A Change of Heart (The Heartfelt Series) (5 page)

 “Larry?” she asked.

 “Having a lie-down before he has a heart attack,” he replied. She raised her eyebrows. “He’s exhausted, worked himself into a right state. I worry about that guy.”

 “He worries about you; he’s worried sick,” she said.

 “I know. I spoke to Lena, she’d just come back from an
emergency
meeting with Rossini’s team. Not good,” he gave his head a little shake.

 They walked along the shore. Monty trotted at the water’s edge. The waves seemed to rush suddenly, then stop to whisper into the sand, waiting to hear what was being said.

 “Oh dear, was she hysterical?” Marianne asked.

 “No, not at all, very consolatory for Lena, quietly spoken, scary in a way,” he said.

 “Really?” Despite her layers, Marianne shivered.

 “Yeah, she said Rossini’s seen the tape of the show and while he fully understands I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately, the announcement was not a good move. I need to get over there, put out the press release and get back on track. No more will be said about it.” He put Joey back in the buggy. Marianne was quiet. It took the best part of two years to make and promote one of Rossini’s super-spy blockbusters. Even though filming was not scheduled to start for at least six months, the role was a huge commitment. With the third film following the same pattern, they were looking at least five years ahead before they were free. Bridget would be nearly making her First Holy Communion by then, most of her young childhood passed.

 “What about Joey?” she asked, eventually.

 “She didn’t mention him, so neither did I.” He pulled the little boy’s hood up.

 “Does she know he’s with you?”

They stopped. Bridget and Monty were digging in the sand.

 “Not sure. Why do you ask?” Ryan was smiling at his son.

 “He’s Rossini’s nephew, that’s why.” She sounded tense.

 “Great-nephew,” he corrected, “anyway, I have custody, his mother’s unfit, you know that.” He was dismissive. She took his hands and turned him to face her, looking him straight in the eye.

 “I’m just saying be prepared for the worst. He’s a rich, powerful man. Joey is the son of his favourite niece. When she finds out what’s happened it could get nasty. I can see where Larry’s coming from.” 

 Ryan swallowed hard.

 “No way, they can’t take him away from me, us. They can’t.” He knelt down, drawing Bridget and Monty into his embrace. “This is where we belong, all of us, together.”

 “You have filed for divorce and custody of your son haven’t you?” she asked. A wave crashed against a rock. “Haven’t you, Ryan?” He sat down in the sand with a bump, head in his hands. The water trickled up to him, wetting the hem of his jeans.

 “Come on,” she called, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket. “Let’s go, sort the paperwork out at least, get something in writing. Honestly Ryan, you’re hopeless.”

He staggered to his feet as she gathered up the gang.

 “I’m an actor. Reckless and impetuous, yes, but surely not hopeless.” He gave a quick, swashbuckling move and, twirling an imaginary cape, took her by the waist and drew her to him. Monty rushed to her aid, running between Ryan’s legs. He turned, tripped, and they both tumbled, arms and legs flailing, wrestling in a pile of sand. Bridget started to giggle, her tinkling laugh ringing out and then Joey started to chortle too. Marianne stopped wrestling with Ryan. It was the first time she had heard the little boy laugh.

 “Hopeless!” She punched Ryan in the chest. He fell backwards laughing, moving his arms to make angel wings in the sand, much to the children’s delight.

From his usual vantage point high on the cliff Sean Grogan tutted. Mad shower of interlopers carrying on as usual, he thought, probably on all sorts of drugs. Those poor children, did Padar and the other child’s mother know what was going on at all? A disgrace, that’s what it was!

Chapter Five
Rules Of Engagement

Despite Padar’s constant fiscal concerns, the destruction of the bridge during the storm had brought some good fortune to the island. When Shay and the building team arrived in September, Padar negotiated with the contractors to provide bed, breakfast and evening meal, offering special rates for those who stayed behind at the weekend to go fishing or play golf on the island’s blustery course. So Maguire’s, which had never been busy on Mondays, even at the height of summer, was bustling with drinks and meals through to closing time, if there was such a thing.

Marianne was on duty at the pub that evening, so it made sense for Ryan to feed and bathe the children and put them to bed there. Padar had a baby alarm in the bar so they could keep an ear out for any problems. She was putting the finishing touches to a lamb casserole and because a lot of the building team were ‘Jackeens’ that famous Dublin dish, Coddle, when Ryan announced Larry had arrived.

Hanging his French trench coat next to Father Gregory’s wax jacket and Kathleen MacReady’s fur stole, Larry walked slowly up to the bar. He was concentrating, he had a job to do and he was damn well going to do it.

 Miss MacReady gave him her usual zealous welcome, introducing him to Padar and Father Gregory. She ignored Sean, who was desperately craning his neck towards the gathering, hoping Larry would prove to be an over-generous American and buy the whole bar a drink. He was disappointed when the quietly spoken New Yorker ordered a soda and lime, taking his drink to a table as far away from the bar as possible. Taking a pint of stout as he emerged from the kitchen, Ryan joined him.

 “Feeling any better?” he asked, as he sat down.

 “A little,” Larry replied, “I’ll feel a lot better when I’ve talked some sense into you though.”

 Ryan sighed, “Shall we eat first? I’m starving.”

 Larry rolled his eyes.

 “Eat? How can you think about food at a time like this? The world is falling apart and you want to eat! Nothing has passed my lips since Lena rang me and told me about your TV appearance. I’m fading away.” Anxiety had clearly erased the memory of the sumptuous feast Larry enjoyed at Joyce MacReady’s. Ryan eyed Larry’s portly frame. A bit of fading away would not do any harm, if the truth be told.

 “Well, I’m going to finish my pint and have a plateful of Marianne’s Moroccan Lamb, with a very large glass of Rioja. Are you going to sit there and watch me eat?” Ryan asked archly.

 Larry sipped his soda water.

 “I might try a morsel,” he said, lips pursed. “Just to keep you company, you understand.”

 “Good, first we eat, then we talk and then you decide whether you want to stay on for a few days or am I to take you to the airport in the morning and send you on your way.” Ryan said sternly.

 Larry took another sip of his drink, smiling briefly as Marianne delivered two steaming dishes of the food Ryan had already ordered. She raised her eyebrows at Ryan as she left. They agreed Ryan should speak with Larry alone first. He was his agent, business is business, he owed Larry that. Ryan knew they were discussing the future of her whole world, but it was a conversation she could not be part of at present, she had to trust him to make the right decisions for all of them.

 “Have you had a chance to review your contract?” Larry asked, dicing lamb with the side of his fork. Ryan shook his head. “No, I didn’t think so,” Larry continued.

 “That’s your department,” Ryan told him, helpfully.

 “Precisely. That’s why I’m here, it’s a rolling contract, a three-movie agreement – there’s a clue there, Ryan. None of us get the full deal until that which has been contracted is delivered, geddit.”

 “Money, it’s always about money with you,” Ryan said, they had this discussion often. It was a joke.

 “Ryan, this is more than a dive-in, dive-out mini-series. You can’t just walk away. You can have a compassionate break, that’s why it’s called a ‘break clause’ but that’s all it is. The contract has to be completed, the box office returns filed and then we’ll all be paid. Deal done. Then and only then can you walk away.”

 Ryan put his knife and fork down.

 “Are you sure about that? Can’t I get out of it?” he asked.

 Larry shook his head, dabbing his mouth with his napkin.

 “You can, but we’d lose everything, everything we’ve worked for all these years. Bow out when it’s done, go with the world applauding, begging you to stay. Leave at the top of your career,” Larry squeezed Ryan’s hand, “make us all proud.”

 “But Marianne, Joey, my life here...” he raised his hands, encompassing the bar.
 “They are your life, you’ve made the grand gesture. We’ve just got to be pragmatic and work round it. Besides you don’t start work on the next movie for six months, plenty of time to put down roots, plan things for the future. And that’s what you need to do, look out for everyone’s future: you, Joey, Marianne, the whole damn lot.”

 Ryan sipped his wine, pensively.

 “And if I bow out now?” he asked.

 “You owe them big time. Not worth it.” Larry had finished his lamb and was tucking into cherry pie. Ryan pushed his plate away. Marianne, who had been hovering behind the bar, appeared at his elbow.

 “Okay? Lamb not to your liking?” she asked. Ryan’s plate was still full; Larry was finishing dessert.

 “Delicious, the chef here is amazing,” Larry said.

 “Thank you,” she replied, not sure if Larry realised she was the cook.

 “Can I have a few moments of your time?” he asked politely, looking her in the eye. “This is important.”

 “Of course,” she said, relieved. She needed to be part of this conversation, she needed Larry on side. Larry gave Ryan a look. Ryan shrugged and headed for the kitchen, plates and dishes precariously stacked in his arms.

 Larry folded his napkin and took another sip of soda water. Marianne pulled her chair up, fists clenched beneath the table.

 “Ryan can’t just resign Marianne. He can’t walk away from the movie deal. Lena went to see our lawyer as soon as she got wind of the TV stunt. The compassionate break clause, to which Ryan so blithely refers, only kicks in if the actor, meaning Ryan, is terminally ill or has an untreatable psychotic condition. Now, much as we both love him and know he’s slightly off the wall, an untreatable psychotic he ain’t!” Larry said.

 “I don’t get the impression Ryan has ever looked that closely at his contract,” Marianne had to concur.

Larry nodded. “True, he’s always left that side of things to me, which is fine, that’s my job.”

“Are you saying there’s no getting out of it?” Marianne asked sadly.

 Larry felt a pang of guilt. He liked this young woman. He had never seen Ryan happier with anyone in his life. But he had a job to do, he had to deliver.

 “It’s a rolling contract. Ryan is barely on wages until fees from the box office returns kick in. Even then, money is placed in a client account until all three movies are made and released. If he walks away now, he not only walks with nothing, the film company will sue him for loss of earnings - he’ll be broke. It is highly unlikely he’ll ever work again. He’ll be blacklisted. Not officially, but that’s how it works,” Larry said.

 Marianne looked up at Ryan who was keeping up the pretext of helping Padar behind the bar. He flipped a mixer like a professional cocktail waiter. Padar burst out laughing. Padar did not laugh much these days, tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

 “But he doesn’t care about the money, it’s not important to him, to us,” she said.

 “That’s blatantly obvious, but incredibly naive – there are too many powerful people in this particular food chain. You’re an intelligent woman, Marianne, surely you know how these things work?” Larry kept his voice even.

 “The main reason he took the role was to sort his finances out, wipe the slate clean. You’re saying if he doesn’t complete the contract that’s not going to happen?” Marianne was also speaking quietly.

 “It’s not too late, but time’s running out. He must go to New York and talk to Rossini. I’ve no need to tell you how important PR is in this game. We need to get the machine rolling again, assuring everyone, everything is back on track. It’s not just about making a movie, it’s a multi-national business. There’s an awful lot at stake, people have invested a lot of money in the franchise and they have to see a return.”

 Marianne sat back, watching Larry carefully. “The backers, the money-men you mean.”

 He nodded.

 “
Everyone
Marianne, it’s a big deal. Ryan staying with the franchise guarantees the return. He’s gone public saying he’s chosen you and a life here, so make it happen. Give him a home, something to come back to. Be a family, it’s what you both want, but he must do as I ask and I need your support, none of us can do this without you behind him, behind us, take it or leave it, that’s the truth of it.” Larry looked her in the eye.

 Marianne’s mouth was set in a grim line. She let out a breath and nodded briefly. Ryan took the fact they stopped talking as his cue to reappear.

 “All okay over here?” he gave a slight smile.

 “I think we’re getting somewhere,” Larry said, not taking his eyes off Marianne. “Any bourbon in this place, I could do with a drink?”

 “Couldn’t we all?” laughed Ryan, trying to gauge the mood, “but you’ll have Irish whiskey and be glad of it.”

 Larry nodded, “Make it a good big one!”

 Marianne had been rolling and re-rolling a napkin between her fingers.

 “Marie?” Ryan said, bending towards her, brow creased with concern.

 “I’ll think I’ll go and check the children,” she said, and left.