Chapter 22
22
By four thirty, everything was set for the meeting. My speech was written on my phone and I’d tested the mic. Fifty chairs were arranged in neat rows and Courtney was stacking cups and saucers on a table at the back of the room.
“Looks good.” Joey had strolled in.
“All hail the go-boy,” Courtney said, her tone damning, then left to get the biscuits.
Suddenly I saw Joey through Courtney’s eyes and was overcome with dismay. His beautiful suit was not perfect for all events, certainly not tonight’s. “Joey, have you a change of clothes? You look too corporate. And your hair’s too…How is it so shiny?”
“How would I know? Good genes?”
“Joey, we’re trying to build goodwill here—the last PR person alienated the entire town. Your look isn’t friendly. See me.” I stretched my arms wide to demonstrate my jeans and hoodie, then twisted left and right.
“ So cute.” It was clear he was annoyed.
“Shut it, Joey. My vibe is what you need. Come on, there’s a gent’s draper down near Ferne’s.”
He frowned. “You really mean this.” Then, brightening, “A gent’s draper? That sounds funny.”
“It’ll have to do.”
But it was closed. “Oh no!”
“It’s Monday.” A nosy local woman had spotted my distress. “Micah never opens on a Monday.”
Always with an eye on winning hearts and minds, I said, “Micah is entitled to a day off.”
As soon as the woman was gone, I focused on Joey. “Have you any thing in the hotel? Jeans? Joggers?”
“No. And no.”
“So what do you sleep in? You’re hardly a pajamas man?”
His stare was deadpan. “That’s right, Anna, I’m not.”
“What about your running stuff?”
“Nope. I packed in a hurry.”
What time did the shops close in Galway? I googled Dunnes in Eyre Square: it was open until seven.
“Joey, get in your car, drive fast but not recklessly to Dunnes in Galway. Buy jeans, joggers and a couple of cheap T-shirts.”
“Okay. But you’re coming along.”
“You don’t need me! What age are you? Eight?”
“Let’s go.” He was already halfway back to the hotel. “This was your idea.”
“Okay, but only because I don’t trust you to get the right stuff.”
His four-wheel drive was parked on the street, behind Mum’s Multipla. With a sidelong smirk, he said, “Sweet ride. Yours? Dublin plates, got to be.”
“Hey! Don’t car-shame me.”
We took off in his jeep.
“You want music?” he asked.
“Depends.” Shouty rawk was not my vibe.
“You choose.”
I put on Saint Etienne. “Is this okay?”
Joey’s head moved.
“Was that you nodding? Or a bump in the road?”
“I was nodding. It’s a great album.”
What? I didn’t think he’d even have heard of them.
“I emailed the people complaining about the Nigerian crime lords and dolphins being poisoned,” he said. “Nothing back from—what’s he calling himself? ProudIrishPatriot. And there won’t be, he’s just a troll. The dolphin man is real. He can’t remember who told him about the runoff going into the sea, but that it’s ‘common knowledge.’?”
“How, though? Is someone going around spreading malicious rumors?”
“Or is it just conjecture? You know how it goes. One person says, ‘What if there’s a leak in Kearney’s plumbing? And the water goes into the sea’? Next thing, dolphins are being wiped out.”
“Maybe.”
In about an hour, we were in the center of Galway, heading for the Eyre Square car park where Dunnes was located. As soon as we were parked, Joey tried to steer us to the street exit.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Brown Thomas.”
“No! Nothing expensive. Dunnes is this way.”
In the shop, surveying racks of clothes, I stopped at men’s jeans. “What waist size are you?”
“Maybe thirty? It depends on the brand…”
I plucked a few different pairs of size thirty-twos and thrust them at him. “The changing room’s over there. I’ll get some joggers and tops while you’re trying them on. Be quick.”
He came out of the changing room in a pair of jeans and his suit shirt. He plucked at the waistband. “They’re a bit…Should I go a size smaller?”
“Badly fitting is good. It’s relatable.”
“Oh, Anna . Once upon a time, you were so sweet.” He nodded at the bundle of clothes in my arms. “What have you there?”
“T-shirts. Couple of hoodies.”
“Let’s give them a go.” He was already unbuttoning his shirt, revealing a smooth chest and tight abs.
“Joey, do you mind ?”
“Nothing you haven’t seen before.”
My blood turned to ice.
“Oh, right.” He clicked his fingers. “I forgot.”
His stare was brazen. Inside, I shrank. He hadn’t forgotten. And I wasn’t forgiven.
But we had a job to do; there was no room for anything else. Forcing cheeriness, I said, “I’m thinking about the other customers.” I gestured around Dunnes. “You’re not in Selfridges now.”
“That’s for sure . You know that in some high-end shops the changing rooms are as big as an apartment. Your girl can go in with you, there’s a mirror, sometimes a chair and if you were so inclined you could…” He was being obnoxious to punish me.
“Stop. Just stop.” His chest and stomach were still on full view, generating stares from other shoppers. I thrust the stack of tops at him. “Get back in there. Pick out two T-shirts and one hoodie. Quickly.”
His mouth tight, he did as I asked.
Our walk back to the car park was in silence. As we drove, the sound of the radio masked the tension but my heart was pounding. I needed this job, I needed the money, but maybe addressing this was more important.
Joey spoke. “Should be back in good time.” His tone was bland. “Okay with you if I do a quick FaceTime with my boys when we get in?”
“Of course.” I cleared my throat. “Lovely.”
“Thanks.”
“Not at all.” Tentatively, I asked, “You talk to them every day?”
“At least twice. I don’t want to miss anything. This morning Zeke explained a satsuma to me. ‘It’s like an orange. Only smaller.’?”
“Haha,” I managed. “Cute.”
“Yeah.” He smiled.
…Were we in the clear? Perhaps.
That had been horrible.