Post by bronte ellery o'connor on Apr 19, 2020 15:59:52 GMT -5
Bronte was never going to paint herself as a saint. Her hands were as dirty as anyone else with the O’Connor name. She just didn’t see herself as a career criminal. She never had done, but family was family and she loved them as much as they annoyed the hell out of her. She had thrown many a punch at her brothers, but if they needed something, she was there for them. She drew the line once or twice when they were being reckless or stupid. Bronte wasn’t going to help them get someone killed, or themselves. It was one thing to make up fake alibis and intimidate people to keep their mouths shut, but Bronte wasn’t the one handling the shady deals, or wielding guns. She was quite content with the baseball bat she kept in her apartment.
She might not always enjoy what her family excelled at, but Bronte wasn’t the type who would sell them out or snitch on them when the cops came sniffing around. She let them know that she didn’t like an idea or plan, told them not to get themselves killed, and reminded them that it wasn’t her job to clean up the mess they got themselves into. And yet, that was what she often found herself doing. Having a real job with Jac had given Bronte a break from all of that. She actually got to do something she enjoyed, and at no point was she looking over her shoulder or wondering what trouble would walk in every time the door opened. It was something Bronte didn’t think she would ever have the joy of experiencing. Jac didn’t know about her family, beyond that they owned a bar, and Bronte planned on keeping it that way. She didn’t want to lose a good thing because of what the rest of them chose to do with their time. She had been the only one to go to college, to earn that degree, and she’d be damned if she didn’t use it for at least one thing in her life. She was making honest money in this new job, and it felt good to know that none of it was robbed or part of a bribe.
After spending the afternoon arguing with her brothers over their latest grand plan – an investment with another guy who was habitually arrested – she was done. Bronte told them not to call her, not to text her, not to scream her name from the rooftops once they got into trouble and everything went wrong. She had told them what she thought, grabbed her jacket and left the bar. If they wanted to screw up so badly, she was going to make sure she was far, far away when it happened. Since she needed someone who had at least glimpsed what her life comprised of, Bronte could only think of one person. She made her way to Jordan’s house, grabbing a bottle of semi-expensive whiskey on the way, since she imagined she’d need it after an afternoon of fighting. She brought her fist down on his front door, leaning against the side of it. When he opened it, she held up the amber filled bottle and looked tiredly up at the man. “For all intents and purposes, I’m having a quiet night in with my boyfriend. Got it?” She didn’t want to have to explain in incriminating detail that he was essentially being her alibi for the evening, her excuse to play shocked if her brothers did end up in the back of a squad car.
• • •
TAGGED! Jordan Charles Irving
WORDS! 598!
LYRICS! Little Diamonds - - - Patent Pending
NOTES! <3
