Page 33 of Sins of Arrogance

One to carry the Shaugh­nessy name into the next gen­er­a­tion.

Not that seanathair planned that par­tic­u­lar out­come to be­gin with. I think, at the time, he still hoped my un­cle would re­marry and give him more grand­chil­dren.

But then Un­cle Derry was mur­dered while I was still preg­nant and my fa­ther as­cended to the po­si­tion of heir ap­par­ent. My fa­ther rene­go­ti­ated the deal with Mick, of­fer­ing more than a chance to run his own crew.

He of­fered Mick the chance at be­ing un­der­boss and even­tu­ally boss if he al­lowed our son to take the Shaugh­nessy sur­name.

Mick in­sisted on Fitzger­ald for a first name so our son would carry Mick’s sur­name too, even if it wasn’t as a last name.

“Noth­ing to say?” Dier­dre taunts with some im­pa­tience when I’ve been lost in mem­o­ries too long.

“About?” I feign ig­no­rance.

“Micky’s bed­room pro­cliv­i­ties.” She makes her eyes com­i­cally wide. “Are you try­ing to say he doesn’t let that side of him out with you? Oh…I then…I shouldn’t have said any­thing.”

That ship sailed thirty sec­onds af­ter she ar­rived and she called my hus­band Micky.

“I’m not say­ing any­thing at all. I was raised to re­spect the pri­vacy of oth­ers. Weren’t you?”

“I wasn’t try­ing to pry. I’m just look­ing out for my friends. That’s all.” She does the whole wounded rou­tine.

Ac­cus­ing eyes. Hunched shoul­ders. Caught breath.

And none of it lands be­cause of how bla­tantly false her claim is. If she was look­ing out for Mick, we’d be hav­ing a very dif­fer­ent con­ver­sa­tion.

If she con­sid­ered me a friend…I can’t even cre­ate a sce­nario with that one.

We aren’t friends and never will be.

No friend would try to make me doubt the strength of my mar­riage. What she doesn’t know, is I don’t need any help in that de­part­ment. I go there all on my own.

Way too of­ten.

But try­ing to make me be­lieve Mick is hav­ing sex with other peo­ple? That’s a non­starter.

And I’m def­i­nitely not pic­tur­ing her red painted nails dig­ging pro­pri­etar­ily into Mick’s fore­arm.

Huh. Looks like Dier­dre’s not the only one play­ing fast and loose with the truth to­day.

I’m done play­ing. “But we aren’t friends, are we Miss Kelly?”

Her eyes fill with tears and she sniffs. “I want to be, but it’s ob­vi­ous you don’t. I’m so alone here. Even with Micky watch­ing over me, I’m scared.”

This pi­ranha scared? In an­other life­time maybe. In this one, not so much.

When she sees her am­a­teur dra­mat­ics aren’t hav­ing their in­tended ef­fect, she stands. “If you think I should leave, I will.”

I don’t bother to re­spond. What­ever I say, she’s go­ing to twist to fit the nar­ra­tive she’s al­ready cre­ated of this dis­cus­sion. I’m just a bit player; this drama wasn’t for me at all.

It was for some­one not even in the room: Mick.

Who I’m sure Dier­dre will seek out, her croc­o­dile tears shim­mer­ing in her eyes and wear­ing her wounded dig­nity like a snug fit­ting hoodie.

Chap­ter 10: Damsel Pi­ranha in Dis­tress

MICK

A soft knock sounds on my of­fice door and an­tic­i­pa­tion thrums through me.