Gangland Chicago AU

Corrine Murphy was the product of an Italian father and an Irish mother. She'd inherited all of her Mother's Irish looks, flowing fire red hair, porcelain skin, and freckles. It qualified her for exactly one job in 1930s Chicago; housemaid. She sighed as she hung the clothes of Mobster Jax Teller yet again. He'd ruined two shirts just this week. As she grabbed the already dry linens, she propped the basket on her hip and made her way inside. They were having another meeting. Something huge must have been ready to go down. She was very careful not to be seen as she made her way to hte linen closet.

Opie sat in the brown leather wingback chair in Jax's office nursing a tumbler of scotch. The years of being Teller's righthand weathered the man's soul: he served time in Sing -Sing and lost his wife and two children to a retaliation attack. They had been gunned down like animals coming home one evening from visiting family in Little Italy. That night he identified their bullet riddled bodies at the morgue was enough to harden him; drive him insane even.

He took a hearty sip of the liquid as he stared into the fire, half listening to Jax and Carlos argue over last night's job.

The problem with the linen closet was that it resided not far from the open door to the study. Jax and Carlos, or Juice depending on the day, were in a yelling match. It always made her nervous when they fought. The last time there had been a screaming match the likes of this it was to decide how to retaliate over the murder of Mr. Winston's family. She shivered involuntarily at the thought. Right after it had happened he was like a maniac set free. She was glad he had at least been able to put on a show and appear normal again.

She pulled out the step stool and began putting the heavy blankets on the top shelf. As she brought the last one above her head, she lost her balance and fell backwards into the study, quieting the yelling men immediately.

Shocck on her face, she tried to untangle herself from the damn blanket.

Opie was immediately at her side helping her up, "Ya okay? Took a nasty lil spill, Cor." He looked at her with concern.

She found it ironic that the most violently dysfunctional man in the room was the one helping her.

"Ope, don't call my maid by her first name. Show some class would ya? I don't care what ya call her on yer on time, but here she's the help. Get up, Miss Murphy, I expect ya to rewash that blanket."

Corrie made eye contact with Mr. Winston and hoped he saw the gratitude there. His eyes made her shiver, somehow the warmth of his actions and words never reached his cold, hollow eyes. Jax had only treated her poorly since the death of Mr. Winston's family. He blamed himself and Mr. Winston was his oldest, dearest friend, his pain ate away at Jax until he was just as desperate. She'd been a maid in this house since she was fourteen, at age nineteen she felt like it had been forever . Her closest friend was Jax's sister, Dita. Though he'd hired a maid just for Dita after the Winston family died and then forbidden them to talk. fighting back tears of frustration, not wanting to give the prick the satisfaction, she quickly gathered up the blanket, grabbed the empty basket, and rushed to the laundry room to rewash the damn thing.

Opie looked at Jax in confusion and a tinge of anger, "Why did you have to yell at her like that? She did nothing wrong."

Jax glowered at the fire, "She is a maid, Opie, she doesn't matter. She should do her job, not be seen, and not fuck up. Period. She's been here long enough to know better."

Jax ran a hand through his hair., he hated fighting with Opie.

Opie glared at him, "She's a human being, Jax. She has feelings...obviously you don't know what those are anymore."

OOC OMFG this is the THIRD time I've had to type this post.


Jax let a tight, terse smile spread across his lips.

"I'm surprise you give a damn, Ope. You've sat in that chair and watched the world pass you by for two months. If you care about her feeling so much why don't you apologize to her?"

He threw his glass in the fire and though about that night two months ago when his best friend had died in the morgue right along with his family.


Corrie crammed the blanket into the washer and began the arduous process of washing and ringing. Her tears flowed without shame alone in the laundry room.

Opie gently touched her shoulder, "I'm sorry, honey...Jax can be a prick. If he docks your pay, let me know."

She about jumped out of her skin.
"Oh! Mr Winston! You scared me senseless!"

Her hand flew to her throat as she stared up at the man in the nice suit. Suddenly, she was.terribly aware of her worn brown boots and simple black uniform.

"I'm sorry, honey. Look, don't let him push you around like that. He's a jerk nowadays."

She looked at him confused; she hadn't seen him string two sentences together in two months.

"Yes, I know. I've been on the receiving end quite a bit lately, but I can't say anything to him, I need my job. Look at me," she waved her wet hands in front of her face, " Bright red hair, green eyes, freckles for days you see many girls look this Irish work as anything but maids and washerwomen in this town? Now, if I was an Irish MAN, I'd be set."

Realizing the level of inappropriate she had just spewed she clamped her mouth shut and struggled to get the thick blanket through the ringer.

Opie gently turned her face back to him, "What if you came and worked for me? I'll double your salary."

Corrie's skin felt hot under his touch and her cheeks flushed scarlet. She'd worked here for so long, she didn't know what to do. With double her salary she could move into a better apartment, maybe save money to finally go to college.Her eyes widened.

"That's so generous, Mr. Winston, but don't you live by yourself? Would you really have need for a maid?"

Opie smirked, "I'm taking it Dee Dee nor Jax ever told you how messy I am."

She relaxed some,"Well, I do live in a bad part of Little Italy. Only Irish girl in my building. If made more I could move in a few months. I hate walking home at night," she shivered.

Opie looked at her with concern, "I will give you room and board. Free of charge. Anything you need, all you have to do is ask. Say yes."

She hesitated, seeing the look on his face when she mentioned Little Italy, " I'll say yes, but you have to tell me why where I live bothers you so very much."

Opie shook his head, dropping his voice, "Not here...not near Jax. Please, just meet me at my house tonight. I'll explain there."

Corrie agreed and finished her day's work. She gave Jax her key as she left. His face was all the satisfaction she needed.

Though she knew Mr. Winston would be waiting for her, she walked home first. It took her about thirty minutes to pack a bag of clothes, books, shoes, and odds and ends she would need. Enjoying the warmth of the night she walked slowly, a smile on her face for the first time in weeks.

As she rounded the corner, a light breeze fluttered through her long, red hair. Shortly after, a black, sleek car pulled up beside her. The driver's door came open and a tall man in a hat popped out. The door slammed, causing her to jump and look that direction. It didn't take her long to recognize Mr. Winston.

In shock, she spoke, "Opie?"

Opie grabbed her things and tossed them in the car, angry, "Why didn't you call me to retreive you? Do you know how dangerous this town is? Get in the car."

She did as she was told, shocked into silence. Maybe she'd made a mistake agreeing to this. She knew how volatile he could be. By the time they reached the house she had worked herself up to the edge of a mental breakdown. She got out of the car and stomped up onto the porch. Finding the door unlocked she went inside while he grabbed her bag. he living room was an absolute disaster. His clothes were everywhere as were dishes. He did need a maid.

By the time he came inside she was crying. she turned to him and yelled, "Why did you do that to me? Why did you yell at me like a child?"

Opie looked down, his face raw with emotion, "My wife and children were gunned down in that exact spot...I lost my temper....I was overcome with worry for you and fear of history repeating itself."

Tears pricked her eyes. She was in over her head with this man. He stood in the doorway, broken. Slowly, making her intention clear, she crossed the room to him. She grabbed his hand, led him inside, shut the door, and made him sit on the floor in front of the cleanest chair. She sat, her legs to one side, and pulled his head to her chest.

She removed his hat and stroked his short, thick hair, "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Leaning towards him, she kissed his forehead.