Secret North: Book 4 of The Wishes Series

by G. J. Walker-Smith

  “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.

  “You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” replied Adam. “You’re welcome here any time.”

  “It was a one off.” I didn’t exactly sound believable, and judging by the sympathetic look he gave me, Adam didn’t think so either.

  “Look,” he began, “I know Ryan’s not the brightest spark when it comes to considering other people’s feelings, but don’t give up on him yet.” I couldn’t give up on him. I was all-in, which was the crux of the problem. Ryan clearly wasn’t all-in to anything other than himself. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

  The last thing I wanted was to enrol him in frog training. Ryan needed to figure things out for himself, just as Adam had done.

  “No, thanks anyway,” I replied. “I’ll handle it.”

  Bridget came bounding back, looking sweet in a pink leotard and matching tutu. The little girl was so excited that she was practically ticking. I couldn’t face that level of excitement so early. I drank my coffee, pulled myself together as best I could, and went home to face the music.

  ***

  I didn’t know what sort of mood Ryan would be in, but I wasn’t expecting the mess of a man I found sitting at the kitchen counter. He’d looked tired the night before. With his dishevelled dark hair, creased T-shirt and low-slung pants, he now looked shattered.

  “Hey,” I said weakly, closing the door behind me.

  “If you follow up with a wave, I’m going to be seriously unhappy,” he warned.

  I clenched my fist to stop myself from accidentally waving, not that he would’ve noticed if I had. He didn’t lift his head to look at me. “Have you been up all night?”

  It’s the only thing I could think of to explain his disastrous appearance. “Most of it.” He picked his phone up off the counter and swiped the screen. “I called you nineteen times. Ironically, your phone is switched off.”

  “Were you worried about me?”

  Say yes, Ryan, I silently willed. It was all I wanted to hear.

  “I didn’t like the way our conversation ended,” he replied. “I didn’t like the way it started either, but I would’ve appreciated a chance to make things right.”

  I waited by the couch, contemplating leaving again. He’d said nothing so far to make me want to stay. “You don’t know how to make it right, Ryan,” I muttered. “That’s the problem. You just don’t have it in you, do you?”

  I couldn’t even be upset about it. Something in his emotional wiring was misfiring. It wasn’t a new problem; he’d always been defective.

  Finally he swivelled the stool in my direction and looked at me. The dull expression on his face gave nothing away and as expected, relying on him to enlighten me with words was pointless. “Whatever I say is going to come out wrong so it’s best I don’t say anything.”

  Ryan could be very cutting when angry. Perhaps he knew it. It was probably in my best interest to agree, but like a dog with a bone I refused to let it go.

  “If you don’t speak, nothing gets resolved.”

  Ryan stood. Sitting at the counter must have been a position he’d been maintaining for a while. He raised his arms above his head, stretching out his tired body.

  He was an unfeasibly good-looking man, even after a sleepless night. The gap that appeared between his shirt and his pants when he stretched made me reconsider the tough-love stance I was trying to take – but only until he spoke.

  “The only problem we have at this point is your temper,” he told me. “It’s not okay to hit me, Bente.”

  That was probably the moment that I was supposed to apologise. I refused. His thoughtlessness hurt far more than my bagel to his head.

  “I was worried about you,” I yelled. “I thought you were holed up in Grover Irwin’s basement or something.”

  Ryan arrogantly folded his arms, but did crack a small smile. “I couldn’t sleep last night,” he admitted. “I just kept calling your phone and listening to your voicemail message.”

  “So you know the level of panic I felt when I didn’t know where you were,” I suggested.

  He shrugged, which infuriated me. It was as if he was determined to hang on to the one part of his personality that made him Ryan Décarie, douche bag.

  I planned my next words very carefully. “If you don’t care, I can’t care,” I said quietly. “Do you understand that?”

  “What do you need to hear from me right now, Bente?” he asked, sounding at a loss. “Tell me and I’ll say it.”

  I wasn’t going to coach him. I was tired of trying to teach him how to be a decent person. I took the steps necessary to reach him and put my palm flat to his chest. His heart was pounding, which was a good sign. It proved he had one.

  “Why is your heart racing?” I whispered.

  “Because you’re touching me.” His eyes darted between my eyes and my mouth.

  I dropped my hand to my side and he groaned.

  “Are you mad?” I murmured.

  “No.”

  “Frustrated?”

  He smirked. “A little.”

  “Doesn’t feel good, does it Ryan?” I asked. “That’s how I feel. You keep me in a constant state of frustration.”

  His expression morphed into a wily smile. “I could take care of that for you in about five minutes if you’ll let me.”

  “I’m not talking about sex.”

  “I know.”

  “So don’t make it about sex. Give me something more meaningful. It’ll be another first for you.”

  Ryan pulled in a long breath through his nose, and seemed to hold it forever. I didn’t push. I waited for him to speak.

  “It bothers me that I keep screwing us up,” he began. “I truly didn’t give you a though
t last night, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care. I’ve never had to think about anyone other than myself, Bente.”

  “I know.”

  “It took me an hour after you left to work out why you were so pissed with me. That’s how stupid I am. I can’t change thirty years of selfish stupidity overnight, but I’m going to keep trying if you’ll just stick with me.”

  He’d given me more of an explanation than I thought he would. I knew I had to give too. I wasn’t perfect either. “I’m sorry I hit you. I promise I’ll never do it again.”

  Ryan swept my hair off my shoulder and rested his hand behind my neck. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I appreciate that.” He stepped forward, closing the gap between us. “Do you want to know why my heart’s pounding now?”

  “Yeah, tell me.”

  His soft kiss didn’t stop at my lips. It travelled all the way through my body. “The Black Plague,” he whispered.

  I put my hands on his cheek, holding his face in place. “It’s not the plague, Ryan.”

  “No,” he agreed, leaning closer again. “It’s something much more serious.”

  47. GERIATRIC GANGSTERS

  Ryan

  There’s nothing worse than feeling inadequate. I was seriously lacking as a boyfriend; therefore I was inadequate. There were probably a million shortcomings in my repertoire, but the ones I focused on that week were being more attentive and considerate. When I tried, I could be a star pupil. Making the effort wasn’t anywhere near as taxing as I expected. I wanted to make Bente happy. I loved her.

  The sale of the club was progressing nicely. Adam spent all week arranging paperwork, permit applications and other boring junk. I hadn’t been quite so diligent. Most of my week was spent in bed with the most beautiful woman I’d ever known.

  Bente had barely shown her face at Billet-doux in days. I’d called in three times asking Noelle to find someone to cover her shift, never giving a reason why. “She’s going to make my life hell when I go back to work,” said Bente, shifting with me as I dropped my phone on the nightstand.