Remember Me (13 page)

RemembeR me

having done this before. It was more like a feeling of living in a dream state. It was difficult to separate reality from fantasy.

This time was a fantasy. Yet my mind was slowly beginning to reshape the thoughts milling around inside my head. Maybe it was for salvation’s sake, but, subconsciously, I think I was trying to convince myself that my past life was the real fantasy.

Who’s to say it wasn’t! I wondered how long it would it be before I ceased to believe in the life I once lived…maybe it would happen when they put me away in a straight-jacket.

The phone rescued me from my preoccupation with

thoughts of impending doom. I answered on the third ring with a simple, “Hello?”

“Mr. Warren this is Charlie. I’m downstairs calling you

from one of the lobby’s phones. If you would be so kind as to meet me at Devonshire’s, we’ll share a meal together and discuss tomorrow’s business arrangements.”

Forcing my heart to return back to its normal spot in my chest I answered, “Yes Sir, I’ll be right down.”

“Mr. Warren, Charlie will sufficient if you don’t mind.”

Charlie’s voice was purely business-like. It was soft in volume and warm sounding in its tenor. He further instructed me to by-pass the maitre d and to proceed to the table nearest the fountain. It would be on my left as I entered.

“I’m on my way.”

There was no response, Charlie had already hung-up. I

went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. My eyes shone with the foreboding I felt. I took a few deep breaths and dried my face and hands. Before I could talk myself out of it, I swooped up the room key from on top of the television and left the room. I had to wait nearly five minutes for the elevator to make an appearance. On the way down, it stopped on both the fifth and fourth floors. Another one of the older-man-younger-woman couples got on. They were just liked the S 93 S

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pairs I’d seen earlier in the lobby. The man was just downright ugly, and he smelled repulsively of expensive cologne. She was his polar-opposite and extraordinarily stunning. I didn’t want to think about them or anything at the moment. I kept my eyes focused on the circular floor buttons on the front panel of the elevator. I watched them light up as we descended. When they got on, the woman reached across me with her right hand and with a long, red, perfectly manicured fingernail pushed the button for the parking garage.

I could smell her perfume. It had a, “come and get me

scent” to it. Mixed with his cologne it was over-powering. If I had to ride with them for a long period of time, the air would not be fit to breathe. It would eventually overwhelm me. I never took my eyes off of the button display panel—not even when she firmly squeezed my rear end. I got off on the third floor and heard them both chuckling as the doors closed behind me.

I took a right off of the elevator and headed down the hallway that Jacqueline had pointed out to me earlier. Devonshire’s sign had a rustic, old world, Irish look to it. It was hand-painted wood. A colorful picture of a large mug of beer with a frothy head adorned the sign. I entered through the large, dark-wood door, propped open by a kick-stand. Three men stood in front of the maître d’. I skirted off to the left of them and towards the leprechaun fountain. A large pot of gold spewed water skyward and down upon several dancing leprechauns. It was quite the eye-grabber. There was only one table on the left-side of the fountain and it was currently occupied by one, lone individual.

I was beginning to rethink my feelings on Chicago mobster stereotypes. Charlie could have been anyone’s grandfather. He was slightly on the plump side, a full head of completely white hair. Unlike all of the other men I’d seen throughout the hotel, S 94 S

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Charlie did not have on a suit and tie. He wore tan slacks and a light blue polo shirt. What distinguished him the most was the very large gold and diamond ring on his right hand ring finger. I didn’t have to see it up close to know it spoke largely of his status.

I sat down across from Charlie and stared into the brightest blue eyes I’d ever seen. He had plenty of laugh lines around his eyes. It gave his face the overall appearance of happiness. I wondered if this was the case or just the outer shell of the man.

He was clean shaven and the scent of his cologne was familiar to me. He wore a gold necklace around his neck too. It was covered-up by his shirt so I couldn’t tell what it supported at its end. If I had to peg a guess at his age, I would say sixty-eight, give-or-take a few years.

“Mr. Warren, a pleasure to meet you,” Charlie offered as I sat down. “I always look forward to eating at Devonshire’s. The quality of the food here is absolutely tremendous. I don’t believe they have one bad item on the menu. I speak of this with all sincerity. Over the years, I do believe I’ve tried them all,”

Charlie stated, smiling broadly, his blue eyes gleaming.

I felt a little more at ease. “Do you have any suggestions?”

I believe I found Charlie’s true love…food. If it were even possible his eyes shone more brightly. “I believe you couldn’t go wrong with either the corned beef and cabbage, or the braised lamb shank. Of course you’ll need to experience it with the best of Irish beers—a pint of Murphy’s. Just so you know it’s not the watered-down, American version either.”

I had no doubt whatsoever that Charlie’s laugh lines were pure. Everything about him pointed to a carefree and happy person. I didn’t let this take the edge off why I was here. I knew I needed to be careful in the way I handled myself. One false move on my part and I might be visiting with the other-side of the “Family”—literally. I was definitely ready for some S 95 S

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stress relief so I said to Charlie, “I would love nothing better than a good beer!”

Charlie smiled and made a gesture with his hand at the

nearest waiter. In a flash he was standing by our table. “Two Murphy’s,” was all Charlie said and the waiter was gone like a bullet shot out of a gun. In the brief exchange between the two of them, I noticed something unspoken in their communication. Charlie was revered and respect by the waiter, and I bet by the entire staff of the hotel. It reconfirmed my intent to walk the straight and narrow path.

Charlie asked, “Have you decided on what you’d care to

eat?”I didn’t even bother looking at the menu lying in front of me, “Corned beef and cabbage,” I responded. Charlie gave me an appraising grin, and I smiled in spite of myself.

Two beers later, and my stomach full and miserable, Charlie got down to business. We’d spent the first part of our evening talking about this and that. I let him guide the conversation and only added my two-cents worth occasionally. He asked if I followed baseball and if I thought the Cub’s would ever make it to the Series. I almost said, “Not in your lifetime.” I was close, but managed to say instead, “I hope they make it my lifetime.”

We got along like two old friends. I believe he was investigat-ing me, trying to get a more personal read on my intentions.

When the plates had been cleared away, Charlie said,

“Tomorrow morning at eight a.m. a car will arrive here to pick you up. Christine will be the driver and your escort. I don’t believe you will have any trouble identifying her. You can’t miss her, bright red hair and intense green eyes.” Charlie lowered his voice and leaned in closer to me. I responded in a like motion until our heads were within inches of each other.

“She is a little on the fiery side—like her mother. She’s my daughter from my first wife.”

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“I see,” I offered back. My voice took on the familiar tone of someone answering a question like it’s plainly clear without knowing all the circumstances.

“She tends to come off a little strong-willed. She doesn’t like men who talk down to women, especially when it’s her.”

I looked into his eyes to see if I could ascertain any additional meaning behind his comments. Seeing none I answered,

“I will be on my best behavior.”

Charlie smiled, “I’m sure you will. I’m certain she will find you most pleasant.” He let his gaze lift to the waiter who was approaching our table.

“Can I get either of you another beer?” the waiter asked.

I shook my head and Charlie politely said, “No.” The waiter left us to our own accord. I didn’t ask any questions of Charlie.

He glanced at his watch and then ended our dinner by stating,

“It’s time I head home, Peter. I’ll see you tomorrow at the workshop. It was a pleasure getting to know you.”

I nodded and added, “Thank you for all of your help and

for the great meal!”

Charlie grinned at me, and for the first time that night I wasn’t at all sure of the meaning behind that grin. He left me at the entrance to Devonshire’s. I headed toward the elevators, and he went the opposite direction. I had no idea where he was headed. I looked across the lobby. Jacqueline was still working the front desk. I started to feel very conspicuous. She had kept more than a casual eye on me. I thought about turning the tables on her and asking her for two extra pillows. I didn’t need them. I just wanted to see if she would beat me upstairs to my room with them. It wasn’t worth it so I pushed the elevator’s call button. When it arrived, I entered. I could still catch the faint aroma of the odd couple’s colognes, from when I shared the elevator with them on my way down. Only now in a lighter toxicity, it wasn’t nearly as hard to stomach. I rode the elevator S 97 S

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up all by myself. The beers and the food were starting to make me sleepy. The stress of where I was and what I was here for added to my tiredness.

I slept fitfully, tossing and turning all night long. In my dreams, beautiful women patted me on my rear end and monstrous, jealous mob bosses gunned me down. I woke long

before the wake-up call I’d put in at the front desk. It was a blessing to get out of bed, unscathed by the hundreds of bullet holes I’d dreamed about. My neck ached and my stomach was doing flip-flops. I took a long shower, turning the water ever hotter as it cascaded down my neck and back. Feeling moderately better, I toweled off and sat on the bed. I gave the steam time to escape from the bathroom. The exhaust fan did little if anything at all to help evaporate it.

It was seven thirty, a half an hour before fiery Christine was to show up. I had no idea what I should wear. Charlie had made no indication the night before on appropriate dress attire. I opted for a pair of slacks and a blue polo shirt. I clasped a silver watch band to my left wrist. My father had given it to me to as a passing heirloom. Neil was now wearing the watch Tami and I had given him for his sixtieth birthday. Of course in this time, he was wearing the twin to the one I had on. The glass face had several scratches in it, making it difficult to read the date. I wondered if it might be better to not wear it at all.

I started to take it off. Swearing under my breath, I said, “To hell with it,” and closed the clasp once more.

I exited the elevator at the third floor and made my way over to guest services. A gold engraved sign said as much and hung visibly over an open door. It wasn’t the door or guest services in which I was interested. It was the large stainless-steel coffee maker on the table next to the door. I took one of the Styrofoam cups and filled it to the top with dark, black coffee. The steam rose and so did the smell. It was strong and S 98 S

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I smiled appreciatively. I took my cup and found an open chair to sit in. I had a clear view of the lobby entrance out to the street, as well as the elevator. I didn’t have a clue which entrance Christine would use when she came to retrieve me.

I was halfway done with my coffee when I heard the elevator ding. I couldn’t see inside the elevator, from my position. I had the uncanny feeling that it was for me. My watch showed eight a.m. straight-up. “Fiery” did not do justice to the woman who emerged from inside the elevator. Captivating and attention getting would have been a much better description. She had long full hair and a killer physique. Her hair was fluffed to draw attention—and boy did it. With the dark red color and her intense green eyes, she looked like a lioness ready to strike.

She was one that I presumed also had razor-sharp claws. She couldn’t have been more than five-foot tall, but she towered over the people in the lobby. They skirted aside for her as she purposely walked directly towards me. She had on tight, black slacks, a sheer white sleeveless blouse, and black pointed-tip boots. Gold adorned her neck, her wrists, and many of her fingers. I wouldn’t have needed the warning Charlie had given me, I could easily read her look, “Don’t mess with me.”

Christine stopped in front of me and in a pure business-like tone addressed me: “If you are Mr. Warren, then would you please follow me.”

She stood in place, one hand on her hip, the other one

clutching a ring of keys. She waited for me to acknowledge her statement, and I simply said, “I am.” Without a word, she turned and headed back towards the elevator. Not knowing what to do with my coffee I set it down on the nearest table.

I thought it better not to take it with me. We might as well have been a passing parade. People stopped and stared at us.

The silence of the room added to my growing nervousness.

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could put many men in their place. I didn’t plan on stepping out of line. She had that “Laura Croft” feel about her.

I kept my mouth shut on the descent to the parking garage.

When the doors of the elevator opened, I wasn’t surprised to see a brand new, black, Ford Mustang waiting in the short term parking spot. It fit her persona perfectly. Remembering what Charlie had said, I made no move to be chivalrous. I opened the passenger door and climbed in, after Christine first opened the driver’s door. The interior was as black as the outer paint job. The strong scent of her perfume blended with the leather fragrance from inside the car. To me it was not a comforting smell, but one of intimidation, making me feel out of place.