40. Lunch with Morrissey

40

Lunch with Morrissey

NICOLE LAMB

The next day at noon, Nicole sat across a round table from Morrissey Sand.

Kingston sat between them and had introduced them, but he seemed a little distant, like he knew they weren’t there to talk to him.

Morrissey’s pale blue eyes didn’t miss a thing, from her ringless hands when they shook to her cheap sundress from two years before. He watched how she awkwardly scooted in the chair Kingston held for her and fumbled with the thick menu.

Calculating. That’s the word that came to Nicole’s mind when she looked at his dark hair, loose and framing his face, and cold eyes: calculating.

All her mistakes and secrets rose in her mind, and she wondered if Morrissey Sand could pick them right out of her gray matter and examine them. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”

Morrissey’s gaze raked over her like he was quantifying everything from her IQ to her cup size. “Likewise.”

After they’d ordered, Morrissey said to her, “So you asked to meet someone who knows him.”

“Well, yeah.” Way to put her on the spot. “I didn’t think he’d tell you that, though.”

“Kingston knows it’s best to tell me how to behave.”

She wasn’t going to be passed around Kingston’s friend group like a hot potato. “Otherwise, you might try to pick me up?”

“No. Otherwise, I might discuss coefficients of restitution with you the whole time and not get around to answering your real questions.”

“Are you an engineer?” she asked him, suddenly leaning in.

“Lawyer,” Morrissey said. “But my undergraduate degree was in physics.”

“That’s an interesting combination. Why?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t want to get a graduate degree in physics or math and end up working in the evil mines for Goldman Sachs.”

“So, you’re a venture capitalist instead,” she said.

His sharp glance at her was gratifying, and an amused smile tugged at his lips. He turned to Kingston, “I like this one.”

An opening. “Are you Sidewinder’s new owner?”

“I’m a partner at Last Chance, Inc.,” he said. “Last Chance owns Sidewinder Golf.”

“So you do own it.”

“One of four. I only occasionally consult on the project.”

“Then who’s the owner?”

“Last Chance.”

Nicole kept her gaze level, but inside, she was rolling her eyes so hard that she saw her own brain. “And who owns Last Chance?”

“Jericho Parr, Mitchell Saltonstall, myself, and a silent investor,” Morrissey said.

Nicole looked askance at him with a tilt of her head and a stare from under her eyelashes. “Silent investors are always shady.”

His prim smile was pressed and small. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“And who’s making the decisions for Sidewinder?”

“We’re all on the hook if Sidewinder fails.”

“But there’s one owner who’s in charge.”

“Yes.”

“The silent one.”

Morrissey drew the word out, but he was still smiling. “Yes.”

“Can I meet the owner?”

“He’s shy.”

“So it’s the silent investor, who isn’t so silent if he’s making decisions for Sidewinder.”

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss this matter further.”

Yeah, this guy was a lawyer, all right. “Do you often meet Kingston’s dates?”

“Not often,” Morrissey said. “Only once, five years ago.”

“And what happened to her?”

This time, the sharp glance was at Kingston before Morrissey answered Nicole. “It didn’t work out.”

“Because—”

“Because she was too immature to let Kingston have his quirks. Everyone who grows up in boarding school is a bit— odd. We’re overly reliant on our friends, and none of us had proper parental figures.”

Kingston’s fork clattered on his plate. “Morrissey,” Kingston said, his low hiss a warning.

Nicole glanced at Kingston. His face was immobile as stone, eyes locked on Morrissey.

Morrissey waved him off and turned back to Nicole. “Michelangela was the younger sister of our friend from boarding school, though she attended day school in Naples rather than boarded at Le Rosey. It wouldn’t have worked out unless Kingston wanted to join the mafia.”

Kingston coughed into the glass of water he’d been drinking. “Morrissey, the restaurant we’re in.”

Morrissey waved him off. “But the breakup was several years ago and amicable, which is good because otherwise ol’ Skins here might’ve died in a car bomb.”

Being cussed out suddenly felt less threatening than other possibilities. “Michelangela isn’t going to take offense if Kingston starts dating someone else, is she?”

Morrissey chuckled. “She’s rabidly in love with someone her brother considers more suitable. And then there was Emily Saltonstall.”

Kingston scowled at him. “Jesus, Sand. Don’t make that into something gross.”

“You were the one who dated the girl when you were twenty-four, and she was only sixteen.”

Kingston rolled his eyes and turned to Nicole. “Emily is the younger sister of Mitchell Saltonstall, also of Last Chance. She has Down’s Syndrome. Mitchell took her to every dance at her school, but when she was sixteen, she insisted that she wanted a real date. I got her a wrist corsage and played gallant knight for an afternoon. Her dad drove us to the dance and picked us up.”

“And then he ghosted her,” Morrissey said.

“Jeez, I knew I should’ve asked Jericho to meet Nicole.” He turned to her. “Emily thought I was too old and got a boyfriend from her school for the next dance.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Nicole said.

Morrissey tweaked Kingston’s ear. “Yes, so sweet.”

“Please don’t,” Kingston said. “He’ll never shut up about it.”

Nicole watched them squabble like siblings.

Kingston had let her meet someone who truly knew him. Found family rather than genetic, but family nevertheless.

She asked Morrissey, “Who else has he dated? And did it end horribly?”

He laughed, but it was a sardonic chuff. “No one he’s ever brought home to meet us, so I can only assume it was something tawdry and embarrassing. You’re a breath of fresh air.”

Jump in now. “But he’s never been married or anything?”

“Dear Lord, no. All four of us are confirmed bachelors, I’m afraid, in the new sense of the word, meaning we haven’t found women who love us more than their peace. We’re too wrapped up in our work at Last Chance to be decent husband material.”

Opening. “You said Kingston didn’t work at Last Chance.”

“I did.”

“But you said the four of you.”

“The four of us from boarding school. Kingston wasn’t in a position to comfortably finance a stake in Last Chance, even with his trust fund. Thus, the silent investor is our fourth. But Kingston is more my brother than anyone else in the world.”

“So Kingston works for you?”

Morrissey steepled his fingers and looked over them at her. “No, Kingston doesn’t work for me. He’s an employee of Sidewinder Golf. He’s my childhood friend who I trust to go into companies that are highly at risk ? —”

Morrissey’s pointed squint at her conveyed the seriousness of being highly at risk.

“—and improve their bottom line by beefing up their sales figures fast. He’s saved several companies from a quick liquidation after we became aware of fraud during the sale, like Sidewinder. He seems to think Sidewinder is worth saving, though I can’t figure out why for the life of me. The math doesn’t math, if you catch my drift.”

His drift was that Nicole and all her friends might be unemployed next week if Morrissey Sand stopped listening to Kingston.

Morrissey continued, “Kingston’s good opinion is the only thing standing between Sidewinder and my recommendation. That, and some magic golf club that he insists will change everything if it ever gets out of R&D.” His stare pinned Nicole to her chair. “You wouldn’t know anything about a magic driver, would you?”

She swallowed hard just as the waitress settled a round dish of pasta with garlic-fragrant red sauce in front of her. “Sidewinder’s research and development group is meticulous, and it shows.”

“Yes, well, let’s hope R&D releases those magic clubs to commercialization sooner rather than later, for all our sakes. All the owners at Last Chance are getting antsy about seeing the turnaround, and the situation is becoming dire.”

The copious pasta carbs and then main dishes soothed the tension as they ate, and by the time Morrissey left for his next meeting an hour later, he seemed fine. “Lovely crossing swords with you. I’m not often kept on my toes.”

When he was gone, Nicole turned to Kingston. “He’s intense.”

Kingston sawed another bite of his meal. “He had a Bloody Mary or two with breakfast on the train. That was happy-drunk Morrissey. You should see him when he’s sober.”

“Well, those Last Chance guys had better not be holding their breath for me to release the Excalibur driver and the Vorpal irons. They’re months away from release, maybe a year or more.”

Kingston’s voice sounded like he was choking on his lemon chicken. “Months? Still?”

Nicole folded her napkin and tucked it under the side of her plate. “Yeah. I mean, signing off on them wouldn’t be right until they’re perfect. You don’t build a reputation like Sidewinder’s by slapping together some cheesy clubs and tossing them onto the market for quick cash.”

“Yes, but these clubs have been in development for well over two years. The situation is serious.”

“Rushing things is never the right decision,” Nicole said.

“So you won’t release them for commercialization anytime soon.”

“I can’t,” she told him.