Chapter 123. James Devlin Attends a Funeral
Well, by the way the guy looked last time he saw him, it didn’t surprise James when he had the invitation to the funeral on his breakfast table. Mr. Fitzroy enjoyed many things, and fine dining was just one of them - all those steaks he inhaled must have gotten him into an early grave rather sooner than later. Not to mention everything else.
Usually James would have been done with sending some flowers and a pre-written card. But this isn’t just a business partner. This is the fucking head of the Irish mob in this state, and he had a deal with him. And now he’s here to renew said deal with whoever follows in good old Mr. Fitzroy’s greasy footsteps. He’s been trying to find out just who the hell that would be all this evening - but looking around, nobody here looks like “The Virgin Queen.” Especially not Mr. Fitzroy’s daughters. Looking at them they might have had something to do with his early passing, too. If his daughter went out in skirts like that, his blood pressure would be shooting up the roof, too. And he thought her deciding to share her life with a woman was bad. At least she’s wearing pants. He’s going to call her, apologize for whatever he said and make her promise she’ll be wearing nice long pants at his funeral. And her girlfriend, too.
“I didn’t expect you here, Governor.” Mr. Fitzroy’s eldest - Shannon, if he remembers right - has noticed him. At least her skirt is not that short. There are a group of men behind her - he remembers some of those faces around Mr. Fitzroy back then.
“I’m not a governor anymore,” he smiles. The last elections were a disaster. Curse that asshole who published the pictures of him and one of his mistresses. Considering she was topless it wasn’t exactly possible to talk himself out of it - what should he have told the people, he was examining her for breast-cancer? Yeah, right.
“Whatever. What gives us the honor? You’ve been asking around for me I’ve heard”
What? He doesn’t remember asking around for a ska - oh. Makes sense. The Virgin Queen. Well, makes sense somehow. She would follow her father’s footsteps. The nickname though… who thought anybody is going to believe that? He scoffs.
He hasn’t heard a lie like this since he quit politics and focused on doing business. And he has to admit, he sure recognizes a lot of faces here, after being in politics for so many years… it’s eerie.
Like Cassandra Vizzini, that old witch talking with Boris Yolkov over there. God knows how many lives are going to be ruined just because of that conversation. Not that James cares much, as long as it isn’t his own. There are two men next to both of them that he doesn’t recognize. They aren’t standing with their usual entourage. The one next to Yolkov looks young - lean and muscular, his hair almost white in contrast to his tanned skin - must be that nephew from Russia he likes to talk about occasionally. The crazy one. And man, he really has a frightening stare - the icy, demonic looking eyes don’t help here.
But the other man next to the witch? He really has no idea. Didn’t she have a granddaughter or something who was supposed to take over? Looks real sleezy. James can’t remember ever seeing him before, but he looks like he came right out of a bad movie. He’ll have a talk with those two later. He doesn’t like dealing with the Italians and Russians too much - both are awfully brutal when angered. Mr. Fitzroy was a smart man who preferred to distance himself from troublemakers. Those Ruskies were on the news every day of the goddamn week for the last few years because of an internal war or some shit like that, and the Italians - well they gave the press a lot of material themselves, having lost some of their most important capos to Oswald. And Mr. Fitzroy? Ever since he took over the business from his predecessor, nobody heard anything about the Irish mob. He really was James’s favorite out of the bunch. Well, he guesses Yolkov has his moments too, when he is drunk and happy. The man really has a fine taste in women.
He spots Deng Ye and his rancid wife, Zhao Bing, at the buffet. The old hag is glaring at it like it’s the worst food she’s ever seen. Pretty harsh for people who eat raw fish and dogs. Two girls are following her. He recognizes tall, graceful Li Zhen right away - easily one of the most beautiful women he’s ever seen in the flesh. The other seems to be new - hardly a woman. She’s pretty enough as far as pimply teenagers go, although the permed, bleached blonde look is just plain odd on someone who already has enough yellow on her body. If chink faces can be read, he’d say she looks bored out of her mind. Who can blame her? James has had the misfortune of having to talk to Deng Ye once - he’s had more interesting conversations with his bathroom door. It’s his wife anyways who really calls the shots - an open secret for everyone but Deng Ye himself. Pathetic really.
Ah, speaking of which, he should get moving before he gets locked into the exchange of pleasantries with people of no interest to him for the time being - especially if it’s some old hag or God forbid, the world record holder for the most boring living creature on earth. Look, there’s that private detective he hired to follow his fiancee around. He’s starting to regret his decision hiring the guy already, the way he’s fussing around at the buffet is getting embarrassing. What is he, some kind of germaphobe? He’s actually wiping the plates with disinfectant. James can’t help but wonder if he’s going to disinfect his food too.
Well, he hopes the guy is as thorough with investigating that bitch as he’s with cleaning. He paid a shitload for him to take this job - he wanted the best here. He already has to pay alimony to Evangeline because she caught him cheating first. He’s not going to get himself another leech, sucking on his fortune, because he made the same mistake twice. This time, he’s going to catch her first - best before the wedding-date. Why did he let her talk him into that wedding anyway? Ah, right, because she’s pregnant with a boy, and he always wanted a son. If it’s his, that is.
The guy’s blond assistant is there, too, he notices. She’s cute. What was her name again… Natalie Tiger?
“Well, how… unusual to see you at events like these…” Now that witch’s face is in front of his, blocking his view. Way to kill a hard-on.
“Mrs. Vizzini! How wonderful it is to see you! And if that isn’t the lovely Mrs. Zhao Bing!” Now was it the chinamen or the japs who liked to have their last name first… James just can’t remember all this shit... “And your two beautiful…” he forces a smile - granddaughters? Was she the same old hag who never had children, or was that someone else... Great-nieces? No. If there’s one thing James knows about old hags is that they go batshit if they are referred to as old hags, however indirectly. “Cousins.” Whatever. Li Zhen is smoking hot. He needs to catch her alone for a talk.
Cassandra Vizzini turns around slowly. She looks like she just smelled shit.
“Well, I thought someone left the casket open a little too long… but it’s just you! A new perfume, my dear?” she’s sneering at the other hag, all teeth. Her sharp cheekbones look like they are about to pop out of her face. Must be painful.
Zhao Bing’s face contorts with fury, her little slant eyes all but disappearing under two slabs of lard. “As if you can smell anything over your garlic breath! But if anyone has left the casket open too long, it must because you have forgotten one. And I cannot blame you either my sweet, must be hard to keep track of so many!” she hisses.
“I understand it must puzzle you… I heard your people have rather odd customs when it comes to food. Do you still serve meat pie surprise at the restaurant you slaved away in? Or am I confusing you with the maid who does my dishes… you must excuse me, you all look the same to me...”
Damn, what has he gotten into. These bitches are vicious.
“Hah, you think you are so special? Only thing that sets you apart from all the other whites is your effeminate men!”
What is going on here? Are a wop and a chink really starting to hurl racist insults at each other now? Is there any way he can make clear that to anyone else they are pretty much the same?
“Look who’s talking, dear, if you wouldn’t cake on so much make up, I couldn’t tell who’s husband and who’s wife in your marriage!”
Now there she has a point. But it’s not only the looks here. He wouldn’t call Zhao Bing or her husband effeminate, and by the way the old hag is running things... It’s really hard to tell who has the dick in this marriage. Maybe they are both men - would explain the lack of children.
“Look who’s talking indeed. I could hardly tell the difference who was who at your husband’s funeral! Even with so much make up on you looked like an old man’s corpse!”
James can’t help snorting at that, but quickly summons all his strength to suppress the laughter. He doesn’t want to draw their attention on him.
Vizzini scrowls. Then she smirks. James can feel the air freezing around them. Damn. “At least I can still see the scale when I stand on it. First I thought you finally managed to be with child, but then I figured you are way too old to conceive… probably just too much dog meat.”
That one was a hit right in the ovaries, judging by the look on Zhao Bing’s face. She takes a few seconds regain her composure.
“Ah, but what good is keeping your figure when youth is days bygone? At least I accept reality instead of being miserable, starving and alone!”
“Well, I’m sure now that the two spawns your husband’s sweethearts popped out live in your house, life has returned where there’s been only desert for many years…”
Another low one. The chink hag doesn’t even bother to keep a straight face now.
“Ah and you can’t say you never experienced betrayal? I expected that we’d have an understanding on that one! But I suppose it’s just not the same. For a hand to be bitten by one whom it has fed!”
Vizzini looks livid at that. Good hit, he notices. It’s almost fascinating watching those two… awful old ladies. A bit like boxing, only with less sweat and more stinky perfume.
“At least I can say for myself I took care of the problem, unlike some people here!”
“I would hardly think an impotent old man is something to throw a temper tantrum over, unlike what some would assume. Are we children now, who believe in princes in white horses still?”
Now Deng Ye looks livid. His wife merely smirks. Insulted two in one, he guesses.
“Well, you have chosen the right kind of man for you, then.”
He’s pretty sure that at this point, nobody would notice nor care if he left - but there’s something that’s keeping him here. That’s probably why he didn’t notice Shannon Fitzroy leaving until now. She’s standing at the casket with her sisters. One of them looks like she’s about to break down crying. Damn, how many are there? It has to be true what they say about the Irish. These people have never heard about birth control.
“I hear so has the man your granddaughter has married. Poor girl. Still so young and perhaps still naive enough to believe in a happily ever after…To sacrifice her life for a man who surrendered himself to another!”
What the hell are they talking about now? He regrets never keeping up with the mob-gossip. They should have a magazine for shit like this.
“It suits an uncultured hag to hang onto gossip long past, so I didn’t expect more from you”
One of the Chinese girls - the funny looking one - suppresses a laugh. It comes out a snort. Li Zhen gives her a disapproving look that goes unnoticed. Of course Li Zhen would disapprove - the woman is pure elegance. Maybe he should dump Pamela and try his luck with her - he’d be the envy of every guy with yellow fever out there. And he’s always liked General Tso’s Chicken.
“And I do not expect more from a sentimental old fool to be so blind to reality!” Zhao Bing sneers.
What the hell has he missed now? Damn, maybe his ex-wife was right and he really can’t stop looking after every skirt in the room. Well, every skirt connected to a pretty young behind. He notices with horror that both Vizzini and Zhao Bing are wearing skirts, too. Thank God they reach below their knees.
“Like you pretend that your husband isn’t repulsed by the very sight of you?” Vizzini clicks her tongue.
Deng Ye shouts over his wife before she can respond. “Are you two finished?” He obviously had enough. Not that James can blame him, but f that he thinks about it, he might need a favor now and then. Some good information about the major players in this state would be nice… and well, he’s always had a thing about gossip... when it’s about others. “This is a funeral, show some respect! Look at that girl, she’s devastated and you women act like it’s some walk in a park!” The old man gestures towards one of Shannon’s younger sisters, who’s becoming quite hysterical. James notices that her skirt is starting to slip the way she’s bending over the casket, howling. He tries to get a better view, as inconspicuous as possible.
Shannon steps up behind her, blocking his view. She keeps looking forward, obviously waiting for her younger sister to shut it. Finally she whispers something to one of her bodyguards, who escorts the sobbing girl outside. Well, they should call her “The Ice Queen.” People would buy that before they buy the virgin part. He’ll make a note in his will this evening - at his funeral, everyone may sob as much as they want, as long as they don’t leave snot on his suit. Except for his ex-wife. She’s not invited - she’ll probably have a large part in getting him into a casket in the first place.
Next to him, Zhao Bing is nagging her husband in Chinese. He doesn’t need to know the language to tell - if there is one thing that unites husbands all over the world…
The Italian hag smirks. Damn, it sends chills down his spine.
At least one of them is content.