“It’s been years,” he said. “How the heck have you been?”
It felt unexpectedly good to see him. I could see a few greasy spots, sauce from burgers no doubt, on his jacket.
“James” I said, “I haven’t seen you since …” I squinted my eyes, trying to remember when was the last time when we’d seen each other.
“Since forever would be the right estimation.” I laughed.
“Come, man,” I said pointing to the seat next to me.
He sat down.
“How’s your back?” he asked.
I’d had a nasty car accident a few years ago when my car’s brakes malfunctioned, and I crashed into a brick wall. I hurt my back, spent some time in hospital and went through an unpleasant recovery therapy after that. I had my car, a Firenze red Range Rover, fixed because it was new at the time and a real chick magnet, but had been driving it rarely ever since.
“It’s all right as long as I don’t need to stand for a long time,” I said.
“So, what brings you to this neck of the woods anyway?” he asked.
I didn’t know if I should tell him the reason why I was on the train, but I had a feeling that I needed to share what was on my mind to feel better. Well, at least sharing some of it couldn’t hurt.
“I had a business meeting with Jared Shannon.”
“As in Jared Shannon, the founder of QC Solutions?”
“That’s the one. Trying to get some investors for this project that I have.”
I was trying to be as vague as possible yet attempting to make it important at the same time. It was futile because James didn’t have that much money nor did he have any good connections that could’ve been useful to me, but I couldn’t help it.
James widened his eyes and nodded. Suddenly he looked as if he just remembered something important.
“Hey, didn’t his mother work for your family?” he asked. As a frequent guest at Maple Grove House, he knew most of our staff. When we were kids, we would sneak into the kitchen to steal something that had been “forbidden before dinner.” James would always tag along and enjoy the fruits of our raids, which we would happily devour, hiding somewhere in the park.
“Yeah, he sort of reminded me about that,” I said.
“He did? That’s strange.”
“Why?”
“Well, I would think he’d try to avoid the subject, but it’s been years and I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“What subject?”
“Oh, that incident with his mother. Don’t you remember? She was fired. She was accused of something. Stealing, was it?”