by K. C. Crowne
“Damn, Knappogue? Not bad.”
“Then you’ll have a drink?” Aiden inquired. “I think having a toast to the newest little one we three have brought in to the world is only appropriate.”
I had to admit, the bottle of amber-colored heaven looked pretty damn good.
“Alright, you’ve all talked me into it. But not too much. I’ve got a, ah, meeting tonight.”
“Grand,” Aiden said with a smile as he slipped the bottle out of my hand and poured me a finger.
“What’s the little one’s name, by the by?” Collin asked.
“Quinn,” I said, a small smile coming to my lips at the mention of him. “Little girl named Quinn – happy, healthy, ten fingers and ten toes. And she was already smiling within minutes of being out in the world.”
Aiden stood, set down the bottle, and raised his glass. “To Quinn!” Collin stood up next and raised his glass.
“Sliante!” We all said the word at the same time, then tapped our glasses. I sipped, the whiskey tasting like pure bliss on the way down.
After he took his sip, however, Aiden made a cock-eyed expression, as if something had just occurred to him. “Now, hold the damn barn door – what kind of meeting you got going on tonight? I checked the schedule an hour or so ago and I didn’t see anything. You’re not wheeling and dealing behind our backs, are you?”
For an instant, I considered telling the guys that it was a meeting with the owner of the house, implying that it was all business, but I pushed that idea out of my head as quickly as it had appeared. The boys and I never lied to one another -minor fudging about it being a “meeting” notwithstanding- and I wasn’t about to start then.
“Alright,” I said. “It’s not a meeting, per se. So, my eleven o’clock today?” I asked. “She ended up being the woman who owns the house across the way – the McCallister place.”
Both brothers were surprised as hell at the revelation, as I’d assumed they’d be. True to form, Aiden’s reaction was more animated, white Collin’s was on the muted side.
“Get away out of that!” Aiden exclaimed. “You’re pulling my damn leg!”
Collin shook his head as he brought his glass up for another sip. “Now, that’s a hell of a coincidence.”
“Wait!”
Brendan’s voice came from behind us. I turned to see him standing at the entrance to the break room looking so excited that he seemed about ready to leap out of his loafers. He hurried over to the three of us with little steps, his expression so excited he looked like he might explode on the spot.
“Tell me I heard you right,” he said, his eyes wide, his hands clasped together. “Tell me I heard you say you’ve got a date tonight.”
I chucked, taking another sip of my whiskey. “You heard me right – got a date.”
“Well, thank the good Lord Jesus Christ above!” he said. “It’s about damn time you spent time with a woman that didn’t involve her up on stirrups with her you-know-what in your face! I mean, that’s more or less what we’re hoping for you later, just not in such a medical way.”
Aiden let out a snort of a laugh, Collin grinning as he sipped.
“So,” Brendan said. “Who’s the lucky girl?”
“Joann,” I said. “The American woman from earlier today.”
“That stunning, petite woman with curves in all the right places?” he asked breathlessly. “Ronan, you can’t fuck this one up.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
Brendan stepped back and looked me up and down.
“Oh no,” I said. “What’s on your mind?”
“Just wondering what you were planning on wearing tonight – that’s all.”
I shrugged. “Hadn’t given it much thought.”
Brendan shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You mean you’re going to throw on a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and some beat-up old boots?”
“Sure. What’s wrong with that?”
“Ronan, Ronan…” he shook his head as if he couldn’t have been more disappointed. “You’re going on a date with a beautiful woman, not running down to Tesco for a bag of crisps. You need to put a little more effort into your outfit, show her that you give a rat’s arse about the date!”
I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could get out a word, he lifted his finger.
“What time’s the date?”
“Told her I’d pick her up at seven.”
“Perfect. As soon as you finish that drink, we’re going to back to your flat to find something suitable for you to wear tonight. I know there’s not a chance in hell you don’t have a decent outfit kicking around that you’ve had to wear meeting with some Hollywood type.”
“I mean, maybe.” Just the thought of putting on anything fancy made my skin itch. If I wasn’t wearing my scrubs, I was wearing a T-shirt and jeans. If I wanted to wear suits, I would’ve gone to bleeding business school. “Alright, fine, fine.”
“Yes,” Brendan said, pumping his fist. “You’re not going to regret this, doc.”
“Oh, speaking of Hollywood types,” Collin interjected, lifting his chin as he sat. “Heard from our good friend Sidney this afternoon.”
“Christ,” I said. “What’d he have to say?”
“Wants us to get started on the shooting as soon as possible, told me he wanted a date.”
“Man’s persistent,” I said. “I’ll give him that much. But I’m not looking forward to starting this one bit.”
“He told me that he anticipated you saying that,” Collin said with a slight smile. “Seems he knows that you’re still not sure about this whole thing.”
I shrugged. “Not like I’ve been coy about it. Christ, the more I think about it, the more I don’t like it. For starters, what about patient privacy?”
Aiden, the brother who’d long been the supporter of the show, spoke up. “Brother, have you been paying attention during any of the meetings? We have total control over that. Any patient we have is going to have the choice whether or not they want to be filmed. And if they happen to be in a background shot, they get blurred.”
“Alright. Then what about our privacy? You all telling me you want to have cameras up your arses twenty-four-seven?”
“We get control over that, too,” Aiden answered. “Well, within reason.”
Collin spoke up. “That’s actually what Sidney wanted to talk about.”
“Huh?” I asked. “How do you mean?”
Collin sat back, his drink resting on his lap and his feet on the table.
“So, the reason he called was that he’s been trying to brainstorm an angle, as he called it – a plot for the show.”
I was confused. “Isn’t the point of a reality show is that there isn’t a plot?”
“That’s what I said,” Collin replied. “But he said no, no – a reality show is a show like any other. You have characters, you have plots, you have all that. He said he’d been trying to come up with the perfect one for ours. That’s when I mentioned the house across the way, our plans to turn it into a shelter.”
“Oh, Christ,” I said. “You really need to let him in on that?”
“Hold your bleeding horses,” Collin said. “You’ll like what I have to say. So, anyway, he loved it, wanted to hear more. And when I finished, he was sold. Said that he wanted to make our purchase and remodel of the shelter the focal point of the show. And that’s not the best part – he said that if we went in that direction, he could likely convince the network to pay for some of the costs.”
“Right!” Aiden jumped in. “Since they’d be using the house for a set, in a sense.”
Collin nodded. “Moreover, they’d take care of finding crew to work on it, help us work with the city government in getting the paperwork through.”
“That could be a huge help,” Brendan added. “If the bureaucrats in charge of approving remodels and all that know a reality show is waiting on the other side, one that might bring tons of tourists to the area, they’d almost certainly be mu
ch more motivated to push all the paperwork through.”
“Let me get this straight,” Aiden said. “They’re going to pay for part of the remodeling costs and find help and work with the city?”
“That’s what he said.” Collin sat up and cradled his drink between his legs. He shrugged, as if he’d been on my team about the show but that the conversation had changed his mind. “I mean, sure, it sounds like a right pain in the arse, but if it ends up with the shelter getting built…”
“And I know it’s not the most important thing,” Aiden said. “But we’d save a shite-load of money. Remember how we’d done the planning for the house, found out that between the legal work and the construction and the purchase itself, we’d be nearly wiping out all of our savings? Now we don’t have to worry about that.”
All eyes were on me, and it was clear as day that I was on the odd man out in this scenario.
I did the quick mental calculous, weighing the pros and cons. It came down to this: could I really risk the shelter not getting built simply because I didn’t want to deal with a hassle?
I sighed and shook my head.
“I want this all in writing,” I said. “And I want to confirm it all with Sidney. But if what he’s saying is legit…then we can get started.”
So much for putting it off. Time for my life to change for good.
Chapter 16
RONAN
A wolf whistle greeted me as I stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around my waist.
“Looking good, boss!”
Oh yeah, almost forgot my assistant was here.
I waved the steam from the shower I’d taken away and stepped further into my bedroom. Brendan was there, his fists on his hips as he gave me a once over. A few pairs of pants along with some button-up shirts were laid on my bed, complete with shoes and socks to go with them.
“You know what?” Brendan asked, turning his attention to the clothes laid out on the bed. “I spent the whole time you were in the shower rooting through your closet – which was a mess, by the by- trying to find some halfway decent clothes for you to wear.” He put his eyes back on me. “But now I’m thinking that if you want to really impress her, you ought to just show up like that.”
I laughed, glancing down. “She should enjoy it while she can. Christ knows that with how busy I’ve been at work I haven’t had time to go to the gym.”
“All the more reason to show off the goods, boss.”
I chuckled once again.
“OK,” he said, opening his arms toward the clothes. “So, you didn’t have much to work with in there – I’m making a mental note to take you on a shopping trip in the city before too long – but I found a few winners. Take a look. Let’s start with the shirts.”
There were three shirts on the bed, one an off-white, the other light blue, the other a deep red.
“I decided to make this a little something of a game,” he said with a sly smile. “After all, you’re not going to learn to dress yourself if I just tell you what to wear.”
“It’d sure be a lot easier,” I said. “Hell, I can add it to your job title.”
He laughed. “Now, where’s the fun in that? Plus, as much as it pains me to say it, I won’t be around forever. One day I’ll get snatched up by some gorgeous crypto billionaire and I’ll have to leave you three gorgeous boys behind for a life of lounging on the world’s most beautiful beaches. I couldn’t in good conscience do that knowing I never taught you a thing or two about how to dress to impress a woman.”
“I don’t think she’s really the type, Brendan. That’s one of the things I like about her – she’s down-to-earth, you know?”
“Of course! I don’t doubt for a bleeding second that you would pick a woman who wants her man in all Gucci everything. But all the same, don’t you want to be putting your best foot forward? And if that doesn’t do the job, I’m willing to bet you the farm that right now, she’s off in that adorable little house of hers putting on her best to look good for you. Isn’t it only fair that you return the favor?”
“I suppose you’ve got a point.”
“Of course, I’ve got a point. Now, pick a shirt.”
My eyes moved from the red to the powder blue to the off-white.
“Ah, not the red.”
“Oh, thank Christ,” he said, placing his hands over his heart and leaning forward. “Ronan, I have no idea what you were thinking with this thing.”
I laughed and picked up the shirt, the color such a deep red that it almost had a sheen to it.
“I got this back in med school,” I said. “What can I say? Thought it looked cool.”
“Well, it makes you look like the lead singer of a ska band.”
I cocked my head to the side. “What, and now are you going to tell me that ska’s not cool either?”
Brendan regarded me with a narrowed-eyed expression, as if he weren’t sure if I was joking or not. I grinned, letting him know I was messing around.
He laughed. “I swear, you’ve got the dry sense of humor of a bleeding sassenach.”
“Don’t blame me if you fall for it every time.”
“OK, so not the red. Then which between the white and the blue?”
“Hmm. Well, the blue’s nice, but it seems a little more suited for meetings and such, yeah? I mean, that’s what I wear it for. I’m thinking the white seems about right.”
“Ding-ding-ding!” he said, his face lighting up. “Right answer! You’re right, the blue is nice, but it’s also the type of color you’d wear when meeting with an investor or some such, not a gorgeous, stylish American woman. The white is sharp. That’s what you always want to think when you’re picking out clothes to wear. Just think – what would James Bond wear?”
“So you do want me to act like a Brit?”
“Hey, the best James Bond, Pierce Brosnan, is Irish.”
“Yeah, you’re right – he was the best one.”
“Anyway, a man should look smooth and suave. And a powder-blue or blood-red shirt most certainly aren’t that.” He gestured toward the pants. There were two – a pair of black slacks and a pair of gray ones. “Which do you think goes with the off-white shirt?”
“Hm – the gray.”
“Why?”
“Because the black ones are nice, but with the white it’ll look too stuffy, yeah? I’m going on a date, not to a bleeding funeral.”
Brendan leaned forward, his eyes wide in an impressed sort of way.
“Look at you, boss! You’re better at this than I thought you’d be. Now, you could offset that by going with a casual shoe like an oxblood boot or a loafer, but that might be a little too much for this lesson.”
“What the bleeding hell is oxblood?” I asked.
“Exactly. Don’t worry, we’ll have a shoe-focused training session someday. But to make things easy, you only have, like, two pair of dress shoes.”
Sure enough, there were two pair on the ground. There were my Dockers loafers, which were pretty comfortable and useable in most dress situations, and my pair of black dress shoes that I hated wearing. With the two of them side-by-side, it was clear as day that the black ones were nicer.
“Uh, these,” I said, leaning down and poking the black ones.
“Obviously the black ones!” he said. “Ronan, where did you get these?”
“Hm. Oh, it was when I had to go to London for some medical conference. I forgot to pack a pair of shoes other than some sneakers, so I went down to Saville Row to pick up a pair of dress shoes. I just went with whatever the guy in the shop recommended.”
“Well, you picked a hell of a pair. These are exceptionally versatile.”
“I mean, I know they’re nice and all, but my feet hurt just looking at them.”
“That’s because they’re good, leather shoes. You have to break them in a little bit! How many times have you even worn these?”
“Well, I wore them to the conference, so that’s one. Then…oh, right – I wore them to the
wedding of a friend of mine from med school. So, twice.”
Brendan shook his head. “That’s your problem right there. You need to wear them at least a dozen times before they conform to your foot shape. But trust me, once they do, they’ll feel like a pair of bedroom slippers. And a hell of a lot better than…these.” He picked up one of the Dockers loafers with the tips of his thumb and forefinger, like the shoe was a dirty tissue. “In fact, I think we should just get rid of these right now.”
Before I could say a word, he hurried over to the trash can in my bedroom with the shoe and dropped it in.
“Wait! That’s a perfectly good shoe, Brendan!”
“Was a perfectly good shoe. And don’t even think about digging it out of the trash like a little trash picker. Besides, I saw the shite rubber sole on the bottom – they were about done anyhow.”
“Any other clothes you want to pitch while you’re here? Or hell, how about any of the décor? Might be a potted plant or two around here you could chuck.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, boss,” he said with a wink. “And this this for your own good. If you’re going to be staring in a reality show in front of millions of people, you’ll want to look your best, yeah? So, before they drag the cameras into the clinic, we’re going to go through your closet, throw out what’s bad, and replace it with what’s good. And don’t worry – I’ll make the process as painless as possible.”
“Hopefully you’ve got another time in mind for that,” I said, checking my watch. “Because I need to be out the door in a few.”
“Of course, another time,” he said. “Just don’t let it slip your mind that we’ve got to get you looking right for primetime, my good doctor.”
I chuckled. “Now, out while I change.”
He zipped out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
I threw my clothes on the moment I was alone, stepping into the gray slacks and putting on the white shirt and finishing it off with some back socks and the oxfords. When I was all done, my hair slicked back with a part to the side, I had to admit that I looked pretty sharp. Fashion had never been my thing – always found it a little frivolous- but maybe Brendan did have a good point that I ought to put a little more effort into my clothes if I was going to be on TV. I would be representing the clinic and the shelter, after all.