American Savages

  “You are holding our son’s soul as ransom for a date?”

  “Dates…the ‘s’ means more than one.”

  “Liam Alec Callahan, I will…”

  “Remember this look, son, she’ll be giving it to you one day.” He ignored me, as he bounced Ethan in his arms.

  “Liam, no dates. I do not date.”

  He pouted, which in turn made Ethan pout, and I swear my eyebrows were twitching so badly it was as if they were trying to escape my face.

  “Please, Mommy, think of my soul. It’s just a few dates with Daddy,” Liam said in an adorably childish voice. “Pretty please?”

  “Fine! But I’m not going to like it. I’m going to be bitchy the whole time, and you are—”

  “Your soul is saved little guy!” Liam grinned, lifting Ethan into the air, which caused him to giggle loudly, as he clapped his hands and swung his feet.

  “Come on, Mr. Callahan. The faster we go see these…leeches the faster we can do our job,” I muttered

  “A not so quickie later to celebrate?”

  Shaking my head at him, I turned around and opened the door to find Evelyn standing there with her fist poised in the air, ready to knock. She glared at me.

  “You’re both late…”

  “Mother, we’ll be down in a second.”

  She frowned at me before turning around. “She’s really pissed at me.”

  “Don’t dwell on it,” he muttered, as he stepped out into the hall.

  I wasn’t going to…I didn’t give a flying fuck. Liam and I were on the right path, and if she tried to screw with that, I would put her in a fucking nursing home quicker than she could blink.

  With our blissful bubble obviously popped, it was now time to go face the village idiots. Our family— Ethan, Liam, and I would be fine. Now we need to fix our image and business.

  TEN

  “Some soap opera, you know, real people pretending to be fake people with made-up problems

  being watched by real people to forget their real problems.”

  —Chuck Palahniuk

  MELODY

  I watched as the technical personnel adjusted their cameras once again, anxious to get this “interview” started. To my left, I could feel Liam’s eyes glaring at the man whose name and title I’d already forgotten, as he tweaked the wireless microphone on my chest. I could practically see the countdown ticking away in Liam’s mind. If this guy didn’t get it right soon, he was guaranteed to lose his head.

  “It’s quite alright, I’ve got it,” I said to him, as I took matters into my own hands by pinning it to my dress myself.

  “Okay, great.” He smiled, completely oblivious to the fact that I only interrupted his grabby hands because I happened to like this outfit, and because Liam would’ve undoubtedly made a scene if the guy remained had that close to me any longer.

  “You can breathe now,” I whispered over to Liam, covering the microphone as I spoke.

  Fixing his tie, he pretending not to notice. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

  Yeah, okay.

  The reporter from CNN, Mary Sue, as I referred to her, looked more nervous than anyone else in our backyard. We wanted the interview done at home but we kept the servants around to make sure that no wandered off. She was checking over everything, from lighting to her note cards one last time.

  “Are you both ready?”

  Are you?

  “Do your worst,” Liam smiled, giving her a small wink. He was laying it on so thick that the girl seemed unable to speak.

  “Take that as an invitation to question him about this dirty secrets…including his addiction to Jell-O.” I smiled, trying to get her to relax. If she wasn’t calm, then this entire thing would go to shit, and I refused to be subjected to another round of a million and five fucking questions. We needed the public to love, if not worship, us.

  “I am not addicted to Jell-O.” He turned to me, looking confused as to why I would bring it up, though the smile on his face was real. He turned to Mary who grinned at us. “I am not addicted to Jell-O.”

  “It’s horrible. Poor Ethan has to hide some under his pillow.”

  “Ethan can’t hide anything. Plus, he only eats applesauce.”

  “That’s because there’s no Jell-O left.”

  “And we’re on in 3, 2…” the producer pointed to Mary as the camera moved in closer.

  “We’ll talk about this later,” Liam whispered to me.

  Rolling my eyes, I focused on Mary who had managed to remain calm and steady as she spoke while looking into the camera.

  “Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Today I will be sitting with Mr. and Mrs. Callahan for the first time since her disappearance and his arrest.” The camera focused on us and so did she as Liam took my hand into his. “Mr. and Mrs. Callahan, I just have to start off with ‘wow.’”

  “We know,” I said with a smile before glancing at Liam. “Believe me, we know.”

  “Mrs. Callahan, from what we have gathered so far, all of this started with you getting a simple text message?”

  “Yes.” The simplest lie worked the best. “I cannot speak too much on it due to the ongoing investigation, which is so odd for me to say. But what I can say is that I got a text message from a suspected terrorist organization that seemed to be corresponding with a colleague. Our numbers were only one digit off.”

  “I’m not sure if that is the luckiest or unluckiest thing I have ever heard,” she replied.

  Obviously she didn’t get out much.

  “The jury is still out on that,” Liam added…which was more than a little ironic.

  “And you, Mr. Callahan, knew of this?”

  He nodded. “Yes I did. At first I thought it was a joke and thought maybe we should ignore the cryptic yet frightening message, but since we are public figures, we called a friend in D.C. Before we could even understand the gravity of the situation, the world under our feet began to shift.”

  “So you knew your wife was alive and you still offered a hundred million dollars for her return after word that she had been kidnapped leaked?” she asked.

  I was starting to dislike her. She did her job well, but those are the ones we had to be weary of.

  “Actually, I didn’t know everything at the time,” Liam adjusted. “She had just given birth and I was still in awe. Before I knew it, my mother was telling me that Mel was not in her room and that no one could find her. The panic…the fear that crippled me in that moment is hard to explain. The hospital shut down, and I hadn’t even thought to look at my phone. I just acted…I needed her back, our son needed her. It was only afterwards that an agent came and informed me of the covert happenings. By that point, I couldn’t withdraw my statement.”

  She looked so immersed as she turned to me. “Mrs. Callahan, were you scared? Why did they move you so quickly?”

  “In all honesty, I was coming down off of my epidural, I couldn’t even move myself. But I believe the CIA intercepted an attack on my life. It was only after I was placed in the safe house did the fear really start to set in,” I whispered, as I wiped the corner of my eye.

  In a flash Mary had a tissue ready to hand to me.

  Really?

  Taking it from her, I felt Liam grasp my other hand and kiss it.

  “I think what was worse,” I said softly, “was watching my husband get torn to pieces by the media night after night. Listening to people who knew nothing about him accuse him of all these horrid things, they painted him as a monster. Liam is just not capable of the things they accused him of.”

  He squeezed my hand and I knew he was struggling to hold in his laughter.

  “I must admit, Mrs. Callahan that I was part of that majority, and I know that no one feels as badly as we do. I apologize Mr. Callahan, but you do understand why we thought you were guilty.”

  “No,” he snapped.

  Oh, here we go...

  “I do not want people to think that we are okay. That this was jus
t a horrid time in our lives and now everything is perfect again. Our lives were drastically uprooted. The media, you, have a responsibility, a duty, to find truth, not to entertain. I was, and am, pissed at you, the media, and the American people. I was found guilty, not because there was evidence, but because of who I am. I accepted your apology but I do not understand it. Give me longer than a week.”

  So we were playing good mafia boss, bad mafia boss now. I wanted to be the bad one.

  She looked startled and glanced at her producer before looking to her cards and then finally back at Liam.

  “Well, Mr. Callahan, what of the law and judicial systems? They were so sure—”

  “The Chicago PD has had a target locked on this family for years,” I hissed.

  I wanted to be the bad one.

  “Are you saying that the Chicago Police Department was willing to put an innocent man in prison just because they dislike his family? That seems unfathomable.”

  “More unbelievable than getting a text message from a suspected terrorist organization?” Liam asked calmly.

  “Okay, point taken. But why do you think that is?”

  I was my turn now. “Many reasons; crime is at an all-time high all across the state, while public trust is at an all-time low, and they wanted to prove themselves. What better way to do it than take aim at this family. But above that, it’s perfectly acceptable to be rich in this country, but not too rich. The officer who testified, Officer Scooter, came to me with pointed questions of this family's wealth. Then, after losing a bodyguard, he accused my husband of setting it up. Thankfully the truth came out before their cuffs did. This was the same officer who led the charges against Liam.”

  “The Chicago PD has a systematic problem with competence,” Liam added. “We were told that the Police Commissioner was called by someone in the state office to drop the charges against me, but he refused to because he thought I was paying them off. While I was in jail repeating over and over again that I did not kill my wife; knowing the truth but not able to say anything. I now wonder how many other people have been incarcerated for crimes that they did not commit. I saw firsthand how broken the system really is.”

  “Are you going to file a civil suit against the state?”

  I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “We are tired. The only reason we’re doing interviews is because we want all of this to be put to rest without additional speculation. Right now, we just want to focus on our family.”

  “Plus, we don’t want to cripple the state. We just want justice,” Liam added.

  And justice we shall have.

  “Thank you so much for agreeing to do this interview, Mr. and Mrs. Callahan. And for your work in aiding this country in foiling one of the biggest terrorist plots since 9/11. The world needs more people like you both.”

  We smiled and nodded…some people were such idiots, they deserved to be lied to.

  “And we’re off!” the producer called. “You all were brilliant, just brilliant, all we need is a few shots. This segment should air this evening.”

  “Please send a finished copy to our lawyers as well.”

  Liam added a ‘please,’ but there were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Regardless of what many believed, there was a limit to the freedom of the press.

  LIAM

  Handing Ethan to my mother, I brushed through the small wisps of his hair. It felt as if years had gone by while dealing with the press. I just wanted a strong brandy and even more time with him and Mel.

  “You both seem better,” my mother muttered with a frown while she bounced Ethan on her hip. The little bugger would not let go of my finger.

  “And you still seem angry,” I replied, glancing over at Mel as she spoke to—more like commanded—Monte.

  “She was gone for five months without a single word. Ethan—”

  “And you were gone for twelve years, mother,” I reminded her. “Twelve very long years. You were right down the hall, only seventy-six steps away from me, yes, I counted back then, yet we barely saw each other. Five months is a not even of grain of sand compared the beach you have collected. Ethan will not remember. I love you so much, Ma, but this is not the fight you want to have because believe me, you will lose and you will lose badly. And I don’t want to ever hurt you like that, so please just let it go.”

  Her eyes became wide as though I had just slapped her across the face. Her mouth dropped open, and she nodded with a sad smile on her lips.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, as she reached up to touch my cheek, “I know how much you suffered, and I couldn’t help you. But you’re right. You’re so right.”

  Kissing her forehead, I stepped back when I heard heels clicking behind me. Mel said nothing, only moving to Ethan so she could hold him.

  “Mommy has to go teach a few people a lesson, but I will be back,” she cooed. It was eerie how good she was with him, even when talking about potentially killing someone. “Evelyn, Olivia is getting more than attached, I trust that you can be civil enough to do as I ask and keep Ethan out of her reach?”

  “Of course. Don’t worry, the little guy has an entire day of painting with grandma ahead of him.” She smiled before giving Mel a small hug.

  Mel froze, glancing at me in confusion and annoyance.

  Was it odd that I found it comforting that she still disliked being touched with the exception of Ethan and I?

  “Thank you, Evelyn, now please release me.”

  “Is the death machine out yet?” I asked her, referring to our “drug car.” It was nothing special, just a beat-up, old, black Chevy on its last leg of life. However, there was no chance for anyone to use global positioning system to track our locations when we used it, nor could they point out the fact that we’d even left the house. All the phones signals would be jammed the moment we got to our destination.

  “Yes, we need to be going,” she said, but she didn't look ready to leave either. Nodding over to my mother I watched as she walked away.

  “What did you say to her?” Mel demanded as soon as she was out of sight.

  “About what?” I muttered, looking down at my phone.

  “An hour ago she looked at me as if I were the anti-Christ, and now she’s giving me hugs.”

  “Hot flashes? Hormones? All you women change your mind too often for me to keep track of,” I muttered, pretending to not feel her glare at me.

  “I’m going to tell her about that hot flash comment,” she replied, as she walked towards the back door. Small forms of the press were still outside which meant that we had to go through the back.

  “Since when did you become a snitch?”

  “Around the same time I became a mother. One day Ethan will say something about me and I’ll want to know,” she said, as she opened the large mahogany door that led down to the marble steps and into the kitchen.

  The kitchen staff pretended that we weren’t there as they moved around to get lunch prepared for the rest of the family. “So you’re joining the sisterhood of meddling moms now?”

  “I drive.” She rolled her eyes, and oddly enough, Kain Fionn held the door open for us instead of Fedel. His face was still black and blue from her “lesson.”

  “Nope.” I held my hand out for the keys and without a second thought, Kain handed them to me.

  “Kain,” Mel sneered. “You’re new to our private detail and may very well end up back on the streets if you ever act without waiting for us to come to agreement. Are we understood?”

  Poor bastard.

  “Aye, ma’am.”

  “Follow behind us,” I told him before getting in and putting the car into gear. Neither Mel nor I spoke as we drove. But in the corner of my eye I watched her as she watched me. The old Chevy trembled and it felt as though we were an old couple on the way back to the farm.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing.”

  Flipping the radio on, I fiddled with the dial until I found the opera station, satisfied that I’d found what I w
as looking for, I listened to a woman weep mournfully. Sadly my Italian was still not as good as I had hoped it would be. Mel listened for a mere moment before shaking her head and turning it off.

  “Excuse you?”

  “You were enjoying The Duke of Milan?”

  I didn’t even know it had a title. “Yes, it’s a classic,” I bluffed.

  “Yes, it is, but it’s not opera, it’s a play being sung horribly. Besides, I’d rather not listen to another dysfunctional family.”

  “We are not a dysfunctional family.” I mean every family had issues.

  “Your brother’s wife wants to raise our son. The only reason I haven’t killed her is because her father is the President and we don’t need any more bad press. Seeing as you just got out of jail, and I just came out of—”

  “I see your fucking point, jeez,” I muttered as I pulled in at a hotel that was no doubt at the pinnacle of opulence in the 1920s before it was abandoned. “But in our defense, it’s been an off year.”

  “And last year?” she asked grabbing hold of her guns before stepping out.

  “It’s been an off two years, but we’re making up for it now, aren’t we?” I replied, as I held the door open.

  The hotel looked like something out of Stephen King’s dreams. Almost all of the windows were boarded up, leaving only a limited amount of natural light. There were dull lights illuminating the space, and the base of the hotel seemed to glow in a soft, yellow and orange hue. The men at the door nodded to us, and placed their guns down as we walked up what used to be a grand marble double staircase. Now almost all of its tiles were missing, and rats littered the area.

  Peeling back the plastic curtain, ten people—five women and five men—all stood naked as they cut up the white powder. Coke was on one side and was meth on the other. Everyone wore surgical masks to cover their faces…after all, we couldn’t have them getting high on the job.

  “Well isn’t this a surpr—” Sadly before he could even get finish his sentence, Mel shot him right in the kneecap, causing all of the idiots to scream and jump back.