Eoin had never
actually been in the Monkey Bar,
he had seen it dozens of times and had always been slightly curious,
not curious enough to venture in, mind you, but curious nonetheless.
He had decided to walk that night and was already starting to regret
it; the walk so far had been fine, but it was the trek home that he
wasn't looking forward to. Eoin lived on the east side of town, past
the University and by the old cemetery. At least it was a nice night,
he thought as he trudged up Liberty; not too hot but hot enough. He
noticed that the abandoned building across from the post office had
been leased and wandered closer to read the sign. The print was
stubbornly small and Eoin squinted as he tried to read it. He had
neglected to put in his contact this morning but that was nothing new,
the damn thing was more trouble than it was worth. Eventually he made
out what the sign said, it was just a new ‘for lease’ sign. Eoin sighed
at his wasted effort and continued on. It was already 9:05 and he felt
that getting to the bar by 9:09 was very important for some reason. He
absentmindedly tossed some change to the street musician busking in
front of the abandoned building and continued on to Main Street, where he saw
the bright red sign for the Monkey Bar. It was hard to miss, a big
brown monkey hanging off the side of the red vertical MONKEY BAR
lettering. He would have rather turned left onto Main and continued on
to Conor O'Neils where he could sit in the corner, have a few pints
and forget the oddities of the day. But he needed to at least find out
how this strange hustler had discovered his name. He promised himself
that he wouldn't fall for any con, he would lend no money and above
all, he would not go anywhere with the stranger. After silently making
the pact with himself, he took a deep breath, checked his watch and
pushed open the door to the Monkey Bar.
he had seen it dozens of times and had always been slightly curious,
not curious enough to venture in, mind you, but curious nonetheless.
He had decided to walk that night and was already starting to regret
it; the walk so far had been fine, but it was the trek home that he
wasn't looking forward to. Eoin lived on the east side of town, past
the University and by the old cemetery. At least it was a nice night,
he thought as he trudged up Liberty; not too hot but hot enough. He
noticed that the abandoned building across from the post office had
been leased and wandered closer to read the sign. The print was
stubbornly small and Eoin squinted as he tried to read it. He had
neglected to put in his contact this morning but that was nothing new,
the damn thing was more trouble than it was worth. Eventually he made
out what the sign said, it was just a new ‘for lease’ sign. Eoin sighed
at his wasted effort and continued on. It was already 9:05 and he felt
that getting to the bar by 9:09 was very important for some reason. He
absentmindedly tossed some change to the street musician busking in
front of the abandoned building and continued on to Main Street, where he saw
the bright red sign for the Monkey Bar. It was hard to miss, a big
brown monkey hanging off the side of the red vertical MONKEY BAR
lettering. He would have rather turned left onto Main and continued on
to Conor O'Neils where he could sit in the corner, have a few pints
and forget the oddities of the day. But he needed to at least find out
how this strange hustler had discovered his name. He promised himself
that he wouldn't fall for any con, he would lend no money and above
all, he would not go anywhere with the stranger. After silently making
the pact with himself, he took a deep breath, checked his watch and
pushed open the door to the Monkey Bar.
Eoin thought that
the interior of the bar would be the first thing
that he noticed; after all, he had always fostered that slight
curiosity. But he didn't take in a single detail about the place, for
simultaneous to his entry; the man stood, tucked a pocket watch into
his right waistcoat pocket (the lower of the two) and smiled. The man was wearing the
same outfit that he had been earlier, an off white dress shirt with a
red and gold striped tie under an herringbone tweed gray waistcoat
with matching trousers and covered by a brown leather jacket, crowning it
all was a tweed walking cap pushed back on his head.
"Right on time, Mr. Emmerson." The man gave an infectious grin and
extended his hand, "Luke Lee Smith, with a Y," Smyth, "and an E,"
Smythe, "thank you kindly." Eoin frowned at this curious set of
introductions but like so many oddities this Wednesday, he pushed it
out of his mind and shook the man's hand.
"I'd introduce myself, but you seem to know who I am already." Eoin's
antibodies of cynicism fought the infectious nature of Luke's smile
and he continued to frown suspiciously.
"I apologize for the mysterious show but I just couldn't help myself
and besides, it did get you to come meet with me, didn't it?" Luke
seemed to take Eoin's unchanging frown as a positive affirmation. "I
knew it would! But enough mystery, I am a family friend." To another
young man, this may have been a reassuring statement, unfortunately
for simplicity's sake, Eoin was not another young man, he was Eoin and
Eoin didn't have a family. His frown deepened, no longer tempted by
Luke's smile.
"I don't have a family, Mr. Smythe. It was a nice try but you just
picked the wrong mark. I don't know how you got my name but I'm
leaving now, see if you can find out more about your next target
before you try to hook him." And with that Eoin started to turn and
leave the bar. He felt a profound disappointment, he had really felt
as if there could have been mystery and adventure in the meeting with
the strange Mr. Smythe, and despite himself, he had been secretly
excited about the prospect. But Luke Lee Smythe was just another con
man, no mystery there. Eoin was jarred out of his self-pitying
thoughts and stopped mid-turn for the third time that day.
"You don't think of the nuns as your family?" Now three is quite the
holy number but Eoin felt anything but holy about how much information
Luke had about him.
"You know the sisters at the orphanage?" Eoin couldn't understand how
these women of God could associate with a degenerate grifter.
"I know of them and their great deeds for the almighty 'I am' but I've
never met them personally, it was your biological family to whom I was
referring, I know them very well.
"My mother and father? You know them?"
"I believe I may have met your father once when I was very young, but
it's your extended family who I know so well that I sometimes feel
as if I am a part of it."
"I have a large family?" Eoin didn't know why he asked the question;
his superego was screaming that he didn't believe a word that the con
man said and his ego had stripped off the neutral white to agree with
the superego. Sadly for those two temporary allies, it seemed as if the
id had a bit more power than usual on that Wednesday, and managed to put
forth the question.
"Why, you have an incredibly large family!" Luke responded cheerfully,
seemingly unaware of the Freudian feud occurring in Eoin's mind. "They
bred like Catholics, well, backwoods Catholics, I suppose hamsters
would be a better analogy, less offensive as well, you're Catholic
aren't you, Eoin?" Eoin's mind was so busy with its internal Jihad
that he nearly failed to follow the roller coaster ride that was
Luke's previous sentence.
"What? Yes, no, well I was raised... wait, what do my theological
leanings have to do with anything, what of my family?"
"Large family, I get along with almost all of them, for the most part,
the majority of them are located up north. Both the Emmerson and the
VanKneer side in fact."
"Vankneer? Was that my mother's last name? Are the families close? Do
you have any contact information?" Eoin frantically attempted to grasp
at roots and branches whose absence had kept him from growing to his full
potential.
"Slow down boy, one question at a time. The families always were and
still remain very close, as far as anyone can remember. Of course the
spellings and pronunciations have been bastardized by more than just
your nun friends when they found you."
"They actually changed the spelling of my first name on purpose, they
were Irish Catholic you know." Eoin had always been a bit defensive
about the odd spelling of his name.
"I know, I know, Owen wasn't Irish enough and as everyone knows, Jesus
was Irish. But that wasn't the name to which I was referring, Emmerson was
not the spelling used on your little name tag."
"They already told me all of this, apparently, it was so blurred that
they could barely make out the Owen and Emmerson was their best guess
as to my last name. And if you know so much about me, what is the
proper spelling of my last name?"
"As I said before, it has been changed time and time again, the
original spelling wouldn't fit with Times New Roman, so Emmerson is
fine, just fine." Luke winked at us slyly before pulling out a roll of
twenties and setting one on the bar. "Now, I imagine you're not a
Monkey Bar type of guy, shall we proceed to something more suited to
your upbringing, Conor O'Neil's perhaps?" Eoin didn't even stop to
consider how Luke seemed to know exactly what he was thinking, this
day had been too strange for him to pause over everything out of the
ordinary. Instead he glanced at the twenty sitting on the table next
to an empty rocks glass.
"You're sure you haven't had enough already?" He assumed that whatever
Luke was drinking, he was drinking it straight.
"My dear boy, I've only had one drink, on the house, the twenty is
just a tip for the lovely young creature behind the bar." Luke slid a
napkin across the bar and into his pocket, slowly enough for Eoin to
notice the name Emily written in a feminine hand followed by a
telephone number. He shuddered involuntarily, not simply for the girl,
who would no doubt regret handing out her number before too long, but
also because he could not, for the life of him, figure out how old
Luke was. When Eoin first ran into him, he seemed to be teetering at
the top edge of middle age and now, leering at the young girl, he
certainly looked very old and lecherous. But at other times he seemed
to have aged no more than his mid thirties. He watched Luke pull himself away from the bar, still giving the girl a Jack Nicholson leer, his pointed eyebrows doing acrobatics that Eoin couldn't even attempt to follow.
that he noticed; after all, he had always fostered that slight
curiosity. But he didn't take in a single detail about the place, for
simultaneous to his entry; the man stood, tucked a pocket watch into
his right waistcoat pocket (the lower of the two) and smiled. The man was wearing the
same outfit that he had been earlier, an off white dress shirt with a
red and gold striped tie under an herringbone tweed gray waistcoat
with matching trousers and covered by a brown leather jacket, crowning it
all was a tweed walking cap pushed back on his head.
"Right on time, Mr. Emmerson." The man gave an infectious grin and
extended his hand, "Luke Lee Smith, with a Y," Smyth, "and an E,"
Smythe, "thank you kindly." Eoin frowned at this curious set of
introductions but like so many oddities this Wednesday, he pushed it
out of his mind and shook the man's hand.
"I'd introduce myself, but you seem to know who I am already." Eoin's
antibodies of cynicism fought the infectious nature of Luke's smile
and he continued to frown suspiciously.
"I apologize for the mysterious show but I just couldn't help myself
and besides, it did get you to come meet with me, didn't it?" Luke
seemed to take Eoin's unchanging frown as a positive affirmation. "I
knew it would! But enough mystery, I am a family friend." To another
young man, this may have been a reassuring statement, unfortunately
for simplicity's sake, Eoin was not another young man, he was Eoin and
Eoin didn't have a family. His frown deepened, no longer tempted by
Luke's smile.
"I don't have a family, Mr. Smythe. It was a nice try but you just
picked the wrong mark. I don't know how you got my name but I'm
leaving now, see if you can find out more about your next target
before you try to hook him." And with that Eoin started to turn and
leave the bar. He felt a profound disappointment, he had really felt
as if there could have been mystery and adventure in the meeting with
the strange Mr. Smythe, and despite himself, he had been secretly
excited about the prospect. But Luke Lee Smythe was just another con
man, no mystery there. Eoin was jarred out of his self-pitying
thoughts and stopped mid-turn for the third time that day.
"You don't think of the nuns as your family?" Now three is quite the
holy number but Eoin felt anything but holy about how much information
Luke had about him.
"You know the sisters at the orphanage?" Eoin couldn't understand how
these women of God could associate with a degenerate grifter.
"I know of them and their great deeds for the almighty 'I am' but I've
never met them personally, it was your biological family to whom I was
referring, I know them very well.
"My mother and father? You know them?"
"I believe I may have met your father once when I was very young, but
it's your extended family who I know so well that I sometimes feel
as if I am a part of it."
"I have a large family?" Eoin didn't know why he asked the question;
his superego was screaming that he didn't believe a word that the con
man said and his ego had stripped off the neutral white to agree with
the superego. Sadly for those two temporary allies, it seemed as if the
id had a bit more power than usual on that Wednesday, and managed to put
forth the question.
"Why, you have an incredibly large family!" Luke responded cheerfully,
seemingly unaware of the Freudian feud occurring in Eoin's mind. "They
bred like Catholics, well, backwoods Catholics, I suppose hamsters
would be a better analogy, less offensive as well, you're Catholic
aren't you, Eoin?" Eoin's mind was so busy with its internal Jihad
that he nearly failed to follow the roller coaster ride that was
Luke's previous sentence.
"What? Yes, no, well I was raised... wait, what do my theological
leanings have to do with anything, what of my family?"
"Large family, I get along with almost all of them, for the most part,
the majority of them are located up north. Both the Emmerson and the
VanKneer side in fact."
"Vankneer? Was that my mother's last name? Are the families close? Do
you have any contact information?" Eoin frantically attempted to grasp
at roots and branches whose absence had kept him from growing to his full
potential.
"Slow down boy, one question at a time. The families always were and
still remain very close, as far as anyone can remember. Of course the
spellings and pronunciations have been bastardized by more than just
your nun friends when they found you."
"They actually changed the spelling of my first name on purpose, they
were Irish Catholic you know." Eoin had always been a bit defensive
about the odd spelling of his name.
"I know, I know, Owen wasn't Irish enough and as everyone knows, Jesus
was Irish. But that wasn't the name to which I was referring, Emmerson was
not the spelling used on your little name tag."
"They already told me all of this, apparently, it was so blurred that
they could barely make out the Owen and Emmerson was their best guess
as to my last name. And if you know so much about me, what is the
proper spelling of my last name?"
"As I said before, it has been changed time and time again, the
original spelling wouldn't fit with Times New Roman, so Emmerson is
fine, just fine." Luke winked at us slyly before pulling out a roll of
twenties and setting one on the bar. "Now, I imagine you're not a
Monkey Bar type of guy, shall we proceed to something more suited to
your upbringing, Conor O'Neil's perhaps?" Eoin didn't even stop to
consider how Luke seemed to know exactly what he was thinking, this
day had been too strange for him to pause over everything out of the
ordinary. Instead he glanced at the twenty sitting on the table next
to an empty rocks glass.
"You're sure you haven't had enough already?" He assumed that whatever
Luke was drinking, he was drinking it straight.
"My dear boy, I've only had one drink, on the house, the twenty is
just a tip for the lovely young creature behind the bar." Luke slid a
napkin across the bar and into his pocket, slowly enough for Eoin to
notice the name Emily written in a feminine hand followed by a
telephone number. He shuddered involuntarily, not simply for the girl,
who would no doubt regret handing out her number before too long, but
also because he could not, for the life of him, figure out how old
Luke was. When Eoin first ran into him, he seemed to be teetering at
the top edge of middle age and now, leering at the young girl, he
certainly looked very old and lecherous. But at other times he seemed
to have aged no more than his mid thirties. He watched Luke pull himself away from the bar, still giving the girl a Jack Nicholson leer, his pointed eyebrows doing acrobatics that Eoin couldn't even attempt to follow.
Conner O'Neil's was Eoin's escape from
the world; the dark, smoky, atmosphere always seemed to absorb his
troubles and lazily float them into the rafters and out of his mind.
He had always imagined this as being as close to Ireland that he
could get. Sure, he had no idea of his actual heritage, but the
sisters were so devoted to Ireland, he sometimes thought as much as
they were to God, that he couldn't help but feel a tug of
Nationalistic pride. As he walked in with Luke, he gazed at the
murals and football jerseys lining the walls, he felt at home. The
bartender, a sulky man from County Cork, nodded to Eoin,
"Awright lads? Whadya be havin?" Eoin ordered a Magner's Cider and looked expectantly at Luke; he had no idea what to expect from the strange man but he hoped that Luke wouldn't embarrass him at his favorite bar. He was in luck, Luke distractedly ordered a pint of Strongbow, apparently absorbed in the Hurling match on the television. Eoin wouldn't consider himself an actual fan of the game but if it was on, he would watch. He recognized the jerseys of Cork and Kerry,
"Awright lads? Whadya be havin?" Eoin ordered a Magner's Cider and looked expectantly at Luke; he had no idea what to expect from the strange man but he hoped that Luke wouldn't embarrass him at his favorite bar. He was in luck, Luke distractedly ordered a pint of Strongbow, apparently absorbed in the Hurling match on the television. Eoin wouldn't consider himself an actual fan of the game but if it was on, he would watch. He recognized the jerseys of Cork and Kerry,
"Who's winning?" he asked Luke for lack of
anything else to say.
"I haven't the slightest idea who's playing." Luke responded without removing his gaze from the television.
"You've been watching the match ever since we walked through the door, I know the score is posted every few minutes."
"I'm merely impressed that this sport is featured on television, I had no idea that it was still played after all these years." Eoin's surge of possibly misplaced Nationalistic pride swelled once more.
"Well the English tried to suppress it and everything else culturally Irish but they managed to hang on to it in the face of incredible opposition and tyranny!" Eoin was becoming flustered, his face reddened as Luke looked away from the television for the first time. Looking bemused at Eoin's sudden outburst, he scanned the bar around them to see if they were causing a scene.
"What the hell are you talking about? Look, here come our drinks, cider from the finest apples, it's what keeps us young, you know?" Eoin seemed to calm and realize that he was on the verge of throwing a tantrum, he thanked the barman and poured his cider into the waiting pint glass. He thought about how nice it was that he no longer had to remind the bartenders not to put ice in his cider glass, he was close to becoming a local. “So now, onto our business!" Eoin was started out of his pondering to see Luke observing him from behind his pint of Stronbow.
"Business? What kind of business, I thought you were going to tell me about my family."
"All in good time, lad, all in good time. First, though, I would like you to come work for me." Luke reached in his coat and produced a pack of Dunhill cigarettes. After carefully selecting one, he proceeded to light it with what looked to be the palm of his hand; another one of his magic tricks, Eoin thought almost bitterly as he wondered if he had heard Luke correctly.
"I haven't the slightest idea who's playing." Luke responded without removing his gaze from the television.
"You've been watching the match ever since we walked through the door, I know the score is posted every few minutes."
"I'm merely impressed that this sport is featured on television, I had no idea that it was still played after all these years." Eoin's surge of possibly misplaced Nationalistic pride swelled once more.
"Well the English tried to suppress it and everything else culturally Irish but they managed to hang on to it in the face of incredible opposition and tyranny!" Eoin was becoming flustered, his face reddened as Luke looked away from the television for the first time. Looking bemused at Eoin's sudden outburst, he scanned the bar around them to see if they were causing a scene.
"What the hell are you talking about? Look, here come our drinks, cider from the finest apples, it's what keeps us young, you know?" Eoin seemed to calm and realize that he was on the verge of throwing a tantrum, he thanked the barman and poured his cider into the waiting pint glass. He thought about how nice it was that he no longer had to remind the bartenders not to put ice in his cider glass, he was close to becoming a local. “So now, onto our business!" Eoin was started out of his pondering to see Luke observing him from behind his pint of Stronbow.
"Business? What kind of business, I thought you were going to tell me about my family."
"All in good time, lad, all in good time. First, though, I would like you to come work for me." Luke reached in his coat and produced a pack of Dunhill cigarettes. After carefully selecting one, he proceeded to light it with what looked to be the palm of his hand; another one of his magic tricks, Eoin thought almost bitterly as he wondered if he had heard Luke correctly.
“Work for you? I have a well paying
job, no, I have a good career; I don’t have the time or the need to
work for a two bit conman like you.” Eoin was slightly surprised by
his own animosity. Sure, he had a decent job, well paid and with
plenty of room for advancement; but it was nothing that he loved.
Oddly enough, he had recently been contemplating the lack of passion
in his career; he knew that few people truly loved their jobs but he
couldn’t help it, he wanted more.
“Now are you distraught due to the
fact that I brought your lack of passion to the front of your mind or
are you still on about that silly Skraeling sport on the television?”
Eoin had no idea what a Skraeling Sport was but he assumed that he
was being insulted. “Besides,” Luke continued, ignoring Eoin’s
reddening face, “Your job is not quite as secure as it seemed.”
As Eoin puzzled out what Luke was telling him and prepared a stinging
rebuttal, Luke began to count backwards from nine. “Nine, eight,
seven,”
“What the hell are you…”
“Five, please don’t interrupt,
two, one,”
Buzz, buzz, buzz, Eoin’s mobile phone
began to vibrate on top of the bar. He eyed Luke suspiciously,
“Better get that, I have a feeling it’s important.” Luke smiled
pleasantly as Eoin slowly picked up the phone.
“Eoin Emmerson…hey Dawn, I didn’t
recognize the number, how are…what? Slow down, I can’t, what?
He’s dead? Shit..no that’s all right…no, I can manage, I’ll
take care of it, you just relax, thanks Dawn, talk to you later, take
care.” Eoin hung up the phone, a shocked expression on his face.
He glared at Luke.
“Is there an unusually high casualty
rate in the ad industry?” Luke asked congenially as he calmly
sipped his cider.
“What the goddamned hell is going
on? How did you know about Mr. Kramer?” Eoin wanted the slap the
pint glass and the smug grin off of Luke’s face.
“Slow down a second, dear boy, no
need to cause another scene.” Luke managed to calmly steer Eoin out
the back door of the pub and leave a ridiculously large tip on the
bar, all without drawing any undue attention. “I have my sources
and heard about it earlier today, before we met for drinks, I’m
sorry, I should have said something.”
“Your sources? What the fuc…how
did you know about the phone call then? With the counting backwards
and all that goddamn horseshit?” Eoin seemed on the brink of tears,
he snatched the pack of cigarettes with a deftness that seemed to
impress even Luke. “Give me your fucking flammable, gypsy
sonofabitch magic thumb!” He yelled incoherently as he searched his
pockets for matches or a lighter; he came up empty and Luke,
seemingly taking pity on him, handed him a good honest to God(s),
non-magical lighter.
“I do apologize about the show, as
you may have deduced, I am a bit of a showman. It was simply a lucky
cast that allowed for the accuracy. That’s it, breathe, well
inhale, something to calm yourself. I know Mr. Kramer was a decent
man and I’m sorry about your feelings of guilt but we really must
be gett…”
“My feelings of guilt?” Eoin
interrupted, already halfway through his(well, Luke’s) cigarette
and preparing to pull another out of the pack. “What do you know
about my feelings of guilt?” Luke paused and then gave a slightly
charming, slightly guilty grin.
“Why else would I have convinced you
to come out tonight? We couldn’t have your would be killers finding
you now, could we? I am sorry that Mr. Kramer had to be the one who
was killed but, as they say, ‘it’s rather uncomfortable to die.’”
Eoin didn’t know who the hell said that but he didn’t really care
at the moment. “See? I saved your skins, now let’s go wrap this
mess up with the constabulary so I can explain some things to you,
huh?” Eoin was too exhausted to put up a fight, he let Luke help
him into a black Land Rover parked in a metered parking lot and laid
his head against the window as Luke drove away.
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