29.
Ian
Daisy was already there at the office when I got in the next morning, and just seeing her put a smile on my face.
“Hey there,” I said. There was no one else in the office, so I went over and gave her a kiss, forcing myself to pull away after a moment, even though I would’ve liked to just continue on in the direction that was headed.
“Mmm, hi,” she said. “I was wondering where you were.”
“Am I late?”
“A little. Or no, since you’re the boss, I guess you get to decide when you come in. But Seamus McAllister has been calling.”
“Oh yeah? And what does he want?”
“He wouldn’t say; he just asked if you’d call him
back. Even when I asked him what it was in regards to, he wouldn’t tell me. So
you should probably call him back.”
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll do that now.”
I went into my office and called Seamus. This was probably about that Ghanizadeh coming back into town or some shit.
“Ian,” Seamus said, picking up after the second ring. “Thanks for returning my call. I’d like to meet with you. What is your schedule looking like? Why don’t you meet me for an early lunch.”
“Hi, Seamus,” I said. “Early lunch? I haven’t even had
breakfast yet. What’s is that you wanted to talk about?”
“I’ll let you know when I see you. That’s the whole reason why I’d like to get
together.”
I could tell by his tone there was no way he was going to tell me over the phone and save me the trip, and I also knew that if I didn’t agree to meet with him, he’d keep calling until I did. So I told him my schedule was relatively open today, and we could meet up since he clearly had something of the utmost importance to discuss with me. I hung up the phone, trying to not feel too agitated.
“Everything okay?” Daisy asked.
“Just fine,” I said. “I’ve got to leave in a little bit to meet up with Seamus. Apparently, he doesn’t want to tell me over the phone what it is, either.”
What the fuck did Seamus McAllister want to talk about? He rarely ever wanted to talk in person—I couldn’t actually remember the last time that we’d had a face-to-face meeting. That’s what Billy was for—Seamus just called the shots and then did who knows what with the rest of his time.
Seamus had me meet him in Chinatown, at the restaurant that fronted for his underground poker club. By the time I got there, I had it figured out: Word had gotten out about the shit that went down with Martin, and Seamus wanted to can us. Even though nothing like that had ever happened before, and would not happen again. I would make sure of that. The air smelled greasy, and there were people sitting at the bar, hunched over bowls of noodles. Seamus was sitting at a table by the window, with a plate of egg rolls in front of him.
“Ian.” He gestured to the empty seat across from him. “Have a seat.”
I sat, then rested my hands on my knees. “Hi, Seamus,” I said. It had been so long since I’d last seen Seamus that I’d almost forgotten what he looked like, though really, he looked like a slightly older, wiser version of Billy. Billy, though, exuded this attitude of merriment, while Seamus, undoubtedly, could send off some very heavy don’t-fuck-with-me vibes. “Look, Seamus,” I said. “I know why you wanted to meet with me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You do?”
“Yeah. Which is why I’d like to start the conversation off by saying that it
shouldn’t have happened in the first place, and though I’m not trying to make
excuses, there’s no direct evidence that it was from our end. There just isn’t.
And ultimately, everything worked out, so it’s not like—”
Seamus waved me off. “That’s not what this is about,” he said. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about. It sounds like there was a fuck up. Was there a fuck up? Here, have an egg roll.” He pushed the plate toward me.
“No thanks, I’m good. It’s still a little early for
egg rolls.” I looked at him closely. “Wait—if this isn’t about the thing with
Martin, what is this about?”
It was then I realized that this whole time, Seamus had been looking rather
chagrined. As though this were a conversation that he didn’t actually want to
be having.
“You know me, Ian,” he said. “And you know that I’m not generally interested in getting involved with . . . most things. I like the simple life. I like life to uncomplicated. That might be hard to believe considering some of my endeavors; I realize this. Most of which I’m involved in because my father was. So it’s like a legacy. But you probably don’t care to hear about any of that sort of thing. I only bring it up for context.”
“Okay,” I said slowly, completely not following what it was he was trying to say.
“And my son, Billy, though he certainly has his faults—as
any man does—has done a surprisingly good job thus far at managing the things
that I’ve asked him to, at handling the aspects of my various enterprises that
I’d rather not deal with. Because I like the simple life.”
“Right,” I said. “You said that already.”
Seamus nodded. “Indulge me a moment. When things are
working, I can rest easy, which, at this point in my life, is exactly what I
want to do. Things have been in a bit of a disarray though. Nothing major,
which is good. But lately, I have noticed that whenever I see Billy, something
seems wrong. At first, I dismissed it, figuring he’d had a bad day, or maybe
Mercury was in retrograde, or some other voodoo nonsense like that. But it
lingered, which uncommon for Billy. He has a buoyant spirit. That’s how his
mother always described him as a child. You remember Imogen?”
“Yes,” I said, vaguely recalling a tall, chestnut-haired woman with a kind
smile.
“I always thought of him more as one of those children’s toys that are weighted at the bottom, so no matter what you do to it, it always springs back up. Anyway, after this morose attitude continued for several more days, it finally came out: Billy had found a girl he was interested in.”
I took a deep breath and nodded, suddenly understanding exactly where this conversation was headed.
“And it would seem that at first she showed some interest. But you’re interfering with that.”
“I’d have to respectfully disagree with that,” I said. “While it might be true that Billy likes this girl, she’s also someone that I happen to feel strongly about. I’m not trying to interfere or ruin his life by any means. He really doesn’t factor into this equation.”
“You don’t have any regard for anyone else when it comes to this sort of thing, do you?” Seamus asked. “When it comes to women. I know as well as you do that you could have any woman you wanted. I know that you’ve used that to your advantage on more than one occasion.” He held his hands up. “And I’m not judging you. If I had your looks, I’d do the same thing. Hell, back in the day, I got with more than my fair share of women, and I’m only half as handsome as you are.”
“Stop,” I said. “You’re making me blush.” I did feel better though, now that I knew this was all that Seamus had wanted to talk to me about. The whole thing was actually a bit absurd—Billy complaining to his father and putting Seamus up to talking to me. What the hell did they think I’d do—tell them I’d just walk away, he could have her?
“Billy and I have always had a very close relationship,” Seamus said, as though he could read my mind. “Which, considering some of the relationships I’ve seen between other boys and their father—or step-fathers—I have come to truly appreciate. Though trust me Ian—I normally wouldn’t meddle in this sort of situation at all. Billy’s had girlfriends before, and he’s had relationships end—both by him and by the other party. It happens, it’s part of life. But I have never seen him so enamored with someone, who, according to him and some of the people who have seen them together at Failte, seems to get along with him quite well. And would probably continue to do so if you were not in the picture.”
“So what?” I said. “Are you going to order a hit on me or something if I don’t break up with Daisy?”
“Are you two together?”
“Yes, we are.”
“Would she agree with that statement?”
“I believe so.”
Seamus sighed. “Billy has never met a girl that he wanted to settle down with.
He’s getting older, though. His mother would like grandchildren, because we are getting older as well.”
“Billy barely even knows Daisy.”
“And I’m not saying that I think she is necessarily the person that he’s going to end up with. But I’d like him to have the chance, and I don’t think that’s going to happen if you’re around. It’s his birthday soon, you know.”
“So what—this is your early birthday present to him? A new girlfriend?”
“Come on, Ian. Stop fooling yourself. We both know that she doesn’t really mean anything to you.”
I leaned back in the chair and rubbed my hand across the lower part of my face. It seemed beyond surreal that I was sitting here with Seamus McAllister, who was asking me to stop seeing Daisy so she could get together with his son instead. Was I dreaming? It wouldn’t seem to be so. This was really happening, but why the hell did Seamus think I’d ever agree to something like this?
The thing was, up until Daisy, I probably would have. If this conversation were happening, say, five months ago, and Seamus was asking me to stop fucking Annie because Billy was interested in her, I probably would have resisted a little—because who really wants to be told what to do?—but really, I would have had no problem in letting him have her. Because what we were doing was just for fun, it wasn’t serious, and it would eventually end. I knew this, even if she didn’t. With Daisy, though, it was different.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that,” I said.
“I heard something interesting about you,” Seamus
said, completely ignoring what I just said. “I heard that every Wednesday, you
go visit your step-father, Pete, at that god-awful nursing home he’s spending
the rest of his days in since that second
stroke did him in.”
“Correct,” I said, wondering who had told him that.
“A lot of people probably think that’s very kind, very compassionate of you to continue to see him.”
I shrugged. “I don’t really care what other people
think.”
“You know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think you’re doing it to spite him. I don’t think there’s a single
compassionate bone in your body, at least when it comes to that man.”
I held Seamus’s gaze, wondering what he was trying to get at. “You’re entitled
to think whatever you want. I’m not going to change your mind. You’re not
really the sort of person who can be swayed by what others want, anyway.”
“Most people probably don’t know how bad it was
between the two of you,” he said. “Did you ever wonder why he suddenly started
leaving you alone? That would be the summer of your sophomore year. Do you
remember that?”
“Of course I do. It was because he finally realized I was big enough that I
could fight back.” I was still kind of scrawny that summer, but I’d shot up in
height, and I was doing what I could to build muscle. That summer—and every
year after that—Pete had left me alone. Barely even looked at me. I had felt as
though I’d achieved some sort of victory.
“You might’ve stood more of a chance with him than when you were in sixth grade,” Seamus said, “but I remember you at fifteen. You weren’t much. He still would’ve been able to lay you flat on your ass. But he didn’t.”
Seamus kept his eyes on me, watching, waiting. I tried to keep my face impassive; I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, as it slowly dawned on me what he was saying.
“So what did you do?” I asked. “Tell him you were
going to kill him if he didn’t leave me alone?”
“Oh, we weren’t going to kill him,” Seamus said. “But we were at least going to
match him up with someone so it would’ve
been a more fair fight. And he backed down immediately. It probably didn’t seem
that way to you at the time, but Pete wasn’t a hard guy, and he didn’t want to
be on the receiving end of anything violent. One of those guys that could dish
it out but couldn’t take it. And do you know how I knew this was going on?
Billy.”
“I see.” I shifted in my seat and leaned forward,
resting my elbows on the table. “So now you think I owe you some debt because
you did something for me—when I didn’t even realize it—and now you’re calling
it in. Is that what this is?”
“If that’s how you want to look at it. Come on, Ian. You know as well as I do
that you could get any woman you wanted. Walk out of here and you probably wouldn’t even make it around the block
without catching at least three ladies’ eyes. It’s a gift that you were born
with. Unfortunately, good looks is one of
those impermanent gifts, but no one would argue with the fact that you’ve been
taking advantage of this gift while you still have it. So keep on doing what
you’ve always done, give my son a chance at this girl he’s so interested in,
and everyone will be happy.”
“I won’t be,” I said. “Because she’s not just some
girl that I want to use and get rid of. And you do realize she works for me.
You know, so I see her pretty much every day.”
“I trust that you’ll be able to find something else to occupy your attention.
Or—fire her. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
How did he know all this shit? It was a little disconcerting. Then again, I knew that Seamus had people all over the city—all over the world, probably. He had connections. He had ways of finding things out.
“What if I refuse?” I asked.
“You won’t,” he said, giving me a level look.
And he was right—I wouldn’t refuse him. I couldn’t. It would be one thing to lose Martin Harris as a client, but it would be another thing altogether to lose Seamus. To lose both would basically be the end of the company, and I had a sneaking feeling that Seamus would have the ability to get Martin to walk if he did. And if I refused, it wouldn’t surprise me if bad things started happening to people that I cared about.
“Billy isn’t going to find this at all shameful?” I said. “That his father has to go around setting things up for him?”
Seamus ignored the question. “Life has a funny way of working out,” he said. “Things that seem like a big deal at the time will often be looked back upon in the future, and you’ll realize that it wasn’t nearly as problematic as you felt like it was.”
I tried not to roll my eyes. “That’s very philosophical of you. Maybe that’s what I’ll tell Daisy when I have to break up with her.”
“Break-ups are never fun. But I have no doubt that
you’ll be able to think of something to tell her that will be satisfactory. Now
really, why don’t you help yourself to a few of these egg rolls? They’re
delicious.”
“I’m all set,” I said. “If that’s all you wanted to talk about, then I better
get going.”
“That’s it. Thank you for meeting with me. It’s been a
while since I’ve seen you. Though I do plan to make an appearance when our
friend from Dubai is back in town, so maybe I’ll see you again. Take care,
Ian.”
“Yeah, you too.”
I left him there to eat those fucking egg rolls and feel self-satisfied that he
could now add professional matchmaker to his resume. Fuck him! I was seething
as I walked back toward my car, but there
was nothing I could do about it. And fuck him for only now telling me about
that shit with Pete. I wanted to think that he was lying, but I knew he wasn’t.
Now all I had to do was figure out what the hell I was going to tell Daisy.
When I got back to the office, she was all smiles.
“Hey!” she said. She came over and wrapped her arms around me, and automatically, my own arms went around her waist, my head leaning down to kiss her. I closed my eyes and really felt that kiss, really allowed myself to just get lost in it because this was the last time that was going to happen. And it’s funny how much more attention you pay to something when you know it’s the last time you’re ever going to get to experience it.
When we pulled apart, my vision blurred a little; what the fuck was this? Was I about to start crying? I blinked and pretended like I’d gotten something in my eye.
“Hey yourself,” I said. “Sorry—I don’t know what the hell this is in my eye. Hold on.”
“Do you want to go out to dinner tonight?” she asked.
“Caroline was telling me about this new restaurant that just opened near her office, and it’s supposed to be really good.”
“Uh . . .” This was going to suck. She looked so happy right now, and I was
about to completely ruin that. But I couldn’t put it off. Prolonging it would
only make it worse, even though Seamus probably wouldn’t begrudge me one last
dinner date. “I can’t,” I said.
“Oh, okay. Maybe another time, then. I would like to
check it out, though. Did you have something else that you wanted to do? And
how’d it go with Seamus? What was so important that he had to see you in person
to tell you?”
“Actually . . . Daisy . . . there’s
something that I need to talk to you about.”