With a Twist (19 page)

Quinn couldn’t help
but notice the feeling of shock continuing to linger in the air as he went back to the Wild Hart following the Sweeneys’ departure. There was no music on in the bar or in the back dining area. It was almost as if his parents thought it would be disrespectful to play light, happy tunes after what had just occurred. Voices were muted and solemn. It seemed like no one wanted to go home yet, like everyone wanted to try to process what had happened all together.

He didn’t even have to ask his brother for his usual shot. Their eyes met and held for a brief moment before Liam poured Quinn’s Jameson and handed it to him. The door opened, and in strolled Tommy and Whitey Connors. The pub instantly fell silent.

Quinn watched as his father, who’d been talking quietly to Liam behind the bar, came around to greet the two men.

“Tommy,” he said with a curt nod.
“Whitey.”

“Charlie,” said Whitey. As always, he was impeccably dressed in a dapper black suit and tie, his gleaming white hair concealed for the most part under his Donegal tweed cap.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” said Quinn’s father politely.

“I’ve been busy. But tonight I was overcome by an urge for your lovely Kathleen’s beef and Guinness stew.”

Quinn’s father shook his head mournfully. “I assume you two heard about Sweeney’s?”

“Yes,” said Whitey. “Terrible. Just terrible.”

Quinn quickly scanned the bar. No one was looking at Whitey and Tommy except for Liam. Silence crashed around the room except for the polite exchange taking place between his father and Whitey.

“Might it be possible for us to eat at a table in the back?” asked Whitey.
“I’m not much for dining in the bar.”

“Yes, of course,” said Quinn’s father. He began walking toward the back of the pub. The only patron who looked up as they walked through the bar was the Major. Whitey lifted his Donegal tweed cap to him as he passed. The Major just turned back to his paper. Tommy and Whitey seated, the low murmur of conversation resumed at the bar, shot through now with palpable anxiety. Quinn filed it all away in the back of his mind. He felt awful for the Sweeneys, but from his perspective as a reporter, things just kept getting more and more interesting, and he loved it.

“His parents hate
me,” Natalie lamented as she followed Vivi around Kleinfeld, a bridal shop. This was their second time shopping here, and so far, Vivi hadn’t seen one wedding gown she liked, at least not at a price she thought reasonable.

“I give up,” Vivi said with a sigh of resignation. “I can’t afford anything here.”

Put it on a credit card,
Natalie thought reflexively and then caught herself. That was the old shopaholic Natalie’s solution to everything: put it on your credit card.

“There has to be somewhere else we can go that’s cheaper,” said Natalie.

“I doubt it.” Vivi held open the door for her as the two walked out onto the sidewalk. Vivi’s expression was glum. But suddenly, her face lit up. “I know what I’m going to do.”

“What?”

“I’ll wear my
grand-mère
’s wedding dress. She still has it. It’s very beautiful and simple.”

“Do that.”

“Hmm.” Vivi seemed lost in thought for a moment, and then shook her head as if clearing out cobwebs. “I’m sorry, you said something before, and I wasn’t paying attention.”

“I said, Quinn’s parents hate me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I stumbled badly at dinner.”

She told Vivi about the comments she made about her and Anthony having to see the priest at Anthony’s church before they were wed, and how upset Quinn’s mother became by the fact both she and Vivi thought it crazy.

Vivi looked sympathetic. “Americans are much more sensitive about religion than we are. They’re much more—well, religious.”

“Well, I didn’t know that, and now they hate me—at least his mother does.”

Vivi linked her arm through Natalie’s. “I doubt that.”

“No, it’s true. She’ll probably fire me,” Natalie said miserably.

“Don’t you have an interview in a few days with Sebastian Thompson?”

Natalie brightened a bit. “Yes.”

“Well, perhaps you’ll get the job, and it won’t matter if you’re fired.”

“Maybe.”

Vivi looked concerned. “Do you really think they’ll fire you?”

“I don’t know. Probably not. They’ll probably just give me the cold shoulder.” Natalie was surprised to find herself getting tearful. “I want them to like me so badly. I want what you have with Anthony: to be welcomed and embraced into a big, loving family.”

“You will,
cherie
. You just need to be patient. You told me Quinn’s brother likes you,
oui
?” Natalie nodded. Thankfully, she and Liam got on well.

“And his father?”

“Yes, he seems to like me. His sisters seemed to like me, too. Only his mother was offended.”

“She’ll get over it,” Vivi reassured her breezily.

“But what if she doesn’t?”

Vivi shrugged. “Well, then, she doesn’t. You can’t control it, so you may as well not fret over it.” She paused. “Didn’t Quinn come to your defense when you stumbled?”

“He tried to. But his mother was having none of it.”

“How’s it going with you two?” Vivi asked.

“I think things are going well,” Natalie replied thoughtfully.

“You
think
? You’re not sure?”

“It’s hard to tell,” Natalie said, frustrated. “He’s always dashing off here and there. Work, work, work. He seems to have no set hours. He asked me if I could cope with how unpredictable his job was, and I said yes.”

“Is that true?”

“I can make it true, if that’s what I need to do to be with him.”

“Ah. So you love him.”

“Yes,” Natalie said softly. It was the first time she’d admitted it out loud.

“Does he love you?”

Did he? Much to her distress, Natalie was unsure. “I think so. He hasn’t said it yet, and neither have I. But apparently, his bringing me to Sunday dinner with his family was significant.”

“Cherie.”
Vivi’s eyes glistened with happy tears. “It’s so wonderful the two of you are finally together! You’re so perfect for each other!” She sighed sadly. “It’s too bad Papa isn’t alive. I think they would have liked each other.”

“I think so, too.” Talk of their father inevitably brought to mind Natalie’s mother, and what she would think of Quinn. She would disapprove, thinking him too rough around the edges, which of course was Natalie’s first impression, too. Her mother would disapprove of his family as well. Too boisterous, she would say. Too coarse. Natalie knew she should give her a call, but the thought of being hung up on again was unbearable.

“Do you want to go to lunch?” Natalie asked.

“Yes! Why don’t you take me to the Wild Hart? Show me where you work.”

“It’s my day off, Vivi. The last thing I want to do is go in there. Why don’t you and Anthony just come down one night while I’m working? At least then you can see what I’m talking about with the food.”

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you say. But yes, we’ll come down one night. Let’s just walk along and see if we find a bistro that strikes our fancy.”

“All right.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t hate you, Natalie. Just relax and keep being yourself. Once they get to know you and see how much you love their son, all will be well.”

“Vivi, the eternal optimist,” Natalie said dryly.
“I’ll try.”

20

Rather than approach
Liam at the Hart about Mr. Sweeney’s cryptic comment, Quinn decided he’d visit him at home. He’d never been to his younger brother’s apartment, which struck him as kind of sad. Come to think of it, Liam had never been to his place, either.

Quinn pushed the buzzer once, waited, and then pushed again. Liam’s voice over the intercom was groggy.

“Yeah?”

“Li? It’s Quinn.”

There was a long pause. “Come on up.”

After being buzzed in, Quinn looked around the lobby. No elevator. By the time he got up to Liam’s apartment on the third floor, he was slightly winded. Jesus Christ, he was out of shape. Time to cut out the office donuts.

The apartment door was open. Quinn was surprised by what he found inside. The small, sparse apartment was tidy, despite Liam’s being a slob all through adolescence. Quinn’s eyes were immediately drawn to a picture of the family that hung in a prominent place above an old gas fireplace.
Does his best to hide it, but he’s as sentimental as the rest of us,
Quinn thought.

“What’s up?” Liam asked, wandering out of the kitchen in sweatpants, bleary-eyed and sporting one of the worst cases of bed head Quinn had ever seen.

“I need to talk to you about Sweeney’s.”

“Christ, you’re relentless. I’m not even awake yet. But I’ll tell you what I know: nothing.”

“Fine. Then I need to talk to you about Tommy.”

Liam groaned, motioning for Quinn to follow him into the kitchen. “I need to get some coffee in my system. You want some?”

“Sure.”

Liam’s kitchen was one of the tiniest Quinn had ever seen. Instead of a stove there was a hot plate with two burners. He did have a microwave, but his refrigerator was one of those small cubes college kids keep in their dorm rooms. The only open wall space sported an Ireland 2009 calendar.

Liam began pouring coffee from a French press. “Sorry, I don’t have anything here to go with this,” he said with a yawn. “I usually steal a hunk of soda bread when I get to Mom and Dad’s.”

“Nothing better.”

Liam cracked a small, sleepy smile. “You can say that again.”

Quinn looked around the kitchen again. “Nice place.”

“It’s okay.” Liam put a cup of coffee down in front of his brother.

“Thanks.” Quinn took a sip and gagged. “Think you made this strong enough?”

Liam shrugged unapologetically. “That’s the way I like it.”

Quinn forced down another sip, reasoning that no matter how awful it might taste, a man could never have enough coffee. “When’s the last time you saw Tommy?”

“A few days ago. Why?”

“He say anything interesting? Boast about anything stupid?”

“Apart from the fact he’s been banging some rich widow on the Upper East Side? No. Why? What’s up?”

“I’m gonna tell you something that you can’t tell anyone.”

Liam looked wary. “Yeah?”

“I talked to Declan Sweeney last night and, while he was afraid to come right out and say it, he hinted Tommy was involved. Has Tommy said anything to you about what’s been going on in the neighborhood?”

“All he’s talked about lately is this MILF he’s been screwing.”

“He ever say anything further about PJ’s getting beat up?”

“Don’t you think I would have told you if he did?”

Quinn rubbed his temples in frustration. “Li, I really need your help here. Seriously. Your best friend is one of Whitey’s guys. The more info you can get for me, the bigger my chances that my article could take Whitey down.”

“Yeah, you told me that already, Quinn. But for such a brilliant reporter, I would have thought you’d realize that if I all of a sudden show interest in what Tommy’s up to, it’s going to look really suspicious. Whitey might think I want in.”

“He never pressured you to come in when you ran errands for him as a kid?”

Annoyance crossed Liam’s face. “Believe it or not, no. He knew I was just doing it as a favor to Tommy.”

“And Tommy’s never tried to persuade you to come in over the years?” Quinn prodded.

Liam rose and went to the fridge, his back to Quinn. “Sometimes,” he said tersely. “But he drops it when I make it clear that I don’t have any interest.”

“Have you ever wondered why he’s never tried to extort protection money from Mom and Dad, since the Hart is on his turf?”

“Yeah, I’ve thought about that, too. I’ve never had the balls to ask them about it, though. I just figured Whitey must be scared of Mom.”

“They must hate Tommy coming in.”

Liam looked irked. “Quinn, he’s my oldest friend, and they’ve known him since he was little. I’m sorry that he’s not perfect like you,” Liam sneered. “It must be a real burden.”

“I never claimed to be perfect.”

“You didn’t have to; Mom and Dad do it for you. They’ve always thought the sun shines out your ass.”

“They think the sun shines out your ass, too,” Quinn retorted, “but you’ve spent so much time being angry at me for God knows what, you couldn’t see it.” Quinn leaned forward across the table. “I’ve spent my whole goddamn life trying to be a good big brother to you, and all I’ve ever gotten is resentment. What the hell gives?”

Liam’s jaw clenched. “Nothing gives.”

“Oh,
bullshit
. Let’s just get it out once and for all, all right, so we can move past it. What’s the deal? Was it jealousy?”

“Maybe,” Liam muttered reluctantly. “Maybe I figured out pretty young that I couldn’t compete with you in any way, shape, or form. Quinn, the star athlete. Quinn, the valedictorian. You walk in a room, and everyone is drawn to you. You have any idea what it’s like to be in your shadow?”

“So you decided to become a bad boy underachiever?”

“Fuck you, Quinn.”

“No, fuck you, Liam!” Quinn was surprised to find himself losing it. “Don’t pin your lack of ambition on me! You’re the one who chose to hang out with Tommy and goof off in school! At any point along the way, you could have made a different decision, but you didn’t.”

Liam pushed back from the table and stood, rigid with anger. “So you think I’m a failure.” He jerked his chin up defiantly. “Go ahead. Say what you’ve always wanted to say to me: that you think I’m a fuckin’ failure.”

Quinn could tell Liam was itching to punch him, and part of Quinn wanted to tell him to, to take a swing so he could get it out of his system and they could clear the air once and for all. But he knew it would turn into an out-and-out brawl, and considering he got winded walking up three flights of stairs, he was pretty sure he’d lose, so he kept his mouth shut, sighing wearily. “I don’t think you’re a fuckin’ failure, Liam, okay? I know that, unlike Tommy, you work your ass off at a legitimate job. I just think you sell yourself short, and that pains me, because you could be anything you want to be. You could have gone to college like Sinead and me. You’ve got the brains.”

“How is being a bartender selling myself short?” Liam challenged. “I know this might be incomprehensible to you, but I actually enjoy it. I like meeting different kinds of people. I like the tradition of keeping it in the family. You’re a goddamn snob, Quinn, you know that, implying that working at a bar is somehow
beneath
me.”

Liam’s observation hit like a soft blow to the gut. He was right. What he’d just said to his brother indeed implied he thought what Liam did was somehow lesser than what he did.

“You’re right,” Quinn admitted quietly. “You’re totally right.”

Liam looked surprised. “Thanks for admitting it,” he mumbled.

“Look, Liam. It bugs me that you’ve spent most of your life resenting me, that you can’t see what a great guy you are, too. You gotta let it go. Grudges eat people alive. Don’t you know that?”

“We’re Irish, Quinn,” Liam said wryly. “We love a good grudge.”

Quinn chuckled. “Sad but true.” He stood up and approached his brother. “Can we at least agree to cut each other a little slack?”

Quinn held out a hand for his brother to shake.

“What’s this handshake bullshit?” Liam enveloped him in a tentative hug.

Sensing they were both clearly uncomfortable with the display of affection, Quinn broke contact and changed the subject. “What’s on your agenda for today?”

“Hitting the gym, then helping Dad with the books. You?”

“Not sure. I might head over to the
Sent
, then call Natalie.”

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

Quinn tried not to get defensive. “That’s not the way I roll,” he said as he walked to the door.

“I guess as long as she’s fine with that,” Liam said as he watched Quinn head down the hallway to the steps.

Quinn turned to look back.
“She is . . . so far.”