“Happy anniversary,” Ethan says, offering Punky the crudely-wrapped gift.
Punky accepts it with a slanted smile. “Thank you, Ethan. Ya wrapped it yerself, I see.”
“Oh, shut the fuck up.”
The room erupts into laughter.
There is no rivalry between them, which is why this works. No one is contending for power. Not like the two Kelly brothers before Punky’s reign. Punky learned a lot from them and promised himself he would never follow in their shoes.
This is a new era. This is the Kellys’ reign.
“Everythin’ all right for tonight?” Punky asks, getting down to business.
They have a shipment of yokes coming in. He would usually be there, but tonight he has something special planned for his wife.
“Aye, all set. Don’tcha be worryin’ ’bout a thing.”
Things are good at the moment, but the men are never complacent, which is why Cian, Ethan, and Shay control their own paramilitary groups. Drugs, stolen weapons, and other illegal dealings will always be present.
Punky and his boys never claimed they were the good guys, and they’re okay with that.
Shay excuses himself because there is one thing he wants to do before they leave. He leaves the castle and makes his way toward the stable yard building where he lives. It was where his father lived when he was Shay’s age.
Like father like son…which is why when Shay enters his home, he walks into the bathroom and looks at the face paints on the sink. Punky is very open with his son, and he told him why he painted his face.
Shay remembers as a young boy, seeing his father slathered in war paint. He was terrified, but he was more intrigued by the absolute beauty of it. The face was so raw, and Shay believes that face still remains inside of his father.
He believes it’s a part of him, that he’s split right down the middle; part monster, part man.
Shay has seen it. He’s seen his father kill and enjoy it. But he’s also seen him nurture and protect. Puck Kelly is two people, and Shay loves them both.
He takes the white face paint and opens the container. He doesn’t know what he’s doing but works on instinct as he circles two fingers in the paint, feeling at one with the texture. He then rubs those two fingers across his cheek.
The moment the paint touches his skin, something inside him awakens, and he coolly paints his entire face. He looks in the mirror, exhilarated by what he sees. But when he opens the black face paint and works on memory, drawing what he saw on his father’s face, that’s when he really comes to life.
The container drops into the sink, circling around and around, and as Shay grips the counter, staring at his reflection, he suddenly understands why Punky painted his face—it allows him to be someone else.
His grin is wide, grotesque, and his eyes are as black as the night sky. He feels comfortable in this skin.
“A little less black around the eyes. It’ll smudge otherwise.”
Shay meets Punky’s eyes in the mirror. He is embarrassed his father caught him, but Punky isn’t angry. He knew the day would come.
Shay’s mum was murdered like Punky’s; he was bound to give birth to the same demons as his dad.
“I love you, son. Always remember that.”
“I love you, too.” Shay doesn’t want to talk about why he felt compelled to do this, and Punky doesn’t want to make a fuss, so he leaves his son to deal with his emotions because Punky knows this is something he needs to do all in good time.
Punky makes his way back to the castle, smiling when he sees his three wains playing tag with Hannah. She lives here too. They all do. This is as much their home as it is Punky’s, and if he were being honest, nothing gives him more comfort than having his family all together.
When he walks up the staircase, headed for his bedroom, his body responds to her sweet perfume, just like it always does. Just like it did from the first moment they met.
He opens the door but pauses, needing a moment as he watches Cami getting ready. She wears a long gold dress, hugging her delicate frame. But as he closes the door and leans up against it, she knows she’ll have to change—as he’s seconds away from ripping it off her.
“Don’t even think about it,” she teases, slipping in her diamond earring.
“Too late,” Punky teases, pushing off the door.
He wraps his arms around his wife, pulling her back into his chest. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you. Dinner is at seven. Do you need a nap beforehand, old man?” she playfully says, looking over her shoulder.
“I intend on usin’ the bed, but not for nappin’.”
Cami yelps as Punky tosses her over his shoulder and walks toward their bed. Before she can protest, he throws her onto the soft mattress.
“Punky, I just did my hair,” she weakly protests because she wants this as much as he does. Her craving for him has only grown with age.
He lowers himself onto her, nudging her nose with his. They stare into one another’s eyes, finally finding their happily ever after. It’s not conventional, but it’s theirs.
“Shay was paintin’ his face.”
Cami doesn’t need Punky to explain the significance of that as she witnessed Punky’s war paint firsthand.
“Well, he is your son,” she says, running her fingers through his long hair.
Time has been kind to him as he still looks like her Punky, but like a fine wine, he only gets better with age.
“Whenever he wants to talk about it, we’re here. That’s all we can offer him. We can’t push because, well, he is your son.”
Punky grins, loving how she treats Shay like her own. She did that since he was a child. Their meeting was fate, and he never takes that for granted. Cami accepts Punky, knowing her husband is not what most would consider the good guy.
But to her, he’s her guy, and she wouldn’t change a thing. Besides, she isn’t one to take a back seat. She never was. They built this empire together—the blood is on both of their hands. For what’s a king without his queen?
“What’s that in your pocket?” She giggles. “Or are you just really happy to see me?”
Punky laughs, reaching for Ethan’s gift. “Happy anniversary from Ethan and Eva.”
“My sister would not approve of a gift wrapped that way,” she teases, accepting the small box.
Punky crawls off her, and they both lean against the headboard as she unwraps the present. She opens the box and is unable to contain her laughter.
“A pair of handcuffs. Well, I guess it goes with the tin and aluminum theme. I think they’re meant more for you, however.”
She passes them to Punky, but when those sultry blue eyes lock on hers, she makes a mental note to thank Ethan later…much later.
“What about dinner?” she whispers as Punky coaxes her to lie on her back.
Securing her wrists above her head, Punky snaps the cuffs to the headboard and slides down her body. “I plan on eatin’…Babydoll. Happy anniversary.”
As he buries his head between her legs, Cami squeezes her eyes shut, moaning in bliss. “Oh, happy days.”
No matter that they are the king and queen of Belfast, no matter that they’ve done some deplorable things, behind closed doors, they’re still just Babydoll and Punky. And their love will live on…always and forever.