It took a moment before he nodded. “Okay, Ethan, what was the point of this?”
“To remind you that even in something as insignificant as a poker game, I will not only make sure I win, I will guarantee it.”
“You didn’t have to remind me—”
“And do you know how I guarantee I never lose?” I interrupted, not really interested in his thoughts or comments.
He shook his head.
“I make sure everything is within my power. So, I own everything. Do you know why I am telling you this?”
Again, he shook his head.
“Because I’m going to do what I never do and share my plans. After all, you wanted to be part of the business, correct?”
At that, he sat up straighter. “Yes.”
“Good,” I nodded. “But the truth is, the Callahan family business does not have space for you.”
“W…what?” He half laughed, but the concern was evident over his brown face. “What do you mean there isn’t space for me?”
“I mean, Wyatt and I will able to keep the Irish in check. Calliope will keep the Italians…eventually. My parents grew our business so much that it doesn’t really require us to do much anymore. Truthfully, the system works so well it doesn’t even really require me to do anything but protect the balance. Make sure those who work for us remain in place, and that they don’t get greedy or blinded by power. If they do, I remove them. Any new obstacles, I remove them. I do not really need you for that.”
“But I can help you remove any new obstacles that get in your way.”
“What do you think I pay men for?” I asked, leaning back. “You are a celebrity, Darcy. What do you think you’re going to be able to do? Kick in doors and threaten people? Everyone in the city can connect you back to the family. That makes you a liability, not an asset.”
His jaw cracked to the side, and his hands balled to fist. “Are you going to tell me to throw a ball back into a hoop, too?”
“Darcy. Use your goddamn brain. We are related by blood, so I know you have one,” I snapped. “If that was what I was going to tell you, I wouldn’t have wasted my time coming here.”
His fist relaxed, and he still looked at me as if he were a child. This was the problem with talking to Calliope for hours. I got used to her connecting dots and forgot how slow everyone else was all the damn time.
“Very well then, let me help you,” I replied. “By your comment, I’m guessing Calliope got under your skin with that. However, she was not wrong. You may be Irish, but you are still black.”
“I am biracial.”
“Congratulations. But you are still fucking black, Darcy.”
“Black Irish people exist, if you have not noticed. When we were last in Ireland—”
I held up my hand, telling him to stop before he went on and I lost my patience. “I do not need you to be Irish. I need you to be fucking black. Why? Because that is an asset. One you would be able to see if you weren’t so damn deep in your fucking feelings,” I stated when he opened his mouth to defend himself. “I don’t give a shit about your insecurities, and I suggest you drop them. Honestly, Darcy, I’ve watched as you’ve struggled your whole life, trying to figure out who you are. Defend who you are. Where your place is. I’ve been waiting for you to realize you are a Callahan. That is your race. That is where you belong.”
“Then—”
“Before you stupidly ask me why do I need you to be black, think about why we make sure people see us Irish or Italian.”
He stared at me.
And again, this was why I had never bothered to explain plans or speak—none of them caught on. “Because having people…The community is important, Darcy. It’s how we function. You want to be useful to the family? Simple. Do for the blacks in Chicago what our grandfathers did for the Irish and the Italians.”
“You want me to create a mob?”
“Exactly.”
He leaned forward, staring at me with eyes wide. “Ethan, why the hell would you want me to do that?”
“Weren’t you listening? The only way to guarantee I never lose is to own everything,” I repeated, and finally, I watched as it hit him, and he put everything together.