Something in the Water(78)

I can’t believe this is happening. Although, to be honest, I haven’t got a clue what is happening. I wonder if this is the reason he’s been leaving me those messages. If he has been leaving me messages?

“I’m not used to asking favors, so bear with me.” He clears his throat. “It’s a personal matter. I find this sort of thing quite…stressful. And at my age I try and steer clear of stress, you know how it is. I need you to do something for me. Will you do something for me, sweetheart?”

He is watching me. I swallow. And then I remember that he probably wants an actual answer. My mind kicks up into another gear. What will I have to do? Oh God. Please do not be sexual.

Shut up, Erin. Of course it’s not going to be sexual.

“Um, I’m…What kind of thing?” I keep my tone as steady as I can manage.

“I made some mistakes, in my life, you know. With my family. Maybe. My wife, definitely, but I know that’s all done, that’s over. Fine. I’m okay with that.” He brushes it aside. “But I’ve got a daughter. My Charlotte. Lottie. She’s…she’s twenty-eight. Looks a bit like you. Dark hair, pretty, world at her feet. Beautiful girl. We’re not talking right now, Lottie and I. She doesn’t want me in her life, around her family. I’m sure you understand. And I don’t blame her; she’s a smart girl. We raised her smart. She’s got a lovely fella now; he’s good to her and she’s got two girls of her own now too. Look—I wasn’t the best dad, obviously. I’m sure you’ve probably picked up on that. Anyway, long story short, I want you to talk to her.” He gives himself a little nod. He got there in the end.

He wants me to talk to his estranged daughter. Excellent. More family drama. Not what I need right now. I’ve got enough at home.

But this is definitely not as bad as it could have been. I can talk to his daughter. I was actually planning on interviewing her anyway. Unless what he’s really asking is some kind of a euphemism? Is it a euphemism? Do I have to kill her? Does he want me to kill her? God. I’m hoping not! He would have been more explicit about that, right? Right? This is weird.

“Eddie, you’re going to have to be slightly more specific here. What do you want me to talk to Charlotte about? Talk to her for the documentary? Or about something else?” I choose my words carefully.

He’s obviously finding this conversation hard, having to ask politely for something of a personal nature. I can’t imagine he’s had much need to do it before. I really don’t want to piss him off.

“No, not about the documentary. Sorry, sweetheart, I couldn’t give a sweet F.A. about the documentary. I looked you up after they first mentioned the whole thing, had you looked into a bit; you seem like a nice enough girl, kind of girl my daughter might be friends with. She’ll trust you, maybe. This isn’t my fucking forte; I just want her to see I’m trying here. Let her know I’m together, I’m a good guy, I’ve got it all under control. Erin, you’ll make an old man very happy if you do this for me. There isn’t anyone else to ask, do you understand? It’s not as if I’ve got women friends knocking about, and even if I did Lottie’d run a bloody mile from them lot. She needs to know that I’ll be better in the future, once I’m out. That I’ll be there for her. That I want to be part of her life again. Help her with stuff. See the kids. My grandkids. All that. I just need you to talk some sense into her. Get her to give me another chance. She’ll listen to you. I know her. Tell her I’m different, tell her I’ve changed.” He stops talking. The room falls silent.

Why on earth would his daughter listen to me? Why would he think that? Maybe he’s not as together as I thought? And then I catch sight of my reflection in the Perspex glass of a poster screwed into the prison wall. Suit, blouse, heels, glossy hair, sunlight bouncing off my new wedding band. I see what he sees. I look together. A young woman in control of her life, on the cusp of something. Professional but still open, hard but still soft, in that magical period after youth and before age. He might be right. His daughter might listen to me.

I can’t hear the guards at all. I wonder where they are. Do they care what’s happening in here? Did Eddie arrange for them not to be here, ask them not to interrupt? He still has power outside prison, doesn’t he? I look at him. Of course he does. They probably have to be careful around him; he’ll be free again in two and a half months. Untouchable. And he’s just asked me for a favor.

“I’ll do it.” Screw it, fortune favors the brave.

“That’s a girl.” He smiles.

My stomach flips as I realize there’s a chance here for Mark and me. I could ask a favor in return. But should I? Is that a good idea?

“Eddie?” I lower my voice, lean in. Just in case someone’s listening, just in case. “If I help you, will you help me? I don’t know anybody else who can help me with this.” My voice sounds different, to my ears, more serious but thinner than usual. Needy.

His eyes narrow. He studies me. I’m a pretty readable mark. What possible threat could I ever be? He sees that, then shows that glint of a smile.

“What is it?”

“Well, okay, long story short…I have some gemstones that I…found. Okay, that sounds…I can’t sell them. They’re illegal. So there it is. And I need to sell them…off the record. Do you know someone, maybe who could…” My whisper trails off. Turns out it’s not just former gang leaders who find favors hard to ask for.