Murphy Macmanus Novels & Stories

Kiran stood beside a car as the scene unfolded. Yvonne, standing next to him, clapped her hands and cheered, "Wow, hubby, you're so manly!" Her usually pale face flushed with excitement. Dale Murphy, the young master of the powerful Murphy family in Dragon City, let out a cry of pain and fell to the ground, clutching his abdomen and curling up like a shrimp. His bodyguards were too stunned to react immediately.

Surprisingly, the golden paint on the walls still looked as fresh as when I was a teen. The white gothic statues still sat on each side of Lord Griffin’s golden chair with his picture above it. His pale white skin, red lips, long hair, and black cloak resembled Count Dracula. Lord Griffin died long before I could meet him, but Edward told me about his authority as a judge and how merciless he was to traitors. The red carpet still covered the hardwood floors, and I could barely see out the windows due to the dust. The room was calm and quiet as we waited for Elder Morpheus to arrive. No member of the mafia could preside over the matter so that all members could remain objective.

I'm like a puppet on the edge of a string. It was too bad this girl, Macie North, lived far from where I did. Our Pack is one of the largest, spiralling into the endless countryside that usually is coated with a thick layer of snow. And to think, despite this drive, Macie and I are meeting in the middle. The moment we got there, Elaine turned to me. "Listen, you need to look as if you care for at least one second, can you do that?" she questions, tossing the coat onto my lap. The camera people were getting out, reading to film the first interaction. "And try to appear friendly. Important people will be seeing this."

"Mr. Murphy! When did you get back?" He gestured to a waitress and whispered some instructions. Marcus answered flatly, "Just arrived." The man could barely contain his excitement. "Sir, it's been too long— you look even more handsome than before." Then he turned to me: "And this must be Ms. Shaw. You two make such a perfect match." I was taken aback. Was I really that well-known? Marcus introduced him: "This is Ryan White. He used to work with Peter until he was injured and returned to America."

The several glaring, unhealed red marks on her cheek had already been captured, precise and greedy, by countless lenses—fully exposed for all to see. *** Sinclair Estate Murphy lounged on the sofa, absently clicking the remote. News footage flickered across the screen, but he wasn’t paying attention. Upstairs, from Ferdinand’s study, came the muffled but thunderous roar of anger rolling down the hallway like a storm. Robin was getting chewed out again. Murphy’s lips twitched, but he remained indifferent. Then the TV screen flashed— His finger froze mid-click. He leaned forward slightly. On screen, a man he knew all too well was speaking calmly to the media, the picture of a gentleman.

I yelled at them. “What the fuck?” Mac sighed. “You hired us to help you, Harlow. I’m not sure what that means.” Murphey yelled back. They both continued their trek toward us. Mac knelt next to Malachi and started to assess his wounds. He pulled out his medical kit. Mac’s background was always a mystery; he was always the stoic man in the corner. When it came to it, he would whip out another talent that no one knew about. Mac started to stitch up the wounds. “Sorry man, I don’t have any anesthetic.” He continued to pull the surgical thread through his skin, closing the gashes. His fingers worked expertly. When one was done he moved onto the next.

“You wanted to talk with us.” “We did. Please take a seat.” They nodded and sat opposite my large oak desk in the chairs next to Mulvey. “First my apologies for taking so long in finding out who caused all of this shit for the both of you. But they seemed to be somewhat of a ghost ” “So did you manage to find out who they were?” “We did. Mulvey managed to track down our ghost.” “And who is this ghost?” “A guy known well on the mafya world Orion Miller, does his name mean anything to you?”

“Hmph! Gerald, Murphy was offering to shake hands with you, just now! Where are your manners?” “That’s right! Murphy, you don’t have to apologize to this guy at all! Just ask Sharon—he’s a total deadbeat!”

Doctor Jimenez took a wipe and she used it to wipe the gel on my stomach and then she came out of the room silently. It was nerve-wracking lying in the bed and Michael still hasn't spoken a word. I don’t know what to say and I’m so nervous and embarrassed to look in his direction because I don’t want to see the anger and maybe the disappointment in his face. I just clenched my fist at the extreme anger I feel right now about myself. I can't believe that this is happening to me right now. I was slowly moving on with my past but it keeps on crawling back to me and now, it crawls back with a reminder.

Stocky Balding Man looks up. “No. I’m exactly where I want to be.” He sticks out one of his sweaty hands, which are two times the size of mine. He gives me this half-cocked smile, seeming to think he’s the most important person in the world. “I’m Alvin Peters. Call me Mac Daddy.” I shake his hand. “Miss Ophelia Lane, I saw your performance tonight, and I must say, that little stunt you pulled up there?” He points in the direction we just came from. “That was something.”