Page 47 of Charlie
Walking up the stairs, I saw more art on the walls, spanning many styles and ages. The wooden stairs were covered by a thick oriental runner in red colors. Upstairs, we walked into a large library where books decorated each wall and two long study tables were set up in the middle. At one of them a group of five older children were sitting with their books out while a man stood leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He was handsome, with a silver fox look, although he couldn’t be more than in his early forties.
“Hey.” Charles walked straight to the man, who pushed out from the wall and gave Charles a manly hug, slapping his shoulders.
“I tried to call you all night.”
“I’m sorry. I got distracted.” There was a large smile on Charles’ face as he reached out his hand, urging me forward. “I want you to meet Liv.”
The first thing that hit me was a scent of expensive cologne that matched his stylish look of dark pants and a fashionable sweater with a v-cut that revealed a button-down shirt underneath. Meeting Conor’s eyes, I saw him scan me with interest as he reached out a strong hand to shake mine while still talking to Charles. “You’re forgiven. I would have been distracted too.” He oozed confidence, giving me a charming smile and letting an appreciative glance slide up and down my body. “Liv was it?” He held my hand between both his while keeping eye contact with me. “What an interesting name, I’m sure you know the name Liv means life and originates from the Scandinavian languages.”
“Yes, I know.”
His brow lifted. “I’m impressed. Americans aren’t always familiar with the origin of their names.”
“Well, I’m a first-generation immigrant, so my origin is still fresh.”
“Liv moved to Chicago when she was eight. Her family is from Denmark.”
I had told Charles yesterday during the bus trip and he looked proud to tell my story.
“And what about you?” I smiled at Conor. “How many generations have you gone back in knowing your family history?”
“Oh, that’s not hard when you live in Ireland. O’Brien was a powerful clan and ruled large areas.”
I knew from the report that the charismatic man in front of me was born with the last name Bricks. He might wish he was related to the mighty O’Briens, but he was a fraud. I was supposed to charm my way into the cult, but even though my side gig of escorting brilliant business men to boring events had taught me to keep a polished façade, I couldn’t help myself from asking, “And whose side of the family did you get your name from? Your mom or your dad?”
“Neither.” He stood with a calm smile on his face. “I picked the name O’Brien because my own family name didn’t suit me.”
That surprised me. Why would he tell me that?
“Come, I’m sure the children are eager to meet you too.” With a hand to my elbow, he steered me to the table, where five teenagers sat watching us. “Liv, meet my children Atlas, Lumi, Nathan, River, and Maximum.”
All the teens greeted me, but it was the oldest boy who caught my attention. He looked like a mini Conor except he had glasses and a much more serious expression on his face.
“Did I get your name right?” I asked him. “Atlas as in a world map?”
“Yes.” The young man scratched his collarbone and it made me take in the striped polo shirt he was wearing. The small stitched-on horse and rider told me it was a Ralph Lauren. In fact, all the teens were wearing expensive brands and looked healthy.
“And how old are you?”
“Almost seventeen.”
A younger boy next to him snorted and it made Atlas elbow him. “Iam.”
“Yeah, in eight months. That’s not soon, is it?”
“You can sit here if you’d like.” A blond girl smiled at me and patted a seat. Remembering Eileen’s words that it would be wise to make friends with the children, I took the girl’s offer and sunk down on the chair next to her.
“What about you? How old are you?” I addressed the boy who had teased Atlas.
He was of mixed race and looked young. “I’m fourteen.”
“You are?” I wouldn’t have guessed him to be more than twelve or thirteen. Clearly age was a sensitive subject and I didn’t want to offend any of them, so I quickly added, “And your name was Nathan, right?”
“Yes. My mom named me Nathaniel and later when she met Conor, she changed it to Liberty, but that’s a stupid name and since she isn’t here anymore, I go by Nathan.”
“What do you mean when you say your mom isn’t here anymore?”
“She left.” He shrugged and Conor moved to stand behind him with his hands on the boy’s shoulders.
