Chapter 13
Maynard
“Why'd you ask me to come by?” I stepped between Ant and Claire and tried to move the conversation along. Something weird just happened.
“I'm going to find a bathroom,” Claire squeezed my hand and started toward the stairs back down. She was obviously uncomfortable; I started to feel bad for bringing her with me.
Claire was becoming my new normal and I was surprisingly alright with that, but it wasn't long ago that I'd been a totally different person. This past year had changed me so much, even before I met Claire, but especially afterward. For some reason I figured the same was true for Ant.
“Quite the off-key piece of ass you have there.” Ant smiled stuffing his hands into his pockets.
I was wrong.
“Don't call her that.” My eyes narrowed. I had become overly protective of Claire in such a short period of time. She wasn't the kind of girl that wanted me to be her buffer against the world, but that made me want to take care of her even more. It was a new feeling for me that I hadn't figured out yet.
“Don't get your panties in a twist.” Ant seemed taken aback at my sensitivity.
I shrugged off the comment. I couldn't relate to his brashness anymore but I could still understand where he was coming from. The last time he saw me I was three girls deep at any one time so it was a fair assumption to assume that I hadn't changed much.
“Have you two met before?” There was a nagging pang in my gut at Ant and Claire's unspoken exchange. I'd have to ask her about that later.
“Hell if I know. I'd have to get a close look at the back of her head to be sure. I've met a lot of women.” Ant shrugged, laughing. He then shot me a bitter half-smile. “Not nearly as many as you, of course.”
“That's not my thing anymore.” Throughout our entire friendship there has always been this undertone of competition. We used to thrive on it.
“Do you remember where we first met?” Ant frowned, changing the subject. He took a few thoughtful steps toward his liquor cabinet.
“That charity gala ten years ago?” The early days all blended together to me.
“We were both there but we didn't actually meet till we got thrown in the same Cook County holding cell.”
“That's right. They had to pull you off the roof. You were so fucked up you tried to convince the cops that you were actually two little people in a trench coat,” I chuckled to myself, remembering. Nostalgia always had a way of lightening the mood. “You weren't even wearing a trench coat that night.”
Ant had an abrasive and overwhelming personality back when I knew him. He was a loose cannon, you never knew what to expect while he was around. I didn't mind it then. Shit, I'd be lying if I said we didn’t have a lot of fun together.
I always got along with extreme personality types because it allowed me to step out of the spotlight occasionally. I loved making waves in the media and having people fawn all over me but after a while it was fucking exhausting. Sometimes I needed a break and that's where Ant came in.
“And you were caught fucking the mayor's hot young wife in front of everyone,” he slyly shot back.
“That ballroom was literally surrounded in curtains, I didn't know we were behind the one set of curtains that would be raised to show off the auction items.” My chuckle turned into a laugh. “Wild times, Fire Ant.”
Fire Ant. It was easy to slip into the old nicknames when reminiscing. I thought way back before Claire, and before I became bored by all the shit I used to revel in. They might've been crazy, but they weren’t bad times. It was like watching an action porno movie: fun to think about but I wouldn't want to relive it.
“Before they dragged me off that building I saw how beautiful my city really was for the first time.” Ant's gaze into the middle distance intensified as he dropped the ice into each glass, then poured the dark liquor.
“I came back a week ago from almost a solid year of traveling to all the best cities in the world. You know what I've come to realize? Chicago, my home, is a joke. All these low-income tenements are a breeding ground for crime and these small mom-and-pop shops everywhere are leftovers from an old system that is grossly inefficient. Most of them are still cash only. Can you believe that shit?” He paused, slowly shaking his head. “It's really throwing a wrench in the gears of progress.”
“You're talking about cultural identity, Ant.” I narrowed my eyes, not liking where this conversation was headed. “We have areas like that back home too but some of the best music and food come out of those boroughs. Manhattan might be the face of NYC but its soul is in Brooklyn, Bronx and Queens. You have to take the good with the bad, that's just how it is.”
“It doesn't have to be.” Ant smiled, handing me a rocks glass of bourbon.
Ant was always second best to me when it came to athletics and women but he was dangerously smart. He liked to push things to their limit—drugs, women, even the police sometimes. That's what got his rocks off. He was mostly harmless but he did have a cruel streak in him.
“What are you talking about?” I took the glass. That was another reason I used to hang out with him. I was no saint, but I was always able to talk him down and keep him from crossing the line.
“Your family still owns a lot of property in my city, I want to buy it from you.”
“I'm just doing my hotel. Real estate is Bianca's thing. You have to talk to her.” What did we have in Chicago? I never managed our holdings so I didn't pay attention to what they were. I knew we had a few hospitals, community outreach buildings, at least one homeless shelter and few other nonprofit companies in the area.
“She wouldn't sell. I was hoping you could talk to her for me, maybe get her to budge a little. I'm going to clean things up here and bring in more commerce, the nicest condos and the finest restaurants. Start fresh and all that.”
“Start fresh, huh? You're going to make it too expensive for the people who already live here to stay here. Sounds a lot like gentrification to me.”
“So?” Ant shrugged, unconcerned. “This is my home, I'll drag Chicago to the world stage kicking and screaming if I have to.”
I brought the glass to my lips and tapped it with my finger thoughtfully. Even I knew it was wrong to displace people just because of their economic station. That was exactly the kind of thing my family was trying to fight when they originally bought real estate here.
“And what if the mom-and-pop stores won’t sell?” I was thinking about Hal's woodworking shop.
“C'mon, Mayday. We both know that everyone has a price.” Ant let the statement linger unfinished.
Even if that price wasn't money, he used to say.
Blackmail, murder, arson, I would always call his bluff with that stuff when we were younger. I knew he was full of shit back then, but now I wasn't so sure. Had that cruel streak of his actually developed into something else entirely?
“That shouldn't be the decision of just one man. You're not the only one that lives here.” I decided against having that drink after all and placed the unsipped glass on an end table. This was a lot darker of a conversation than I was expecting. “It's been fun, but I'm going to show myself out.”
The room fell into tense silence as I left.
“Sorry I didn't make it to your party,” Anthony shouted when I reached the doorway that led out of his office. He loomed above me at the top of the stairs, sipping his bourbon. “I'd have loved to have seen the exact moment that my friend lost his balls.”
I was wrong earlier when I thought he was the same man as before. Anthony had changed, but not for the better. I'd tell Claire to warn her parents to be on the lookout for any weird activity just in case.
“You have it all wrong, I didn't lose anything.” I shot my former friend one last glance before leaving to find Claire. “I simply gained a soul.”
When the opaque glass door swished shut behind me it felt like I had closed the final chapter of my old life. What would've happened in that office had I not met Claire? Would I have slipped back into old habits and helped my friend do something unspeakable?
I didn't think I would, but without Claire's temperance and compassion I couldn't be sure. Either way, the old Maynard Cooper was dead and I was glad for it.
Claire was chatting with Marcy by the elevator when I arrived.
“Are you ready?” Claire asked. She tried to hide her worry and discomfort with a weak smile, but I could tell that Anthony really put her off. Seeing what he’d turned into, I couldn't blame her for being sketched out.
I intently studied the face of the most amazing woman I would ever know. I shouldn't have brought her here. I'll make it up to her even if I didn't know how yet.
“More than ever,” I replied, wrapping an arm around Claire's lower back.