Michael Quinn

by Caleb Borne

  Katie had her own suite of rooms, as did I. We never entered one another’s, both of us knowing the temptation would be too great. I had made myself a promise and she was counting on me to keep it. That didn’t mean that I didn’t lie awake at night, wanting her and there were times when I was ready to toss my promises to the floor and slide in next to her, if nothing more than to hold her in my arms. But as the adage goes, the best is always worth waiting for, and Katie was definitely the best.

  Despite all the preparations, I never expected what happened. I learned a lesson and I will never be caught under-prepared a second time.

  Kathleen

  There was no question about it; I was falling in love with Michael Quinn. This wasn’t a school girl crush, nothing could be further from the truth. I was seeing the side of Michael he could have never shown me back in Kentucky, and I think he knew that.

  Certainly there was no one on the planet who could have done a better job of looking out for me. It was the way he did it that made it so special. My mama and daddy gave me everything I could want, everything but the experience of knowing what it meant to earn something for yourself and not feel dependent on anyone else. As I thought back to my childhood, I remembered that every business deal Daddy made revolved around old cronies and one hand patting the back of the next. It was as if they all drew upon one warehouse of good luck and favors and courtesies and luxury — passing it back and forth until it was all used up in the warehouse was empty. Then it was expected that the very old should pass on, leaving their fortune behind to that warehouse and occasionally new money would be allowed in, just to keep things rolling. You never worried about having a bad year or losing too much or owing to much because the warehouse would bail you out.

  From the beginning, I sensed Michael didn’t understand that subliminal philosophy. He was a sort of man who paid a nickel for a cup of coffee and expected it to be full to the rim, even if it meant sipping a bit of it out before you could add the cream and sugar. In Los Angeles, I not only saw him at work, but everything he did reinforced at earlier impression.

  As guilty as it made me feel to realize it, I really did think that Michael would pressure me to sleep with him by that point in time. It would’ve made sense.

  “Sleep well, sweetheart,” he’d say as he hugged me on my way to bed. I knew he was a man and what men needed, and yet he sacrificed even that to keep me pure.

  He was handing out shovels full of money on my behalf and getting nothing in return — at least nothing that I thought men placed value upon. Michael was different. I knew he wanted me; I could see it in his eyes and in the way he looked at me when I was dressed up to go somewhere. “You are stunning in that dress. Take it off and save it just for me, would you?” I know he cherished me, much the same one would a child for whom you were responsible. Some nights I heard him open my bedroom door but knew to keep my eyelids closed and motionless. He wasn’t stalking me, he was just checking on me to make sure I was safe. If I was safe, his job was done well.

  Michael was a business machine. Unlike the back-patting techniques I’d seen in Kentucky, Michael was very upfront. He said clearly and concisely exactly what he wanted and was willing to pay for, as well as how much he was willing to pay. If the other party couldn’t deliver, there was no negotiation. Michael simply walked away. The first few times I saw that, it had to do with my career and I panicked a little, thinking that he was setting standards so high no one could meet them and I’d be going back to Kentucky never having had the chance to really try to see what I could do. I was so wrong.

  By setting his standards high for himself, he set them high for me at the same time. If a steak hadn’t been cooked properly, whether it lay on my plate or his own, he sent it back to the kitchen and told the waiter not to bring him the same steak cooked badly a second time, but a new one cooked properly the first time.

  I also saw the flip side of the man. When that waiter brought the charred steak, Michael told him plainly it wasn’t what was ordered, but when it came time for the tip, Michael left easily three times what was customary; as though he wanted to be supportive of the waiter whose fate lay in the hands of an inept cook.

  As a result, he had developed a reputation and people heard about him. That I was part of his entourage only made me look as valued as he demanded they feel about him. It took me a while to see that, and I wanted to ask questions, but I knew better. I learned far more quickly when I remain silent and simply watched how he worked.

  That’s not to say that Michael cheated anyone. He gave them a fair dime for every dime’s worth of value they returned. Should they try and take advantage of him, even once, he withdrew his support and there was no way to earned a seat at his table ever again. The result was people were kept off balance, not entirely sure how to deal with him. He forced them to be honest; honesty was the only sure footing he would allow.

  I suppose there are few times in your life that you come across truly great men. Men who are willing to do without rather than give in for less. I had sensed from the beginning that Michael was one of those such men, and maybe that explained why I was so instantly attracted to him. I came to realize that he would always succeed because he accepted nothing less. To have that spirit advocate for me was both an honor and a commitment on my part to be deserving.

  Gradually, I trusted him implicitly and that’s when the love came. How could I not? I knew he was a hard man, but a fair man. He had all the qualities I’d always wanted but could never see in any of the local boys. Michael was mature well beyond his years. You could see it in the way he carried himself and in the brevity of his words. He never asked, he stated and then waited for it to come to him. It was a wonderful philosophy and without mimicking him, I utilized a lighter version of that as I negotiated my own path.

  That was the other thing that made me love him. He didn’t force himself or his ideals on me. He simply stated how it would be if you were with him and that made you want to be with him. He made you want to rise to your very best because you knew he would accept nothing less. I suppose you could say not only did I love him, but I admired him and most of all, there was no one or nothing that could convince me to be disloyal to him. I know he felt that — in fact, I know he expected that.

  That’s what I understood why Michael insisted on coming with me to California. I think intuitively he knew I would come to feel that way about him and that would be my armor against the superficiality that Hollywood encouraged. I was never tempted, I never gave in to mail flattery and certainly never allowed anyone to treat me with anything less than utmost respect. I had learned that from Michael — indeed, he expected it for me as well as for himself.

  For that reason alone, I felt no anxiety when I went to my lessons: the dancing, the singing, and the acting. He had bestowed me with a suit of armor that kept me above the vulnerabilities that would’ve made me weak had he not been there. I believed in myself and that put me head and shoulders above the competition. I wasn’t trying to see if I could make it — I was in training for when I made it. But, it was also more than that. Michael taught me to live like I’d already made it. People treated you the way you taught them to treat you. I spotted an article about an upcoming film role I felt was made for me. I’d pleaded with him to let me look into auditions. “You’re not ready.”

  “But, Michael,” I’d pleaded.

  “Never beg,” he told me tersely and it was respect, not his demand, that made me silent.

  Was it possible I was growing up?

  Michael

  The time had come to begin making acquaintances; the right kind. I had the house, the furnishings, Katie had the wardrobe and I had her. I understood that to get what you wanted, it was necessary to not just make friends, but to make connections. It was a “trade of services.” They had something you wanted and to get to it, you must have something they couldn’t get for themselves. It was never money. If all you wanted from life was money, it was the easiest thing to get.

/>   Katie and I were sitting in what we now call “the bow” in the great room overlooking the ocean. I’d hired a staff to maintain the house and Louise, the housekeeper / chef had just served Katie’s favorite of roasted chicken with all the trimmings.

  “It’s time we meet people,” I mentioned, and Katie’s face lit up.

  “As in directors and agents?”

  “As in the people who make this town run,” I corrected her. She nodded. Katie caught on quickly.

  “So, I have an idea,” I continued. “Why not start with the kind of people we already know?”

  Katie’s look was questioning.

  “Horse people. It’s not tradition, like where you grew up, but they are familiar with our region of Kentucky. They don’t associate the name of the state with the poverty-regions of the southeastern part of the state.”

  She nodded, trying to swallow quickly so she could speak. “Oh, boy did I ever find that out. I was in one of those stores looking at a dress and asked the salesgirl for my size. She heard my accent and asked where I was from. I told her Kentucky and you could have measured the drop in her face. She literally said, ‘I think you might be more comfortable at one of the larger discount stores in the valley.’ Do you believe that?”

  I felt the burn at the back of my neck. I tried to keep my voice level. “Which store was that, darlin’?”

  “Let’s see. I think it was called Beverly’s. Yes, I remember because she wore a gold name tag and it read ‘Beverly.’ I guess she owned the store.”

  I stored the information mentally. “You’ll have to take me there some time,” I said evenly.

  “Sure. But I think your idea of starting with people in the equine industry is wonderful. Would you like me to call Daddy and ask if he has any friends out here?”

  “No!” I snapped. Then, in a gentler tone I said, “No, Katie, this is something we need to do on our own. I’ve already begun asking around. We’ve been invited to visit some of the local farms. I’ve been wanting to add to my stables, anyway.”

  Katie dropped her fork. “Stables? You have horses?”

  “Well, of course. I thought you knew.”

  She was shaking her head, wrapping her long hair into a thick ponytail which she threw over her shoulder. “Must have been something you talked about with Daddy, but never me. I had no idea, sincerely didn’t.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “No, but… You’re not going to make me ride, are you?”

  It was my turn to be surprised. “You don’t like to ride?”

  She shook her head. “I know how to, but it’s not my favorite thing to do. I fell off one of Daddy’s horses and broke my leg. He never forgave me for that.”

  “How was it your fault?”

  I shrugged. She could be mean some days and I guess I picked the wrong one. They scare me now.”

  “I don’t ride often, but horses are an investment for me.”

  She nodded. “You know, I know nothing about how or where you live. Was that on purpose?”

  I let a few seconds lapse before I answered. “None of that matters. It’s all temporary.”

  “Maybe it matters to me?”

  I looked up from my plate in surprise. It was the first spark of rebellion I’d ever gotten from her. “There’s nothing to tell, Katie.”

  “That’s not how I look at it. You’ve met my family, my friends, been a guest in my home and I know nothing about you. Do you have something to hide?”

  “Of course not! What’s gotten into you?”

  Katie’s temper was triggered. She knew there was a lot at stake, but now that she’d gotten rolling, she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

  “What have you got on Daddy?”

  I lowered his head and stared at her, hard. “What makes you think I ‘have something’ on him?”

  “I’d be a fool not to see it. He’d been rolling along as usual, you show up and suddenly he won’t stop drinking, he fires our house staff and he jumps like a cricket every time your name is mentioned. I’m not blind, Michael. There’s something going on.”

  Somewhere behind me I hear bells and then Louise was behind me. “There’s a man at the door to see you,” she speaks softly into my ear. I nodded.

  I stood up and dropped my napkin to the seat of my chair. “We’ll continue this when I get back,” I said to Katie and her brows rose in surprise. “There’s someone at the door.”

  I tugged my waistband up and tucked in my shirt before I swung open the massive door. “Saints be damned. How did you find me?”

  Kathleen

  Had Michael already started making connections? Who was at the door?

  I followed him, lagging around the corner of the doorway that led to the kitchen. He opened the heavy, wood door and I heard him cuss as it swung open. A man stood in the entry.

  I quickly walked forward and stood at Michael’s back. “Michael?” I said expectantly, waiting for an introduction. It was obvious Michael already knew our guest.

  Michael didn’t move or stand inside to let the man in. “Katie, may I present my little brother, Colin.”

  “What? Brother? Well, for heaven’s sake, Colin, come in!” I walked around Michael and gave Colin a brief light hug and pulled him by the arm inside the door. Michael’s face was dark and flushed. His eyes had lost their sparkle.

  “Well, ‘tis indeed who I am. I may be the younger, but I be the better man,” Colin said and I had the foreboding that he wasn’t making a joke. “Come in, join us. We’re just having dinner. Louise! Can you bring another place setting, please? We have company; Mr. Quinn’s brother, Colin.”

  Colin was shorter, but thicker than Michael and I could feel the ribbed cords of muscle through his shirtsleeve as I pulled him into the bow. “How odd. Michael never mentioned you,” I murmured, giving Michael a meaningful glare.

  “I didn’t expect you,” Michael said coldly. “What do you want?”

  “Now, is that any way to treat yer very own kin? I come ta visit, to pay me respects.”

  I realized then that Michael and Colin’s voices were identical. If it weren’t for Michael having worked so hard to lose his Irish brogue, I doubted I’d be able to tell them apart. This made me feel strange inside because Michael’s voice was responsible for so many tummy tingles. It was disturbing to hear it coming from someone else’s mouth.

  Michael repeated his words. “I asked what you want.”

  “T’was the strangest thing, ye know? There I was, wettin’ my whistle at The Jockey Club and I come ta hear these two gents discussin’ a new acquaintance they’ve made—Michael Quinn, they called him by name. It seems he’s been doin’ some askin’ ‘round, wants to buy horses, he does. I says to meself, ‘tis a name I be knowin’. I wonder do I know the man—could he be me own brother? I go over to the gents and I introduce meself. Says they, ‘Be you Michael Quinn’s brother for ye bear a resemblance?’ Imagine me surprise. ‘He lives in the big house, the one that lies in the ocean,’ they tell me. Well, what was I to do but come and see for meself. And now, here ye are, and not alone. Who be ye, me darlin’?”

  I opened my mouth, but Michael cut me off. “Katie, please excuse us. I’ll have Louise move your dinner to your rooms. We’ll talk later.” All the while he was speaking to me, his eyes were on his brother, as though daring him to say another word while I was still in the room. My curiosity is almost too much to bear, but it was Michael’s house and I was technically his guest, so I nodded and went upstairs. As promised, Louise followed me before long.

  Never one to observe a pecking order, I asked Louise, “Do you know that man?”

  “No, Miss.”

  “Louise, call me Katie, please. Have you ever seen him around town?”

  “No, Miss…Katie. It’s a first for me.”

  Louise wasn’t a lot older than me. I pointed to a chair and asked her to sit down. I needed a female my own age to talk to. “Just between you and me, what do you think about Michael?”


  She flushed and I knew then I’d probably crossed a line. “Oh, I’m sorry, I get it. He’s your employer and you’re afraid of losing your job. Forget about it, okay? I won’t bring it up again and won’t tell him I asked. It’s just that I’m almost three thousand miles from home and no friends here—at least no one I could call on the phone for gossip or invite to lunch.”

  She cleared her throat. “I don’t know if this is something I shouldn’t say, Miss—er, Katie—but maybe you could invite one of your girlfriends from back home out for a visit?”

  I sucked in a breath. “Louise!” That’s a perfect idea, thank you! I’ll ask Michael about it the first chance I get. Actually, I don’t even need to do that. I have my own money and I’ll just get Della to stay at a hotel if Michael doesn’t feel like he wants her here, although I can’t imagine why he’d object. Thank you! What a really wonderful idea. I feel so much better already!”