fic: I'll Be Your Alibi (part two)

[bonnefois]

Title: I'll Be Your Alibi (2/3)
Series: Team Fortress 2
Character/Pairing: Scout/Miss Pauling, family OCs, Scout's mother,
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 12205
Summary: He was on the run from the police, she wanted to be anywhere but the family barbecue. When he accidentally gatecrashes the party, she pretends he's her boyfriend, and gives him an alibi to save both their skins. What was supposed to be a one-time thing turns into more as they get tangled in a web of lies together.
Author's note: Part 1



Poppy did her work with the thoroughness of a professional. No fingerprints left, teeth pulled out so there'd be no identification, and the bodies hacksawed until each part could be buried separately. She even made sure that all the bodies were mangled in different ways, to make it harder for the police to catch, should they actually find any traces left.

Of course, this meant many trips outside of town, and a whole lot of new dresses and cars. Despite knowing a hundred ways to get blood out of clothes, that didn't help with the gunshot residue, or the bullet holes for the few who came armed, or survived a few more minutes with her.

The lack of him reminded her of the gaping absence in her life. In her last job, she'd had long hours, and one day off a year. Now she had less defined hours, far more days off and with nothing to fill them.

She'd find herself at the orange line, over and over. It would just take a few steps and she'd be in Southie.

But one day, three weeks later, she found herself crossing it to the broken concrete world of South Boston.

*

Liam did a handstand on the pavement. His faded red shirt, covered with patches and Red Sox stitched on fell down, revealing his lean and hairless chest. The children clapped, some jumping up and down.

"How long you think I can hold this?"

"You're goin' to crack your head on the pavement like a dumbass!"

"Hey, Roger, watch your mouth! You're swearin' at a seventh grade level," Liam said.

"Means I'm smarter," Roger said.

"Father O'Conner will wash your mouth out for sure. Man, he's brutal. I ever tell you what he did when he caught me neckin' with Kathleen O'Toole?"

"You told us a million times you bloody braggart!" Roger shot back.

Liam wobbled, but he didn't fall.

"Haha, told you--! I ain't goin' anywhere," Liam said.

He started to tip, but before he could, she steadied his legs.

"Damn, this is a good view."

"I should let you fall," she said.

"--a good view of you savin' my ass from doin' stupid shit, that is!"

"Good save," she said.

She helped guide him back down. Liam smiled back up at her.

"Seeya, kids, I gotta give this pretty lady my full attention," he said. They dispersed down the street. Back to their dented balls, games of tag, broken chalk and jump ropes.

"Missed me? I knew you couldn't stay away."

Unable to find a neutral answer, she changed the subject. Poppy motioned towards her truck. "Hop in," she said.

Liam climbed into her rickety old murder mobile. He slammed the door so hard that she was surprised it didn't fall off. Not out of anger, simply he was always doing things too fast, and too loudly.

"And here you said we were through."

"Did you get the ring from your mother and fake a broken engagement yet?" Poppy said.

"Nah, I hadn't gotten around to it," Liam said. "It's goin' to disappoint her, and I hate seein' her sad."

"Good," she said.

"Good? What is it this time? A family affair?"

"Neither. Actually..."

She held the steering wheel, and let out a sigh.

"I'm no good at relaxing, and I figured you'd be a great guide to the city." She pushed her hair behind her ear. "I haven't really had enough time to meet anyone and go places."

Technically she'd met people, they'd just had names like Ben "The Killer" and Slim Slittin' Jim.

Liam broke out in a smile. "Oh, I got all the places. You been to Fenway?"

"I'm sure I'm about to. What, are you going to flex?" she said.

"Baby, I'll do whatever you want me to," he said.

"Save the endearments for when we're in front of my family," she said.

He seemed to deflate a little, a hint of insecurity showing through his pride. He caught his composure back quickly.

"I was just kiddin'," he said.

"Mmmhmm," she said. "Sure you were."

"You're a hell of a kisser, can you blame me? They broke the mold when they made you," he said.

"I suppose that's a little better than your other lines," she said.

"Ain't a line," he said.

She gave him a skeptical look. "It was completely a line."

"Yeah, okay, it was sort of a line, but not a Line line. More like a movie line when the guy just saved the day and he had to have a dramatic moment, you know? I got all kinds of those. I gotta keep it real interesting for when people start writin' my life into a movie."

"You're headed for Hollywood?" she said.

"Eh, I don't know where I'm goin'. To hell, accordin' to the priest, if I don't get my ass back in Mass, but I'm savin' up my confessions for all at once. Like a lump sum lottery for the guy who's gotta be prayin' for my soul. Technically, my ass is in Mass...achusetts." He snickered at his own joke.

It was a pretty bad one, but she still couldn't help but smile.

"You probably shouldn't go too close to the docks by this time, but this view is great. I'll show you some place that ain't too bad," Liam said.

"Taking me down dark alleys full of dangerous men already? I thought you'd save that for the second date."

"Poppy, this is technically the third, if we're goin' by fake dates."

"This isn't fake," she said.

"So, it's a date?" Liam said.

She didn't meet his eyes. "It's....me having a bit of time off with someone whose company I enjoy."

He broke into a big grin. "It won't be just my company you're enjoyin'---when you see this view!"

He led her down towards the docks. Over cracked pavement and roads which looked about ready to fall into the sea. The reflection over the harbor was the green of boat lights mixed with the orange of street lights on a sheen of black water. There was just something about that view that she couldn't get enough of. Sometimes she'd just park out here and watch the shimmer in those few moments she had to herself.

With a pistol close, she didn't worry about the docks at night. The ones that weren't he coworkers around here thought themselves some kinds of knights, defenders of helpless women. It's what made her job so easy. Put on a specially made cushion, pretend to be pregnant or loss and about any man would fall right into her range.

Several restaurants were still lit, despite the late hour.

"Do you have any recommendations?"

"Well, I hope you don't want Italian, 'cause we sure as hell aren't goin' to Abruzzo's. I'm always forgettin' to take the wraps from my hands, but one look at my Southie dot and I'd be in the dumpster. They don't take kindly to us Southie boys. Roxbury don't either."

"Abuzzo's...Yes, it'd be good to avoid. I don't know what family he's a part of," she said.

"We're in luck, O'Neil keeps this stand open late. Relish and mustard, just for you," Liam said.

"He probably works mafia as well. Do you know the family?" she said.

"Poppy, it's Southie. You're either mob or workin' for someone who works for the mob. There's a friggin' boxin' club under every bar, for fuck's sake. I've been tryin' to get in there, but they keep sayin' I'm underweight."

He grimaced at this. "Those chucklenuts are just afraid I'll beat 'em all down! Fuckin' jealous pricks, I'd take 'em to the championship too, I just know it."

"They'd have to catch you to even land a hit," she said.

Liam broke into a big smile. "That's what I keep tellin' them, but do they listen? No, they tell me to go to the track. Nobody bets on track! That's all high school stuff! I almost got a scholarship once, could've ridden all the way up to some big ivy place. But I got expelled before I could make use of it and lost it."

He dragged his foot over the ground.

"Apparently, those Olympic fucks don't take kindly to somebody with a record. Fuck 'em, I say. Well, technically I tried to do some mafia work, but Ma flipped out. Like I could do respectable." He shook his head, and laughed, like he'd said some brilliant line. "That's how I ended up in prison."

He glanced at her, and smiled.

"You must be workin' for the Italians, though, because the Irish mafia don't do the whole black tie affair. We don't got some big guy in the back callin' shots. It's just a bunch of guys down at the dock shipping guns overseas, robbin' trucks and beatin' in skulls."

She flinched in surprise. "What---you knew?"

"Don't wanna talk about your job, goin' on alibis, blood under your fingernails. Yeah, I figured. You ain't got an accent I can tell, though. You got Italian blood or somethin'? You got the dark hair," Liam said.

"I'm not a Bostonian," she said. She laughed, despite herself. "It doesn't even sound like a real word."

"It's nice not to have sand in my shoes all the time and constantly have to pick out cactus spines. I used to work in New Mexico," she said.

"New Mexico, huh? What's it like out there? Fight any dragons?"

"Didn't run into any of those. Most of the lizards are pretty small. It's hot enough to make a plate of cookies on the dashboard. I did it a few times just to test it out."

"Seriously? That's pretty cool. Dashboard cookies, I bet they were great," Liam said.

"The novelty wore off pretty fast, though it was rather handy. I have to say my life has really improved since I'm not dragging huge weights out in the heat of the day, and with scratchy sand in my shoes and underpants all the time."

"I can imagine. That sounds awful. I wanna punch your boss just for hearin' it."

The thought of wiry Liam lifting up his thin arms to take a swing at Saxton Hale was just too much. To say nothing of him versus the Administrator. Heavens, she'd kill him, then throw his body to the dogs. She couldn't hold back her laughter.

"What? You think I can't take him? I could totally take him, whoever he is."

"Have you ever heard of Saxton Hale?" she said.

"Yeah, who hasn't, what about it-" Liam full on gaped. "--Oh---Oh!"

"Yes," she said.

"Don't care, still would take him on," Liam said.

"He'd put you in the hospital---that is, if you survived," she said.

"It'd still be worth it. Besides! You're assuming that asshole could even catch me," Liam said.

"I suppose you fighting for my honor would be kind of sweet, at least until I had to bury your remains in a shallow grave ten minutes later," she said.

"Hey, I would've gone out with a bang," Liam said.

"Literally, as he punched you hard enough to make your internal organs external. I had to bury a few enemies he did that to. Not pretty, I wouldn't recommend it as a form of death," she said.

If she didn't smell like old blood and have to bleach out her trunk bed again, it might have even counted as something like romantic.

"You're really not freaked out?" she said.

"Told you, everybody's mob down here. Lot of people disappear. That don't explain how you ended up here, though," he said.

"Well, there was some serious restructuring in the company, and I no longer had a job. Father was teaching some classes here. He liked it so much, he stayed and got tenure. The New Mexico weather didn't really agree with me, so I decided to visit my family and try and figure out where I'd go next. I ended up finding a job through an old family friend and here I am," she said.

"And then you met me, the best part," Liam said.

"Yes, some asshole crashed my family's barbecue," she said.

"Excuse me, you forgot to add handsome and charming as qualities about that asshole," Liam said.

"And exciting. The barbecue would've been unbearable without you there. My mother was about to talk in loving detail about PTA meetings."

"And---wait---yeah," Liam said. He smiled, so utterly pleased with even the barest hint of praise from her. She had to admit that it made her question her dedication to not feeding his ego.

"So like, what are you? Poppy Pauling, Mob Bookie? Poppy Pauling, Mob Princess?"

"Poppy Pauling, Mob enforcer and hitman. Well, hitwoman, to be more precise," she said.

"Dude, badass."

She smiled. "I try. You have to be quiet about it, obviously. No bragging. No 'I'm pretending to date a mob enforcer because I accidentally crashed her family barbecue."

He mimicked zipping his lips.

"I'm not kidding. I wouldn't want you on my list for bragging that you kissed the most dangerous enforcer. I like you. I don't want to have to throw you in the dock."

"You could always keep me quiet," Liam said.

"I can't kiss you twenty-four/seven," Poppy said.

Liam leaned in. "I'll accept that challenge.." She could catch the scent of him. Cheap cologne and sweets on his breath. She couldn't tell if it was gum or soda, but it reminded her of a time long before she got into the business of dead bodies. Summers ago on the cape, getting taffy and ice cream and letting the salt spray over her bare feet.

All the thoughts that had come up coalesced. Brazen and undone.

"Prove it," Poppy said.

"You can't just say that in a public place," Liam said.

"Prove. It."

He reached for her, and she tapped his nose. "If you do too much of that in public, you'll go back to jail for indecent exposure."

He laughed. "You think that's the first time I've been to jail for that? Best thing I ever went to jail for, though ma sure ripped me a new one for that."

"All that means is we need a bit more privacy," Poppy said.

"I know some places. Plenty of places," Liam said.

He took her hand and led her to a back alley, behind some restaurant. A thick scent of Italian cooking came through the vents. Butter and garlic and onions, with the strong scent of burnt cheese.

"Hey, don't get me wrong, I ain't remotely backin' out, but I thought we were fakin'?" Liam said.

Poppy lifted her eyebrows. "You're the last person I'd think was saving it for marriage."

"Hell no, I'm not a frickin' virgin, I'm just gettin' mixed signals here. One minute you say it's the last time and we're never seein' each other again, and the next--" Liam said.

She cut him off. "If we're going to say went swimming, we might as well get wet," Poppy said.

He gently pushed her against the brick wall. "Oh, trust me. You'll be plenty wet."

In seconds, his lips covered hers. She His hands ripped at her shirt, buttons fell to the floor. He had her bra off in half a minute. His hand gently circled her nipple, as the other worked up her skirt.

It'd been so long. She moaned against him, as she felt his other hand slip between her thighs. He rubbed against the front of her panties, just rough enough to make her squirm.

From her peripheral vision, she caught the sight of a flashlight. Liam covered her body.

"Shit, we gotta scram."

Poppy couldn't contain a little bubble of laughter as they raced down the street. She should've gone for flats, she thought. Hand in hand, he dragged her towards down the alley. Her bra had fallen to the floor, and all the buttons.

"Liam, wait--"

He undid his coat, managed to peel off his shirt and tossed it her way. "Put this on, and enjoy the show."

She quickly put his shirt on over her dress. At this way, she wouldn't flash passerbys.

She climbed up into the truck. Behind them, a yell.

Poppy turned the key in. In just a few seconds of motor starts, and the rush of adrenaline crashing all at once, they were off.

"I thought you said there were no cops in Southie."

"There ain't. That probably was a priest. Plenty of them down here. They're such cockblocks."

"Then we'll just have to go somewhere more private," Poppy said.

Liam rested his hand on her knee, and slowly went up. Poppy felt her breath catch as he began to stroke between her thighs. She could keep it together. It wouldn't be long.

But as his thumb traced up further, she had to fight for focus, and not simply pull off in some abandoned parking lot to finish what they started.

They said the killer always returned to the scene of the crime. Except usually it wasn't to make out with their not-boyfriend. Far from the lights of Boston, the stars were unfurled. The moon was a golden crescent, crested by a haze of orange. The last touch from the city. They crawled up into the back, and up onto the layers of blankets. She bought new bedroom sets at every chance she could. She could always just claim she was going to the laundromat if she was stopped.

And if those blankets were bloody, well, that was just part of being a woman, wasn't it?

The cops always believed her. Who would think a five-five girl in glasses capable of murder? Let alone mass murder, with hits all around the country.

These, however, were a new set. Completely untainted by bloodstains of any kind. In the back of her mind she'd had a vision of something like this. Him and her spread out in discount sheets.

"Man, this is just one hell of a party truck you got here. You got beer in those?"

"Nope. Guns, blades, bullets, acid, tarps and quicklime, and some poison for good measure," Poppy said.

"Daaaang," Liam said.

"I'm a professional; I'm always prepared."

"Always good to know," Liam said.

"So, where were we?" Poppy said.

He pulled the blanket over them.

She laughed. "Liam, we haven't gotten undressed yet," she said.

"More fun this way," he said softly.

"The truth is--I haven't done this in ages," she said.

"I promise I'll be gentle," he said, just a little wry. He leaned in to kiss her.

Rather than the quick rush of before, Liam snuck his hands under her skirts as they kissed. He rubbed his palm against the cotton of her panties, until she was so wet, the material clung to her skin. But, he wouldn't push inside her. He pulled back, leaving her wanting more each time she started to edge towards orgasm. He shifted, just enough to undo the buttons of her purple blouse. He teased her nipples with his mouth, sucking and licking at them as she arched his back.

She started to desperately rub against him, to force him inside. But, Liam didn't give up that easy. He was damned determined to make her writhe in pleasure, and probably have her begging before she'd get her orgasm.

When he shifted to roll down her panties a fraction of an inch, she took her chance. She ground against his groin, and took pride in the feel of him hard against her.

He let out a low groan. "Frickin' hell."

He startled to rustle for something in his pocket. She undid the buttons on his pants, and pushed them down.

"Hey, I kinda need those for a few more seconds. Unless you want me goin' in without a rubber," Liam said.

"I'll do it," she said. She reached into his pocket, and put the little wrapper in-between her teeth. She gently ripped it open, and sprung free the little bit of rubber which hopefully, would keep her from being a mother for another day.

His breath hitched as she slowly rolled it down over his erection.

"My turn," she said.

She pushed the blanket off. Her bun had come undone, and fell down her back. His eyes widened as she pushed him down, and crawled on top. She peeled off his shirt, and tossed it aside. Liam full out gasped.

"Been a long time for you too, huh?" she said.

"I was in prison," Liam said.

"That doesn't answer the question," she said.

"Okay, I've been busy. Accidentally dropped into this lady's party. It's been a wild ride."

"It sure has," she said.

She dropped her hips until his cock filled her. He let out a low sigh. The heat of him pushed back the cold. His hands brushed down her back, and finally gripped her hips. He was still trying to keep it slow.

He had good intentions, but she'd been waiting too many damn years for this. She leaned down to kiss him, and ground her hips to set the pace. His hand pushed between them, brushing against her clit over and over, sending her dizzyingly nearer to orgasm.

His touch, the mix of cold and the heat of his skin, it was all too much. Each thrust sent her closer to an apex she didn't even realize she could reach. The climax came so suddenly, and so intense, that she moaned out his name. God, she'd practically forgotten what it felt like. New Mexico had left no time for anything but work.

"Holy shit," she said.

"You were---framed in stars and lit by the moon. Like a friggin' goddess. God, I've never done anythin' like that before."

"You're pretty good for a virgin, then," she said teasingly.

"Nah, I ain't a cherry. Wouldn't be after that anyways. Just, it was like. An experience and not just a fuck, you know?"

She knew all too well. Ever since she'd tracked him down again, she'd been dealing with the fact that she hadn't been faking for some time now.

He reached for his bag. She figured he'd pull out a cigarette, but it was the drawing pad that he brought out. He rustled through them, until he pulled out black drawing paper, and a white crayon fished out from the far corner of his messy, stuffed to the hilts bag he was always carrying around.

She propped up her cheek with her hand as she watched him. He drew as fast as he ran. There was even a tinge of desperation, like he was racing against a fleeting inspiration that just might slip out of his grasp.

Unlike his earlier, more cartoonish drawings, this one very realistic and explicit drawing of her. The stars weren't just behind her, but a part of her. The crescent moon was just above her breasts, drawn inside her. Her face was lifted up in ecstasy, then closed eyes. She didn't look fully human, like she was half divine.

With how fast he'd worked, she'd expected a rough doodle, or possibly pornographic stick figures. What she got was a damned masterpiece.

"God, Liam. That's absolutely incredible. Completely amazing--But I hope you don't show that to anyone."

"You kiddin'? I'd kill anyone if they saw this. I wanna keep you all to myself. I should laminate it. Keep it in amber or somethin'."

He put the art back in his bag, and glanced towards her.

"You ever think of gettin' some tats? I'd design you a real good one," Liam said.

"Yes, I do so love making myself be memorable. It's a great way to end up in police lineups," she said.

"It's neat, though. Sure, it hurts a bit, but not as much as my first Southie dot I got when I was twelve. People don't like Southie boys like me goin' uptown. But I got my own art right here. See, if I flex my arm, I can make this dragon's eyebrows waggle."

"You've been to museums?" Poppy said.

"Well, yeah. You get to see tons of naked ladies, and you ain't even got to pay much for it. Way cheaper than some dirty peepshow thing, and I don't even got a bunch of creeps beatin' off next to me."

"I don't even know why I asked," she said.

"Aight, sometimes I look at landscapes too, and not just because I need something to tell ma when I get back other than 'did it for the tits, Ma.' Some of those artists sure were somethin'. Like that water guy."

"Water guy? You mean Monet?"

"Yeah, him and Manny are pretty good dudes."

"Manny? You mean Manet?"

"And that one guy who just wanted to bang a chick in a tutu. Now there's a guy I can see eye-to-eye with. Shame he didn't do more naked stuff."

She laughed. "That's an interesting interpretation of Degas."

"Just a realistic one. He was a dude, what do you expect?"

"I can give you a tat right here. It'll wash off by next shower, though," Liam said.

"Surprise me," she said.

She held out her hand. Liam dug around in his bag and pulled out a red ink pen. On her inner arm, he started to draw a small red flower. As the petals came together, she realized it was a poppy.

The flower became a bouquet. She leaned back on the air mattress and let him draw more. The pen was almost as sensual as a kiss against her skin.

"Like any artist will tell you, you gotta blend those colors," Liam said.

She pulled out a flask, one that she usually only used for really long days, and took a sip. The alcohol burned sweet down her throat. There was no way she was driving back.

She handed it over to him. He took a sip, and coughed.

"What is this stuff? It's like I was punched in the face by a giant Russian guy named Mikhail."

"Just vodka," she said.

They passed the drink back and forth. The more she had, the better an idea it seemed. Maybe she could get one where no one could see. She stifled laughter at the thought. A tattoo under her clothes, a secret kept between them to smile about in meetings.

"What?" Liam said.

"I just thought what my family would think if we got matching tattoos."

Liam's eyes widened. "I bet they'd hit the roof even more than my Ma, and it's pretty hard to beat that. She cried."

She was too old for rebellion like this. But all these notes about her sisters marrying down made her want to jump on the nearest motorcycle, with Liam behind her.

He leaned in. "Just think of the kind of trouble we can get into," Liam said. He kissed her palm, uncaring that it smudged the ink. "I'll make you a design you'll never forget. One I can kiss and kiss, and it'll never go away."

Her breath caught as their lips met. Their passion was caught by a crash, and a groan from Liam. He drew back and rubbed at her head. One of her tools--to be more exact, her murderkit--had fallen down.

"Did you hit your head?"

"It wasn't bad," Liam said. "C'mere, we can still go again."

"Let me check, first."

She ran her hand across the side of his head. There was no sticky blood, just the smoothness of his head--and tender skin, which would surely be bruised by morning.

"You should ice it," she said.

"I'd rather kiss you. I'll forget all about that. Kiss it better, Poppy."

She still leaned in to kiss him, and placed her hand on his chest. "You don't have a tattoo here yet," she said.

"I gotta find just the right one over my heart. I got some ideas, though," Liam said.

"Maybe it's the alcohol talking, but I want a tattoo," she said.

"Lemme design it. I'll get you one that's as unforgettable as what we just did," Liam said.

"Seriously? You'd probably give me a pin up with her tits hanging out."

Liam laughed. "Come on, have some faith in me."

He drew out a design with his pens on her wrist. Red poppies woven around a gun surrounded by stars.

Poppy lifted it up to the light. "It's beautiful, but, I think I'd get it somewhere a little less conspicuous."

Liam kissed her collar bone, and then moved lower. "I can sure think of some places."

She smiled. "I'm open for suggestions."

*

They slept off the vodka for a few hours, curled up in thick blankets and each other, but the thought of getting a tattoo didn't fade with the haze.

She sat on the tailgate, and washed the taste of sleep and alcohol from her mouth. His arms curled around her, and pulled her back towards the bed. It was tempting, but the thought of petals filled her mind. She glanced at her wrist. The ink had bled, and blurred until his art couldn't be seen anymore.

"You think a tattoo parlor would still be open at this hour?" she said.

"Poppy, it's a tattoo place. Drunken ideas at closin' time is when they get most of their money," Liam said.

Liam took the wheel on the drive back into civilization. It was deep in Southie they found the flickering lights of a tattoo parlor, still open at this hour. The neon sign said Drink 'N Ink which wasn't the most encouraging name, but she wasn't about to back out now.

It was a cramped place, with only two rooms separated by a desk built into the wall, and a chair in the back. Even the chairs in the waiting room--ripped up, and filled with graffiti--were so close together that their ankles touched.

"C'mon in," the tattoo artist said. He was a wiry man, wearing much of what very well could've been his own work. Swirls and stars, and at one point, a name hidden by his white tank top. His hair was a dark buzzcut, and his unshaved face hid the end of a particularly long dragon tattoo. His dark, unreadable eyes glanced their ways.

She hoped he wasn't too drunk, hopped up on caffeine or drugs, all things considered.

"One for the lady, and one for me. Ladies first, though," Liam said.

He nodded. "Always ladies first."

The chair was empty. Flickering florescent lights gave the room a haunting glow.

"You wanna drink for this? I got a flask in the back," he said.

"I'm good," she said.

"Here, lemme hold your hand, for good luck," Liam said.

Knowing him, he probably just wanted to hold her hand. She smiled, and gripped his hand as the tattoo artist started pushed back her hair. The machine reminded her of a contraption the former doctor at her last job had made. It made a droning buzzing noise. But overall, she'd felt worse.

Past the bee-sting of pain, a little red flower formed at the back of her neck. The whole time. She didn't make a noise, or even a whimper. When it was over, Liam squeezed her hand.

"Whoa, you're real strong. I screamed like a baby when they put those needles. All of them, especially this one." He tapped the heart at the side of his bicep, with Ma inside. "That was my first after my India Ink one. I got that one before my stint in the clink. Wanted to give somethin' back to ma."

The tattoo artist lifted his head. "What were you in for?"

"Armed robbery, some indecent exposure and drunkenness, too," Liam said.

The tattoo artist nodded. "Good ones."

"Good for five years."

"You only served five? Those usually get way more," he said.

"Yeah, Ma said someone did somethin'. Dunno, she knows somebody. Maybe he's high mob, though Ma hinted he's even higher. Never met the guy."

"Where's your dot?" he said.

Liam held up his hand so he could see. His wraps had been peeled away during their time in the back of her truck. But it'd been too dark for her to see it then.

A little black clover on his middle finger right below the knuckle.

"Got this one when I was about twelve. I screamed so loud, they mocked me for ages. I got it on my middle finger, so I could tell people to fuck off for all of Ireland and Southie."

The tattoo artist chuckled. "Now there's a true Southie boy."

"Born and bred." Liam smirked. "Hey, man, I'm next. It's been way too long since I got any ink."

"You too?" It came to her now that he'd mentioned something about that.

"We go down together," Liam said.

"I can't believe you didn't make a bad joke about that."

"I gotta save some material for later," Liam said.

"Where are you going to get it?"

He shrugged. "That's a surprise."

She stretched out. The skin still itched, but she pushed it from her mind. "I think I'll get some water in the front. Call me if you need any moral support."

"Don't worry, I can scream like a little bitch without help, trust me," Liam said.

"I know. I just made you earlier," she said.

Liam coughed from how hard he laughed. The tattoo artist tapped him. "Cut it out, you'll fuck up my work."

"S-sorry man. She's just too funny."

He tattoo artist glanced over Liam's arms.

"Who did your ink?"

"Got some in prison, got some before when I was out west. Here and there. I think up stuff, little drawings, and wanna keep it. Paper gets lost, but if I put it in my skin, I ain't goin' to misplace it. Not unless I misplace my arm."

The drone started on again. It was past 3 AM, and despite the haze of grogginess, sex and alcohol, she'd never felt more alive.

*

Back in the truck, the idea came as sudden as a car crash, and just as messy.
She broke out laughing at the brilliance of it all.

"What?" Liam said.

"I can't believe I didn't think of it," she said.

"Cool, I don't read minds, though," Liam said.

"Two words: The Holidays. Please tell me you aren't going off somewhere."

"Nah, I was just goin' to be at home. Why, you got plans?"

"You," she said.

Liam broke into a big grin. "I thought we were fake breakin' up? Or is that not on now? I can never tell."

"I had figured I'd save it for a birthday present for my mother."

She'd had a plan to even let her mother set her up with some boring doctor or lawyer, or investment broker for a blind date. Now she'd have to go actually get a card.

"I'd be glad to be your date for Thanksgivin'...but you gotta repay the favor. Ma wouldn't hear for me missin' the holiday."

"Holidays, plural," Poppy said.

"So, Smissmass too?"

"Definitely," Poppy said.

"That's an awful long time away," Liam said.

"You should know by know, I always plan ahead," Poppy said.

"What about Halloween?"

"We're not children, so I don't think there's much we could do," she said.

"Oh, there's plenty of trouble we could get into," Liam said.

"I'm not the ouija board type," she said.

"Don't believe in the supernatural, huh?" Liam said.

"I think you'd have to be a complete dumbass to try and contact the other side whether it exists or not, especially as a stupid game," she said.

Liam snickered. "You sounded like Ma!"

"Your mother's a wise woman," Poppy said

She dropped him off at the curb. Liam leaned in. "Do I get a kiss, or is that not part of the alibi deal?"

What a smartass.

"Don't push your luck," she said. But, she pulled his collar close and kissed him so hard, she could practically feel his knees give way. She let him go, smelling of her perfume and covered in her lipstick.

"Good night, Liam."

"S-Seeya later," he said.

He walked back up the stairs towards his apartment like he was drunk. But this time, it wasn't vodka, but all her.

*

It took everything she had not to rub the tattoo at the base of her neck. Not just because it itched, but to remember the night, and his mouth on hers under the stars.

She smiled to herself. Even days later, the afterglow lingered.

She wiped the blood from her glasses. The head had been easy enough, but drilling through the forearms, and then throwing the pieces of the body into the waves was the hard part. At least she didn't have sand in her clothes constantly.

Eventually, she'd have to get him out for round two. Maybe behind the bleachers at Fenway. He'd probably get a kick out of something like that. Her pen trailed off, spilled drops of ink. She caught herself. At least they weren't fussy about reports here. It didn't quite pay as well, but they let her have weekends off, unless there came an emergency.

She put them down in her planner as weedwhacking. At least half of it was accurate.

*

Poppy tugged down on the witch's hat, a last minute addition, as well as a black mini dress with laces up the back. It was definitely sexier than her usual costumes. Then again, she hadn't dressed up since she was a teen.

She checked her lipstick again, now the third time in ten minutes. She certainly played the part of a woman waiting for her date well enough. Was it even a date? She couldn't tell where the lines had been drawn between them.

She stepped out onto the porch, just as he came up the short driveway. When Liam caught sight of her, his whole face went from shock to awe to adoration. He looked like a kid on Smissmass day, one who had gotten just the gun he asked for.

Liam let out a whistle. "Damn, Poppy. You're killing it."

"What are you supposed to be?" she said.

He wore a leather jacket, though it honestly looked like it either came straight out of a dumpster or a knife fight with how many slashes were across the arms. His hair definitely had some product on it to make it spike out, like he was a punk. There was some kind of fake teeth in his mouth, and marks across his cheeks. Though that could've just been a lingering scar, considering how many fights he got into.

"So, you're a punk wolf?" Poppy said.

"I'm just awesome," Liam said.

Well, she couldn't fight with that.

Her sister came out onto the porch as well. She wore pearls and pink. No costume; she did her part as playing a Stepford wife every day of the year. Her sister smiled in that way that reeked passive aggression. "That's fine. I'll just be watching the children since Brenda from the social circle canceled."

"What? No Halloween? Aww, that's no good. We'll take 'em out," Liam said.

She glanced at him incredulously. Here he was, willingly walking straight into a full on cockblock. But Liam was quite serious.

"Are you--quite sure?" her sister said. Her smile tightened to a grimace.

"He's actually really good with kids," Poppy said.

She tapped his arm. "Liam, side bar, she said.

She guided him down the driveway, where June couldn't hear them.

"Seriously? This is how you want to spend the night? You can't just ditch them to go make out in the bushes," she said.

"I wouldn't dream of it. I love the little buggers. Besides, with this many kids, they probably haven't gotten laid in years. Give the lady a break and let her get some. It'll probably improve her mood."

"The last thing I want to do is think of my sister's sex life, or lack thereof," Poppy said.

"The kids won't be out late. Maybe eight or nine, tops. After that, we got the whole night to ourselves. Besides, I'm sure we can score some free candy along the way," Liam said.

She looked at him skeptically. "...that's the real reason you volunteered for this, isn't it?"

"Hey, I ain't above free candy, but that ain't all. I'd sit at the DMV with you and still have a blast," Liam said.

In retrospect, she should've traded the heels for flats.

"All right. But make sure they're home before nine," June said tightly.

Apparently, she must've really been in dire need of a break to leave the kids in their hands.

Ten minutes later, her nieces and nephews had their bags, their hats on straight, and they were off down the street of other lighted, nearly identical houses.

"All right, let's get this party started!"

The kids looked up at him with a sort of awe. Liam threw back his head and let out a howl. "You could say, I'm bad to the bone."

A little pirate looked up her way. She couldn't tell if it was Gerogie or Jerry. Some Aunt she was.

"Are you two married?"

"Not yet. But soon enough, if I play my cards right," Liam said.

"Oh really now?" Poppy said.

"Yeah. Once you get a glimpse how amazin' I am here, you'll be beggin' me to be the father of your children."

The kids started shrieking Liam and Poppy, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g at the top of their lungs as they ran down the street past white picket fences. Liam let out another howl, and chased after the giggling children.

"Got you!" he lifted up a little kicking and laughing pirate.

"Careful about the shins, sport," Liam said.

The sheer depth of his plan hit her. Georgie and/or Jerry would certainly blab all about this. It would set off a genuine furor with the gossip grapevine, until it reached her mother. She wouldn't even have to drop hints that Liam was thinking serious things. In just a few words, Liam had completely worked their ploy for months.

God, she couldn't have dreamed up a subtle and frankly, brilliant plan if she tried.

The porch had what appeared to be a pair of skeletons having tea, with a carved pumpkin between them. The scariest decorations were all those little red white and blue signs signs proclaiming Make America Great Again: Reagan Bush on all the front lawns.

Georgie or Jerry knocked on the door. It was more a patter than anything else.

"Oh, come on. Lemme show you how to really knock."

"Don't break down the door," she said.

"That would be hot, wouldn't it?" Liam said.

He gave three hard knocks, and used his elbow on the doorbell. The housewife looked a little startled as she opened the door. Liam had that effect on people. She only wore white cat ears over her dark hair--just that--and her usual gingham and pearls. Poppy had to wonder if one of her children had put the ears on them.

They raised their bags up, and yelled out like a cheer "Trick or treat!"

"How sweet," she said. Her gaze went back to Liam. She let out a little laugh, and dropped candy into their open and waiting bags.

Liam was so into the spirit of the holiday, he didn't even realize he was being ogled by Suburban Republican housewives. Or maybe it was her dress.

Four more houses were successful. Liam taught them the fine art of knocking, and their bags had started to be full to bursting.

But as they rounded the corner to go to the next street, a group of older teens dressed as pirates came out of the bushes. A small group of children, ghosts and goblins, and a little witch were scattered as they came out.

He shoved one of the little pirates to the ground, and snatched the bag of candy right up.

"Oh no, fuckin' no you don't!" Liam went running. He smacked straight into one of the teens, and grabbed back the bag. Candy went flying all across the group.

"Pops, you stay back and keep them safe. I'll take the creeps on."

"You wanna dance? You don't mess with kids, you fuckers. But I'm warnin' you, I've been through friggin' prison. I know how to live through a knife fight."

One of the three dove for a bag, and the rest went running down the street.

But they weren't prepared for Liam. He sprinted down. She heard a rough noise, body contact, a groan.

Gerogie or Jerry burst into tears.

"It's okay, it's okay," Poppy said in her most soothing voice.

""Liiiiiiiam is gooooone! Aaannnd I don't have any c-c-andy!"

"We can go get more," Poppy said.

She desperately tried to figure some way to calm them down. Damn, Liam was so much better at this than her. She'd have to take lessons at this point.

Liam bent down. "Aww, come on, slugger." He patted the boy on the arm. "Don't cry, you're a big guy."

"Liam!" Georgie or Jerry said.

Liam held up the bag. "Told you I'd get it back. Those jerks didn't know who they messed with. There you go, Georgie. A little smushed, but that'll just make it taste better."

He'd only known them for one night, and he was already being a better uncle then any of her years of being an aunt to them.

"Now, let's go off and get some more candy," Liam said.

Poppy checked her watch. "We won't have time for that. We've only got just enough time to head back. June will go go ballistic if we don't bring them back in time. You know how punctual she is. Actually, you don't. Let's just say that you should be glad you don't know how punctual she is."

Georgie let out a whimper. "We didn't get enough candy."

"I got you," Liam said. "C'mon, let's share."

The kids they were watching were more than a little reluctant. "Fine, I'll fix this," he said. He handed over his bag and split it between the rest of the children.

"What do you say?" Poppy said.

"Thank you, Liam!"

"My leg hurts," the little pirate said. By process of elimination, it had to be Jerry.

"Well, slugger, ain't that normal for pirates like you?" He ruffled the little boy's hair. "I'm just kiddin', I got you."

Liam hoisted him up, until he was riding on his shoulders.

He was so good with children. The first time wasn't a fluke. Poppy had never considered things like good with children as positive qualities. But with Liam, she sure was.

"C'mon back, you little ghouls and goblins, and the cute witch, too. We gotta get back before the skeletons come out."

They walked down the street, back to the idyllic little subdivision these children all called home.

"You were so excited to get your candy, too," she said.

"Eh, I'm all right. I'll just sneak from your bag," Liam said.

Poppy laughed. "No you won't. I ended up with all the apples and toothbrushes. Doctors are never going to get near me again."

"Good, keep the creeps away. I hate doctors."

She leaned in to kiss his cheek.

"That's all the sugar I need. Well, I'm a little greedy, and could take a ton more, but that's all I need around the kids," Liam said.

He left the lipstick print on his cheek pristine as he guided the little kids inside.

June had an unmistakable unkempt aspect to her usually perfect hair. And even more, the reeking passive aggression which usually hung about her like too much perfume was replaced by a real smile. With a little disgust, she realized Liam was probably right.

"Liam fought ten men for our candy!"

June frowned. "It's getting way too dangerous around here. We won't be able to let them trick or treat soon."

June, named after June Cleaver, tapped her lower lip in thought. An old habit, even if it did leave smears of red lipstick on her fingertips.

"It wasn't that bad, just some mischievous teenagers. Liam and I will just handle it next year."

June's eyes widened. "Next year?"

"He's coming for Thanksgiving, too," Poppy said.

"How....nice," June said. Her smile was stretched too thin, like a mask.

"Hey, let's go, Miss Poppy. We got a date to catch."

"They're all yours," Poppy said. She waved, as a cursory goodbye, and headed back towards their truck.

"You want to catch a movie?" she said.

"Anywhere you wanna go, I wanna go."

She lifted her eyebrows. "Anywhere? Because there's a graveyard--"

"I thought you didn't fuck with the supernatural?" Liam said.

She laughed. "I'm just teasing. There's a movie marathon."

*

She drove them out towards the old drive in, and parked towards the back. She turned the truck around, so they could lay out in the truck bed. A shame she hadn't thought to put the cap on and give them more privacy. It was like makeout lane here.

"Catchin' a movie? What's on?"

"This week, they're showing The Exorcist, Jaws, Halloween , Alien, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre...
and Carrie. I don't know which one will be on by the time we get there, though."

"Sure, I'm down. I mean, sure, as long as you're there," he said.

She smirked. "Oh, I'll be sure to protect you from the big scary bad men with chainsaws."

They laid back and settled in for the movie. What she hadn't realized was she was in for a comedy. The blood, frankly, was ridiculous. She'd seen chainsaw wounds. Hell, she'd made chainsaw wounds. The blood spatter was all wrong, and intestines did not look like that. But she was the only one laughing at each hardcore scene.

Liam put his arm about her waist. But as the chainsaw revved up, he clutched her tight.

Poppy lifted her eyebrows. "Need some help over there?"

"I-I ain't scared. I'm startled. Anybody would be startled with the sound of t-that!"

"I hope you don't like swimming, because Jaws is next," Poppy said dryly.

"Jeez, Poppy. Sharks are a real issue. We're right near the ocean and everythin'! We're one flood away from wakin' up with a shark bitin' off my balls."

"I thought it was an old trick, for men to take women out for scary flicks and then try and cop a feel to 'comfort them,'" she said.

"Can't we just skip to the makin' out?" Liam said.

"I thought you wanted to watch movies," she said.

"I'd rather watch you any day," Liam said.

"How about both?" she said.

The plot of the movie was lost in their kisses. Some woman screamed on the screen, and it drowned out a moan as his hand rested on her hip. She'd lost track of the casualties, and everything but his lips.

She'd made better gore scenes in her work days, anyways.

*

She'd been out on a 'business trip' for weeks. Two midwest mafias were burnt to ashes, and she had a new paycheck. The golden leaves were gone, and now everything was covered in a thick layer of snow.

But instead of waiting to meet her, he'd hiked up in the snow, and waited at the curb for her. He wore a black polyester jacket with a lightning bolt on the collar, and a series of colorful lines across the chest and shoulders. His jeans seemed too thin for the run, though, and his gloves had gone threadbare. She mentally put some Smissmass gifts to the list. His face lit up as she parked. Snow crunched beneath his feet as he rushed over.

"Oh--don't fall. You must be freezing," she said.

"Bostonian boy, here. I'm immune," Liam held up his hand. "Been runnin' in the snow for ages. Fell flat on my ass plenty of times. My balls have been frozen so many times, the walk was like--nothin'."

"Your lips are all chapped," she said.

"I know just the cure for that," Liam said.

Before she could reach for her chapstick, he pushed her against the cold truck, and kissed her. The feel of his lips was so warm that she didn't even feel the chill anymore.

"You know my family can see us?" Poppy said.

"Let 'em watch," Liam said.

She slipped her hand up his coat. God, those weeks had gone so much more slowly without him around. He deepened the kiss, his tongue warm across her lower lip.

"Missed you," Liam muttered. He broke away only for a moment, and leaned in for another kiss.

It was so tempting to just stay out there. Even with the cold. But the only thing colder than the air outside were the stares she could just see when the white filmy drapes were pushed aside.

She tapped him on the very red nose. "We'll get frostbite if we stay out here," Poppy said.

"Nah, I'll keep you warm with body heat," Liam said. He nuzzled against her neck. "Think they got some mistletoe up yet?"

"My sister took it down the minute right after I told her you were really coming," she said.

Her family had been though every stage of grief since she'd said he was coming for the holidays. Except they kept doubling back from acceptance to bargaining again.

With a wicked grin, she flicked a little snow at him.

"F-fuck! That's just playin' dirty," Liam said.

He bent down and scooped up a handful of snow. "Be careful, you're goin' against Boston's greatest. I'd be straight on the Bosox if they weren't bein' a stickler about stupid shit like a criminal record."

"That pesky criminal record," she said dryly.

She ducked as he hurled a snowball her way, like he was pitching at Fenway park.

"Strike one!" She called back.

"Ohoho, I ain't about to miss agai--" He broke off as she clocked him in the mouth with a snowball.

"You were saying?" she said.

"Like a kiss," Liam said. He winked, and launched another snowball her way.

She reached for another snowball. But he caught her this time. He dropped a handful of unpacked snow, like fairy dust, all over her hat. It fluttered down to land in her eyelashes and eyebrows, with a little dollop of white left on her nose.

"He shoots, he scores!"

"Who's playing dirty now?" she said.

"Me. Always me," he said.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her down to the snow with him. She couldn't stop laughing, even as the cold air hurt her lungs. The snow formed into a very different kind of angel around them as he kissed her. He was hard against her. She couldn't help but grind against him, just to elicit that wonderful groan.

She'd missed him. Not just in her bed, but in her life. His stupid quips, his bragging and smile. She placed her hand on his chest. Firm and splayed out. It would be so easy to ditch dinner and hit the nearest hotel and warm up together.

She pushed those thoughts out of her mind. She'd determined to bring him to holidays, and she was damn well going to sit through uncomfortable talks of politics and drunken relatives to do so.

"Cool it for a while, we're going in for dinner," she said.

"Gimme a sec, I need a breather."

"I can help," she said. She pushed a handful of snow under his coat.

"Jeez, brutal," Liam said.

She chuckled and kissed down his jaw.

"Gettin' mixed signals here," Liam said.

She cupped his face. Her snowy gloves left little spots of moisture as the snowflakes melted on his cheeks. "I missed you, too. We'll have plenty of time to get caught up after some dinner."

"Dinners," Liam said.

"You're right. We're going to your mother's after this one," she said.

He rolled off her, and onto the snow. For a moment, he just stared at the steadily increasing snowfall. She pushed herself up and brushed herself off.

"I'd offer to help you up, but you're going to just pull me back in again," she said.

"Guilty as charged."

"Come on, wild boy. There's bound to be some Eggnog in there. With my family there always is," she said.

They went together towards the door. There was a suspicious ribbon that still hung, from where the mistletoe had once been.

Her hat was wet with snow. She brushed the white powder off her shoulders. He stomped his feet across the thick place mat at the door. Coats were left on the hallway wall hooks. His striped polyester coat stood out between the Burberry wool coats, and hats from Macy's.

"We're here," Poppy said. "It smells wonderful."

"Thank you, dear," her mother said.

"And he came too," June said.

The smile froze into a grimace on her mother's face. "You're...still together?"

She'd so hoped for an almost-Smissmass miracle.

"Oh yeah, we're comin' up to a one year anniversary," Liam said brightly.

"But Poppy was in New Mexico a year ago," she said slowly.

She mentally reprimanded herself for not thinking of going through the alibi earlier. Now, they'd risk mixing up stories, and her family wasn't blackout drunk yet.

Liam put his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, I was on probation out there, we ran into each other, almost literally, you could say," Liam said. His gaze softened. "One look at her and my life changed. I'd never met anyone as smart, or strong as her. And by the first kiss, I was just a goner. She's real special--the most incredible girl I ever met."

Wow, he really could land on his feet. She couldn't help but be impressed at how he'd managed to flip that story around into something plausible.

Liam took her hand.

"I just gotta say, this is the most amazin' girl I've ever met, and I've never been more thankful to have met someone."

"Oh god, he's proposing." Her mother's hands shook as she poured out a glass of wine. It wasn't even dinner yet.

"Oh sure, Sheryl. I'm sure that's exactly what you need. as if you haven't been drinking out in the kitchen since Poppy got here."

That was grape juice," she said from between gritted teeth. "My doctor recommended it."
|
"The most expired grape juice imaginable."

Liam had a look like he might do something reckless, like really propose, so she squeezed his hand, and cleared her throat.

"Hey, Ma Pauling. Your dinner smells great. That sage?"

"Oh, yes. I rubbed it in herbs. Would you like to try some? There's really no need to prolong things--"

"Yes, please. Dinner would be great--" There was a palatable relief in the room to have more excuse for wine.

"--We have to head out for his family's gathering pretty soon, anyways," she said.

"Yeah, knowin' my brothers, there won't be anythin' left."

Her father started to cut the turkey.

"Be careful," her mother said.

"I know how to cut a turkey, I've been doing this for decades," he said.

She had mental images of another Thanksgiving trip to the hospital, like the last one where her mother had fallen through the sliding glass door two years ago.

"Why don't we let Liam do the honors? He's the guest, after all," Poppy said.

Liam, as always, was glad to do the honors. He smiled back at her, as each thin slice of meat was readied. It looked just like something out of Good Housekeeping. Except for the empty bottles she damn well knew was in the garbage, hidden under wrappers so none of the neighbors would guess.

He laid out a slab of chicken for her. "First choice for the most beautiful, incredible girl I ever met," he said.

Her mother laughed--a little too much. Poppy wondered how many bottles she'd finished before she'd gotten there. "What a charmer."

With him around, the trip back was bearable. Even enjoyable.

*

She put her coat on. Goodbyes were already said--and her family was already a great deal more drunk. Thankfully, she'd miss the biggest part of the passive aggressive sniping between them. "Jeez, your family is somethin'. I thought they were going to square down right there at the table."

"Oh no, they're not the bar fight kind. They're the passive aggressive and drinking kind," Poppy said.

"Now my brothers and me, we can have a real fight," Liam said. He punched the air, mimicking a boxer. "Every holiday at least one of us ends up outside and dukin' it out. To be fair, that happens all the other days of the year, too."

"What, am I going to be treated to you and your brothers shirtless fighting?" Poppy said.

"It don't take a holiday for you to get a gun show like that," Liam said. Liam winked, and flexed for her.

There was New Years to think about. And Valentine's day. Her mother always tried to set her up. It'd been easier to get out of dates when she lived halfway across the country. But if she let him go too soon, her family would pounce with possible suitable dates.

Besides, she was having far too much fun to stop. Even if it felt like each kiss was making them teeter towards something dangerous, all she wanted to do was dive in.

"Great acting out there," Poppy said in an undertone.

"Yeah, acting," Liam said. He rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck. For a second, she could've sworn Liam looked sad. "I....I gotta go take a leak, gimme a sec."

Poppy lifted her eyebrows. "Okay then."

Except down the hall, she could see him pacing and muttering. He made no effort to go to the restroom. She was about to ask if he needed directions, but kept back, when she heard him start to speak louder this time."Stupid, stupid, stupid, what the hell? God, that's the worst answer ever. Not cool, Liam. Not smooth at all. "

Maybe he'd been hitting the bottle before he arrived.


*

She put the key in, and started the slow start up. The motor sometimes backfired in the winter, but maybe they'd warmed it up with all the shared kisses a while ago.

She smiled at the memory, and all the other memories of the night.

Liam pressed his knees to the heater all the while.

"How do you run in those? Aren't you freezing?"

"You ever try runnin' in snowpants?" Liam said.

"Can't say I have. But the mental image is fun," she said.

"You don't run, you waddle. Then fall over," he said.

He started in on the logistics of the perfect run when she crossed the line into Southie. She'd barely parked when he bounded out like a kid on Smissmass.

"Ma, we're here!"

Michael opened the door, with quite some skepticism. "We're? I can't fuckin' believe it. This damn well must be a world record. Liam usually scares 'em away within minutes."

"Minutes? I think you mean seconds," Jonathon said.

"Ha, in your face! I bet my brothers are totally losin' bettin' money!"

"If you'd love me, you'd break it off by New Years," Michael said

Liam gave him the finger. "Fuck off, Michael."

Colleen peeked out from the kitchen, and gave them each a stern glare. "No fightin' with company around!"

"He insulted my pride," Michael said.

"You ain't got any dignity to insult," Liam said.

"Don't act like you've got the high road, Liam Donovan Dempsey. You just got out of prison."

"Aww, come on, ma. Ain't nothin' undignified about prison. I got street cred now."

"Don't give that crap," she said. "Now get your girl seated down. She'll catch a cold there by the door."

She had flour all over her apron. There was just a hint of class, with the ruffles at the edge. It looked distinctly French in nature. "If you want the recipe of any of these, I can jot it right down," she said.

Her many sons looked to Poppy with newfound respect.

Liam gasped when she went back to the kitchen to bring out the food. "Two times in a row?"

"All we need is your mother to demand if I'm pregnant and we'll have a full bingo," Poppy muttered.

Liam lifted his eyebrows.

"Let's not tempt fate," Poppy said.

*

"God, I'm practically waddling," she said. She patted her stomach as she made her way towards her truck.

"I can't believe they didn't get in any fights the whole time. I think that qualifies the whole lot of us for sainthood."

"With the way your mother was looking at them, I'm not surprised," she said.

He chuckled. "Yeah, she really likes you. Can't say the same about your family and me, though," he said.

"Anyone they liked I would hate," she said.

"Good to know."

She climbed in her truck, and rolled the window down. The snowfall had started to intensify, and since the sun went down, the temperature had plummeted. The streetlights left an orange haze reflection over the newly iced over snow. Liam still insisted on walking her those few steps down to the curb. Before she started her truck, she leaned in to kiss him. "See you this Smissmass."

"Oh, Poppy. You think you can stay away that long?" Liam said. "I know I can't."

She laughed, and rolled her eyes. "See you then--and sooner than that."

"Better," he said.

He leaned in to kiss her again. She placed her finger on his lips.

"You'll catch a cold if you stay out here too long," she said.

He leaned in the window more. "If I did, would you take care of me?" Liam said.

"Maybe. I'd call you a dumbass, though," she said.

"I'd gladly be a dumbass if it meant I got to spend another second with you," Liam said.

She lifted her eyebrows. "You going home with me?" she said.

"I wish," he said. "Ma wanted me to help hand out the goods with the rest of the church."

"One more kiss for the road?" she said.

"Yeah," he said, and leaned in again.

*

Smissmass was weeks away. She'd for once, gotten her shopping done early. She cradled the phone, and smiled as she dialed the familiar number. Liam answered on the first ring.

"Hello?"

"You must've sprinted to the phone to beat your brothers," Poppy said.

"Fuck yeah I did, I wanted it so bad to be you. And it was!" Liam said.

"Up for showing me more of the town?"

"I am always up for anythin' involvin' you. Even buryin' bodies," Liam said.

"I'll file that one away for later," she said.

"Like hell you are, for the last time, Liam Dempsey, you ain't joinin' the mafia! They kill talkers, and you can never shut up!"

"I was jokin', Ma! Honest!"

She laughed. "So, what restaurant do you want to go to. O'Neill's, was it?"

"I don't want to get frostbite. Are there any decent restaurants?"

"Southie's got nothin' but pubs and diners, babe. We could go to the Bug House."

"The what?"

"The Bug House! It's a theater. You better not be sneakin' in snacks, though. Because they'll frisk you and kick your ass. Not kiddin'. I tried it even when they told me not to, and I had to haul ass out of there or get my skull beaten in."

"Does everyone in Southie have a bat in their trunks or something?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Even Father O'Conner," Liam said.

Well, she'd certainly get along better with them than the subdivision all with Reagan signs in their yards.

"Why is it called The Bug House?"

"Who knows? It just is. Oh, that reminds me. I've been meanin' to see Flash Gordon, though The Bug House probably don't have it yet. They're about six months behind, but a ticket is only 5 bucks. Though they probably have The Empire Strikes Back," Liam said.

"We'll figure out when we get there. Say, 6PM?"

"I'll meet you there," she said.

"Lookin' forward to it," Liam said. "I know it might not seem like much if you've been to a big bunch of fancy places, but it's real special to me. I spent a lot of days there. I'm glad I can share it with you."

She smiled to herself. He couldn't help but get excited about even little things when it came to her.

"I'll see you then," she said.

"Yeah I lov---" he broke off and cleared his throat. "I'd love to see Star Wars with you, I mean. Because I just l-love Star Wars so much. Like ever since it came into my life all I can think is wow, everything's better. And how bad it would be if I just didn't run into that--that theater."

"Of course," she said. "I'm sure I'll...love Star Wars too."

"I hope so, because the last one was so damn good, a complete game changer. I wish I would've known you then, so we could've seen it together. Like when--Ahhh, I gotta stop or I'll be blabbin' details out. Just know I'll be countin' down the seconds until we see it together," Liam said.

"All right," she said.

Me too, she thought.

*

Poppy shivered in the cold. She glanced at her watch for the third time. 6:30. Liam wouldn't stand her up. She'd always figured he'd be early, and waiting out in the snow for her. She'd expected to hear him going on about the show, shifting and unable to keep still from the excitement.

But he was nowhere to be seen. She sighed and looked down the street. He would've called her, if something had come up. He wouldn't have just left her hanging.

She'd give him a few more minutes.

The ticketmaster--or mistress, rather, was a young woman with lots of make up. Thick mascara, blue eyeshadow and long curly blond hair that peeked out from her pink cap. She lifted a cigarette to her hand, and took draws between handing out tickets.

Slowly, the crowd all settled in for the movie. The Empire Strikes back was packed for another night.

Poppy was the only one there stranding in the cold. She glanced at her watch. Five more minutes.

"Hey, you. You ever goin' to get a ticket?"

Poppy looked up. The ticketmaster was looking right at her. "My date hasn't arrived yet," she said.

"Oh, hate to break it to you, but it looks like he cut and run."

"Trust me, he wouldn't. He's been looking forward to this for a really long time."

She remembered back to the sheer excitement of the phone call. No, he wouldn't back down. Especially not now, at his favorite haunt.

"He could be in the bathrooms down in the basement," she said.

"Maybe," Poppy said.

"What's his name? If I know, maybe I would've seen him."

"Liam Dempsey," she said.

"Oh Liam? Yeah, he's here all the time. Never shuts up. I'd know him anywhere. I'd heard he'd snagged some girl from uptown, but I didn't believe she existed. Not with how he brags. Looks like maybe he was right after all. Oh well, a broken clock is right twice a day." Anyways, he was just here. He went down towards the basement and ain't come back."

"Thank you," Poppy said.

"Door's right there," the ticket master said.

Down that basement wasn't much warmer than outside. She went down the rickety stairs. One bare lightbulb swung ominously above her. The stench was overpowering, as if it hadn't been cleaned in decades. The doors to the

"Liam?" she called. It echoed, but no response came. But at the foot of the stairs, she caught sight of something. She found a hat with the Boston Red Sox on it. Not uncommon, but on the inside tag was marked his name in all caps.

There was a door, just slightly ajar past the basement bathrooms. She stepped out into the alley. There was one shoe. He labeled all his things. The side effect of being the youngest child.

Blood tainted the newly fallen snow. The three sets of footprints became two. She'd recognize drag marks anywhere.

She bent down. A matchbook she knew well. Almost all the matches had been used. Giuseppe's was just barely visible in the case.

"You son of a bitch," she said. She shoved the matches into her pocket and made her way towards her truck.

*