Shamrocks and Secrets (4 page)

"Oh no, Lass. My son, Patrick, will take care of security."

It hadn't occurred to me before that Nora Malloy was Patrick's mother. So with a plan in motion and a tight hug from Nora and Paige, the meeting was over and a wedding reception scheduled. I sat in my chair going over everything that had happened in the past few weeks. With a careful decision made, I grabbed my cell phone and scrolled down my contact list. I pressed send and waited three rings before getting an answer.

"Brandon, if someone wanted to get in touch with Patrick Malloy, how would they find him?”

Y
ou know that scene in horror films where the creepy music begins to play and you shout at the television for the girl on the screen not to go into the house? Well, that was how I felt as I sat inside my car, parked outside under the neon sign that flash
ed,
Whiskers Gentleman's Club
.

Gentlemen my ass...

Brandon assured me that Patrick had an office inside the club and that he could normally be found there every evening. I needed to thank him. I needed him to understand that I knew what he had done, even though he didn't have to do it. I could have just called him, or have sent one of those fancy edible fruit basket things. I could have taken Shannon's advice and sent him the equivalent of guy flowers, a six-pack of his favorite beer. However, with the amount of money he had made Kevin pay, none of those things would do. I needed to look him straight in the eye and say thank you. So
,
with a deep breath and my hand wrapped tightly around the can of pepper spray I had in my pocket, I exited my car and made my way to the doors.

There was nothing special about the building that housed Whiskers; it was in the middle of a rundown industrial area. The building stood alone, surrounded on three sides by parking lots. The sidewalk out front had seen better days as it was littered with cracks. The tattoo shop across the street was missing the last
‘O
’
so that it now read
‘
Tatto.
’
Several bars lined the street on either side, and at the end was a pawn shop and an adult bookstore.

I took a deep breath as I placed my hand firmly on the metal handle of the door. I could do this, ten minutes tops and I would be back in my car and headed home. I could feel the vibration of the thumping base as I pulled the door of the club open. Once inside, I came to a wall that blocked the view of what was going on from any innocent passersby. To the left was a bar, behind which stood two of the biggest guys I had ever seen. They looked me up and down with huge smirks on their faces. I pulled the belt of my coat tighter around my waist and nearly vomited in my mouth. The way the human wall of a man was sucking his front teeth and cleaning his finger nails with his pocket knife was disgusting and caused my stomach to turn.

"Can I help you, Sweet Thing?"

I hadn't noticed the short, stocky guy that stood in the entryway. He had on white dress pants that were pleated in the front and secured with a patent leather belt.

Hello, the seventies are calling, they want their pants back
.

The black shirt beneath his white suit jacket was open most of the way and clearly showed the three thick gold chains that hung from his neck, nestled amongst his bushy chest hair. Try as he might, he was no John Travolta. I turned my attention to him and shot him a quick smile.

"Yes, Sir, I'm here to see Patrick Malloy."

All three men snickered and glanced at each other. Human wall looked around the corner at what I can only assume was a girl dancing. Gold chain guy was still undressing me with his eyes. The last guy was older than the other two, his head completely bald, a striking black soul patch stood out from his tiny lower lip. He wore sunglasses that obscured my view of his eyes, although
I'm
certain he too was dreaming up ways to get me naked as the girls on the other side of that wall. I never understood people who wore sunglass even at night. Did they feel they had something to hide?

"Boss doesn't do the interviews, Baby. That's my job," gold chain guy responded.

"Do I look like I need a job?" My voice clipped, gone was my politeness. I needed to see Patrick and then get the hell out of here.

"Everybody needs a job, Sweetheart."
H
e quickly retorted, his tone eluded that he thought he was funny. His grin devilish and the hair on the back of my neck began to stand up.

"Yes, well, I didn't ask for a job, I asked to see Patrick Malloy." My voice may be firm, but inside I was about to bolt and run. Thanking Patrick be damned.

"Can I tell him who's asking?”

‘Chri
sti, Christi O
’
Rourke"

The human wall and Mr Clean again chuckled and one of them began playing with his cell phone, shaking his head

"Listen, Babe, I know every piece of pussy in this town and Boss don't know no Christi O
’
Rourke. Now either you want to apply for a job or you turn around and head right back out the way you came."

Before I could get too frustrated, my father's words came back to me.

"What name did he give you? File that one away; you may need it sometime."

"Then tell him Legs wants a quick word."

Suddenly, it was as if I held the key to the city. The two guys behind the bar immediately stood up straight and wouldn't make eye contact with me anymore. Gold chain guy suddenly found his manners and actually smiled at me, a warm, apologetic smile.

"My apologies, I didn't recognize you, Miss."

He picked up the phone that was sitting on the bar beside him and spoke in hushed tones. Finally, he glanced up at me and spoke, "Yes, Sir, Boss, right away."

"Legs...er, Ms.O
’
Rourke, if you'd please follow me."

I wasn't about to let gold chains touch me and so I stayed a half step behind him. Once we passed the bar, the room opened up and the music got much louder. The room was painted black, I think. The lighting around the room gave everything a red hue. There were three stages, with poles in the middle of each. All three stages had different naked girls dancing to a song I didn't recognize. To the right I noticed a staircase that led to a wooden door at the top. The sign on the door read private. Gold chain guy asked me if I would care for a drink, but I smiled and declined.

The door at the top of the stairs opened and a young girl came out. She was fully dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and couldn't have been a day over sixteen. Her mascara was running as if she had been crying. She stormed past me and ran out the door. Gold chain guy instructed me that Patrick was in the office at the top of the stairs. I carefully climbed the stairs and stood outside the door. Here goes nothing, I said to myself as I twisted the handle and opened the door.

Ever entered a room and have the conversation suddenly stop? Yes, that was where I was now. Once I opened the office door, everyone stopped talking and looked in my direction. Truly, this was more than likely a good thing; conversations that were held behind closed doors in strip clubs usually weren't garden party subjects.

Patrick sat behind the massive desk that stood majestically in the center of the room. The desk looked to be an antique and yet well cared for. His high-backed leather chair towered over his head. The desk was clean and only housed an expensive looking desk set. The green desk lamp illuminated the glossy surface. Patrick however, looked like the
c
aptain of a ship. He dominated that desk, as well as the room.

The room wasn't anything like the d
é
cor downstairs; the walls were all paneled with rich dark wood. Not like the paneling from the seventies, no, this was like the kind you would find in old English homes.

The painting that hung behind Patrick's head looked to be a portrait of a very handsome Irishman. The plaid sash that crossed his chest reminded me of a picture that my grandmother had had in her house when I was a little girl.

To the left stood three men. The first I recognized immediately as Ryan Donnelly. Ryan was a massive man with very broad shoulders, and I was certain his biceps were as big as my thigh. All of my dealings with him in the past had been pleasant.

Next to him was another man just as big. However, his skin was much darker; he wasn't making eye contact with me. His hands crossed in front of him.

The last man was just as tall, not nearly as built, and his hair was a nice shade of dark blond. He, also, wasn't making eye contact with me.

"Ms. O
’
Rourke to what do I owe the honor?" Patrick's deep voice sounded and brought my attention back to him.

"Please, take a seat," he motioned and then stood for me to sit in one of the chairs that faced his desk. "Does your father know you're here?"

Patrick Malloy held himself as a man who expected to be intimidating. He oozed power, from the constant group of men who surrounded him, to his black Armani suit he was currently wearing. He wanted people to fear him, but why?

I prided myself on being a strong, intelligent woman. Which was probably why I hadn't had a date in over a year. I wasn't going to willingly let Patrick see that he made me just a little nervous.

So, instead of addressing him, I turned my attention and made my way over to Mr. Donnelly with my hand out for a handshake. "Mr. Donnelly, such a pleasant surprise to see you. How is your beautiful bride?"

I watched the surprised look on his face as I continued to hold my hand out. He quickly looked at Patrick and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Patrick do a quick nod. It was then that he took my hand in his and very softly shook it.

"Ms. O
’
Rourke, always a pleasure to see you. My Allyson is excellent, thank you for asking."

I smiled brightly at him, "I
’
ve asked you to call me Christi, meeting you here doesn't change that.
”
Again he looked at Patrick, his face contorted with confusion. I didn't understand what was going on between these two men, so I decided to be polite and give Ryan an easy out.

“
Please tell her I said hello." He nodded with understanding and I turned back toward Patrick.

All of the men in the room waited until I had taken my seat before they sat down. I thought this odd since we were in a strip club.

"Mr. Malloy, you're a busy man and I only want to take a minute to personally tell you thank you. Thank you for helping my sister and my niece."

A devilish grin spread across his face as he looked directly into my eyes. "I'm not certain I know what you're referring to, Ms. O
’
Rourke."

"Please, Mr. Malloy
,
call me Christi. After everything you have done, it seems only right.
”

He smiled his devilish smile and moved his left hand up to rest under his chin. His green eyes sparkled in the light from the lamp on his desk.

“
Only if you call me Patrick
”
His voice was doing strange things to my insides. I only smiled at his request.

“
You and I both know you had everything to do with Kevin, err rather Douce, owning up to his responsibilities. I simply wanted to say thank you, it'll go a long way toward paying for her education.
”

There I said it, now to get the hell out of here.

"Giggles is a smart little girl, she deserves the best."
I was so sick of these names he had given to the people I loved,
“
Her name is Abigail.
”
It came out very snippy, though I didn't mean for it to.

“
Sorry, Christi,
Abigail
is a smart little girl,
”
he emphasized her name as he corrected himself. "Smiles did a fine job of raising her by herself, and it shows."

"Why do you call my sister Smiles?"

He didn't bat an eye as he looked directly into mine. "Because giggles start as smiles. Your sister is always smiling every time I see her, and your niece has a laugh that makes my Ma giggle."

Fair enough. However, I refrained from asking why he called me Legs.

"Yes, well, again, I know you're a busy man and so I won't keep you..."

"You didn't answer my question, Christi; does your father know you're here?"

For a brief moment, I thought about telling him to mind his own business. I was an adult after all. However, I decided that since he had just gotten Kevin to pay up that I would remain nice.

"No, Patrick, I haven't spoken to my dad today. He has no idea I was coming to thank you," I answered and began to rise from my chair.

"This isn't a safe neighborhood, Christi. A beautiful woman such as yourself could attract some
...
unwanted attention."

“Yes, you’re right, thank you for your concern. I'll see myself out."

"Not so fast, Christi," Patrick rose from his seat. I turned my attention back to him and sat back down in my chair.

"Although it was very courageous for you to come here and thank me for helping your sister, I'm afraid I cannot accept only that." His eyes never left mine as he continued. "After all, I did get Douce to pay your sister a large sum of money, did I not? I'd say that mere words would not be quite sufficient."

I was at a loss for what to say at this point. This had not gone as I had planned. This was only supposed to take a few minutes and I would be on my way home. He was right; I was attracting unwanted attention.