Alberta Clipper (15 page)

“Great.”
  Christine forced herself to sound enthusiastic.

“I'd better make use of the last couple of Sunday nights I have left before school starts back.  Look, I have to go.  Call me later if you need to, yeah?”

“I will.  But I won't.  Need to.”

“Okay.”

Christine got changed into her pyjamas and when she returned to the sofa, she saw that she had a text message. 

HOPE 2DAY WNT OK W UR DAD.  ID LIKE 2 C U 2MRW.  LUNCH? 
GX

She
felt a massive sense of relief.  Maybe she hadn't messed it up after all.  She pressed reply.

LUNCH B GR8. CX

Even in the heat of early August, there were hints of autumn on the streets of Chicago.  Yellow leaves were blowing about the place, collecting in little piles on the pavement and around the trees and shrubs on the CarltonWachs office building concourse.  Mark walked with purpose, his jacket draped over his arm.  He was tired with jet-lag, but it felt good being here in Chicago.  He loved everything about the place – the smells, the food, the people.  He planned to go back to his hotel, get changed, and go for a run.  He could
run to
North Avenue beach and go for a swim, that would be a good workout.  He could cab it back, or just walk.  He had a list of favourite diners he liked to get to on his trips here, and was working out which he would stop at when he heard his name being called.

“Hey Mark.  Marky.”

He swung around to see the head of the Chicago office, Burt Montgomery, walking towards him panting in the heat.  “Hey Burt.  How's things?”  The two men shook hands warmly. 

“Things are okay.  Things are good.  You just get in today?  Sorry I missed you earlier.”

“Got in last night.”

“Right, right.  So, how are things on the Emerald Isle?  Heard you had some naughty boys to deal with there.  Everything a-okay?”

Mark
stiffened a little.
  “Ah well, you know.  These things will always happen.  It's sorted now, though, which is the main thing.  No major damage.  We lost a dealer.  But I think we’re
better off for it.”  Mark eyeballed
Burt.  He didn't want to go into any detail.  The Irish office was his business, and as long as it wasn't affecting Burt's office, well then how Mark managed things was up to Mark.  Thankfully, Burt seemed to feel the same way. 

“Well, I'm sure you sorted it out right.  Those bonus-boys need a reminder of who's boss sometimes.”  He winked at Mark
and wiped the sweat from his tanned brow
.  “Anyway, more importantly, what
’re
you up to tonight?”  The question and the accompanying expectant grin left Mark in no doubt that Burt had plans for him.  Burt always had plans, and was always on the lookout f
or an accomplice. 
Mark could see his quiet, healthy evening slowly slip away.

“Well, I was planning to go for a run,” he offered without conviction.

“Aw Marky, how often are you in the Windy City?”

Almost every month, Burt, as you well know.

“There's a thing on at my club tonight.  It'll be fun.  A few drinks, a fe
w girls.  C'mon Mark.  That lady
of yours ain't got no ring on your finger.  You're a free agent for a few drinks with your buddies, yeah?”

Mark sighed.  “Actually, Jennifer and I split up.”

Burt's face fell.  Mark had no idea why.  He had never even met Jennifer.  “Aw, I'm sorry to hear that Mark.”  Within a second he was grinning again.  “So let's go and drown those sorrows of yours, hey?  You know, it's a good spot for networking.  You can tell yourself you're doing it for the bank.”  He winked again, and started tapping something into his
BlackBerry
.  “Here, I'm sending you the details.  Tell them you're my guest at the door.”  He looked up at Mark.  “So I'll see you there?  Eight-thirty ish?”

Mark knew that there was no point in resisting.  Maybe he could get a run in before eight-thirty.  There would be no time for a swim, but maybe he could do that tomorrow evening.  Either way, he knew when he was backed into a corner.

“Okay, Burt.  I'll see you there.”

~

The club had a gentlemen-only feel to it, although it was open to both men and women.  Walking through the small lobby and into a dark, panelled room with a long bar, Mark noticed that most of the women there were waitresses or hostesses.  There were one or two skirt-suited ball-bashers seated on the studded leather chairs, and another few in expensive-looking cocktail dresses seated at the bar, but it was definitely a man's domain.  The décor, the ambiance, the drinks, all alluded to male power.  It seemed the women were all there to serve some purpose.  Even the boardroom types seated on the leather chairs looked like they
were just waiting to have
their hair sundered and blouses
ripped open.

Mark saw Burt standing at the back of the room at the bar, drinking what looked like neat whiskey and talking with another man.  A blonde was seated on a high stool next to them, pinching the stem of a champagne flute. 

“Hey, Marky!”  Burt
waved to
him as he approached, and the man and woman turned.  “
Hank
, this is Mark Harrington.  He runs things over on the Emerald Isle.”

The other man shook Mark's hand seriously.  “
Hank
Pinter.  Bank of America.”

Mark's heart sank a little.  “Hello
Hank
.  Good to meet you.”  He hoped this wasn't going to be a work night.  He'd only agreed to come out on the premise that there would be a few laughs.

“And this is -”  Burt rolled his eyes.

“Deanna.”  The blonde stuck out her hand which was cold when Mark shook it.  “Pleased to meet you Mark.”

“Deanna.  Damn.  Of course.  Sorry sweetie.  Let me make it up to you.  Another champagne here?”  He gestured at the hovering barman.  “Mark?  What'll you have?”

“Bombay and tonic.”  Mark said to the barman. 

They stood there while
Hank
finished telling Burt about some deal that had gone through that seemed very important to him.  Mark stood slightly apart, observing the others in the long room.

“Here you go, Mark.”  Deanna smiled as she passed him his drink.

“Thanks.  Cheers.”  Mark noticed that Deanna had hardly touched the first glass of champagne, and that she exchanged an almost imperceptible nod with the barman who took the first away on pouring the second Burt had ordered.

Great
,
he thought to himself
.  I get to talk to the hooker
. 
But
he immediately chastised himself for being uncharitable
.  Maybe she
was a business student trying to get ahead, make contacts.

“So are you from Chicago?”  He thought he caught Burt's eyes flicker over to him as he asked
her
the question.

“No, I'm from a little place called Shullsberg, Wisconsin.”  She sounded like a prom queen when she said it.  “You?”

“Ireland.  I suppose your grandparents are from there?”  He was only half-joking.  But even half a joke was lost on Deanna.

“No my grandparents were from Prague.”  She pronounced it Pray-ge.

“Great city.”

“Is it?  I've never been.”  She smiled childishly at him.  “I've been to Florida.  Never to Europe though.”

Mark was stuck for an answer to this, but thankfully
Hank
and Burt seemed to have finished their discussion and were ready to save him.  They stood talking together through three gin and tonics.  It turned out that
Hank
was quite a funny guy.  He had a gift for impersonating politicians and celebrities and had Mark bent in two more than once.  Another
two
CarltonWachs manager
s
arrived, at which point Deanna seemed to vanish.  It was nearly midnight when Mark felt a wave of tiredness hit him, and he indicated to Burt that he was leaving.

“Aw, man, the night's young!  Hey, let me just show you around this place first okay?  Maybe you'll want to come back some other time yourself.  Even if I'm not around, just mention me at the door, and they'll put your stuff on my tab.”

Mark
thanked him
, even though he knew it was likely that CarltonWachs was picking up Burt’s tab in return.

“Hey, it's not a problem Marky.  Sure when I'm over in the Emerald Isle, I know you'll take good care of me, yeah?”  Mark was fairly sure that Burt was unlikely ever to set foot in the Dublin office, so he had no problem assuring him that was case.  He followed Burt out a back door of the bar to another lobby and up a small staircase.  They wandered from room to room, a billiards room, a smoking room, other small sitting rooms and bars, all plush and fabulous.

“There are bedrooms on the top floors and a pool and gym in the basement,” Burt told him.  “You could stay here if you ever needed to.  At short notice,” he added with a wink.  Mark wasn't totally sure what Burt was getting at, but he guessed it might have something to do with Deanna.  After going up a number of floors in a lift, Burt turned to Mark with a triumphant look on his face.  “And,” he said, “the piece de resistance.”  He opened heavy double doors into another long panelled room like the downstairs bar they had been in.  This time, the floor was full with games tables.  Croupiers dressed like movie extras stood managing their tables while men, mostly in rolled up shirt sleeves, gambled their dollars away. 

“Nice,” said Mark, more out of politeness than anything else. 

“Isn't it?”  Burt drooled.  “C'mon Marky, let's see if we can't lose some of those euros of yours.”

An hour later, Mark really was ready to leave.  But just as he had decided to hand his chips over to Burt and slip away, he felt a presence at his shoulder.

“Need a lucky charm?”  Deanna was staring straight into his eyes.  Even at one thirty in the morning, Mark could tell that she was cold sober, not someone who had been quaffing glasses of champagne since eight.  He wondered how many glasses had been paid for, only to be poured down the sink.

“Eh, no I'm just leaving actually.”  He shook his head at the croupier who was discreetly questioning if he was in or out.  “Time for bed,” he said as he hopped down from his stool.

“Great idea.”  Deanna kept eye contact.  Mark laughed, but then realised she was serious. 

“No, I -”  He stopped.   He looked around him.  No sign of Burt at any of the tables.  Deanna was gently running a fingernail up and down his shirt over his stomach, her eyes following her finger as it scraped over his belt buckle and then from her shoulder down the tiny strap of her dress
to her inflated bosom
. 

“I have a room.”  She seemed encouraged by his silence.  Mark looked at her.  She was beautiful, in a fake sort of way.  He was unattached.  What was to stop him?  But a memory
of another night
flashed in his head.  He didn't want to sleep with this girl.  It was only a week ago that he had stood in a bar not unlike this one, looking at a blonde that he did want to sleep with.  He picked up his chips, throwing one over to the cro
upier like he's seen done on the TV
.

“No thanks, Deanna.”  Mark
didn't feel the need to let her down gently.  He left the room through the double doors without looking back. 

He collected
his jacket, and
walked out into the cool Chicago night air.  It felt like a cleansing balm after the seduction of the club.  Christ, what a place.  You could forget yourself in a place like that, in every sense.  Mark was just glad he had made it out with his no-hooker policy intact.  He hadn't even had a no-hooker policy before toni
ght, but he certainly did now.

As he walked along, he thought about Jennifer.  He had been waiting for a terrible feeling of loss to come.  He had expected that he would have been on a flight to Edinburgh within two weeks, begging her to come home to him.  But the reality was that he didn't want her back.  He did miss her, but what he missed was her companionship, her friendship.  Not her life.  He didn't
yearn
for her like he had
expected he would.  He didn't yearn
for what Jennifer co
uld give him, and he didn't yearn
for what Deanna could give him.  Walking along, he thought about London.  About the Dorchester.  He replayed parts of the evening in his head, as he had done repeatedly ove
r the past week.  What Mark yearned for, what he really yearn
ed for, he just simply couldn't have.

“C’mon.  Spill.  Tell me some news.” 
Nina
flopped down into the booth and lifted the strap of her bag from her shoulder.  “I have one hour before I have to collect the kids from
Shay
’s mother.  I need some adult information.  Make it x-rated if you have to.  Just give me something.”

“Stay-at-home-mummy gig not working out for you today?”  Christine grinned sympathetically at
Nina
.