“Do you need any backup?” Dad’s trying for casual but I can hear it, the concern.
“From the titan of industry who’s taking the family fortunes in an entirely legitimate direction?” I grin. “I don’t think this is the time to soil your good name, Sir.”
“It doesn’t mean that I don’t miss it,” he says, a bit of nostalgia in his tone. “What havoc your Uncle Alec and I used to wreak…”
“You know Mum is going to kill you if you tell me any more stories. She complains that you give me too many good ideas.”
“Good ideas?” he laughs. “All of them?”
“Every single one,” I agree, “especially the one where you two were in Madrid and-”
“Ah, ah!” he tsk’s disapprovingly. “If you really want to hear shite that’ll turn your hair white, ask your mother about the troubleherside of the family’s gotten me into.”
“That I believe.” I’m at the other side of Boston Common and the Four Seasons is just ahead of me, lights blazing into the twilight. “I need to go, Dad. There’s some planning to be done.”
“No one better for it than my son,” he says. I can hear the pride in his voice, even now, after all the disappointment I’ve surely caused him. “Be safe… Wallace?”
“Yes?”
“Call your mother, would you? If she finds out I spoke to you and she didn’t, she’ll give me the silent treatment.” He chuckles ruefully. “Her ability to hold a grudge is unparalleled. I think you get that from her.”
“It’s one of her finer qualities, so I’m honored.”
Three tech bro types are strolling shoulder to shoulder down the sidewalk, forcing everyone to step around them, including a college student struggling with a heavy backpack who nearly falls off her bike. Planting my feet, I stand in themiddle of the sidewalk, staring at them.
For a moment, it looks like their privilege and multiple beers from some bougie nearby club will give them enough courage to challenge me. Then, their heads drop and they all step off into the gutter to pass by. It rained last night and their Gucci loafers are instantly covered with mud.
“Did I lose you?”
“Sorry, Dad. Still here. I’ll call her, I promise.” The tech bros scamper down the street, trying to scrape the crap off their shoes.
“Take care, son. Let me know if you need anything.”
“You as well.”
Putting my phone in my jacket, I walk into the lobby of the Four Seasons. The club is to my left, it’s dark, and quieter than usual, so I head in that direction.
The wall behind the bar is lined with lit shelves giving a warm amber glow, displaying hundreds of bottles of top-shelf liquor. There are four couples seated in the recessed booths, a handful of businesspeople winding down from the day, and one corner filled with girls with sparkly dresses and red, flushed faces.
Aside from the front entrance, there’s a door behind the bar and the emergency exit in the south corner.Windows are too high to use for an escape.
As I seat myself, there’s a chorus of shrill giggles behind me, and the blond bartender barely controls his eyeroll before he smiles at me. “What can I get you?”
Nodding toward the bottle of Macallan 25-year-old single malt, “A glass of that.”
“Coming up.” He taps his knuckles on the quartz bar top. There’s another flurry of giggles from the table full of girls and demands for more champagne.
“Let me guess, a bachelorette party?” I give him a wry smile as he hands me my scotch.
“They told me that this was their first stop on a legendary bar crawl,” he sighs. “That was two hours ago. My goal at this point is to get them drunk enough to be able to pour them into an Uber and away from here.” I chuckle and he gives me a nod. “I’m Carl.”
“Michael,” I say. I use fake id whenever I’m working, of course, but I enjoy using my cousin’s name and information, just to feck with him.
“Hi. If we’re making introductions, let me jump in. I’m Maria.”
It’s one of the girls from the drunken gaggle in the corner. She’s a pretty lass, black hair, brown eyes, and a dress that’s riding up, showing half of her arse. Her glassy eyes explain why she wasbrave enough to approach me. She puts up a hand, fingers twitching like she wants to grab my arm, but I narrow my eyes slightly, and she pulls back.
“Um, you should join us at our table,” she soldiers on with more alcohol than common sense. “We need some masculine energy at this point.”
