Death & Redemption

By Kevin Devlin

In the conclusion to The Southie Pact:
David Brown, Mark “Jaws’ Jaworski, and Jack “The Junk Man” Jenkins are faced with life-changing decisions which will determine their fate, as well as the fate of those they love.
Mia Davis and Billy Stevens’ lives revolve around doing drugs, getting high. As they continue walking along the road of drug addiction, they dismiss the possible consequences of their errant behavior.
Katie Walsh, reminded of the past and the loss of her sister, moves on with her life, while Kaleigh McDonough searches for peace of mind after tragedy strikes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kevin Devlin
• Release date: Dec 21, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005624811

Book preview

Death & Redemption

Conclusion to

The Southie Pact

By Kevin Devlin

Copyright 2020 by Kevin Devlin

All Rights Reserved

First Edition

Book Design: Y42K Publishing Services

https://www.y42k.com/publishing-services/

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Without limiting the rights under the copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without prior written permission of the copyright owner.

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The war on drugs is ongoing. Thousands and thousands of Americans throughout the country are dying from drug overdoses every day. The problem isn’t getting any better, and the way it looks right now, it won’t for the foreseeable future.

This final book, as were the first two, is dedicated to raising awareness of the drug epidemic plaguing America.

But I know, somehow, that only when it is dark enough can you see the stars.

-Martin Luther King, Jr.

ONE

Situations inevitably arise in life which test our resolve and how we respond will determine the remainder of our journey. It was Saturday morning. Allison Brown and her niece, Tracy Brown, were sitting at the kitchen table in their third-floor apartment at the Mary Ellen McCormack Housing Development. Allison was drinking coffee and eating a blueberry muffin she had bought earlier from Doughboy Donuts on Dorchester Avenue. Tracy was on her phone texting friends, sipping on her coffee and nibbling on the chocolate chip muffin on a napkin in front of her.

Suddenly they heard a knock on the door.

Apprehension mixed with Happiness crossed their faces.

Tracy got up and opened it.

It was her dad, David Brown.

He held out his arms. Tracy ran out into the interior hallway as tears streamed down her face. Tears ran down his face too. They hugged each other and held each other tightly, not wanting to let go, hoping this moment could last for eternity. Then he stepped away, looked at his daughter and wiped away her tears.

You’re not a little girl anymore I see, he said. "But you’re still my little girl."

I missed you daddy, Tracy said. Missed you so much.

I’m back now, he said. Not gonna leave you.

Allison stood up and walked over towards the door.

C’mon in you two, she said. Neighbors are nosey.

David walked in, kissed his sister on the cheek, then hugged her.

Gained a few pounds I see, Davey boy, she said, afterwards. Prison food must be good.

Only if you hold your nose, he said.

Grab a seat, Allison said. I’ll get you some coffee.

She microwaved the extra coffee she bought earlier and handed it to him, along with a chocolate chip muffin.

Wow, he said. My favorite. You remembered.

How could I forget, his sister said. You ate one every Sunday after Mass for at least fifteen years.

Been buying those muffins for you for the past week, Tracy said.

We thought you were getting out sooner, Allison said.

He ignored her statement.

He took a bite out of his muffin and a sip of coffee.

Missed this shit, he said.

Allison handed him a napkin and she sat down.

So, how’s everyone been? he asked. How’s school Tracy?

Goin’ good. Really good. Love history. I wanna teach someday.

That’s great, he said. Always need good teachers. I’d be proud of you.

Someday you will be.

Sorry to interrupt, Allison said. But I want you to know we were worried. We expected you last week.

I had to take care of some business.

Business? Allison asked. Really?

Yeah…business. Why you bustin’ my balls?

Because we were worried, she repeated. You didn’t call. Wanted to see you...make sure you were okay. That’s all I’m sayin’.

What da fuck, he mumbled.

Tracy stood up and walked into her room without looking back, without saying a word. David ate the rest of his muffin and gulped down his coffee.

What’s eatin’ her? he asked. I’m here now ain’t I?

For God’s sake, you’ll never change, Allison said. Tracy’s been waitin’ for you every minute of the day for the past week. Longer than that. And you stroll in here lookin’ like you’ve been on a bender. Only God knows what you’ve been up to.

Jesus Christ. I just got outta fuckin’ prison. Give me a break will ya.

Really? she said. You want me to give you a break?

Okay. Fuckin’ lighten up. I’ll go talk to her.

You betta, Allison said. And try not to lie too much to her…because you were right…she’s not a little girl anymore.

David walked into Tracy’s bedroom. She was sitting on the bed. He sat down beside her and held her hand.

I’m sorry I showed up a few days late. I had to take care of stuff. See some people. I got myself a job workin’ down the docks. It’s good money. I can save up. Maybe enough for a down payment on a house. We can be a family again.

Tracy tried to smile but didn’t.

She couldn’t.

We can be a family again, he repeated.

Will you promise not to get in trouble and leave me again? she asked.

I promise. That’s why I’ve made sure I got the job I just told you about. Everything’s gonna be okay. You okay with that?

I guess I am.

Do you trust me?

I want to, she said, hugging him, as more tears slid down her face. I really do.

You can. I won’t let you down.

He hugged Tracy again.

They sat on the bed without talking.

So, listen, I was wonderin’? he finally asked. Has my friend been takin’ care of you?

Do you mean the Junk Man?

Yeah, my pal the Junk Man.

Yes. He’s been good to me. I asked him how he knew you. Didn’t tell me at first but I kept on buggin’ him. And he finally told me he met you in prison. People call him ‘the Junk Man’ but he’s more than that to me. He’s kind. Generous. Gives me money. He gave me tickets to a Celtics game. He cares about me.

That’s great, David said.

Ya know the first time Auntie and I met him, he scared us. We heard a knock on the door one evening. I opened the door, and he was standing there. He smelled like beer, but we knew he was high too. Everyone knows that look. Said he was a friend of yours and asked me if I was your daughter. I said yes and he handed me an envelope with his name and telephone number on the front of it. He said, ‘nice to meet you’ and ‘this is for you’. And then left. I opened the envelope and there was three hundred dollars in it. I called him the next day to thank him and asked him why he gave me the money. Said he was just doin’ the right thing…and he’s helped me since then.

I’m glad to hear that, David said. He kept his promise. That’s good.

TWO

Patrick was sitting on the floor watching Craig of the Creek on Cartoon Network, mesmerized.

That’s my favorite show too, Patrick, I said, as I walked into the TV room.

I sat down.

Hey mom, I said. Good morning.

Good morning son.

My mom smiled and continued to crochet.

But something wasn’t quite right.

Ma, you okay?

Yes son…just thinking.

Mind tellin’ me what you’re thinkin’ about? Maybe I can help?

She put her crocheting materials on the nearby coffee table. A tear, a single tear slid down her face.

I was thinking about my dear friend, she said.

Her longtime friend, Mrs. Modica, whom my mother always referred to as her dear friend had recently died from cancer. It was a shock because the cursed disease seemingly appeared overnight swiftly casting its deadly shadow upon her life. And my dad had died not long before Mrs. Modica did, adding to my mother’s grief.

She was a good person, I said.

Yes, the best.

And you…you were there for her when she needed you.

I tried to be a good friend, she said.

She momentarily picked up her crocheting needle to get back to work but placed it back down on the table. She looked at me, her eyes surrendering to grief.

But something still bothers me, my mom said.

What’s that? I asked.

When my dear friend was in the hospital, she wanted to tell me something. But she was too sick. I didn’t want her worrying. Didn’t think it was more important than her getting better. Once when she woke up, she asked me if she told me. She was confused, the poor dear. I told her yes…not to worry. That made her happy.

My mother’s eyes filled up with tears. She picked up a napkin next to her coffee cup on the table and wiped her eyes.

That’s better, she said. But she never did tell me her secret. Didn’t get the chance. It was if she needed to share something important. I thought she’d have time later to tell me. I was wrong. And now I’ll never know what she wanted to say.

Maybe it had somethin’ to do with Dee, I said. Losing her daughter in such a way was terrible.

Mrs. Modica’s daughter, Deirdre Dee Modica was another statistic in the war against drugs. Her addiction, partly of her own making, and partly caused by the nefarious influence of others, resulted in her overdosing in her own apartment. Overdosing in the presence of her mother.

Sad doesn’t begin to describe how sad it was my mother thought. Mrs. Modica was never the same after Dee died. And coupled with the knowledge of a cancer diagnosis she kept secret didn’t help matters.

So, you think it might have been about Dee…her secret was about her daughter? my mother asked. Maybe whatever happened she wanted me to know?

I don’t know Ma…really don’t…sorry. You gonna be alright?

I’m okay, she said. I’m just acting like an old fool.

Remember what I tell you about saying that. You’re only as old as you think.

Well I feel pretty old right now.

Sensing something was wrong, Patrick stood up, walked over to my mother, and gave her a big, big hug.

What no one would ever know was that on the day Dee overdosed Mrs. Modica had Narcan in her hand. She could have administered it to her daughter but opted to sit and watch her daughter pass into the darkness.

Mrs. Modica had had enough.

She believed her daughter was beyond saving and although Mrs. Modica knew her actions would end her daughter’s life and destroy the remainder of hers, she felt at that precise moment in time she didn’t have any other choice. She would live to regret this decision and carried on as best she could because she had Dee’s son, little Patrick, to care for.

And now we were taking care of the little one.

Such are the lose-lose situations people are engulfed with, destroyed by, when battling the iniquitous forces of drug addiction.

THREE

It was 11 a.m. David Brown was drinking a Coors Beer in the Hub Bar. Thomas Shorty McIntyre was behind the bar telling dirty jokes to anyone who’d listen. Not many did, only pretended to do so. Tommy was a legend in Southie, a champion handball player when he wore younger man’s clothing, a guy who always made sure his customers knew his backstory.

The door opened wide and a gush of fresh air swept throughout the bar. It was sunny outside but quite windy. A familiar figure came into the bar, walked right over to David, and stood beside him.

Good to see ya bro, David said, as he turned his head and realized who it was. He smiled and shook the Junk Man’s hand.

Good to see you too, the Junk Man said. You look the same.

So don’t you.

How does it feel to be out? the Junk Man asked.

Nothin’ like it. Bein’ back in Southie is great.

Changed a little, huh?

"A little. More like a lot. But fuck it. Everything changes over time