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Conor
I didn’t have much time.
Aurnia was due back into the shop in less than twenty minutes. Mason was upstairs with Miss Last Night. He could be up there for hours, but since he’d gone up with only half a bottle of champagne and a rather sad-looking banana, I knew it wouldn’t be.
Rian was in the corner. Bent over at the waist. Hands clasped behind his back. It was a moth that he was watching. A fluttering, dying moth in the shadows. Normally when he was like this, I would leave him be. Interrupting him usually resulted in his being hopelessly lost, hopelessly useless the rest of the day or his just scowling and walking out. To go where, only God knows. While normally I would not do what I was about to do, as I said before, I didn’t have much time.
“Um, Rian?” I began as I went around the couch toward him. “Rian, hello?”
It wasn’t entirely surprising that just calling out his name didn’t work. Wherever he was I knew it was much too far for him to hear me. The next step was to touch his shoulder. Risky, but necessary. In this case.
“Rian?” I repeated, a little louder this time, punctuated with a light rap of his upper arm.
Hmm. No response. Rian just continued to tilt his head to one side and then the other. His eyes fixed on the little grey thing flopping pathetically in the dusty corner. With a quick, silent prayer toward the ceiling, I continued to the last resort.
Grabbing Rian’s shoulders, I forcibly turned him toward me and practically shouted his name, “Rian!”
Rian swatted me away and blinked like I’d awoken him from a deep sleep. He wriggled his finger in his ear and grumbled, “God, you don’t have to yell all the bloody time, Conor. I’m right fucking here.”
“I need a favour.”
“Do we have a jar?”
I watched in frustration as Rian shouldered past me and wandered toward the kitchen. I followed and kept him from opening one of the cabinets with my hand against the door.
“Rian?” I said, trying to catch his still distracted eye. “Rian, a favour.”
He dismissed me with a wave of his hand as he turned around in a circle. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you want.”
I blocked his path from the kitchen. “I need you to talk to the admission board at the Limerick Art School.”
Rian huffed impatiently. “Unless they have a jar, I don’t see what exactly I have to talk to them about. Now, if you don’t mind.”
He nodded for me to move aside.
I sucked in a deep breath before adding, “For Aurnia.”
The mention of Aurnia’s name brought more clarity to Rian’s eyes than anything I had tried before that. His lips moved as he repeated what I’d said: art school…Limerick…Aurnia. A frown tugged together his eyebrows. His fingers fidgeted at his chin.
Finally he said, “Tea?”
I glanced at the clock on the microwave. Aurnia would be here soon. Or Mason and Miss Last Night. Or, given my goddamn luck, a customer. Still, I relented with a nod.
“Sure.”
A few minutes later, Rian’s spoon swirled round and round his cup despite using neither sugar nor milk.
“I don’t understand,” he said at last.
“I want her to have a chance to interview. It’s late in the process and a recommendation from an alumnus like you would go a long way in getting her ahead of the queue.”
Rian shook his head. His eyes were sharp as he looked over at me on the couch.
“No, no,” he said. “I understand that. What I don’t understand is… Conor, there are art schools in Dublin.”
I reached for the whiskey to add to my cup and I sighed. “I know.”
“So?”
