“Thank you, Vanessa. I appreciate your help.”
She smiled sweetly. “Thank you for thinking of me for this. It means a lot.” She stood, frozen for a moment as if she had something else to say, but then she thought better of it and left the room.
A moment later, Jasper appeared in the doorway, a skeptical look on his face, a twisted smile on his lips. “What are you up to now?”
“Me?” I flashed an innocent grin. “I’m being a good steward of the community, that’s all.”
“Yeah? And what’s that entail?” He walked to the minibar and poured three fingers of Velvet Fire into a highball glass, and then swallowed it in one gulp.
I shrugged. “Helping give the poor folks of the Green Zone a leg up for once. Give the kids someplace safe to play. Cleaning the place up a bit.”
Jasper’s smile grew, and I leaned back in my chair. “Some people might call me a savior.”
“Sadie the Saint,” he said around a laugh. “It has a nice ring to it, but what are you really up to?”
“Just what I said. I’m helping the community in a way that makes sure they get what they need, and I get what I want.” It was as simple as that.
Jasper nodded. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
“I’m sure. I need to do this.” It was another lesson learned at the hands of my enemies.
“You worry too much, Sadie.” Colm flashed his sexiest grin and flung an arm around my shoulder. “It’s sports, which all young boys need. And its church, which all good Catholic boys need. What’s the problem?”
His tone was light and airy, but I could see the hint of tension in the set of my husband’s jaws. The tight lines around his eyes. This wasn’t actually up for debate. Colm was at it again, ready to sell out our boys to pay off his debts.
“The problem is that baseball is dangerous, babe.” I tried to keep my voice even, no hint of disgust or any other emotion that would trigger his anger. “What if they get hit in the head, and end up paralyzed or worse?”
Colm’s lips spread into a condescending smile.
“It’s baseball, not football or soccer. The boys will be fine.”
“What’s this really about, Colm?”
He shrugged off the question, but a moment later, he answered truthfully. “It always looks good to have more connections to Father Ray and the church.”
I nodded because that was as close to a confession as I would ever get from Colm.
“What’s so special about the church?” Back then, the Ashby Organization didn’t worry so much about looking legitimate. Cillian didn’t consider it necessary, and Colm couldn’t be bothered with things like propriety, not if it stood in the way of getting what he wanted, which was mostly a good time.
“You see, Sadie, people don’t question the church, its businesses or its connections. That pretty much makes us bulletproof.”
He spoke with the confidence of a man who knew what the fuck he was talking about, but Colm was a terrible businessman. He made deals on a whim, and the rest of us paid for them later.
This new baseball field sponsored by the Catholic church and the Ashby family had cost the most for Virgil. He’d been a standout baseball player, able to throw a rocket from the pitcher’s mound or crack the ball over the fence.
There was something about the way Father Ray looked at Virgil that set me on edge, but I tried to shake it off back then because I had to. He played a full season on that fucking team before I finally mustered up the courage to do something about the vacant, almost dead look in Virgil’s eyes. After practice, my son looked and acted like someone who was walking around dead. When baseball season rolled around the next year, someone torched the field and all the equipment.
The church sponsored a computer club that met at the Sacred Beauty Cathedral. Colm was convinced it was just the thing for Calvin. Again, I had no choice but to agree. But years later, I built Lucky Lopez on top of the land where Sacred Beauty Cathedral met its fiery end.
I learned a lot from my enemies. All of my enemies, even the one I shared a bed with. They taught me important lessons I used later in life to take the Ashby Organization to the next level.
The one and only lesson I learned from the likes of Father Sullivan and the Catholic church was to disguise my dirty deeds behind all of my good deeds so no one would ever question my actions.
That was my plan with Lucky Lopez and the Green Zone. The next time Beck thought to come after me, I, and not the FBI, would have public opinion on my side. Not that I gave a shit about public opinion, but the public sat on juries, and if it came to that, I wanted the deck stacked in my favor. That, and the fact that no one would dare speak a word against Sadie Ashby or the Ashby Organization, not when it was me making sure their bread was buttered each day.