Exile on Bridge Street by Eamon Loingsigh

back to him from against the wall.
    â€œYa tell ya older brothers they’re wit’ us. That they’re in now, forever. Mary, ya tell ya husband he’s wit’ us too. Darby Leighton, Byrne, Seaman, Healy, and others. Six mont’s and we’ll make our move.”
    Squatting by her mother who is bleeding from an elbow and her back, Anna looks up to Bill Lovett. Sees that no one in the room challenges his command as he struts from one side to the other, bellowing and casting rules and orders. She watches Bill as he throws her brother’s wooden leg toward him and tells him to get up. She is not outraged at his actions. Sees in him the violence that she knows from her father’s actions, but does not feel the same disgust. Instead she sees in Bill Lovett all of the qualities of control and power that her father lacks. The dominance over others. The leadership. A violent demand for success unlike her father’s violent demand for respect. Aroused by this man’s will, she looks up from helping her mother and sees not hatred for the man that has wounded her here, not resentment as she has so often felt toward her father, but stimulated by the brutality she’s come to know so well.
    â€œAll five o’ ya, out the door. Go bring back five bikes so these women can get to work sellin’ ’em. Ya got rent to pay, no more freeloadin’ off Meehan. When the time comes I’ll be in charge and the whole lot o’ ya will be ruling ya own territories like Dinny’s dockbosses. We’re gonna get there, but we need six mont’s o’ quiet to build up. Richie?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œThat day comes, you’ll be my right hand. But get it, we need quiet. Silence. G’ahead an’ do what Dinny an’ his boys command for now. He’ll be keepin’ all o’ ya away from me, so you’ll be sent up north in the Navy Yard’n the other terminals. Do what they say. Wit’out question, but tell me about it right off. I wanna know everythin’. Understand?”
    Everyone in the room looks at him, from the wall and from the ground.
    â€œUnderstand?”
    They all mumble in agreement, making sure not to attract too much attention on themselves as the five teens walk past the children and out the door to Bridge Street.
    â€œEh, Mr. Lovett?” Mrs. Lonergan says.
    â€œDon’ call me that.”
    â€œWell I just don’ want to . . .”
    â€œWhadda ya want? Say it.”
    â€œIf yer to be the king round here someday soon, takin’ me childers away from me . . . and me husband . . . won’t ye need a wife fer to be known as . . .”
    â€œMa,” Anna pulls on her mother’s arm, yet looks toward the man for his reaction with a soft glance.
    Bill looks at Anna with hard eyes, his cherub ears red and flayed out from the side of his head, bright lips and blushed cheeks. He looks at her body, gun in his hand, black tie still over his shoulder. He walks toward them as the children gasp again.
    â€œThis bike shop’s yours now, Mary,” Lovett says, staring into Mrs. Lonergan’s eyes. “Ya husband an’ the boys, they need to be workin’. You know that like I do. You’re a businesswoman now. You’re in charge here. When Dinny’s men come to pay ya rent, just thank ’em. Don’ talk. We’re gonna move up, you’n me. All o’ us. But there’s only one way to move up, and that’s to move someone else out. The world demands it. The strongest run it and I’ll be the youngest ever to take over the docks.”
    Looking away from Mrs. Lonergan toward Anna, “Fourteen’s too young yet. The day comes when I clap open Meehan’s brain with this gun is the day I’ll earn ya. ’Til then, I ain’ nothin’r nobody but another laborer on the docks. The gang’ll be ours, though, and your family will be on top. Mary an’ Anna Lonergan,