The Beginning of Always (29 page)

“It’s not about whether or not you can take the subway. It’s about where you end up going. He’s probably worried you’re going to bail one of these days, stop showing up.”

“I’m on assignment, I can’t just ‘bail.’ That’d be a jerk move on my part.”

Train shrugged, his massive shoulders scrunching up to reach almost to his ears. “Yeah, well …” His voice trailed off.

The traffic going to Midtown was so bad that taking the subway would have been faster. Train turned up the radio to fill the void in the cab. A talkative morning show punctuated with Top 40 hits began pumping through the stereo.

I leaned forward and rested my elbows against the front seats. Train’s head was bopping slightly to the song on the radio.

“So what are your plans today?” I asked.

Train shrugged. “No idea, going to find out when I get to work.”

“So what is it that you usually do at work?”

Train tapped a broad index finger against the top of the steering wheel. He didn’t answer me for a while, as if he was considering how to piece together his narrative. Finally, he said, “Boss didn’t grow up over here.”

“Yeah, I’m aware.”

Train’s expression was contemplative. “I was a bartender at a bar in the Village that he went to a long time ago, back when he first moved to New York. Anyway, we started talking, or mostly he was asking me a bunch of questions about the neighborhood. He was a good tipper and didn’t smell off, so I talked to him, you know? Good thing I did, because he began coming in more. He used to talk to me a lot over whiskey, asking about different areas and different buildings. He needed a native to give him a read on the city, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Well, after he started his company, he asked me to come on. At first I worked with Gertrude to help with his personal stuff, but I’ve never been that great with keeping things organized. That’s my wife’s job.” Train cracked a grin.

“So eventually we picked up for me to go with him to meetings and tour buildings and stuff. I work in negotiations with him, talk to the folk we’re trying to pay out of their leases. Mostly they’re mom-and-pop places, people who have been there for ages, looking to retire on a nice cushion. It’s easier for me to figure out what a tenant wants and what it’ll take to take care of them. Boss pays me too much for what I do. Some weeks all I end up doing is just dicking around in the office, so he just tells me to stay home with my kids.”

Train paused for a moment. He flicked on his blinker and turned into a small alley to cut across a congested block.

“I owe a lot to him. Bought my house, allowed my wife to quit her job to stay at home, we’re saving up for the kids’ education and hell, I just put down a down payment for my mom’s home. Boss is a good man.”

“He’s helped you take care of your family, that’s great.”

“Yeah, well, he tells me I made the company a lot of money and I’m important, which is nice of him to say. But he would have been great at doing negotiations himself. He has a way of talking that gets people to trust him. People know that things will end up alright as long as they’re in his hands. Carla isn’t sure about him. I had him over a couple times for dinner, he’s great with the kids but she thinks he’s weird.”

I chuckled. “Carla is an intuitive woman. Alistair is weird.”

Train chased his original statement with a quick affirmation, as if not wanting to give me any ideas to the contrary. “She’s cool with him, though, she likes him fine.”

“That’s good. That’s good she likes him.”

We drove in silence for a while. The city and the streets, with the people rushing to work and vendors setting up shop, crawled by us. A population of eight million; it was a wonder how one man out of so many would have such an impact on me in just one week. A world of over seven billion souls, and this one ended up striking my own soul, year after year.

The drive to the office ended up taking twice as much time as the subway. Train and I kept a lively conversation going, so when we pulled into the parking garage, the idea of Alistair and love and the past floated back to its rightful place in the back of my mind. Always there, ever present, scratching questioningly at reality … but ultimately shoved aside for the mundane demands of the day.

“So what’s going on this week?” I asked in the elevator. Train stood with his two massive hands clasped in front, just like a bouncer. He scrunched up his lips and thought for a moment.

“Well, now that the Solomon deal is in the crapper, we can focus on that new tenant moving into a spot a couple blocks over in the Financial District. They requested some of Boss’s time, so he has a meeting set up with them either today or tomorrow. California and the downtown LA deal are on Thursday and Friday. You’re coming, right?”

“Yeah, I’m going.” I weakly pumped a fist in the air. “Yay, California.”

Train escorted me from the elevator to the front of Alistair’s hallway door, where he paused and frowned at the screen of his phone. “No one is answering me on where Boss is. Maybe just go check his office. I don’t see any meetings on his calendar, so maybe he’s just there checking up on e-mails and such.”

“Alright, you going to wait outside?”

“Going to go to my office”—he canted his head to a desk pushed up against the furthest right window—“get some paperwork done, or whatever.” The last syllable was accompanied by a shrug of his shoulders.

I grinned. “Or whatever?”

“Okay, fine, going to work on my fantasy baseball accounts.” Train scratched the back of his neck and grinned sheepishly.

I laughed. “I won’t tell if you won’t tell.”

Train winked at me and opened the door. “Get your sassy ass out of here.”

The door swished closed and I hitched my tote higher up my shoulder as I walked down the now-familiar corridor. I pushed open the heavy wooden door to his office, calling out, “Alistair? You in?”

A chorus of voices very suddenly and very abruptly grew silent. A man coughed uneasily and when I directed my attention towards the noise, what greeted me was more men than I had planned.

I had planned for Alistair. And there was Alistair, in a typical Blair Properties-edition suit, regarding me with a vague smile on his lips, but there were also three other men.

A man with white hair and a goatee, a man I didn’t recognize.

Greg, the tall thin partner from Saturday’s dinner.

And Solomon, the squat fat partner from Saturday’s dinner, the man who when we last met had pretty much called me an ambition-draining succubus whore to my face.

Oh, and Gertrude, leaning up against the opposite wall, a woman who probably called me a whore behind my back.

The men stood up now that I had entered the room. Solomon was definitely less than pleased at my arrival, but didn’t say anything. Alistair gestured for me to join them. I hesitated, fingers tightening against the strap of my bag before I slowly approached their powwow.

“Good morning,” Alistair said, all placidity and benign sunshine.

I immediately grew suspicious.

“Good morning,” I returned cautiously.

Alistair took a step towards me and placed his hand on the small of my back. As if magnets were attached to everyone’s eyeballs and that hand, the gaze of every single person in the room followed the movement of Alistair’s palm just as he pressed it against me.

“Please sit,” Alistair said.

I resisted for a split second, but with the consoling weight pressing against me, I took two steps and sat down gingerly in the only free spot—the seat next to Alistair.

Everyone else, save Gertrude, sat down once I made contact with the leather.

My shoulders went back and my gaze moved from Gertrude to Greg and then to Alistair, who was pressed up close to me, elbows perched on his knees.

“I apologize for interrupting,” I said, since it seemed to be the only thing to say, as if they were waiting for my presence just to hear me say those four words.

“No, no, please, it’s okay,” answered Greg in a rush, waving his hands in front of him. He smiled widely, showing teeth and totally weirding me out.

I nodded, dumbfounded.

There was an expectant current in the air, one that unnerved everyone except Alistair. His shoulders were relaxed and he swept his gaze from side to side, across the three men sitting across from us two. I had no idea what my own verbal prompt was, either. I fingered the strap of my bag, which was still slung over my shoulder.

Finally Solomon grunted, shifting from one side to another. When he spoke, it was directed towards the space just above my left ear. “Ms. Reynolds, I must apologize for my behavior at Saturday’s dinner. It was inappropriate and I cannot justify my words or actions. I did have too much to drink, which aided the impropriety.” His small eyes finally met mine. “Will you accept my a-po-lo-gy?” The word apology took a while to escape past his tongue, the syllables colliding with each other and smacking unwillingly in their journey out.

I was momentarily speechless but recovered enough to say, “Um … I accept. Thank you.” I just barely stopped my voice hitching upwards at the end of my thank-you, a tonal change of confusion and question.

Greg and the white-bearded man simultaneously exhaled at the same time, the deep expelling of a held breath. It wasn’t subtle, and Solomon shot them a nasty glance.

And through it all, Alistair sat easily next to me, no change in body language, no hitch in his breathing one way or another. Instead, he gave Gertrude a small nod.

“Alright.” Gertrude rounded the couches from her perch against the wall. She stood off to my side but faced the crowd of us like a primary school teacher. “Gentlemen, we received your updated proposal, and although we are grateful for the renewed terms and percentages, many of our initial concerns have not been addressed, most notably the current ownership and the legality of its origin.”

Greg spoke up. “We have established communication with the owner’s offices and we can arrange a meeting between all parties within the next month. But we have to commit to a verbal agreement to go ahead with the sale if we are to meet with them, as you can well understand it’s a sensitive buy and there will be other interested parties.”

Alistair shook his head. “I can’t agree, verbally or not, without full disclosure.”

“We can vouch for the legitimacy,” Greg followed up in rush.

“As much as I respect you, Greg, I can’t take your word for it. And I’d much sooner take your word for it than a faceless, nameless entity that’s coordinating the sale will. There is too much smoke and mirrors to this.”

Solomon chimed in. “Blair, you cannot pass this up. This deal will be historic once it goes through. We’ll single-handedly blow the industry out of the water for the next decade.”

“Solomon, we’re leaving for California this week and I’m prepared to proceed with the downtown LA deal. With that, we won’t have room for another large acquisition for a couple months until the details clear.”

Solomon leaned forward, almost falling out of his seat. “Come see the building … just come see the building and you can give me an answer after California.” He licked his fat lips, face puffy and eyes nearly bulging. “We can go now and be back in thirty minutes. I just want you to look at it.”

Alistair motioned to raise his palm up, but Solomon cut in with a reedy plea. “Come on, now. For old times’ sake.”

I looked at Alistair, we all looked at Alistair, waiting for his answer.

After a pause and a short sigh, Alistair dropped his hand and gave a small nod. “Gertrude, we’ll be back in thirty.”

Gertrude parted her lips, but nothing came out. She shut her mouth and her already-thin lips turned into a flat line, but she didn’t say anything.

The men stood up, Solomon nearly bowled over by his glee. I followed, readjusting my bag against my shoulder. I hadn’t even dropped it since I arrived. We all shook hands. Solomon’s grip on mine was just as wet and plush as I remembered it, and we only gave each other the quickest of pumps necessary. The three men quickly bustled out of the room on his orders, Greg and Solomon’s faces close together, already strategizing.

“We’ll talk when I get back, okay?” Alistair said to me. He squeezed my elbow tightly and let go, following the men before I could respond.

And then there were two—me and the attack dog, our resident German shepherd, Gertrude the Great. She didn’t acknowledge me, instead slamming shut a binder that was spread open on the coffee table and filing it into one of the expansive bookcases.

“So is he going to go ahead with the deal, then?” I asked.

Gertrude walked past without saying a word, much less acknowledging my question. She pushed out the doors, and I scurried to follow her into the bleached white hallway. It was empty, Alistair and his crew already making the most of their thirty minutes.

“Look, I’m just curious. Off the record, alright?” I talked to the back of her blond head as she power-walked away from me at an admirable pace.

“Oh, you won’t write this into your article? That’s rich! Because you know he accepted this whole thing for your sake.” She shook her head, muttering something in German to herself.

“For my sake?”

“Yes,” Gertrude snapped at me with impatience. “You. That dinner was a disaster, and when Greg called me in a panic that night, he begged for a meeting today. I initially said no, but Mr. Blair insisted we accept, and now I find out it’s all so we can orchestrate an apology for you.”

I trotted a couple steps forward so that I fell into step with her. “Hey, I don’t appreciate being blamed for a deal going bad. I wasn’t doing anything but—”

“You were there, you caused this entire fiasco and now all of us are cleaning up after this deal, which I had put weeks in.”

“So you’re okay with Solomon and his sexist, misogynist views? With the shady ownership?”

“Of course not, don’t be obtuse about all this,” she snapped, her anger evident. “And this is exactly what you journalists do. You put words in people’s mouths and twist the situation to suit your own narrative. Did I ever say what I thought about Solomon? I was—”