Secret North: Book 4 of The Wishes Series (28 page)

“You should’ve given her a broom,” said Adam.

“I don’t have one,” replied Tiger making us both laugh.

***

The tables were still set up from the party on Saturday night. We sat down at the poker table and negotiations got underway.

In my head, it was a pretty cut-and-dried deal. I planned to offer Tiger a fair price, take possession of the building, restore it to its former glory and reopen as a classy cocktail lounge. It didn’t take me long to work out that the deal was going to be anything but cut-and-dried. If you ask the right questions, you get the right answers, and Adam was good at asking the right questions.

“What’s upstairs?” he asked.

“My home. I live up there.”

That wasn’t good. Not only was the old man losing his club, he was losing his home – and I didn’t think I was cutthroat enough to do that to him. The ground the sale stood on suddenly became shaky and the deal began to crumble before my eyes.

Expecting Adam to reel it back in was hopeless. He had even more of a conscience than I did. He stared blindly at the far wall, absently stacking poker chips. “It’s not for us, Ryan.”

I glanced at Tiger, seeing a mix of relief, worry and sorrow on his face. “What if we just buy a share?” I suggested. “We can restore it and get it up and running. Tiger can continue to live upstairs.”

It was a solution to a few problems. The old man got to keep his home and, if the venture was successful, make a few bucks along the way. Meanwhile, we’d be part owners of one of the most glorious old buildings I’d ever seen.

“What do you think, Mr Malone?” asked Adam.

“This building has seen better days,” replied Tiger, leaning back and folding his arms. “I have too. If what you’re offering me is a chance to see her brought back from the dead, I’d be a happy man.”

“That’s what we’re offering you,” I confirmed.

The struggle to hang on to his beloved club had obviously been going on for a long time. Like the hard old coot that he was, he bit down on his cigar and nodded. “We should celebrate,” he declared, levering himself to his feet.

As he made the slow walk to the bar I used the time to ponder what we were getting ourselves into. Adam was probably doing the same thing. Realistically, it could be years before we started turning a profit. The renovations would be costly, and we were behind the eight ball before we even started, thanks to years of back taxes that needed cleaning up.

“Do you think we’re doing the right thing?” I asked quietly.

Adam’s eyes drifted to the stack of chips in his hand. “It’s only money,” he replied. “And it’ll make your heart happy.”

I usually kicked up at La La comments, but for once I kept quiet. He was right; and I was beginning to enjoy having a happy heart.

***

I should’ve known when Tiger returned to the table with whiskey and three dirty glasses that we were in for a long night. He spent the next few hours plying us with booze and regaling us with stories. I wasn’t convinced that they were all true, but they were interesting. Tiger Malone had lived a rock star life. He’d dabbled in everything from running the club to owning racehorses.

“Came close to snatching the Kentucky Derby in ’63,” he claimed. He brought his glass to his lips and threw back the last of his whiskey. “Funny business, horses.”

He’d also spent time in prison for racketeering in the sixties. We didn’t ask for details but considering the revelation came straight after the horse story, I concluded the two were somehow linked.

“Things worked differently back then,” he explained. “We were tougher. Not like you nancy-boys of today.”

“We do alright.” I cracked the lid on the whiskey and refilled his glass.

“I know
you
do,” he agreed. “I’ve seen the broad you spend your nights with.” He turned his attention to Adam. “What about you, kid? What’s your story?”

Adam frowned. “I’m not sure I have one,” he replied. “I’ve never spent time in prison, though.”

Tiger chuckled blackly. “You’re a lawyer. It’s only a matter of time.”

***

Tiger’s stories became more crude and outlandish as the night wore on. I had an aversion to cheap whiskey. Adam had a problem with dirty glasses. As a result, we both sat on one drink all night and left stone cold sober. Tiger Malone was in rougher shape. We offered to help him upstairs before we left but he refused, and wasn’t gentle about it.

“I’ve been climbing those stairs since 1958,” he slurred, gripping the balustrade to steady himself. “Sometimes with three women on my arm. I manage just fine by myself.”

I imagine it had been a while since he’d had three women on his arm, but we weren’t about to challenge him. We waited at the base of the stairs until we heard a door upstairs slam.

“Do you think he’s okay?” asked Adam.

I hooked the ‘staff only’ rope across the stairs. “He’s probably feeling better than he has in years. We’ve just saved him from losing his home.”

Adam grinned. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Ask me next week when we’re forking out to cover his back taxes.”

***

It had been a long day. By the time I arrived home, it was after ten. I was tired and craving sleep. Unfortunately for me, Bente was pissed and craving an argument. “You didn’t think to call me? I was worried about you.”

“No, I didn’t,” I replied frankly. “Time just got away from me.”

Honesty wasn’t necessarily the best route to take. It riled her even more. I stayed in the kitchen while she ranted at me from the couch. This was completely new territory. Coming home to an irate woman was another first and it wasn’t a milestone that brought me joy.

“I tried calling a hundred times, Ryan. I was worried about you.”

“I turned my phone to silent – I always do when I’m in a meeting. You knew where I was.”

My blasé attitude didn’t go down well. Bente marched across the room until the only thing separating us was the island counter.

“How was I supposed to know you’d be out half the night?” she growled. “All you had to do was call and tell me you were going to be late.”

I was exhausted and I was annoyed, which was a dangerous combination. It made me say dumb things. “You sound like my mother,” I told her. “Don’t be my mother. It’s not cute.”

Everything quickly went to hell after that. Bente was so angry that her hands were shaking. I decided that the best defence was to ignore it in the hope that she’d get a grip.

“Have you eaten?” I asked casually.

“No.”

“Well you should,” I told her, staring into the fridge. “It might make you feel better.”

I couldn’t have anticipated her next move even if I’d been facing her. I didn’t have time to react as something bounced off the back of my head. I spun around and looked to the floor to see what it was.

“A bagel?” I asked incredulously. “You hit me in the head with a bagel?”

“You should feel privileged!” she screamed. “I really wanted that bagel.”

“Bente, you just hit me.”

She grabbed another bagel, drew back her hand and lined up her second shot. “Stand still,” she ordered. “I have one more.”

I closed the fridge and bravely took a step closer. “If you hit me again, I swear, I’ll walk out that door.”

She dropped it on the counter, brushed off her hands and burst into tears. “Don’t bother.” She grabbed her purse off the couch. “I’m out.” The front door slammed and she was gone.

Our first argument was short and ugly, and there didn’t seem to be a victor. I wasn’t interested in chasing after her. I was pissed.

46. FROG TRAINING

Bente

I wish the bagel had been a rock.

Staying out half the night without calling was rude. And once I calmed down a bit, I realised that giving him an attitude adjustment with baked goods was rude too.

My exit from the apartment wasn’t very well thought out. Summer was slipping away and the nights were getting cool. I hadn’t thought to grab a jacket, and the dress I was wearing provided little protection against the night air. The journey to Ivy’s house would be long and painful while underdressed and ugly crying so I sought refuge at the closest place I could think of, Charli’s place.

Adam answered the door, which wasn’t ideal. “Are you alright?” he asked, ushering me inside.

“No,” I muttered. “Your brother is an asshole.”

I think he tried not to laugh, but it didn’t work. “It took you this long to work it out?”

Charli appeared behind him, looking far more concerned. “What happened?”

There was no way of downplaying it so I made sure my explanation was short. “We just had a fight. I hit him in the head.”

Now Adam looked worried. “Is he alright? Do I need to go over there?”

“No,” I muttered. “Blueberry bagels don’t hurt.”

He dropped the concerned expression and laughed again. Charli pulled me further into the room. “Ignore him,” she said. “Come and talk to me.”

“It’s late,” I blubbered. “I’m sorry. Maybe I should go.”

Charli cleared a group of legless dolls off the couch and ordered me to sit. Adam bowed out of the conversation at that point. I wasn’t sure if he was being polite or was just unwilling to deal with the drama. Either way, I was relieved.

“I’ll leave you ladies to it,” he said, stealing a quick kiss from his wife as he passed. “Tomorrow’s a new day, Bente.” He smiled at me. “You’ll be fine.”

***

I’d never known Adam and Charli’s place to be so quiet. Without Bridget bouncing around, the apartment took on a whole new feel. We sat side by side on the couch, talking and wailing. To clarify, I was wailing, Charli was ripping tissues from a box and rationing them out to me.

“He can be such a jerk,” I sobbed. “He didn’t even think to call and tell me he was going to be late.” Saying it out loud made me realise how trivial it must’ve seemed from the outside looking in.

“If you’re worried about who he was with, don’t be,” soothed Charli. “He was with Adam. Their meeting ran late.”

My inane rambling had paved the way for her to jump to the completely wrong conclusion. I wasn’t worried that he was with someone else. My insecurity stemmed from the fact that he hadn’t thought to call me.

“I’m so far into this thing, Charli,” I told her. “I love him. I think about him all the time.”

She shuffled across the couch and draped her arm around me. “I’m sure it’s mutual, Bente.”

I tore another tissue from the box on her lap. “If he didn’t think to call me, he wasn’t thinking about me.”

“Well, did you explain that to him?”

“Yeah.” I sniffed. “With a bagel to the head.”

Once she started giggling, I cracked too. Ryan was an insensitive idiot, but I was the one who’d blown it out of proportion by letting my temper get the better of me.

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” she asked.

I wanted to go home and apologise, but I wasn’t that brave. “Yeah, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.” Charli stood. “As long as you don’t mind crashing on the couch.”

“It’s fine.” I leaned forward and picked a doll up off the coffee table. “The girls will keep me company.”

***

I’m a morning person, but Bridget Décarie is a dawn person. It was barely daylight when I opened my eyes and found her wedged at my feet.

“Hi Bente,” she said cheerily. “Why are you here?”

Because your favourite uncle is a tool
, I didn’t reply. “I’m just visiting,” I said sleepily.

“Okay. My daddy can make you breakfast.”

“Yes I can,” agreed Adam, walking into the room. “What would you like? Cereal? A bagel perhaps?”

I lifted my head in time to catch him smiling. “Coffee?” I asked.

“Coffee I can do,” he replied, disappearing into the kitchen.

“I don’t like bagels,” said Bridget.

“Me neither, Bridge,” I muttered, pulling the blanket up to my chin. If not for the little person chattering in my ear, I probably could’ve drifted back to sleep. I was that tired.

“I’m going to a dancing school today,” she told me.

“That’ll be fun,” I replied dully.

“Yes, I know.” Bridget peeled back the edge of the blanket so she could see me. “Animal goes there too.”

I grimaced. Obviously Ryan’s slip of the tongue when referring to Malibu as a Muppet wasn’t a one-off.

“Does she?”

“Yeah.” Bridget pulled at the blanket again. “She’s a bit mean, isn’t she?”

Bridget’s opinion of Malibu was warranted, but agreeing with her seemed wrong. “I’m sure you’ll sort out your differences.”

I sat up as Adam walked over and handed me a mug of coffee. “Feeling better?” he asked.

Embarrassment was my prime emotion at that point. The cold light of day made the events of the night before seem ridiculous.

“Yeah.” I brought my mug to my lips. “Sorry about last night.”

Charli called to Bridget from the bedroom, and she took off down the hall. I was glad. Talking was a lot easier when I didn’t have to censor my words.