters From Mickey Downey

#TheDowneyTrilogy: Get to Know Kiki Downey

The Downey Trilogy centers around the relationship between mostly Irish-part Italian gangster Michael “Mickey” Downey and his son Detective Tommy Gates. But the catalyst that starts the story is Katherine “Kiki” Downey, Mickey’s daughter with Theresa Anastasio . A mob princess with a pure gangster pedigree going back generations, she is very beautiful and fond of meddling plan-making, but as Agent Hoffman says “she uses her powers mostly for good”.

You can learn a bit more about Kiki Downey here or get to know her through Mickey’s eyes in his letters here.

Here are some more interesting facts about Kiki Downey:

1) She secretly loves her full name Katherine Anastasia. Even though it’s a bit stodgy, it’s always made her feel regal. And it honors her mother’s family, the Anastasios, who were the force to be reckoned with before her father.

2) She loves dogs of all shapes and sizes but has felt it would be cruel to have one in her apartment or without kids to play with it.

3) She majored in business at Elmhurst College before she quit, but she told everyone she was taking art classes after the first few people she told thought she was kidding.

4) When she was six she wore a tiara for five solid weeks (even slept with it) until one of her Bonanno cousins broke it.

5) She blogs about fashion trends but would really love to run her own event planning company, especially weddings.

6) She hates traditional Irish music, the one thing she has in common with her grandmother Maeve, who loves to mock anyone that assumes just because she’s from Ireland that she ought to listen to reels and jigs all day.

A Letter from Mickey Downey, Part Seven.

~~~

Hello Joey!

I do hope you’re settling in well at school, and that you are not having me on about being happy to go. I usually don’t worry about you pretending to be happy about something you are not, unlike your sister, but in this case you can chalk it up to a case of your father having some anxiety about sending you so far. Not to mention so unsupervised. Yes, I realize it is a military school but I can recall being thirteen with a clarity that would frighten you. I’m sure you have trouble imagining me so young. I wish I had had your maturity when I was that age, who knows what might have happened? In any case I would appreciate you using the new phone and computer I bought you for regular facetime. Emails or letters will not be enough. You are a Downey so I know mischief runs heavy in your veins. And the sneaky twinkle in your sister’s eyes has me uneasy as well. I do want to say I would not mind if you showed an interest in taking up letter writing like me and your great grandpa Seamus. It is a forgotten art form. People just dash off texts and emails these days without a care.

I just scared myself with how old that made me sound. You can stop snickering any time. On another note, I just got off the phone with your brother who was surprisingly friendly. Well, perhaps not friendly, but polite and animated. He’s moved out of that horrid old house he was renting off 48th and found a single apartment closer to downtown. I said that was a good move because the hours he keeps he has no business having to keep up another man’s yard, and let’s be real the other tenants in that house never did their part. He’s thinking he might be making the rank of Detective soon. I’m sure he figured that would just ruin my day, but quite the opposite. I told him if he doesn’t make it, I could get him placed here in Chicago, the Alderman in our district is always carrying on about needing more boys in blue. Tommy laughed quite a bit at that. Who knows at which part? But he thanked me for the call, which was a first. If you were here you’d be able to tell me if I was making too much out of it. This is another reason I will miss you greatly–our talks about Tommy. It’s not the same with your sister. She is too much of a people pleaser, always wanting to fix things that can’t be fixed. You inherited your poppa Big Joe’s skill for listening. Another forgotten art.

I’d better wrap this up, especially since I will be seeing you soon anyway, in fact, maybe before this letter even arrives. See? Your old man can be sneaky too. Possibly you already knew that. (nyuk nyuk nyuk) I’ve a friend in DC I haven’t seen in quite a while and I thought I’d surprise him with a visit and I can pop over and see you while I’m there. You can show me around your dorm and introduce me to your new friends, of which I am sure you already have several. Did your mother tell you that you actually have a cousin on the Bonanno side not too far from there? I’m not sure of the exact connection, you’ll have to check with her.

I love you and don’t forget I’m always keeping an eye on you, so no shenanigans, alright, boyo?

See you soon!

Your Loving Father,

Mickey

PS- Keep your grades up and my pilot says he’d be happy to have you along for a ride in the cockpit. Won’t that be a fun bragging right for your friends?

Read the rest of the letters here: Letters From Mickey Downey

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