Secret North: Book 4 of The Wishes Series

by G. J. Walker-Smith

  The position I’d put myself in was a bleak one. There was no way I could make it up to Bridget, or to Charli for that matter. “Is she mad at me?”

  “No,” she replied calmly.

  “So why hasn’t she been hanging out with me lately?”

  “It’s not personal,” she muttered. “Adam’s been home. Daddies trump uncles.”

  It was a perfectly sound reason and I accepted it immediately – but still felt a hole in my heart. “I’ll make it up to her, Charli,” I pledged. “I don’t know how but I will.”

  She stared straight at me. “I believe you.”

  68. LOIS

  Bente

  Tiger Malone ran hot and cold, and when he was running cold, he was freezing. Some days he didn’t cope well with the intrusion of workmen tearing up his beloved club. It made him petulant and grouchy.

  “The damn noise is irritating,” he complained, meeting me at the base of the stairs.

  I waved my notebook at him. “Do you feel up to talking today, Mr Malone?”

  “Upstairs,” he said gruffly. “It’s quiet up there.”

  It took forever to follow him up the stairs. If I’d given him a ten minute head start I still could’ve beaten him. I’d never been to the top floor before, and I knew Ryan and Adam hadn’t either. It was a privilege to be invited.

  I was expecting it to be as dusty and unkempt as the rest of the building and I wasn’t far wrong. The cluttered apartment was more like a cheap bedsit. The room was dark, with maroon walls and sheets of newspaper over the windows. The newspaper drapes were dated March 1991. Clearly he hadn’t decorated in a while.

  “Sit,” he ordered, pointing to a small wooden chair in the corner.

  I did as I was told and Tiger took up position in a huge recliner. I usually started by asking him about a particular decade in the club’s history. After a slow start, something would jog his memory and then there would be no shutting him up. Today was a little different. Tiger had a few questions for me.

  “When are you getting married?”

  “Saturday,” I replied, smiling.

  “Do you love the kid?”

  I lowered my notebook. “With all my heart, Mr Malone.”

  He pointed a shaky finger at me. “Watch him,” he warned. “Ryan’s a lady’s man, you know.” He spoke as if he was letting me in on a big secret.

  “He used to be,” I corrected.

  Tiger pulled the lever on the side of his chair making the recliner tip backward. “I nearly got married once,” he revealed.

  My pen started twitching. “Will you tell me about her?”

  “Her name was Lois.” He smiled fondly. “She was a nice broad. Good legs.”

  He might have been talking about a piece of furniture, but I let him go on. The description of Lois didn’t get any more flattering, but I could tell that at one time she’d meant the world to him.

  “I waited a long time to find the right woman,” he told me. “I tried a lot out.” He winked and took a break to light up a cigar. “I met her at Solito café.” He blew out a quick puff of smoke. “Down on 48th. Do you know it?”

  I shook my head.

  “She thought I was a fool at first, but I talked her round,” he continued. “The minute I saw her I knew she was the one I’d been waiting for.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Because she had fire in her eyes. I like that,” he replied. “And good shoes. You can tell a lot about a woman by her shoes.”

  I looked down, paying more attention to my black heels than I ever had. “What do my shoes say about me?”

  He grinned and I warned him to keep it clean. “You’re a tall girl who’s not afraid to add more height. Confidence is an attractive quality.”

  “Thanks, I think.” I tapped my pen on my notebook. “Let’s get back to Lois.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  I wanted to know what had gone wrong. I guessed that the lovely Lois had probably put up with all manner of grief from Tiger. He was brusque and reckless with people’s feelings. He’d also admitted to being a huge womaniser back in the day. She’d probably taken as much as she could stand and then called it off.

  “I saw her every single day for two years.” He announced it proudly, as if he should’ve been rewarded for such dedication. “We talked and we danced – she could really dance, Ginger. Just like you.”

  “Where did you dance?”

  “Here, of course.”

  Of course.

  “I made her a promise that I’d dance with her every day, and for two years, I did.” A look of misery overtook him then and I knew the tale was on the downward slide. “We talked and talked, and you know something, Ginger? I listened. She was the first woman that I actually listened to.”

  “There were a lot before her?” There had probably been just as many after her too. I doubt a broken engagement would’ve slowed him down for long.

  Tiger gave a rumbly laugh. “Too many, some might say. I’ve never liked whiny women,” he explained. “Sure, they usually look good but there’s no substance. I waited until I found the whole package.”

  “And Lois was it?”

  “Yes she was,” he said with reverence. “She could dance, she could cook and she looked good. She sounds perfect, right?”

  I couldn’t help laughing as I agreed. He’d just described Ryan to a T. “Definitely a keeper, Tiger.”

  “That’s what I figured, so I asked her to marry me.” He stubbed his cigar out in a filthy ashtray. “Lois was prepared to take the chance. She thought I was dashing and looked like Montgomery Clift. I liked that she was a betting woman – and that her eyesight was poor.”

  I shifted on the tiny chair. It was as hard as a rock and my butt was going to sleep. “But you didn’t make it to the altar?”

  Tiger’s eyes glazed. It took me a few seconds to realise that he was tearing up. I prayed he wasn’t about to cry. I had no idea how I’d handle him if he did. “I lost her.” Even his whisper sounded gravelly. “She passed away.”

  My heart hit the floor at the news. I’d imagined Lois jilting him at the altar in favour of the best man, or running off to Vegas to be a showgirl. Those scenarios were perfectly fitting for the feisty young woman I imagined in my head.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Mr Malone.”

  “I waited a long time for her, Ginger.” He cleared his throat. “She was the one I’d been looking for. Life has a way of kicking you in the guts.”

  It was absolutely none of my business, but I wanted to know more. Tiger never held back when seeking information, so I decided to try the same approach, hoping he wouldn’t be offended. “What happened?”

  Tiger leaned back, tilting his recliner even further. He smiled, but it was awkward. “She was eighty-one,” he replied. “I lost her last February.”

  I stared at him. I hadn’t been doing my job properly that day. I’d assumed too much, conjuring a tale in my head to fit the party-hard, womanising old man I’d come to know. And I’d got it completely wrong – so wrong that I almost apologised. “You did wait a long time for her,” I mumbled.

  “Sixty years,” he agreed. “After sixty long years of whiny broads, I finally found the one I wanted to dance with every day.”

  I didn’t know I’d begun to cry until a tear hit the notebook. I swiped my eyes with the back of my hand. The last thing I wanted to do was cry in front of him. Tiger was having a hard enough time holding himself together.

  “I’m sure you’ll remember her forever,” I said quietly.

  “Of course I will.” His gruff reply implied that it was a stupid thing to say. Perhaps it was. “I have her heart. I might’ve lost the girl, but I’ll always have her heart. That’s all that matters.”

  I was done. The emotional roller coaster I’d been riding for weeks had just taken another huge dip. Between the drama of the wedding, Bridget’s escapades and Tiger’s tragic tale of lost love, I was in danger of having a breakdown. “I th
ink we should call it a day, Mr Malone,” I suggested, packing up. “I’ve plenty to go on with for now.”

  I was almost out the door when something caught my eye and stopped me dead in my tracks. Fifty-something years of memories spanned the wall in the form of framed pictures, but only one called to me. I glanced back at Tiger. “Ryan hasn’t been up here, has he?”

  “No.”

  “Can I bring him back to see this?” I pointed at the picture.

  The old man shrugged. “If you think he’d be interested.”

  I smiled brightly. “I think he’s going to be very interested, Mr Malone.”

  69. CRYSTAL CLEAR

  Ryan

  Since Bridget had dropped me like a hot potato in favour of her dad, I had no excuse for not spending time at the office. That day was particularly busy, but it didn’t stop Noelle bugging the hell out of me with inane interruptions.

  “Nine bottles of Azure Champagne have been ordered in the last three hours,” she said poking her head around the doorway.

  “Okay,” I said dully. “Good to know.”

  Unhappy with my reaction or lack thereof, Noelle carried on. “They’re two hundred and sixty dollars a pop, Ryan. That’s a super result.”

  I stared blankly. What was I supposed to say? “Okay.” It was the best I could come up with.

  She smiled, and for the first time ever, I realised she looked remarkably like one of Bridget’s dolls with the big heads and the little bodies.

  “You don’t look very happy these days, Ryan,” she told me, abandoning the grin. “Is everything okay?”

  Like a lot of things Noelle said, I found her comment to be right out of left field. Apart from a few minor dramas I was happier than I’d ever been. I would’ve told her so but I was trying hard not to engage her in conversation.

  “I’m fine.”

  “No nerves about the wedding?” she asked, taking a seat.

  I leaned back, trying to figure out the angle she was working. “I’m excited to be getting married.” My voice rose at the end, making it sound like a question.

  “Of course.”

  I was done playing so I cut to the chase. “Do you have something to say, Noelle?”

  She shrugged, running both hands up and down the arms of the chair. “No, if you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

  “Why would you think I’m anything but?”

  “You’ve just never struck me as the marrying kind, that’s all,” she replied. “I like that about you.”

  I frowned. I didn’t want Noelle to like anything about me – I’d done nothing to encourage her and wasn’t about to start. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m more than content with where I’m headed.”

  “Soon it’ll be children and mundane day to day life…”

  “What’s the alternative, Noelle?”

  “I’m not sure, but it doesn’t have to be mundane,” she declared.

  I was appalled. Noelle had been trying to catch my attention for a long time. Perhaps realising that time was running out, she was making a last ditch attempt to win me over.

  “Please don’t go there,” I warned. “It’s going to make working here really awkward if I’m scared of you. I’ll probably have to sell.”

  Her huge eyes widened. “I’m scaring you?”

  “Totally freaking me out,” I confirmed with a rigid nod.

  Noelle headed for the door. “You’ve changed, Ryan.” She sounded saddened by it. “I didn’t believe it at first, but I’m pretty sure you do actually belong to her. Good luck with everything.”

  “Wait.” I couldn’t believe I’d called her back. “What were you hoping for?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing serious.”

  I almost smiled but feared she’d misinterpret it. There was a time when Noelle would’ve been exactly my type. She was pretty, blonde and, most importantly, willing. But I’d never even been tempted by her and the thought of being propositioned was downright terrifying. “How long have you worked here?”

  “Nearly a year.”

  It proved to me that the search for pecan pie girl had begun a long time before Bente got thrown out of a cab at my door. It brought me hope. It meant I’d been working at being a more decent man for a long time, which was epic because my fiancée deserved nothing less.

  “You’ve just made my day, Noelle,” I told her.

  “Why? Because I hit on you?”

  I shook my head. “No, because I’m scared of you.”

  ***

  Bente and I had both spent a lot of time at the club lately, just not usually at the same time. When she called and asked me to meet her there later that afternoon, I was a little surprised.

  “I have something to show you,” she said excitedly.

  I checked my watch. “I can meet you there in an hour.”

  “Okay, but you need to hurry, Ryan. It’s important.”

  “Why sweetheart?” Her urgency made me smile. “Does Grover Irwin have you holed up in the basement?”

  “No.” She giggled. “Just get here as quick as you can.”

  I was intrigued enough to escape the lunch time rush at Billet-doux and head down there, managing to arrive much earlier than promised. Bente met me at the door, pulling me inside by the lapels on my coat. I didn’t get a chance to speak. Before I knew what was happening, her mouth was on mine and I was fighting the urge to take things further.

  “Hi,” she eventually murmured, barely breaking free to get the word out.

  “Hello,” I breathed.

  Her hands moved to my face as she inched my head back. “You’re not going to believe what I found today.”

  I lurched forward, chasing her ruby lips. “Maybe not, but I like it so far.”

  “I love you, Ryan,” she said solemnly. “We can dance every day if you want.”

  Despite the randomness, it was probably the most endearing thing she’d ever said to me. “Are you alright?”

  “Perfectly fine.” She sounded calm, but she’d tightened her hold on my face. In fear of being crushed to death, I shifted her hands, holding them at her sides while I waited for her to speak again. “I spent the morning with Tiger.”

  “I spent the morning at Billet-doux,” I retorted. “Noelle hit on me.”

  “She did?” she asked, interested. “How did that go?”

  I smiled apathetically. “I appreciated the effort.”

  Bente nodded. “She does try hard.”

  I laughed at the absurdity of the conversation. “Can you please show me whatever it is you found so we can get out of here?” I asked.

  “It’s upstairs.” She gestured with her head.

  I couldn’t believe the audacity of the old man. I owned one third of the building and had never been invited up. If not for Bridget, I wouldn’t have been permitted to see the backstage area either.

  “What’s up there?”

  Bente pulled me to the stairs. “Come and see for yourself.”

  ***

  I left it to Bente to knock on the door.

  “Do I look like a doorman?” came a crotchety voice from the other side. “It’s open.”

  I tentatively turned the handle and ushered Bente in ahead of me. I wasn’t being polite. It was her idea to go up there so it only seemed fair that she’d be first in the line of fire if things turned bad. Tiger was lying back in an old recliner. “Hello again, Mr Malone,” she said cheerily.

  “We meet again, Ginger.” His voice was rumblier than usual, which led me to think we’d woken him up.

  “I brought my handsome man with me this time.” She waved her hand as if showing me off.

  “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” he growled, looking at me. “How’s life treating you, kid?”

  I stepped forward and shook his hand. “Fine, sir.”

  Tiger reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigar. I used the time it took him to light it to survey the room. As expected, it was a dive. Even the cobwebs on the light fitting were
dusty.

  “So what do you think of the place?” asked Tiger, pausing midway through his question to cough.

  “Nice digs, Tiger.”

  “You’re a rotten liar, kid.” He looked at Bente. “Don’t ever let him near a poker table. He’ll send you to the poor house.”

  Bente giggled. “I won’t.”

  I reached for her hand. “So what did you want to show me?” The putrid cigar smoke was making me feel sick. I wanted to hurry things along and get out of there.

  She pointed to a row of pictures near the door. “Magic,” she whispered.

  I took a step closer. It took me all of three seconds to work out what she was talking about.

  “You like horses?” asked Tiger.

  I stared at the picture, unable to find the breath I needed to answer him. The old black and white photo of the racehorse didn’t interest me. The name on the silk sash around the horse’s belly is what stole the air from my lungs.

  “Secret North,” I whispered.

  Bente hooked her arm around mine. Perhaps I looked in danger of dropping to the floor.

  “The finest horse I ever saw,” Tiger announced proudly. “He had a muscly back end and a good broad chest. Better than that, he could run like hell. We almost snatched the Kentucky Derby with him back in ’63.”

  Tiger had regaled Adam and I with his Kentucky Derby tale weeks ago, but not once had he mentioned the name of the horse. I wondered if things might’ve been different if he had.

  “Bridget called it,” I whispered to Bente. “How did she know?”

  Her shoulders lifted. “I don’t know, Ryan.”

  I stood for a long time, trying to come up with a logical reason for what I was seeing. Coming up blank, my mind drifted to the conversation I’d had with Charli. “Deny it all you want to, but one day something extraordinary is going to happen and you’re not going to be able to explain it away,” she’d told me. “You won’t think it’s weird then. You’re going to think it’s magic.”

  I took a step back, convinced I was going a little mad. I’d somehow wandered into La La Land.

  Bridget’s description of Secret North had been dead-on. There were flowers on the roof, it was very special, and today the view was crystal clear.