Reputational Notoriety

I woke from a deep sleep at 5:15 in Amy's bed. She was sound asleep beside me. It had been an afternoon of unadulterated carnal fulfilment for us both, Amy especially. I was completely worn out and my penis lay flaccid and wan across my thigh, silently admonishing me for my overuse. I went to take a shower before leaving Amy to her 'thing'. I would have loved to have been inside her one more time, but I doubted I could manage it. The warmth of the memory would be more than enough to keep me happy. I dried myself off and dressed in the bathroom. She was beginning to resurface from her rest. She smiled and lifted her hand in a weak salute.

"Are you leaving me?" she croaked.

"Yeah, I'll leave you to get ready for your thing tonight," I said.

"Oh shit!" she said. "Thank you, Billy, that had slipped my mind."

"Coffee?" I asked.

"Yes please. I'll join you when my head clears," she said.

I went to the kitchen and stuck a pot of coffee on to brew. I was hungry so I revived a couple of the croissants leftover from breakfast in the oven, melting some butter to help crisp them up. She arrived beside me and put her arms around my waist as I lifted my arm over her head and held her to me, her head resting on my shoulder.

"You're amazing, Amy," I said and kissed her head.

"This has been a special couple of days, Billy," she said, searching my eyes with hers. "I didn't realise how much I was capable of coming, and every one of them shook me."

"Can we do it again?" I asked hopefully.

"Do you think that this can be the only time we do this?" she said, her eyes pools of wonder.

"I wouldn't like it to be," I said, "but, equally, we have to respect that we're business partners now."

"True," she said, "but I'm not in that for the long haul, Billy. I see that as a month of our lives, if not less."

"Yes, I agree," I said, "it's going to grow into an awful logistical and administrative nightmare."

"You've been thinking about it, I see," she said, laughing.

"I'm sure you've seen it too," I said, "I'm thinking that I should talk to Waxy after the weekend. I also think he should hear about what we're doing before we speak."

"Ooh, have you got a strategy in mind?" she asked, taking her coffee and croissants over to the dining table.

"Yes. I think I might let Timmy Woods tell him first," I said. "He'll enjoy that."

"When will you tell him?" she asked.

"On my way home," I said. "I've a busy evening ahead of me."

"Yes, you need to get everyone focused," she said.

"I'm going to see if I can get another couple of surveyors on board too," I said, "and I know just the man."

"Is there anything you need from me?" she said. "Apart from what immediately springs to mind, of course."

"Yes," I said, "do you have a template that Debbie can use as a register for claiming credits?"

"I'll have that later this evening, Billy," she said, "I'll get it over to you tonight. If Debbie is everything you say she is, she won't find it too difficult," she said. "She can always call me if she does."

"I think Debbie can teach us both something, Amy," I said and kissed her.

We parted at her magic door, and I jumped into my car with a lightness I hadn't felt in years. My first call was to Barry Allison.

"Hey, Billy," he said brightly into the phone, "something the matter?"

"Hi Baz," I said, "Nothing at all. I was just calling to see if you had any more delinquent mates looking for survey work."

"Why? he asked.

"Because it's about to get busy," I said.

"That's good to hear," he said, "but do we need anyone else to dilute our earnings?"

"That won't happen, Baz," I said.

"I can't see how it wouldn't, Bill," he said, "there's only so many units to go around."

"You haven't seen the bigger picture here, Baz," I said.

"Ok, Leonardo, enlighten me," he said.

"We're looking at a possible, and probable 50,000 units over the next 5 years," I said. "Is that enough for you? Even you can't handle that kind of work."

"But between the three of us, Billy," he started to say.

"Baz, I won't be as actively surveying in the future," I interrupted, "I need another four surveyors, two to start immediately and two more in a couple of weeks. Do you know anyone we can trust to do a bit of work or not?"

"I know a few, Billy," he said, "although, ah nothing."

"Finish the thought, Baz," I said, knowing where it was about to go.

"If they were working direct for me, Billy, They might want to do it more enthusiastically," he said.

"How do you see that going, Baz?" I asked.

"Well, you'd just send me the addresses and I'd then pass them along to my lads, taking a tenner or so for admin expenses," he said.

"A tenner?" I asked.

"What?"

"A fucking tenner?" I repeated.

"Yes, a tenner," he said.

"You'd need more than that, Baz," I said, "otherwise you'd be working forthem."

"How do you make that out?" he asked.

"Firstly, you'd need a minimum of €30 off the top to cover you," I said, "plus you wouldn't have the time to do any surveying yourself. Then, of course, would they work doing surveys for €50? I wouldn't, and neither would you. You'd be broke in a month."

"I never thought of that, Billy," he said. "I'm sure I could manage something, though."

"On top of all that, Barry," I said, "you'd need to put an office base together with all of the incumbent expenses that entails."

"Yeah, I hadn't thought of that either, Billy," he said, "I'd need a Debbie, wouldn't I?"

"At the very least."

"Ok, let's do it this way," he said. "I'll round up four or five at €80 each and you pay me an extra fiver for every survey."

"If you issue the addresses, assemble the survey paperwork every week, email them to Debbie by the first of every Friday and invoice me directly for the whole thing," I said.

"Same payment terms?" he asked.

"You know me, Baz," I said, "I'm a simple being."

"Ok, that's a deal, Billy. I'll get two of them started before the weekend," he said.

"You may need four, Baz," I said.

"Why?"

"I'll be sending you three thousand addresses first thing in the morning along with another 300 Active Voids."

"Can you break them down into workable amounts for processing, Billy?" he asked.

"I can have Debbie do it for you, Baz," I said, "but I'd need a tenner each for that."

"Ok, forget that so, Billy," he said.

Sometimes it pays not to try and be a smart arse. We hung up and I called Ritchie D.

"Billy B!" he said musically.

"Hiya Ritchie, I've a missed call from you, what's the craic?" I said.

"I've a meeting tomorrow morning up in Bally go Fun. Can you make it?"

"What time?" I asked.

"Can you do 9:00?" he asked.

"Not tomorrow, I can do 10:00, or you could drop into me at 8:00." I said.

"Actually, that might not be a bad idea, Billy," he said, "I'll have tea and toast with marmalade."

"For fuck's sake," I said, "I have to supply marmalade now?"

"Can you not afford it?" he asked.

"I'll have an egg and chips instead of steak for dinner tonight," I said. "I'll be able to afford it then. Is there any particular style you prefer? No peel, Coarse Cut, Fine Cut, anything like that? Seville oranges or seedless, like Waxy O'Connell?"

"Are you finished?" he said, trying not to laugh.

"For now," I said.

"Don't make the eggs hard, Billy," he said, "I heard your teeth are acting up."

"I'm holding one finger up here, Ritchie," I said, "Can you guess which one it is?"

"The whole finger?" he asked.

"No, the one beside it."

I called Timmy Woods next. He answered with his usual suspicious voice.

"What do you fucking well want now, Billy?" he said.

"I love you too, Timmy," I said.

"When are you doing them surveys for me, Billy?" he said, in efficient work mode then.

"When you send me the addresses, Tim," I said, "I'm not fucking psychic you know."

"Oh Jesus! Did nobody send them to you yet?" he asked, knowing full well that they hadn't.

"Not yet, Timmy," I said, "and I was so looking forward to getting them started."

"I knew I agreed that price too quickly," he said.

"That was sarcasm, Tim," I said. "You should get out more, come up to Dublin and you'll get a crash course."

"I'd love to go up to Dublin more, Billy, but I'm afraid I'd run into too many cunts like you and Ritchie D," he said.

"Just don't talk or wear those curtains that you use for a shirt," I said, "that's a dead giveaway."

"As much as I love talking to you, Billy," he said, "I have better things to do and nicer people to insult me. Now what do you want, for fuck's sake?"

"Waxy O'Connell wants to have a chat with me on Monday," I said, "I need someone to put a bit of a worm in his ear or up his arse."

"Ooh, can I do it?" he asked.

"Don't you like him, Timmy?" I asked.

"I detest the little fucker, Billy," he said, "tell me what you need."

"Ok, he wants to talk me into doing his free surveys for him," I said.

"That wouldn't surprise me," he said, "I hear he's offering €65 each, including the publication fee."

"He won't get anyone to do them for that," I said.

"He's offering exclusivity," he said, "there's always one prick who'll do it."

"Ok, well he should be advised not to put anything in writing, then." I said.

"Why not?"

"Because we have that whole energy credit and council survey thing wrapped up already," I said, "he's a wee bit too late."

"Lovely, and can I tell him that?" he asked, an element of glee in his voice.

"Yes," I said, "we have everything locked in, agreed and signed with the first set of credits changing hands overnight."

"So I'll tell him tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yes."

"What's in it for me?" he said.

"As the woman who was buried up to her neck in the Sahara said to the man who offered to get her out by asking the same question, Timmy," I said, "sand."

"I might get a little discount on my surveys though, would I?" he said.

"I'll tell you what I'll do for you, Timmy," I said. "I won't give you a discount on this first lot of surveys, but I also won't increase them the next time like I was going to. How's that?"

"It'll have to do, you prick," he said, laughing. "I'll text you after I see him."

"Good man, Timmy," I said, "it's always great to talk to you."

"It's always an education, Billy," he said, "I'll give you that."

"Send me those addresses," I said, ending the call.

I pulled into the driveway as it was getting dark. I hadn't realised the time. It was a little after 8:00. The lights were on in the office.

"Shit," I said to myself, "they must have been left on all day."

I opened the door, let myself in and walked straight to the office to switch the lights off.

"Jesus, Billy," Debbie cried as I disturbed her at her desk.

"Debbie," I said, "what are you doing here at this hour?"

"I was just catching up on some of the hours I owe you," she said.

"There's no need for that," I said. "What about the kids?"

"My ex brought them out to his parent's anniversary party," she said. "I'd rather this than that."

I laughed.

"True enough," I said, "I'd probably be the same way myself. So what are you working on?"

"Amy emailed you an Energy Tracker," she said, pushing a pen into the dark hair covering her ear, "but I don't think it's accurate."

"How so?" I asked, leaning in over her shoulder to read where her finger indicated on the screen.

"See here?" she said. "This column shows a negative formula when, in my view, it should be positive with a percentage improvement."

"How much of a percentage?" I asked.

"Amy says ten percent but I feel it should be a minimum fifteen," she said.

"Why, Debbie?" I asked, suddenly interested.

She opened the detail sheet that Amy had showed me the previous evening and then opened the text she had received from Clem. She indicated the lines mentioning agreements and percentages.

"These are just discussion papers, Billy," she said, "nothing is confirmed at those rates. Usual practice is to include all percentages at fifteen percent and work from there."

She pointed to three further columns at the end of the row.

"I've included these columns to reflect a differing percentage addition in all cases, Billy," she said in a matter-of-fact fashion, "you can see the difference yourself. Amy hadn't included even the ten percent mentioned in the other documents. Maybe her mind was elsewhere."

"Maybe it must have been, Debbie," I said, "she's not usually like that."

"Should I call her and confirm it?" she asked.

"No, leave her alone," I said, "she's busy this evening."

"So, what'll I do with this?" she asked.

"Let's go with the fifteen percent and the highest of the three other columns for now," I said. "What does that work out at?"

"The highest is twenty five percent, Billy," she said, typing furiously into her computer before striking the RETURN key with authority and finality. €4.6 million, plus VAT."

I sat back in the chair beside her and blew out my cheeks.

"Are you sure this is correct?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, "I'm positive."

"Ok, then," I said, "send Clem the invoice with a breakdown of what you did. Don't send him our version of the Tracker."

"Ok, but this is just the opening offer isn't it?" she said.

"Yes," I said, "he'll send it out to three providers and, basically, start an auction. What you've come up with there is an auction reserve of sorts."

"Great," she said with a smile, "I'll get it into presentable shape for you. Give me five minutes."

"Thanks, Deb," I said, "you're a star. Would you like a cup of tea? Or something a little stronger?"

"Well, what have you got. Billy?" she said with a big smile.

"What is your tipple?" I asked.

"I don't mind a gin and bitter lemon on occasion," she said.

"That's not celebratory enough, my dear," I said, "how about a Gimlet or a Tom Collins?"

"Now you're talking Mister Byrne," she said, "why don't you surprise me?"

"You're a cocktail girl, then?" I asked.

"I haven't had one for a long, long time, Billy," she said, a fleeting look of fond memories crossing her face.

"Well, we should have Cocktail Hour at least once a week after work in future," I said.

She smiled and returned to her work as I left to make the drinks. I made one of each to give her the choice. I was finishing them off when she walked in and placed the paperwork on the countertop in front of me. I read it quickly and nodded my head for her to submit it to Clem and she returned to her office and emailed it off into the ether. When she returned she joined me on the settee in the living room of the house.

"Sláinte!" I said in toast.

"Absent friends," she replied to a nod from me and sipped slowly from her drink, a Tom Collins.

"This is delicious, Billy," she said. "I've never had one of these before."

"It's not authentic," I said, "I use a touch of lime cordial in my recipe. It takes the bitterness of the botanicals away. I also use Cork Dry Gin instead of Beefeater Gin. Would you like another?"

"Yes please," she said, "this is better than going to the pub."

"I'll join you in a Tom," I said, "the Gimlet is a fine drink, but I'm partial to a little bit of Tom every so often."

An air of conviviality pervaded us as the evening passed. About an hour after we sat down she excused herself to use the bathroom and I watched her walk away. She was barefoot, having discarded her shoes in the office, and she wore a dress with a floral pattern. It was a midi dress in pink and green which lent a Bohemian look to her outfit. She had discarded a light cardigan which left her arms and shoulders bare and her hair had a sheen to it that hadn't been apparent to me previously. One of her pink bra straps was visible until she concealed it under the strap of her dress with her thumb as she ascended the stairs.

I was in the kitchen making more cocktails when she returned with a smile and an apology for the delay. She asked me to show her how to make a Tom Collins and she leaned on the counter to watch. I was engrossed in my work and was happily mixing and stirring ingredients with my Cocktail making kit, a gift from my wife about a year before she left us. I was explaining this to Debbie as she looked up at me, her big eyes keeping contact with mine. She reached out and touched my hand.

"I'm sorry, Billy," she said softly.

"Thanks, Debbie," I said, "but don't be. Life goes on and we adapt."

"That's true," she said, "even if we don't recognise it at the time."

"I never thought I'd ever return to an even keel, Debbie, I must admit," I said. "Yet here I am, busier than ever and making cocktails for a beautiful lady with the very kit that she gifted me all those years ago. It's almost like fate decreed it."

She smiled.

"I never thought I'd see the day when a kind gentleman would take the time to make me feel special again, Billy," she said, "and yet here we are."

She turned her head away slightly as I looked at her.

"We never really talked about what happened a couple of days ago, Debbie," I said.

"What is there to say, Billy?" she said, "we kissed each other and I'm not unhappy about it. Are you?"

"No, not at all," I said. "Initially I was horrified about my part in it, thinking I had crossed a forbidden line, but I enjoyed the kiss, whatever the pros and cons behind it were."

"I'm not embarrassed by it either, Billy," she said, "it's been a long time since someone kissed me like that."

"When you didn't appear in work the next day, Debbie, I thought I'd blown it," I said.

"No, that was my own fault, Billy," she said, "I got an appointment that was too good to turn down. I should have said something but, with one thing and another, I didn't get the opportunity."

She waved her hand absentmindedly.

"There's no need to apologise or explain, Deb," I said, "we're out the other side of it now, so to speak."

"Besides, although it was a nice kiss," she said, "it wasn't really much more than a peck, was it?"

"I suppose not," I said. "For me, it was the emotions that prevailed in the moment. We caught ourselves in time, I think."

"Yes, we did," she said, her head down, her eyes downcast, "unfortunately."

She took her drink from my hand and made to move away.

"Debbie?" I said, "what's the matter?"

"Nothing, Billy," she said. "I enjoyed the kiss and the feel of your soft lips on mine."

"I did too, Debbie," I said. "I really did."

I took her hand and pulled her to me. I took her drink from her hand and placed it behind me on the countertop. She touched my face and looked deep into my eyes.

"I'm only sorry I couldn't kiss you the way I wanted to kiss you," I whispered to her.

"Kiss me that way now," she said, swallowing something nervously.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"It's all I've been able to think about since it happened," she said. "You find me beautiful?"

"Yes, from the moment I saw you," I said.

She reached for my lips with hers, I held back.

"Debbie, you do realise the age difference between us, don't you?" I said softly, hoping it wouldn't matter to her.

"Remember that I know Melody, Billy," she said, "Melody is almost ten years younger than me."

"Has she been giving you tips and advice?" I said, smiling.

"Just a tad," she said, her eyes taking in my entire face. "I observed it all and acted accordingly,"

"Whatever that means," I said.

"Why does she call you Billy Eyelash?" she asked.

"I have no idea," I said, "it started as a joke."

"She said something about Superpowers," she said as I blushed.

"She's a little cow, Debbie," I said as our lips met softly, and she reached around my shoulders and pulled me to her.

She kissed me with longing, her lips holding mine in their thrall almost trying to wipe away the feelings generated by our first aborted entanglement. I held her to me as the kiss deepened, my hands resting on the upper curve of her backside, touching her, testing her softness, her tolerance.