Shamrocks and Secrets Page 3

  "Who the fuck is Smiles? I'm talking about my sister, Shannon." I shouted, exasperated. Ignoring me, he voiced his next question directly at Kevin. "Giggles is your daughter, Douce?"

  Kevin didn't answer, and frankly I was confused and getting even more pissed off. I then turned to Charlotte, who was watching this entire scene play out like a tennis match.

  "Who the hell is Giggles?" I asked her, since no one else would answer me. She looked at me wide eyed and started to answer me when Patrick questioned Kevin.

  "Does Books know, Douce?"

  Kevin lowered his head, finding his shoes very interesting all of the sudden. I looked around and noticed nearly everyone in the bar was watching us.

  "No, Boss, he doesn't know, and yes, Giggles is mine. Smiles and I had a thing a long time ago."

  I felt as if I had been transported to another country and they were all speaking in a language I didn't understand.

  "How far is he in arrears, Ms. O’Rourke?” Patrick’s voice and facial expression changed back to his prior cockiness.

  "He owes roughly ten thousand dollars in unpaid support."

  One of the men in his entourage leaned into his ear. Patrick's face never changed as he listened to what he was being told. I looked at Kevin and noticed that his entire face was now white as a ghost. His date had completely disappeared. Two men suddenly appeared and grasped Kevin on each side.

  Patrick was now looking at Kevin, whose face had gone completely ashen. No words were said as the two men escorted Kevin out of the bar and into the night.

  It was like that scene in a movie; the one where once the fight was over, the music came back on and people carried on with what they were doing. Our waitress suddenly appeared with a fresh round of drinks and Patrick began speaking with the men in his entourage. Once the waitress sat our drinks down, Patrick handed her two crisp one hundred dollar bills.

  "Make certain Ms. Christi and Ms. Charlotte are kept happy while they're here."

  I watched as the waitress flashed him a smile and pushed her chest out just a little more. I rolled my eyes at the shameless way she was flirting with him.

  He then turned back to us. "Ladies, always a pleasure, enjoy the rest of your evening."

  He spoke to a few more people in the room and after each one, he would turn his attention back to our table. As he made his way to the front door, he turned one final time and nodded his head as he stepped into the darkness.

  Monday came all too quickly. Shannon and I were sitting in my office going over the calendar for the week. We had a wedding and a sweet sixteen party this weekend. It was agreed upon that I would work the birthday party and Shannon would do the wedding. A knock at the door stopped our list making, as a courier had a package for Shannon. Honestly, with as much attention as Dillion had been giving her lately, it was probably tickets to Aruba or something. Nothing could have prepared me for the truth.

  "Oh, my God."

  I turned my attention from the Gucci shoe-inspired cake that the young birthday girl wanted to the papers that now sat in Shannon's hands.

  "Chris...look."

  I took the paperwork from her and began to read the letter that sat on the top. It was from the president of People's First Bank here in Chicago. It was addressed to Shannon O’Rourke and Abigail Grace O’Rourke. The letter basically stated that a college fund had been opened in the name of the minor child and currently held a balance of twenty thousand dollars. Furthermore, it would increase by twenty thousand dollars every year until the child reached twenty-one years of age. Another slip of paper clipped to the letter was a cashier's check in the amount of fifteen thousand dollars. A second letter stated that the check was for back child support and that from this day forward, a check for five thousand dollars would arrive on the first of every month for the benefit of said minor child. This would continue until the child was twenty-one, or until the child was legally adopted by any man Shannon decided to marry.

  My mind went immediately back to the conversation at the bar between Patrick and Kevin. All of these years and Kevin had never made an effort. One conversation with his boss, suddenly Kevin was made of money.

  I didn't have time to ponder the matter any further, since Charlotte made her presence known when she walked into my office. She entered, followed by two women. The first was an older, yet very beautiful woman. She was so graceful,and reminded me of the Hollywood stars from the forties and fifties. Her beautiful red hair flowed onto her shoulders in soft yet perfect waves. Her complexion was peaches and cream and sickeningly flawless. Her beige-colored pantsuit looked as if it was designer made and cost more than what I made in a month. It was her eyes that stood out to me, vivid green.

  The petite woman who stood beside her was just as beautiful. Her hair, however, was much darker and longer. Her skin was just as flawless, but her eyes were a beautiful blue. Shannon clearly knew theses women as she leaped from her desk and embraced them in a warm greeting.

  "Chris, I'd like to introduce you to Mrs. Nora Malloy and Ms. Paige Malloy."

  The two women smiled brightly as they continued into the office. Charlotte motioned for them to have a seat in the chairs that faced my desk and then asked if they would care for a drink. Nora spoke first and requested a cup of hot tea in the most enchanting Irish accent I had ever heard. Charlotte excused herself and left to go make a pot of tea.

  "Christi," Nora spoke, her green eyes shining, the look on her face was one of pure joy, "I was a guest at the Connor-Donnelly wedding and I was impressed to say the very least." As she spoke, she turned her direction to Paige who nodded her head in agreement. "I was told by Mrs. Connor that you'd been very helpful in making her daughter's day very special."

  "It wasn't just me, Mrs. Malloy, I have an amazing staff."

  “Please, call me Nora.”

  Charlotte appeared with a tray of tea. Once all of our cups had been prepared, we continued with the meeting.

  "Christi, I'm going to get right to the point here. Paige is getting married in eight months. As big as the Donnelly wedding was, this one is going to be huge. Practically everyone that attended that wedding will attend Paige's. That guest list, however, wouldn't compare to this one considering the additional size of the grooms family. The Montgomerys were a well-to-do family from the South and will more than double the Connor-Donnelly guest list. Christi, we're looking at over eight hundred people."

  When you’d done this as long as I had, you learned a few things besides how to break up a fight. You learned that money talked and bullshit walked. It didn't matter if you were planning a party for eight or eight hundred, the process was the same. Nora may have been wearing a designer suit and had a pretty accent, but did she have the cash to buy the wedding she was describing?

  "Nora, I can give Paige just about anything when it comes to her reception, but the bottom line is that it'll cost a great deal of money."

  Nora didn't even flinch when I told her the Connor wedding cost nearly a thousand dollars per person. That roughly meant her reception alone was over four hundred thousand dollars. The additional people would increase that cost significantly.

  Paige began to list the kinds of food she wanted to have served. She wanted to have a speakeasy-style wedding theme. She showed me photos of her bridesmaid's dresses that were silk and had lace appliqués adorning them. She wanted all of the drinks served in martini glasses with the exception of the beer. She wanted all of the wait staff to be male and wearing white waiter's jackets with black bow ties, cummerbunds, and black pants. There would be a band playing and at least ten bars set up throughout the room. Everything she had chosen was even more high-end than the last wedding. The last item that I needed to address was that of security. For the Donnelly wedding, we had had to charge security as a separate fee.

  "Oh no, Lass. My son, Patrick, will take care of security."

  It hadn't occurred to me before that Nora Malloy was Patrick's mother. So with a plan in motion and a tight hug from Nora and P
aige, the meeting was over and a wedding reception scheduled. I sat in my chair going over everything that had happened in the past few weeks. With a careful decision made, I grabbed my cell phone and scrolled down my contact list. I pressed send and waited three rings before getting an answer.

  "Brandon, if someone wanted to get in touch with Patrick Malloy, how would they find him?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  You know that scene in horror films where the creepy music begins to play and you shout at the television for the girl on the screen not to go into the house? Well, that was how I felt as I sat inside my car, parked outside under the neon sign that flashed, Whiskers Gentleman's Club.

  Gentlemen my ass...

  Brandon assured me that Patrick had an office inside the club and that he could normally be found there every evening. I needed to thank him. I needed him to understand that I knew what he had done, even though he didn't have to do it. I could have just called him, or have sent one of those fancy edible fruit basket things. I could have taken Shannon's advice and sent him the equivalent of guy flowers, a six-pack of his favorite beer. However, with the amount of money he had made Kevin pay, none of those things would do. I needed to look him straight in the eye and say thank you. So, with a deep breath and my hand wrapped tightly around the can of pepper spray I had in my pocket, I exited my car and made my way to the doors.

  There was nothing special about the building that housed Whiskers; it was in the middle of a rundown industrial area. The building stood alone, surrounded on three sides by parking lots. The sidewalk out front had seen better days as it was littered with cracks. The tattoo shop across the street was missing the last ‘O’ so that it now read ‘Tatto.’ Several bars lined the street on either side, and at the end was a pawn shop and an adult bookstore.

  I took a deep breath as I placed my hand firmly on the metal handle of the door. I could do this, ten minutes tops and I would be back in my car and headed home. I could feel the vibration of the thumping base as I pulled the door of the club open. Once inside, I came to a wall that blocked the view of what was going on from any innocent passersby. To the left was a bar, behind which stood two of the biggest guys I had ever seen. They looked me up and down with huge smirks on their faces. I pulled the belt of my coat tighter around my waist and nearly vomited in my mouth. The way the human wall of a man was sucking his front teeth and cleaning his finger nails with his pocket knife was disgusting and caused my stomach to turn.

  "Can I help you, Sweet Thing?"

  I hadn't noticed the short, stocky guy that stood in the entryway. He had on white dress pants that were pleated in the front and secured with a patent leather belt.

  Hello, the seventies are calling, they want their pants back.

  The black shirt beneath his white suit jacket was open most of the way and clearly showed the three thick gold chains that hung from his neck, nestled amongst his bushy chest hair. Try as he might, he was no John Travolta. I turned my attention to him and shot him a quick smile.

  "Yes, Sir, I'm here to see Patrick Malloy."

  All three men snickered and glanced at each other. Human wall looked around the corner at what I can only assume was a girl dancing. Gold chain guy was still undressing me with his eyes. The last guy was older than the other two, his head completely bald, a striking black soul patch stood out from his tiny lower lip. He wore sunglasses that obscured my view of his eyes, although I'm certain he too was dreaming up ways to get me naked as the girls on the other side of that wall. I never understood people who wore sunglass even at night. Did they feel they had something to hide?

  "Boss doesn't do the interviews, Baby. That's my job," gold chain guy responded.

  "Do I look like I need a job?" My voice clipped, gone was my politeness. I needed to see Patrick and then get the hell out of here.

  "Everybody needs a job, Sweetheart." He quickly retorted, his tone eluded that he thought he was funny. His grin devilish and the hair on the back of my neck began to stand up.

  "Yes, well, I didn't ask for a job, I asked to see Patrick Malloy." My voice may be firm, but inside I was about to bolt and run. Thanking Patrick be damned.

  "Can I tell him who's asking?”

  ‘Christi, Christi O’Rourke"

  The human wall and Mr Clean again chuckled and one of them began playing with his cell phone, shaking his head

  "Listen, Babe, I know every piece of pussy in this town and Boss don't know no Christi O’Rourke. Now either you want to apply for a job or you turn around and head right back out the way you came."

  Before I could get too frustrated, my father's words came back to me.

  "What name did he give you? File that one away; you may need it sometime."

  "Then tell him Legs wants a quick word."

  Suddenly, it was as if I held the key to the city. The two guys behind the bar immediately stood up straight and wouldn't make eye contact with me anymore. Gold chain guy suddenly found his manners and actually smiled at me, a warm, apologetic smile.

  "My apologies, I didn't recognize you, Miss."

  He picked up the phone that was sitting on the bar beside him and spoke in hushed tones. Finally, he glanced up at me and spoke, "Yes, Sir, Boss, right away."

  "Legs...er, Ms.O’Rourke, if you'd please follow me."

  I wasn't about to let gold chains touch me and so I stayed a half step behind him. Once we passed the bar, the room opened up and the music got much louder. The room was painted black, I think. The lighting around the room gave everything a red hue. There were three stages, with poles in the middle of each. All three stages had different naked girls dancing to a song I didn't recognize. To the right I noticed a staircase that led to a wooden door at the top. The sign on the door read private. Gold chain guy asked me if I would care for a drink, but I smiled and declined.

  The door at the top of the stairs opened and a young girl came out. She was fully dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and couldn't have been a day over sixteen. Her mascara was running as if she had been crying. She stormed past me and ran out the door. Gold chain guy instructed me that Patrick was in the office at the top of the stairs. I carefully climbed the stairs and stood outside the door. Here goes nothing, I said to myself as I twisted the handle and opened the door.

  Ever entered a room and have the conversation suddenly stop? Yes, that was where I was now. Once I opened the office door, everyone stopped talking and looked in my direction. Truly, this was more than likely a good thing; conversations that were held behind closed doors in strip clubs usually weren't garden party subjects.

  Patrick sat behind the massive desk that stood majestically in the center of the room. The desk looked to be an antique and yet well cared for. His high-backed leather chair towered over his head. The desk was clean and only housed an expensive looking desk set. The green desk lamp illuminated the glossy surface. Patrick however, looked like the captain of a ship. He dominated that desk, as well as the room.

  The room wasn't anything like the décor downstairs; the walls were all paneled with rich dark wood. Not like the paneling from the seventies, no, this was like the kind you would find in old English homes.

  The painting that hung behind Patrick's head looked to be a portrait of a very handsome Irishman. The plaid sash that crossed his chest reminded me of a picture that my grandmother had had in her house when I was a little girl.

  To the left stood three men. The first I recognized immediately as Ryan Donnelly. Ryan was a massive man with very broad shoulders, and I was certain his biceps were as big as my thigh. All of my dealings with him in the past had been pleasant.

  Next to him was another man just as big. However, his skin was much darker; he wasn't making eye contact with me. His hands crossed in front of him.

  The last man was just as tall, not nearly as built, and his hair was a nice shade of dark blond. He, also, wasn't making eye contact with me.

  "Ms. O’Rourke to what do I owe the honor?" Patrick's deep voice sounded and brought my
attention back to him.

  "Please, take a seat," he motioned and then stood for me to sit in one of the chairs that faced his desk. "Does your father know you're here?"

  Patrick Malloy held himself as a man who expected to be intimidating. He oozed power, from the constant group of men who surrounded him, to his black Armani suit he was currently wearing. He wanted people to fear him, but why?

  I prided myself on being a strong, intelligent woman. Which was probably why I hadn't had a date in over a year. I wasn't going to willingly let Patrick see that he made me just a little nervous.

  So, instead of addressing him, I turned my attention and made my way over to Mr. Donnelly with my hand out for a handshake. "Mr. Donnelly, such a pleasant surprise to see you. How is your beautiful bride?"

  I watched the surprised look on his face as I continued to hold my hand out. He quickly looked at Patrick and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Patrick do a quick nod. It was then that he took my hand in his and very softly shook it.

  "Ms. O’Rourke, always a pleasure to see you. My Allyson is excellent, thank you for asking."

  I smiled brightly at him, "I’ve asked you to call me Christi, meeting you here doesn't change that.” Again he looked at Patrick, his face contorted with confusion. I didn't understand what was going on between these two men, so I decided to be polite and give Ryan an easy out.

  “Please tell her I said hello." He nodded with understanding and I turned back toward Patrick.

  All of the men in the room waited until I had taken my seat before they sat down. I thought this odd since we were in a strip club.

  "Mr. Malloy, you're a busy man and I only want to take a minute to personally tell you thank you. Thank you for helping my sister and my niece."

  A devilish grin spread across his face as he looked directly into my eyes. "I'm not certain I know what you're referring to, Ms. O’Rourke."

  "Please, Mr. Malloy, call me Christi. After everything you have done, it seems only right.”