Chapter Twenty

  Holden

  This building was familiar.

  He’d been here before.

  Katie had told him some details about the Waterview project. He hadn’t paid much attention to the construction work going on up the street from Crow Bar. He just knew it was generally in the same area as the place where his dad used to work.

  But standing directly in front of it, realizing this was his new home… that was a lot to absorb.

  In her rush to leave, Katie had shown Holden where to find the keys to the condo, as well as the access to whatever car he wanted. He’d chosen the ‘69 Camaro, of course.

  She’d also insisted that he text Mike the address of his apartment, and the movers would take care of everything. She’d promised to meet him there later, hopefully before his shift at Crow Bar, if not after.

  Holden had ignored the offer and stopped by the basement apartment to pack a bag and to grab the cats.

  The original signage over the main double doors was faded but still the same as when he was a little boy.

  This was the old Newcastle Salmon cannery.

  Every Monday through Friday, when little Holden would trek home from school, he would pass by Newcastle Salmon right at 3:05 pm. At that exact moment, his father, Stan Murphy, would exit those doors as his 6 a.m. to 3 p.m. shift ended. They would walk home together.

  When the salmon farm had overfished the bay, his father had lost his job and went to work for the defense contractor in the suburbs, and they never walked home together like pals again.

  The crumbling brick had been repointed. A collection of evergreen plants and benches lined a new, wide sidewalk leading to the entrance, redesigned with a portico. But none of these pretty new things dimmed the nostalgia that bubbled up in his chest.

  He glanced around and saw the big machines working on several other empty mills and warehouses. The entire area was being tied together by a central pedestrian square with new cobblestones and a waterway with an architectural system of walkways and bridges made to look quaint. It looked a little too cool for Dockside. A lot too cool.

  Was he really going to live…here?

  Could he?

  Of course, you can, but should you? The place was a symbol of the fisheries that built Newcastle. On the other hand, these same fisheries ultimately used up all the local resources and then abandoned the town. The only one left was Newcastle Tuna, and even that wasn’t what it used to be.

  So, Holden concluded, maybe making the empty behemoths into something useful was a good idea. Too many jobs were going to the suburbs anyway.

  What did Holden know about those things? Not much.

  But now, he was finally putting two and two together. Waterview Luxury Condominiums. Harper Ross, the woman who was always asking people at Crow Bar to sign one petition or another—and riling up Dash in the process—had said something about that. She’d even written an editorial about it in the Dispatch. She wasn’t a fan. He’d tried to listen to her, but he always ended up tuning out. She talked too fast, and besides that, she and Dash would frequently wind up arguing. Those two were ridiculous.

  The cats in their carriers were getting loud. They did not like being in their carriers; it likely reminded them of trips to the vet.

  “Yeah…I hear ya. I’m getting cold too. Better get you kids indoors.”

  He wondered if other pet owners spoke to their cats.

  The journey to the top floor looked and felt like a replica of an original old-fashioned freight elevator. Inside the condo, nothing was old-fashioned except the floors and the exposed brick walls. A gleaming black grand piano was the first thing he saw when he stepped inside.

  “Whoa. Johnny, I don’t think we’re in Dockside anymore.” He carefully set the cat carriers on the great room's shining hardwood and let Johnny and June out. “What do you think, guys?”

  June immediately disappeared behind a set of heavy drapes on the far side of the great room. Letting her be, Holden followed Johnny Cash from room to room as the black cat explored their new home.

  The great room housed a huge wall-mounted television adjacent to the piano. Facing the television was a comfortable sectional sofa and a console table with all the latest game systems on the market.

  “Wow,” he said, picking up a controller. He had to remind himself those were not necessarily his things to keep. Only to borrow as long as he allowed Katie to keep him set up here.

  On the wall closest to the door was an enormous fireplace and a second sitting area with a leather sofa and a coffee table. Both the coffee table and the mantle had been decorated with some odd minimal vases and shit. A modern abstract painting hung on the exposed brick wall above the fireplace.

  Holden almost forgot the backpack he was carrying that contained all of the clothes he owned. Time to find the bedroom.

  Opening one door after another, Holden almost got lost, though it seemed impossible to get lost in what was essentially a large box. First, he accidentally found a fully stocked pantry; his groaning stomach reminded him to come back to that quickly, as soon as he saw the place to dump his clothes and backpack. Next, he found a half bathroom with a little second toilet with no seat.

  Finally, behind the door closest to the piano, he found the bedroom. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it was surprisingly small and modest for such a vast spread. The room contained a queen-size bed laid with a luxurious, somewhat feminine bedspread and fringed pillows. A lot more frilly than what he would have chosen for himself, but he was not about to register a complaint about the details of free room and board. The bed looked pretty comfortable. When he dumped his backpack on the bed, Johnny Cash hopped up to inspect his slightly funky-smelling pile of tee-shirts. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said. “I probably need to find the laundry facilities sooner rather than later.”

  But first, he supposed he’d better find June.

  He opened the drapes to look for the gray ball of fluff. Just as he’d suspected, there she was, hiding. He bent down to pick her up, then examined the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the harbor.

  Holden had never seen the view of the city from that angle before. Directly below were the piers and the wharves where the cranes loaded and unloaded ships full of raw materials from who-knows-what parts of the world. Someday, he’d ask Billy about where all these ships came from and sailed to — the dude had a dozen weird hobbies, including memorizing the names and origins of all these ships.

  To his right, beyond the docks, was the neighborhood. To the left, the open sea. Beyond the low row houses that comprised Dockside was the skyline of uptown Newcastle. Farther up the shoreline past Newcastle Pier were the distant cliffs that made up the exclusive Shoreline Estates, the homes tucked away into the cliff edges and beaches. And still farther beyond that was the abandoned lighthouse at the point of the crest at Sunset Ridge.

  He stroked June behind the ears, and she purred.

  “Well, what do we do with all of this space, kids?”

  Both cats mewed in response. Holden looked around and considered playing some video games. But he didn’t want to play alone. He had a thought to call his Crow Bar buddies to come over, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to let them in on the news about his new living arrangements.

  He found Rice Krispies in the pantry and had to go on a brief hunting expedition for a bowl and a spoon. He would explore the kitchen more later to make himself a real meal, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to bust out his cooking skills for only himself. With a few hours to kill before his Friday night shift at Crow Bar, Holden got the cat box and supplies situated, found the pots and pans, and started a load of laundry. He was grateful for the ambient noise it created, making him feel like somebody else was around.

  When his phone rang, his spirits lifted for a moment, assuming it was Katie, calling to tell him she’d be coming over.

  No such luck. He didn’t recognize the number and saw that the call was a Miami area code. He didn’t dare not answer it.

  It was not Katie, but a masculine, gravelly, and abrupt voice on the other end.

  The person did not introduce himself, say hello or goodbye, or even ask if he had the correct number.

  All the voice said was, “Be at the gym for a meeting in 15 minutes.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Katie

  The man and woman waiting for Katie in the reception area of Ecco Corp’s headquarters were none other than the awkward-seeming man and woman that Katie had seen outside of Crow Bar the other night. “I think I’ve seen you two before.”

  No way were those two people actual real estate agents. They looked even less like agents that day than they looked like a couple out on the town on Wednesday.

  “It’s possible you’ve seen us around,” the woman said, introducing herself as Mary Richards and her partner as Murray Slaughter. “We’ve just opened a development company here in the city, and Ari Pitts sent us your way.”

  She handed Katie a business card, which Katie glanced at quickly but tucked away and promptly shot off a text to Mike: “Stand by.” With his tracker on her phone, Mike always knew where she was. Whenever she felt uncomfortable, “Stand by” meant he’d better be watching the building’s security cameras in real-time.

  Katie offered Mary and Murray a perfunctory congratulations on their new business and asked what she could do for them. All of this was highly unusual for Katie in those days; she had people who had people to do this. But they had invoked Ari Pitts, which made Katie wonder if the man was throwing her a bone for her Waterview project. Great. Maybe he finally understands I’m not interested in him throwing his other bone in my direction, she thought.

  Mary gestured toward Katie’s private office. “Should we go in there to talk?”

  Katie’s eyes narrowed, but she kept her smile. “Let’s go to the conference room.”

  No way was she going to invite total strangers into her office, especially strangers who gave off such odd energy.

  Katie caught a subtle look between the two of them before they agreed.

  “After you,” Katie said, unlocking the conference room door and watching the pair enter ahead of her. She wanted to get a look at how they carried themselves. Their look was just right, but something was off. Mary and Murray wore the typical high-end tailored suits with just the right amount of flash without being tacky. Murray wore cufflinks but no other jewelry. Mary wore a famously-expensive scarf, carried an authentic designer bag, and floated into the conference room on dynamite heels without even the slightest wobble.

  Still, their demeanor as they parked themselves in Katie’s conference room chairs, although professional, did not scream “real estate” or “development.” Murray’s energy was business-like but seemed slightly introverted for this industry. Mary, although friendly, revealed something else in her eyes. That lady had seen some shit. Maybe she was in the military?

  Murray explained that they were interested in listing some of the properties at Waterview.

  Katie blinked. “That’s great, but my assistant could have emailed you the paperwork. Why did you need to meet with me?”

  Mary and Murray exchanged another look before Mary leaned across the table and spoke in a hushed voice. “Is anyone else in the office at the moment?”

  By that point, Mike would be right outside the main office door. Or possibly, inside the office, knowing how on the ball he was. But Katie was curious, all the same.

  “No, just me. I’m the one you insisted on seeing at the close of business on a Friday.”

  “Well,” Mary said in a conspiratorial tone, “Mister Pitts has expressed some interest in our new proposal for a casino boat complex in Dockside.”

  Katie laced her fingers together on the conference room table. “A casino?”

  Mary went on, “We think that Waterview would be a great addition as a hotel, in addition to residences for casino employees.”

  That was not what Katie had expected to hear. She knew one thing for sure: she was not interested in building casinos in Dockside, not one bit.

  She schooled Mary and Murray on that point right away. “I’m going to stop you right there. I have never been, and I will never be, interested in having our company name attached to gambling facilities, especially not in that neighborhood. That is the last thing they need.”

  “If you mean jobs are the last thing they need, then I disagree,” Murray said.

  The meeting carried on in that fashion for several more minutes before Katie ended it. The last straw was when Murray implied that the development would include a new marina with dedicated boat slips for community leaders who help expedite the project.

  Katie seethed at that but kept her cool. She laughed instead, which was her practiced response whenever she felt offended, recalling her grandfather’s advice from when she was coming up in the world: Never let them see you mad. Let them think you’re cool, then quietly destroy them later.

  “I don’t know why Ari thought I’d be interested in a casino. This all sounds very out of the blue,” Katie said, chuckling. “No offense, but I’m completely against the idea. But it was nice to meet you, and I wish you the best of luck with your new business. If you still want a listing, my assistant will set you up with a tour of the place next week. During business hours.”

  As soon as Mary and Murray had left, Mike let himself into the office. Katie filled him in on everything that had gone down, and Mike was not pleased.

  “I don’t buy it. Sounds phony. They want something else, I’ll tell you that. Want me to make them disappear?”

  Katie patted Mike on the arm. “Down, boy. I think they’re new in town and just thirsty.”

  Mike brushed past her and set up his laptop in the conference room.

  She asked, “What are you doing?”

  “Boss, you gotta let me at least do some homework on those two. Tell me their names, what they said, the color of their eyes. Everything.”

  Katie really wanted to get back to her unfinished business with Holden, but she also knew Mike had a job to do. It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Holden

  Holden lay on the fancy bedspread and stared at the ceiling, with the two cats lying across his chest.

  After a shift at Crow Bar that involved having to break up three fistfights over an “old lady” dispute amongst the Satan’s Minions motorcycle club, he wondered if his boss, Declan, was on to something with his aims at attracting a more upscale clientele. He was damn sick of those jerks.

  On top of that, he’d started that shift right after a truly horrifying meeting at Pounder’s Gym.

  He went over the whole thing in his mind and could hardly believe what he was finding himself caught up in the middle of.

  When he’d arrived at the gym, he had been met by two huge men with faces like square garden shovels. The owner, Joey, had been nowhere in sight. They had escorted Holden a little too roughly into Joey’s office. There, sitting behind the desk, was the shiny-haired main in the Hawaiian shirt. The man didn’t acknowledge Holden, even when he was shoved into a chair.

  “Watch it,” Holden had said to the two dudes, straightening his hoodie. He turned to the stranger behind Joey’s desk and said, “Who the fuck are you, and what’s with the goons?”

  The man in the Hawaiian shirt had a silver implement in his hand that Holden didn’t recognize at first. But when he looked down and saw the mess of pecan shells, he realized what it was. The man still didn’t look up at first, but cracked a nut open, ate the meat, and dumped the shell onto the desk.

  “I said who are you, and what are you guys doing in here? This ain’t your gym,” he’d said. “Joey doesn’t like it when other people come back here.”

  The two burly dudes said nothing, just stood sentinel on either side of the door, glaring down at Holden.

  Finally, the man in the Hawaiian shirt introduced himself as Holden’s new manager, Junior. No last name.

  “You have a match coming up next week, and we need to chat.”

  Holden knew nothing about a boxing match next week, but the energy in the room told him he’d better keep quiet and listen.

  Junior had the classic look and mannerisms of a mobster, even more so than any of the wise guys that Holden had seen frequent Crow Bar over the years. But he never saw this guy before.

  “We’ve been watching you. You’re an okay fighter.”

  Holden only acknowledged this with a small lift of his chin.

  “I wanna talk to you about your future.”

  Holden looked at the two big boys, then back at Junior. “You need two heavies to witness this discussion? We couldn’t have talked about it over the phone? I got a job to get to.”

  Holden had a way of smarting off when he felt threatened.

  Junior didn’t answer the question. “You got potential, kid,” he said, leaning back and resting his feet up on the desk. Holden had had a bad feeling that this might not actually be Joey’s office anymore.

  “We can help you go far. Real far.” Junior went on to name one of the biggest heavyweight champions in the entire country. “You ever see yourself fighting a guy like that? At Diamond Plaza?”

  Diamond Plaza was the premier theater in Newcastle, host to world-class concerts, fights, some of the most significant events in the entire world. Holden had sat up straight in his chair. “Listen, I’m lucky if I can get in the ring with someone ranked in the top ten of my own league, let alone that guy. One step at a time.”

  Junior swung his legs down and had started using the sharp end of the nutcracker to scrape through the surface of the oak desk. The noise of it set Holden’s teeth on edge. “What if I told you I could guarantee you a title match at Diamond Plaza before your 25th birthday.”

  Holden, still irrationally emboldened by being bullied into this meeting, said, “You don’t know my birthday.”