Chapter 8
Amy
I always loved Adam's Park in the center of the city. It was like a mini version of Central Park in New York, a place where people would come and relax under the summer sun, having picnics and parties and walking their dogs.
I used to come here when I was younger with my mom. We'd walk together down to the large pond in the middle and feed the ducks. As a kid you could get such joy from simple pleasures like that, but it was never the same when you grew up.
I sat on a bench now, a small loaf of bread in my hand, ripping pieces off and throwing them to the swarming birds. Moorhens and geese joined the feast, all of them fighting for the scraps I threw into the water.
I thought of Jude and the night I met him. Maybe these were the same ducks who'd been sleeping on the bank? Maybe they'd awoken when we splashed and swam in the water? Maybe they'd watched us disturb their evening, breaking the calm of that quiet night.
I felt bad for the way I'd left the other day, walking out on him like that. I wasn't that person. I didn't like to hurt people or let them down. But my life was like this now, I was like this: never committing to anyone, to anything; keeping myself free to move on like the changing of the winds.
I'd grown closed off over the last few years, unwilling to let people through my defences. He'd broken me down twice, catching me off guard, getting under my skin and under my sheets. I'd let him through, been drawn into him, and now he was inching into my thoughts. It was exactly what I always avoided. If I never got close to anyone, I'd never get hurt. It would always be easier like that.
It was a Thursday afternoon, and I'd been back for just over a week. When I left Jude on Tuesday morning I went straight for my hire car and drove to a motel on the outskirts of town. It was cheaper, more remote, out in a place I didn't recognize, didn't know. I liked it like that.
The world continued to flow by around me, people trickling past lazily as they gazed up at the warm sun. There were couples, young and old, holding hands and talking quietly. There were families, large and small, feeding the ducks to my left and right and playing with their energetic dogs.
I looked beyond the pond upon the wide open space in the middle of the park, its boundaries surrounded by trees, offering shade for some people who sat beneath them on picnic blankets, eating, drinking, laughing, reading. Footballs were being thrown about, no doubt by college kids enjoying their time out of class. An envy grew in me at the sight. Friends. Groups of people having fun. I used to have that. Not any more.
But I wasn't going to complain. The life I led now was a dream for most people: traveling, playing a game I love, making plenty of money, driving a nice car, staying in nice hotels. I knew people who did the same and we'd see each other in poker clubs and casinos from time to time. I even had a few people I'd stay with in some cities, so I wasn't completely friendless.
But then, there was something missing, that closeness that you'd get from deep friendships, from your parents and family, from your boyfriend or girlfriend. Ever since my mom died I'd turned down this route, becoming more isolated and self sufficient. I'd stopped spending so much time with my friends and ended up losing them as I drifted away.
In some ways, subconsciously, I was doing it as preparation. I knew I'd be leaving soon, and I knew my life would change forever when I did. At that time I never expected to return to Branton. Like a child I thought I could cut it out of my life forever and forget everything in my past; forget my father and the way I'd grown up; forget the death of my mother. But, of course, I couldn't. I began to realize that if I didn't confront my past, I'd never be able to build a proper future.
I looked down at my watch. It was coming up to 3 PM now, and time was pressing. I threw the last remains of the loaf of bread into the water and stood, swinging my handbag over my shoulder.
I had a date.
….
Jude
It was about midday on a Thursday afternoon, and I had a few people down at the poker club engaged in a 24 hour straight session.
Some of these guy were f*cking machines. They'd come down one evening and wouldn't leave until the next. They'd literally play all night and straight through the next day as well, fuelled by my well stocked supplies of snack food and alcohol. If they wanted anything I didn't have, I'd send someone off to get it for them.
Frankly, I'd do anything to keep these guys around. The longer they stayed, the more my cut would be at the end of the night. I'd take a percentage of the profits people made and, if someone won big, so did I. When I had a couple of guys down here all night, they'd be clearing people out over and over again and building a massive f*cking stack of money. By the time they left, my 'commission' for the night could be up into the thousands..
I'd left Zig running the show the previous night while I went off and took care of the bar. I had to keep up appearances over there as much as possible, just in case Crash had his all-seeing-eye on me.
By the time the bar shut, I was f*cking spent so went home to catch some rest. I told Zig to let me know if there were any problems, but there rarely were. Now I was back, and the same damn guys who I'd seen come in during the early evening were still there, heavy bags under their eyes, wearily slumped in their chairs.
Zig looked just as bad, still keeping watch from behind. He was a f*cking trooper that guy, this ever present force in the room that you just didn't wanna f*ck with.
I came down the metal stairs and patted 'The King' on the back. This guy put a fair bit of money in my pocket, coming down every now and then for these all night sessions. I swear, I'd never seen him bust out and lose his cash once. Every single time, he'd stand up and walk away in heavy profit. That's why I called him 'The King'.
“Still working huh King?” I asked as my hand hit the top of his shoulder.
He merely grunted and looked at his cards. I knew, by this point, I wasn't going to get much out of him.
There was another guy at the table who'd been there all night as well. He'd come down a couple of times, but wasn't a proper regular. Finally, filling a couple more spaces, were two young college kids, probably with rich parents, who'd come down from time to time and blow their money after a night out.
I'll bet King is loving having them around.
I shuffled over to Zig, who looked half dead, and stepped in close. “Any trouble last night?” I asked, glancing up at his giant frame.
“Nothing boss. King's been cleaning up.”
I nodded. “OK, head home and get some rest. I can take it from here.”
Zig nodded before lumbering off towards the stairs. He stamped heavily up them, sending this metal clanging sound crashing around the room.
“Hey, hey,” said King, turning his head and shooting Zig the evils. “Keep it down, will ya.”
Zig lightened his steps and carried on before disappearing out into the early afternoon air.
I moved into the kitchen to see a few bottles of whiskey had been sunk over the course of the evening. I took a swig of a half full bottle before filling a glass and trotting back through the main room and into my office. I sat down and slumped into the chair, wrecked. With the week I'd had I hadn't been sleeping that well.
It had only been a couple of days since Amy ran out on me for the second time, and the girl would not get out of my head. It must have been lust, but it felt like more. No damn girl usually made me feel like this. I reckon it must be this 'playing hard to get' thing. It really does f*cking work!
I ran through some paperwork for an hour or so before hearing a knock at the door.
“Come in,” I said.
The door opened and Gus walked in. I'd called him down to watch the door while Zig was away. He was a similar type: big lad, ex marine.
“Mr Logan, there's a guy upstairs who wants to come down.”
“Has he been here before? Do I know him?” I don't know why I asked. Gus was new and he'd only just moved to town. He had no idea of anything round here.
“Er, I don't know Mr Logan.”
F*cks sake. The last thing I wanted to do right now was screen another newbie. Frankly this entire place was getting out of hand. How had this guy heard of us? People just weren't keeping their f*cking mouths shut, that was the problem.
I stood up and walked through the door as Gus held it open. Oh I'll find out exactly who's been running their tongue. I'll ask this f*cking guy outright and then teach his blabbermouth friend a lesson in keeping secrets.
I walked purposefully to the stairs and marched up them.
“Gus, stick with me,” I said as I went.
I might need the guy.
When I reached the top of the stairs, however, and opened the door, my lungs almost collapsed in my chest.
Holy f*ck, what the hell was he doing here?!
“Mr O'Brien,” I said quickly, my voice going suddenly high, as if my balls had just shot back up into my body. “What can I do for you?”
“So you know me?” he asked, his voice calm and composed. To his sides stood two guards, both of them wearing black suits and shades. They both looked like Neo out of the Matrix, only with shaved heads and mean faces.
“Yes sir, I know you.”
Of course I knew Conor O'Brien. Anyone who'd spent any length of time in this city knew Conor O'Brien. He was the big man in town, the top boss for any organized crime that went on. He had a public face with official businesses – that's how most people knew him – but he also had a dark underbelly, dealing in drugs and ruling certain districts with an iron fist.
“And I know you,” he responded. “You're Jude Logan. I knew your father.”
I nodded, trying to work out why a man like him would be at a little poker club like this. Was he looking for a cut on my business? Was I operating in his territory? I hadn't even thought about that before, but I guess that's how these real gangsters worked.
“Yes Mr O'Brien, you worked together didn't you?”
He smiled. “A fine man he was, I was sad to hear of his death.”
“Thank you sir, it was a real shock.”
He kept looking at me, waiting for me to speak. I didn't know what else to say but to ask the same question again: “so what can I do for you sir?”
He looked over my shoulder and past Gus, who clearly had no idea who this guy was. “I understand you're running a poker club down there?”
Shit, I hadn't thought about him. I didn't want Crash to find out. I didn't want the authorities to find out. I'd forgotten about Conor f*cking O'Brien.
“Um, yeah, well it's used for a couple of things. We play poker sometimes, yes.”
His face hardened. “Don't lie to me Jude. You're running an illegal poker club here aren't you?”
I dropped my head a little, this pathetic subservient look running over my face. I couldn't imagine Crash looking like this, or my father. “Yes, sir, I am.”
He smiled again, his expression loosening up. “Well then, I'd like a game.”
I lifted my head back up. “A game?”
“Yes, I'd like to play you, Jude, one on one.”
“Um...OK...but we have a game on now.”
“Well tell them to leave,” he said bluntly.
“Um, yes Mr O'Brien, I'll do that.”
I could see the frown of confusion on Gus' face as I turned and walked back him down the steps, clapping my hands as I went to grab everyone's attention.
King and the rest of them looked up at me as I spoke: “OK guys, game's over.”
“Huh, what do ya mean?” shouted King.
“Nah way dude, we've just got here.” It was those two f*cking college jocks.
I raised my voice and said it again. “I said, game's over, OK. Dealer, count up their money.”
King stood up suddenly, his extended session brought prematurely to an end. “Jude, what the f*ck is this. There are other poker clubs I can do to you know...”
As I was preparing an answer a voice sounded behind me, booming loudly: “Is there a problem here?”
I turned to see O'Brien walking casually down the stairs.
The look on King's face changed suddenly, his anger running cold. “Mr O'Brien,” he said in slight shock. “No problem, no sir, no problem at all. We're all leaving.”
A silence suddenly fell as the four players gathered their money and climbed the stairs to the exit, ducking their heads in submission as they passed O'Brien and his men. They all knew exactly who this guy was, and not just his public face either.
O'Brien waited patiently for them all to filter out into the alley before completing his trip to the bottom of the stairs. He wandered slowly around the room, inspecting it.
“So this is your little poker club is it Mr Logan? Not a great deal to look at, is it?”
“No sir, it's very no-frills down here. Would you like a drink?”
“Whiskey, rocks.”
I nodded to Gus who moved into the kitchen.
Mr O'Brien carried on circling the room, opening the door to my office and peering inside. He didn't look at all impressed.
He clicked his fingers and one of his men walked forward, pulling a large bundle of notes from his jacket breast pocket. He handed the money to O'Brien, who dropped it down in front of the dealer.
“Twenty thousand dollars OK?” he asked casually.
I stepped forward towards the table. “Yes Mr O'Brien, that's fine.”
I sat down and the dealer issued us both the same amount chips as Gus came back out of the kitchen with the drinks. He didn't looked too pleased to be playing waiter. If he knew who this guy was, he'd do whatever he f*cking told him.
“So, Jude, how long have you been running this place?”
“Not long sir, 6 months maybe.”
“And are you doing well?”
“I do OK.”
We started playing. O'Brien was, as I'd have expected, an aggressive player. He'd bet straight out with thousands of dollars frequently. To be fair, twenty thousands bucks was probably just pocket change to him. I knew he was here for a different reason. It wasn't to make money.
He engaged in casual small talk, talking about the weather and my other work at the bar. Clearly he knew more about me than I thought. I wondered what else he knew? I wondered why the hell he was here?
It wasn't until about 30 minutes in that he began to reveal his real reason for being there.
“I understand you know my daughter.” The comment came suddenly, out of nowhere, following a period of silence between us. It caught me off guard. I didn't know what he was talking about.
“Your daughter, Mr O'Brien? Not to my knowledge, no.”
His eyes narrowed on me. “I told you earlier not to lie to me. Don't start now.”
He was looking at me with a new intensity now, his eyes starting to burn.
“I assure you Mr O'Brien, I don't know your daughter. I didn't even know you had a daughter.”
“DON'T LIE TO ME.” His voice was suddenly loud, bouncing round the walls and shattering the quiet clam in my little poker den. I could see his guards out of the corner of my eye standing at the bottom of the stairs, primed to move if their boss gave them any hint to do so.
“Sir, I'm not lying to you. I've never met your daughter!”
His fist slammed down hard on the table, his poker chips scattering around. The dealer sat back sharply as O'Brien stood, his face fuming. I'd heard of his temper, but never thought I'd experience it first hand.
His voice was seething now, creeping between his clenched teeth. “Then how come you spent the night with her only two days ago? How come she came to this f*cking poker den!”
His words shot into me. Was he talking about Amy?! Was her name Amy O'Brien?! Jesus Christ she was his daughter!
A single word crept quietly from my lips: “Amy...”
“Yes Amy! I had a man follow her from here. He saw her go into her hotel....and you went in after her. You didn't come out until the following morning. So, Mr Logan, I ask again, do you know my daughter?” There was a deep menace to his words now. They crackled and burned like a fire in his mouth. The sudden change in him was terrifying. He'd gone from calm and friendly to volcanic in a second.
“Mr O'Brien, I had no idea she was your daughter. I wasn't lying to you sir. She never told me her surname.”
His eyes stayed on me, piercing me. I wanted to look away but didn't, holding my stare on him.
“Are you still lying to me Mr Logan?” he asked slowly, almost provokingly.
I shook my head. “I haven't lied to you sir. I met your daughter at our casino – Logan's – last Friday night. She never told me her name. Then she came here on Monday, she didn't know it was my place. It was all coincidence Mr O'Brien, I promise you I only found out her first name a couple of days ago, and never knew she was your daughter.”
“And when she came here on Monday...” he seemed to struggle with his words, as if they were making him sick, “...you stayed with her in her hotel room. You...slept with her?”
I didn't know what to say. Jesus Christ why did she have to be his daughter, of all people!
I slowly nodded, my eyes sheepish. “Yes sir.”
He seemed to recoil slightly at my words. I mean, seriously, the girl was 21 years old, she could do what she wanted.
“If you see her again, you're a dead man.” The threat rumbled through the room. He was speaking quietly, but every single word struck at me like a boxer's blow. “I don't want her involved with a man like you. I don't want her involved in a world like this.”
I was struck dumb in the room, a silence falling. I wanted to tell him to go f*ck himself. I wanted to tell him that he couldn't tell me what to do. I wanted to tell him that he was the biggest f*cking hypocrite in the world. A man like me? He was the f*cking devil himself!
But I didn't say any of that. It didn't matter that I was a Logan. It didn't matter that Charles Logan had been my father. No one messed with Conor O'Brien. If I said anything back to him right now, I might just end up six feet under by the end of the day.
So no, I kept my mouth shut and just looked at him. He was the guy who made the rules. Everyone else just played by them. And if you didn't? Well, you might not live to regret it.
“I'm glad we had this chat Jude,” he said after a brief lull, his expression returning suddenly to normal. “Keep the change.”
Then he turned suddenly, leaving his $20,000 at the table, and paced towards the stairs. He marched up without looking back, his two guards following behind, and walked briskly out into the sunlight.
….
Amy
I approached the restaurant. It was just off the South corner of Adam's Park, tucked away down a quiet side street off the main road.
I could see a man standing outside the door. He wore a black suit and sunglasses, watching the street like a hawk. Thursday afternoon at a quiet restaurant didn't usually call for a bouncer outside of the door. But I knew exactly why the guy was there.
His gaze followed me as I walked down the road.
“Good afternoon miss O'Brien,” he said as I got closer. I recognized him as the same guy who'd been at my father's side when I went to the house on Monday.
“Your father is waiting inside,” he said.
I walked past him and in through the door. It was an Italian restaurant, but empty inside. I saw another guard sitting at the bar, a glass of iced water in front of him. He gestured to the corner of the room, where my father sat in silence.
As he saw me he stood up and walked forward. I met him in the middle of the room and he hugged me and kissed my cheeks.
“I'm so glad you called Amy. We didn't have a chance to talk properly on Monday.”
He smiled, his face lighting up, before turning and pulling out a seat for me at the table.
“Why is there no one else here,” I asked as I sat down.
“Oh, I own the restaurant. I shut it for the afternoon.”
I suppose he wanted to talk in private, probably away from the house. It made sense, but still, there was something completely paranoid about him. The guard outside, a second guard at the bar. He had his car waiting out the front as well, a driver probably waiting to speed off at the first sign of trouble. It was all evidence of a life I hated.
“I wanted to apologize Amy, for the other day. I know there are issues between us, but all I want is my little girl back. I'll do anything to have you back in my life. I...I know I haven't been the greatest father, but I want to make that up to you. You're the most important thing in the world to me.”
His words were completely unexpected. He'd never, ever, spoken to me in that way.
“That's what I want too dad. I came back here to put the past behind us. But...” I paused briefly, “...it's not as easy as that.”
“I know, I know. It won't be easy, but I'd like to try honey. You're my little girl, and I love you.”
The guard from the bar walked over suddenly, interrupting us with a couple of drinks. He placed a glass of whiskey down in front of my father, and what appeared to be a hot chocolate in front of me.
“You do realize I'm 21 years old, don't you dad?” I asked. I said it with a mixture of jest and annoyance.
He smiled awkwardly. “Yes Amy...?”
I picked up the hot chocolate and widened my eyes. “I can drink now, you know. I'm not a little girl any more.”
“Oh, of course, stupid me. Um, Trevor, would you get Amy a....what would you like darling?”
“I'll have a Chardonnay please. Large.”
Trevor returned to the bar and brought me back a large glass of wine, setting it down in front of me.
“I do forget how you've grown up now,” he said. “I suppose it's because I haven't seen you in three years.” He spoke placidly. I knew there was a simmering anger inside him about the entire thing, but he wasn't going to bring that up again, not right now.
“Well, yes dad, I drink now. If I'd gone to college like you wanted, I'd be drinking a lot more, I can assure you.”
He stayed quiet at my remark. It was another area of disagreement between us.
“Look honey, I know you don't agree with what I do, and I know you still blame me for your mother's death. Believe me, I blame myself.” His voice went suddenly introverted as he spoke of my mother, memories flooding back. “But surely there's a way we can work past that. Surely we can still have some sort of relationship?”
He was saying all the right things. It was exactly what I wanted to hear from him. “And you're happy to accept that I play poker for a living?”
He forced a smile. “If it makes you happy. You know I'd rather you did something else Amy, but you're a grown woman and you can live the life you want. I'd just rather you didn't play at seedy poker dens and clubs. Can you not stick with proper, regulated casinos?”
He had this earnest look in his eye. I nodded and sipped my wine. I knew that I wouldn't do that, but he didn't have to know. Any time I went to a poker den I did my homework beforehand. I knew that they'd be safe, and I loved the thrill of it all. What did he really know about it? He just saw it as a dangerous world for his daughter, who he wanted to protect. I understood that, but I wouldn't stop. This was my life, my world, not his.
“So you'll stay?” he asked tentatively. I'd never seen him this, I don't know, vulnerable.
“I can't say that dad. I travel, it's what I do. But, I won't stay away. I'll come back more often.”
“And will you stay at the house when you do?”
I shook my head. “I can't stay there, no.” It was too difficult, it had too many bad memories for me.
“I understand. I'll buy you an apartment – somewhere in the center of the city. You can use it as a base when you come and visit.” There was an excitement in his voice now. It was quite touching. He really did seem to want me back, to build a new relationship.
“You don't have to do that dad. I can stay at hotels, I'm used to that.”
“No, no, I want to. You're going to need your own place if you come back here often.”
“I can't say how often that will be dad. I can't be sure of anything right now.”
“Well, no matter. It'll be a good real estate investment anyway. I'd also like to discuss security.” His voice was turning more formal. The businessman was coming to the fore.
“Security?”
“Well, honey, you might be a target. I need to know you're safe. Now, what I need you to do is to tell me when you're coming into town, and I can assign you a bodyguard. I'll make sure your apartment is properly secure and have men protecting you all the time. All I need from you is....”
“Dad,” I cut in, “stop. Stop this.”
His mouth shut suddenly and he looked at me in slight shock.
“This is exactly what I ran away from dad, don't you understand. I don't want to be under the microscope like that. I don't want to be part of your world. I don't want you taking control like this.”
The thought of having a bodyguard at my side turned my stomach. Having my dad knowing my every move, admitting that I was associated with everything he did, all the pain he caused. I wouldn't be able to bare that. I wanted nothing to do with it.
“But honey, I need to know you're safe.”
I shook my head. “This is f*cking ridiculous.” I couldn't help myself from swearing in front of him. I never had before. “What other daughter needs a bodyguard because of their father's job!”
“Politicians daughters, powerful businessmen....”
“Yeah, but that's different!”
“How is it different? I'm a businessman Amy, and I have enemies. It's a symptom of my success.”
“But you're not just a businessman! You're a mobster! I'm under threat because you're a crime boss, not because you're a businessman!”
He held his hands up. “Calm down Amy, we'll forget the security, OK. I shouldn't have brought it up, I'm sorry.”
I looked away. I couldn't lock eyes with him right now.
“Please Amy. Let's go back a step. No security, OK. I'm just overprotective. It's just me, something I have to deal with. I'm being paranoid, you won't need any protection.”
I nodded. “Paranoid, yeah! I mean, the house is swarming with guards. You've got the guy outside right now, the guy at the bar, the getaway car with the engine running. I mean, how can we build a relationship if this is your life?”
His eyes were sinking now, looking down at his whiskey. He looked deflated, almost beaten. No one spoke to him like this, but he knew he couldn't talk back to me. If he did, I'd leave and might never come back. He had to hear it, hear his life ripped to shreds by his own daughter. But he needed to hear it, he had to know how I felt.
“Tell me Amy, tell me what you want. You came back to fix things. Tell me how to fix this.” His eyes stayed low, his voice almost a whisper.
I didn't have an answer. Even seeing his security men brought everything back to me. How could we ever move forward if everything about him reminded me of the past?
“I don't know dad. It's hard, knowing what you do, knowing how mom died. I want to move on, I really do. I just don't know how we can.”
He reached for my hand across the table, a rare piece of affection, and stared me straight in the eyes. “I'd do anything Amy, to have my daughter back. Please, just try. Let me try to make things right.”
He was doing everything he could to patch things up, everything he could to bring me back. I couldn't say no to him. I had to try, I had to try to put everything out of my mind.
“OK daddy, I'll try.”