Children of Vice (Children of Vice #1)(81)

“Do you need anything else?” she asked meanwhile she’d eaten 90 percent of it.

“Let’s just go,” I told her, wiping my hands.

“Napkins!” She snapped her fingers. Done arranging the napkins inside, she wrapped her arm around mine and followed me to the door.

“Do you have everything?” I asked.

“Yes, dad.” She groaned.

Rolling my eyes, I opened the door, stepping out first, and just like on the first night we’d arrived the street was crawling with people. Only a couple of the houses now had light…the electrical bills had gone up almost every year, but since my family knew how much people loved being here, we covered the cost and let them pay what they thought was fair price.

“They all notice us now,” Ivy whispered as we walked past the gates onto the street. When we did people moved, most out of fear, others just not wanting to be too close to us. It was of course a short walk, but it told a lot about how everyone was feeling tonight. Arriving once again in the backyard of the Finnegan brothers, where most of the neighborhood was once again, this time not drunk, nor nearly as cheerful as they were almost a month ago, I smirked when Cillian glanced over his shoulder, when the men around him all looked away from him.

“Nice suit.” I nodded at the black suit, shirt, and tie he wore.

“I knew you wouldn’t miss the chance,” he said emotionlessly.

“Of course, it’s a neighborhood meeting and we’re part of the neighborhood.” I bloody owned the neighborhood as it was anyway.

“About that…” His glare shifted onto Ivy, who was scanning the crowd carefully. “How much longer until you finish your business here, Ivy, and return to Chicago?”

Still not looking at him, she said, “The good thing about it being my business is that it’s my business and as such you can go f*ck yourself.”

“Careful, cousin.” He stepped into her line of vision. “You forget whose house you’re in.”

She ignored him and turned to me. “Why did you say he had a nice suit? It looks like he stole it out of the morgue.” She then turned to him and asked, “Did you steal it from the morgue?”

“Would you like to go to the morgue and find out, bitch?” Elroy asked, pulling out a switch blade. He had a hockey mask that he held through the eye sockets with his knuckle gloves.

“Mr. and Mrs. Callahan,” Cillian cut in before I could, “let’s not waste any more time.”

“Of course,” I replied, walking over to the picnic bench. The teenagers there didn’t move. They even made a point to relax more. Looking away from them and above their heads at the trees, I really wondered why it was that people felt the need to test me. “Will you make them get up or will I have to?”

“Ask nicely like everyone else,” Cillian replied.

At that I shifted my eyes from the leaves to him. “I don’t get nicer than this.”

“How sad for you then.” He snickered. “You can stand in the back or leave.”

Ivy squeezed my arm to remind me why I was subjecting myself to this level of disrespect. Why the f*ck were they all still breathing? If they only knew how that one action had spared them their lives tonight they’d kiss her feet.

“Babe,” Ivy said, reaching into her bag to pull out a red and white checkered picnic blanket.

Why the hell—let me not even ask. Though as she spread it out on the ground, the people she put it in front of glanced down at her like…like I was in my head. When she finished she stepped out of her heels, placing them by the side of the blanket, and sat down, crossing her legs. I sat beside her as she reached into her bag, pulling out the juice box and handing it to me before taking one for herself.

“I thought we weren’t trying to waste time?” Ivy asked him before sucking on her straw.

“Let’s get started.” Cillian nodded at the man beside him, ignoring her. Finally sipping on the apple juice, I watched as Cillian stepped forward to address the growing crowd. “Our neighborhood is nothing new to anyone here, and while I know many of you have found it to be a little primitive at times, you’ve never spoken out against it. We all know who founded this tradition. While we may not be fond of them”—he looked directly at me—“we must acknowledge that they have merit. However, seeing as we are no longer subjects of that family, we should decide here, does anyone wish to put an end to the meetings?”

Ivy flinched and I placed my hand on her thigh to calm her down. She needed to have faith. They wouldn’t vote to end the meetings.

“Are other neighborhoods stopping?” a woman with short brown hair asked.

“We aren’t other neighborhoods. This is all about you. It’s your choice. Not mine. Not the Callahans’. If we want to move away from this, that’s fine,” Cillian replied.

No one spoke for a moment.

“We can’t stop! I’m still waiting for that motherf*cker to pay me back,” some man yelled, pointing to a man a couple people over.

“She almost killed my son! You stupid drunk whore!” a woman screamed.

“Tyler, I know it was you! Where is it? You stole it, didn’t you?”

From there, anarchy unfolded quickly with everyone screaming about the insults the others had inflicted on them.