“Too late for what?” Malcolm asked. Through the window, Malcolm watched his mother open a little spot in the dirt with her hand trowel. He watched her lower a zinnia into the hole, the perfect cube of roots and soil. He watched her pat the topsoil around it like she was tucking it in. Mr. Sheridan had dropped off the flats of flowers for her, left them on the back porch.
“How’d he know what to get?” Malcolm asked when he saw them. Mostly zinnias and impatiens. Some marigolds. “How’d he know what colors?”
“I get the same every year!” she said. “Of course he knows!”
“I have a possible opportunity for you,” Adrian said. “I know you’re tied up with the Half Moon, but I think it might be worth your time to meet. At the very least we can hang out for a bit. I’m actually in New York for my cousin’s wedding.”
“I’m not tied up with the Half Moon. I sold it. You didn’t hear?”
“No. I heard it wasn’t—I heard it was struggling, to tell you the truth. That’s why I thought of you for this job. That you sold is even better. Do you have an hour or two today? But it has to be today.”
“Sure,” Malcolm said to Adrian. “Why not.” Jess wouldn’t be home until dinnertime.
“Great. I’ll meet you—where? The Alibi Lounge?”
“I’m dressed to do yard work. Somewhere casual. How about Stella’s?” Malcolm liked their grilled cheese with tomato.
* * *
As soon as he saw Adrian, he wondered again why he hadn’t called sooner. Adrian was a nice guy, got along with everyone. He was smart, went to Fordham for college and started bartending for extra cash. Like Hugh always warned, cash was a siren song too seductive for mortal men, and Adrian fell prey. He graduated from Fordham and got a day job at a big ad agency, but quickly figured out he’d give up a third of his salary in taxes. He’d be better off bartending more instead of less. Malcolm couldn’t remember why he ended up in Gillam, but he put in maybe four years at the Half Moon.
Adrian showed Malcolm a photo of his baby daughter on his phone.
“She’s beautiful,” Malcolm said.
“You and Jess?” Adrian asked. “No kids, right?”
“Right,” Malcolm said. “Jess is good though. Things are good.” If Adrian had heard the Half Moon was struggling, he’d probably also heard about Jess. Like all good bartenders, he had an excellent poker face.
“That kind of makes it easier,” Adrian said.
“Makes what easier?”
“I’ll just get right to it,” Adrian said. “Have you ever been to St. John?”
* * *
The island was still recovering from being hit by two back-to-back category five hurricanes in September 2017, Irma followed by Maria. Adrian showed him photos of the devastation in general, and of what the property looked like when he started. Of course, Malcolm had already seen the end result in Neat.
The place is doing really well, Malcolm recounted to Jess later. Jess gave him a look that said she’d heard that one before. Adrian didn’t own it, he managed it, and now the owner wanted his help opening a new spot in Maui. He already had bars in Anguilla and Turks and had plans to open one in the Maldives. He was looking into property by some famous lake in Guatemala. Ecotourism was booming. The owner was CEO of a technology company in the Bay Area. He had no interest in the day-to-day of his bars, but he loved the idea of having them, an antidote to the rest of his life. He knew an absent owner in a mostly cash business was asking for trouble, so he was careful. He ran his bars the way he ran his company, offered contracts and benefits, a housing allowance to salaried hires who had to relocate. He held annual meetings where the managers of all locations got together for a few days, shared ideas. He relied on the people he trusted.
“So I’d take Adrian’s place in St. John now that it’s up and running. A contract would protect us since we’d be uprooting our lives. If it doesn’t work out and he wants to fire me in six months, I’m guaranteed a year’s salary. We get free housing for one year. If it does work out, I’d potentially be asked to stay or oversee opening one of the new places. That’s what’s happening to Adrian.
“Or,” Malcolm added when Jess didn’t say anything. “I could be done once the contract is up.”
“So if you did this—”
“You’d come, too.” He faltered as he searched for the right words. “I mean, I hope you would. You kind of hate your job, Jess. I know you do.”
“I hate the commute more than I hate my job. Besides, I can’t just quit. We can’t afford it.”
“We can’t afford it here, you mean. But there? We’d sell this house. We’d live for free for a whole year. After that, yeah, okay, St. John is expensive so maybe we stay, maybe we go somewhere else. Don’t they need lawyers everywhere?”
“It seems crazy.”
“Maybe. But it’s certainly not the craziest idea either of us has had lately.”
Jess grimaced, pretended to look behind her like he might be talking to someone else.
“I mean, everyone else here feels stuck. I hear it all day long. But us? We’re not stuck like they are. So why are we here?”
Jess frowned. “What about your mom?”
“I know. I’ve been thinking about her. All I’m saying is that I don’t want to look down the barrel of the same routine for the next forty years, if we make it that long. And I know you don’t either.”
“You love your routine. I’ve never known a single person who enjoys going to Food King on a Sunday afternoon except for you.”
Malcolm stood, started pacing. “I do love it, you’re right. But, I wouldn’t be sorry to take a break from it. Can’t a person want two things at once? I need to see something else. I need to go to a place where no one knows us. And with everything that’s happened? I have to get out of here. I have to do one interesting thing. I have to hit the reset button.”
“I get that,” Jess said, leaning back to take it all in. She could tell he was already picturing himself in flip-flops, sand between his toes. If they left New York for a year, she’d never get her position back. But she could already feel it: walking along a sunny street in a place she’d glimpsed only once, a stop on a three-day cruise she’d taken for someone’s bachelorette. Somewhere no one knew them.
“And what? You just have to decide? This amazing job is yours for the taking?”
“Well, I have to meet the guy. I have to interview. But I’m sure I’ll get it.”
Jess stared at him for a moment, and then laughed. “It’s unreal how cocky you are. You know that, right?”
* * *
Once they had all the information, Jess did a search of the owner’s name and whistled after the first result. “He’s a total nerd,” she said, but then her eye caught on something. “Oh, he’s from the Bronx. His dad was a bus driver. His mom died when he was a kid.”
“He’s like us,” Malcolm said.
“Give or take a hundred million,” she said, though she knew what he meant.
The owner’s name was Noah Grayson, and he and his assistant had interviewed four candidates in total, flying each down to Key West for a day. Malcolm would be the fifth. The interview went pretty well, Malcolm thought. He answered their questions about budgeting, negotiating with vendors, keeping staff in line. He regaled them with stories about the Half Moon’s wildest nights. He did less well when it came to questions about marketing and promotion. He had no familiarity with social media but he made them laugh at least. They had him make three drinks. Two to their specifications, one that Malcolm could improvise. They took a walk by the marina, and Noah asked him if he knew much about boating. Malcolm watched the boats bobbing in the water as he admitted he didn’t. Then Noah asked where his favorite beach was. Malcolm said Beach Haven, New Jersey.
“I know Beach Haven. We used to go to Long Beach Island,” Noah said.
But Malcolm had said Beach Haven because almost everyone who named the nicest beach on the Jersey Shore said Beach Haven. It was a safe answer. And he didn’t want to risk lying, pretending he’d been somewhere he hadn’t.
“Sorry. That’s not true. My real favorite beach is called Sunset Cove. My friend Patrick calls it Cigarette Cove. It’s on a lake, about three hours north of the city. The beach itself is not nice, honestly, but I love it there. Maybe it’s cleaner now. I haven’t been there in a long time.”