8 Argentina
The ride they got was not in Alfred’s fancy car. That was for when he was pleased with people. It was an old fashioned carriage that could have passed as a hearse that they were given a ride in. Perhaps in a bit of shock, they just sat in the carriage, staring forward.
After a bit, Gael banged the back of his head against the wall behind his head and groaned. “I need a drink.”
“I can make you some calming tea when we get home.”
“Home,” Gael said wistfully. “I don’t have a home. If I go back home, my mother will murder me for screwing up what Alfred pays her.”
It was too dark inside the carriage for anyone to see how Jack’s face paled.
“You have a home. You’ll live with me.”
“I’m responsible for the little kids. I can’t let my mom turn Kate-Marie out. I need to protect them.”
“I’ll help you,” Jack said while holding his hand out to Gael. “It wasn’t a legal marriage, but I meant it in my heart.”
“You don’t even know me, Jack. I don’t believe in God the way you do. Just to be clear, I’m a whore, a pickpocket, and I’ve hurt some men really badly. You need to keep in mind that Alfred will never be out of our lives. He owns me, Jack. Owns me. He will never leave us alone.”
“I’ll pray for him,” Jack said, giving Gael’s hand a squeeze. “We don’t have to know and control everything. Do you want to be with me?”
“Ta,” Gael said. Eyes squished together to keep tears from falling, he looked at the black window shade to his left. “I look at your face and hear your voice and I feel joy like you’re music. I don’t know what love is, but that feeling is pretty good.”
“Fine then, we’ll work the rest out. We have to have faith.”
“I have faith that everything is going to turn to shit.”
“I’ll have faith in good things for both of us.”
<><>
Alfred
The following Monday found Alfred, Lord of Fairfax, who had recreated himself as an American tycoon, sitting in his office. A desk of oak and granite, Persian rugs that were meant to be walked on very lightly by those admitted to the office, and the view from the corner windows out over a gray concrete and gargoyle gritty New York set a stage just as much as any other room in his theatrical home. Legitimate business was no less dangerous than his more profitable business endeavors. The flashy environment was just a polite warning.
There was a three beat knock on his door followed by patience.
“Yes,” he said, looking up from the report he was reading.
The door opened and a woman with dark caramel skin and raven hair swept into a bun stepped just into his view. She wore a dark blue dress, Paris fashion and perhaps a bit too much for an office. “Misters Alderwood and Stevens for you, sir.”
“Send them in. Bring me a blue package from the safe, if you would, Mildred.” He closed the folder he’d been working with and set it into a side drawer.
The two men who entered were dressed well enough, neatly center parted hair, trimmed moustaches. The senior of two had ink stains on his fingers and the gold ring he wore was scuffed with the years it had been in his family. Both of the men had been in service to the Fairfax family, and to Alfred, to understand where they were, or at least they should have.
He motioned them to the two solid oak chairs, their backs filled in with art nouveau style stained glass instead of pillows. The chairs were neither comfortable nor easily movable. “Sit.”
“I’m not a dog, sir,” Mr. Alderwood snapped. “What is it you want?”
“If you were a dog, you would be better trained.” Alfred smiled. It wasn’t friendly. They sat.
“You will be training a young associate of mine. He is fluent in Latin, English, and Irish, with a workable smattering of French. He is very good at languages and very clever, almost too clever for his own good at times. His work load is to be reasonable and primarily educational. You will pay him a slightly above average salary and you will be kind in your corrections of his social behavior.” Alfred pulled another folder from his drawer, opened to reveal two contracts. “Sign.”
Mr. Stevens nodded, mute, eyes wide.
Mr. Alderwood lifted his chin, tilted his head, his lip twitching in a sneer. “So you’d like us to train an Irish whore as a lawyer? An Irish faggot?”
Alfred’s eyes darkened, his hands lying lightly together. “Mr. Alderwood, you have a very short memory. I own your firm, your house, and I’m going to have you transferred to Argentina. I hear it’s warm there. Mr. Stevens, do you feel as though you could be helpful to my associate?”
“Yes, sir,” Stevens said, nodding, moving forward to sign the contract put before him. “His language skills will be a fine asset and speak to a sound and agile mind.”
“Indeed,” Alfred agreed. “He will deal only in cases that are beyond reproach. Do you understand me? His record will be scrubbed spotless. I want a perfect educational background constructed for him. Do you understand me?”
“Absolutely sir,” Stevens agreed. “I’ll be very happy to welcome our newest associate. I will personally take care of all the details.”
Mildred knocked in her three dot pattern.
“Come.” Alfred reviewed the signature, blotted it, and tucked it away safely.
She opened the door and wheeled in a silver cart. On which was a silver tray with a package wrapped in blue.
“Mr. Stevens, please take that package, add it to my retainer and bill Mr. McNeil’s hours to my account. Write to me if you need more funds or face difficulties of any kind. This project is personal to me and the consequences of displeasing me will be severe.”
“Of course, sir,” Stevens agreed, putting the wrapped stack of money into his case.
“Now, look,” Mr. Alderwood said, “I don’t want any transfers.”
“I can take care of that option for you too, Mr. Alderwood,” Alfred said calmly, but his smile was extremely not friendly.
“Argentina will be lovely,” Mr. Alderwood said, face going pale.
“Good. I’d hate for you to leave my employment before a nice retirement age.”
“I’m very glad to work for you,” Mr. Alderwood said.
“You remember that now,” Alfred said, motioning for them to leave.
<><>
Thursday Morning.
A smartly dressed boy delivered an envelope of linen paper and dark black ink addressed to Mr. Gael McNeil. Mrs. Nelson waved him through to the back stairs that went up two flights to Jack and Gael’s flat. With his messenger cap under his arm, the boy knocked politely.
Gael, who had on his one pair of black tuxedo pants, a half buttoned shirt, and three days of stubble opened the door. “Yeah?”
“Mr. Galen Fracis McNeil?”
“Yeah. What’s it to ya?”
“I have a letter for you, sir. If you could just sign here for it?” The boy pulled a little blue notepad from his pocket and held out a short yellow pencil.
Gael signed. It couldn’t be from the police. They’d have just sent someone round for him and that would have been the end of the world. “Thanks.”
“Good day, sir” The boy smiled and ran back down the stairs.
Gael stood there staring at the letter until the boy’s bell rang on his bike. The letter was from The Law Offices of Alderwood, Stevens, and Milo. If someone were suing him, they could take payment in blow jobs, because that’s all he fuckin had.
Another couple moments of standing there staring at the letter, he took a deep breath and opened it up. Inside were two crisp twenty dollar bills and a letter offering him a position as a law clerk, to lead to rights to take the bar exam, and a splendid salary that was more than he’d ever made in his previous ‘career’. The twenty dollars was an advance on his first month’s salary and they requested he dress professionally. The workday was to start promptly at 9 am.
He didn’t realize he was crying as he kissed the envelope. “Sweet Mary, Mother of God!”
Part of him seriously wondered if Jack’s god could have done something like this, but most of him was too grown up to believe in fairytales.
A broom handle hit the floor below him and someone muttered in muffled words about not having a Catholic in the house.
As quickly as he could, he got on his shoes, shaved half well, then ran all the way to the hospital. He was going to be a lawyer! He could be someone worthy to stand beside Jack!
