Chapter VI

VI

 

That client wasn’t the only one to mention Madigan dining at Flannery’s Steak and Seafood.  I’ve heard others talk about his frequenting the place.  I’ve been there just once, but I never went to the bar.  Carl talked about Flannery’s Thursday evening mixer by the pool.

“The cougars are crawling out of the woodwork,” he said.

 He told us that Madigan hung out there.  Supposedly, he ate there several nights a week, but I’m not so sure about that.  I went with my parents on a week night when they came to visit.

“Dinner ran over $300 with tip,” I said, “And I had to make reservations two weeks in advance for a Thursday night.”

“He doesn’t make reservations,” said Carl.

“He probably knows someone,” said Todd.

“The owner,” said Carl.

“Does he go there by himself?” asked Amy.

“He’s by himself on Thursday’s,” said Carl.  “He orders from the bar menu.  They got a five-dollar, half-pound, Angus burger with all the trimmings and fries in the lounge and his favorite martini for just five dollars.”

“Isn’t that swinger’s night?” asked Ashley.

Carl nodded.

“So Madigan likes to swing,” said Todd.

“I would’ve never guessed that,” I said.

“Oh, yah,” nodded Carl.  “He loves to dance.”

“And that place is packed every weekend,” said Todd.

“Have Amy and you ever been there?” I asked him.

He shook his head.

“I hear the food is really good,” said Amy.  “I’d love to go there.”

“I would to,” Ashley told me.

“Your boyfriend has never taken you?” I asked.

“A dinner date for him is Olive Garden, Red Lobster, Texas Roadhouse, or a sports bar,” she said.

“You’re better off getting Ashley to make you a home cooked meal,” said Todd.  “It tastes better and you don’t have to make reservations a month in advance.”

Patrons of Flannery’s take up the west end of the parking lot at the Greene; and late night dancing in the lounge draw baby boomers, Gen X, and anyone else that likes to dance.  They come for the live entertainment and the best martini bar in town.  

“I’ll bet some of them have been to Madigan’s parties,” said Todd.

“Actually,” said Carl.  “Quite a few are from Flannery’s.”

“I heard Madigan’s bartender works there,” I said.  “And so does the DJ.”

“He likes that kind of music,” Carl said.

“Is he a good dancer?” asked Ashley.

“Very good,” said Carl, checking out the curves in her orange bikini.

I frowned at him, and Amy nudged Ashley.  She put on a cover up.  Carl looked off in Todd’s direction.

“He must’ve taken lessons,” he said.

“Arthur Murray,” said Carl.  “He does that stuff John Travolta did in that movie.”

“Saturday Night Fever,” I said.

“That’s it,” he said.  “The boomers eat that up.”

“Can you dance like that?” Ashley asked me.

“No,” I replied, “But my parents can.  I only know how to line dance and waltz.”

“I love to line dance,” said Ashley.

“I can’t even do that,” said Carl.  “But I still had me some fun and got a free meal.”

“Probably Madigan’s leftovers,” said Amy.

“He eats well,” Carl smiled.

“Spare me the details,” said Amy.

“That goes for me,” said Ashley.

Carl turned to me, “You’ll be going with him.”

“I doubt he’ll be inviting me with him anytime soon,” I said. 

“How do you know that?” asked Amy.

“We’ve yet to talk,” I replied.

“You will,” said Carl.  “He’s taken a liking to you.”

“He has,” said Amy.

Carl nodded. 

“Why is Madigan so interested in you?” asked Ashley.

“I don’t know,” I replied.

“Well, there must be a reason,” she said.  “I’ll bet it has something to do with Heather.”

I looked at Carl. 

“That I don’t know,” he said, “But you’ll be drinking and dancing with the boomers.”

I shook my head emphatically.

“Why not?” asked Carl.

“I don’t drink.”

He looked at the others.

“He doesn’t,” said Ashley.

Carl watched two high school girls�"one a resident and the other a friend�"get all giddy with the arrival of Madigan.  He walked by them and smiled.

“He just made their day,” said Carl, reaching for his towel.

The girls and just about every other female�"including Ashley and Amy�"watched him dive in the pool and swim underneath to the other side.  I could see the two high school girls sigh as he lifted himself out of the pool and jumped to his feet.  He lowered his head and drew back his hair; water beading and dripping down his body.  Those same eyes would follow him step-by-step to where he put his towel�"but I gave no thought to the thrill Madigan had given them or Carl’s attempt to make a move on them.

No, what I remember most was Amy’s rendition of Holly and Madigan.  Much of what Amy said was general knowledge�"especially among those that hung out by the pool, but she was the first to tell me about things she had seen.  I found out later that just about every female in the complex had their own version; and I was privy to more than a few of them.  One thing they all had in common was the teller’s disdain for Holly.  She got no quarter.  I’m sure that had a lot to do with why she kept a low profile.  In fact, the last time I saw her was when she had that meltdown at my door.

“I hope she’s alright,” said Ashley.

I turned to Carl, “What happened to her?”

He didn’t know.  I didn’t find out until the next day.  It was Friday.  There was not a cloud in sky; and it was really hot and humid.  In fact, that summer was one of the worst dry spells on record.  I even read that farmers to the north had paid for an Indian Rain Dance.  Anyway, it was a scorcher.  So I went to the pool after class. 

Holly’s roommate Nikki was tanning on the grassy knoll next to the clubhouse.  I had seen her around the pool and at the grocery store in the mall across the street, and I spoke to her briefly at Madigan’s last party.  She had brought a tray of spicy meatballs that I really liked, but other than complimenting her cooking skills we went our separate ways.  Nonetheless, she did smile and wave at me as I approached her at the pool. 

“May I join you?” I asked.

“Sure, make yourself at home,” she said, shielding her eyes from the sun. 

I laid my textbook, water, and towel on the grass beside her. 

“You’re Rich, right?”

“You remember,” I said, pulling off my shirt and tossing it down next to my stuff.

“How can I forget,” she smiled.  “You complimented me on my meatballs.”

“They were good.”

She grinned.

“You’ll have to give me that recipe,” I said.

I slipped off my flip-flops and checked out the position of the sun and the shadow across the concrete from the clubhouse.  Then I adjusted my towel accordingly.

“You didn’t tell me you knew Holly,” said Nikki.

“She’s been delivering my invitations to Madigan’s parties,” I said, sitting down. 

“Someone probably has an eye on you,” said Nikki.

“I don’t know about that,” I said. 

“Trust me,” she said, “With a build like that, someone has an eye on you.”

“Thanks,” I said.

Nikki nodded, “I hear you go to the University of Dayton.”

“I’m a graduate engineering student,” I said.

“What are you studying?”

“Management science,” I replied, reaching for my suntan lotion.

“Here,” she offered.  “Let me help you with that.”

I handed her the bottle.  She screwed off the cap and then squeezed some lotion in her hand.

“Turn around,” she said.

She spread the lotion on my neck and shoulders.   

“What’s management science?” she asked.

“Mathematics applied to business and other real world problems.”

“You mean like calculus stuff?”

“Unfortunately, there’s a lot of that.”

“I was never good in Math,” she said, rubbing lotion into my back.

“I have to do a lot of studying,” I told her.

“What kind of job are you looking at?”

“Probably something in financial risk analysis,” I replied.

“That sounds complicated,” she said. 

I nodded.

“What do you do for fun?”

“You’re looking at it,” I replied.

“I heard you’re a writer.”

“I write,” I nodded.

“What do you write?”

“Fiction,” I told her.

“That sounds interesting,” she said.  “Have you had anything published?”

“I do it for fun,” I replied.

“You mean like a hobby?”

I shook my head.

“More like a way of life,” I said.

She caught a glimpse of the book beside me.

“You always bring a book,” she said.

“I like to lay in the sun and read,” I told her.

She handed me the lotion and wiped her hands.

“So what do you think of Madigan’s parties?” she asked.

“They’re really over the top,” I replied.

“Sometimes, they can get really crazy,” she said, “But that’s the way Madigan wants it.”

“You say that like you don’t like him.”

She nodded.

I asked, “Why not?”

“You should see the way he treats Holly.”

I squeezed a line from the tube on my leg. 

“She was definitely messed up last Saturday,” I said, rubbing the lotion into my shins.

She nodded reluctantly.

“I get the impression there’s more to that story,” I said.

“There is,” said Nikki, “but I’d rather not talk about it.”

“I understand.”

“Please, don’t think�"“

“Say no more,” I told her; and then pausing momentarily, asked, “So where’s Holly?”

“She’s moving,” replied Nikki, “Labor Day weekend.”

“Where’s she going?” I asked.

“Back home to Richmond, Indiana,” she replied.

“Will she need help?” I asked.

Nikki shook her head.  “Her brother and his friend are coming over to help.”

“Well, tell her that I wish her the best of luck.”

“I will,” said Nikki.

She glanced at her cell phone.

“Oh, my god, where did the time go,” she said, jumping to her feet.  “I’ve got to be at work in another hour.”

She hastily stuffed her things in her bag.

“It was nice talking to you,” she said, getting up.

I watched her exit the pool area through the gate and double back to her place.  After she went out of sight, I turned over on my stomach and pondered her portrait of Madigan.  With the sun beating down, though, and a late night of studying, I dozed off�"an hour or so later I woke up to children running around the pool.