McGee, on the other hand, grabbed his jacket and walked toward the door.
Reed couldn’t let the clerk go just yet for some inexplicable reason. He remained in place, blocking McGee’s path. “How about you take a seat, Mr. McGee, and join me for a glass of whiskey?” Perhaps I can assist you in understanding the ledger.”
McGee didn’t back down from his bluff, if that’s what it was. Reed poured two hefty shots of whiskey from the bottle he kept in a desk drawer while he stayed and made himself comfortable. The fading afternoon sun fell across McGee’s lap, running fingers of light over his jaw, as they sat in chairs by the window.
Even when he spoke, he seemed to be smiling all the time, and Reed found himself losing track of McGee’s words as he stared at the younger man’s smile.
After an unsuccessful apprenticeship with an actor, McGee expressed his gratitude for this job—”the business of genuine men,” he’d stated. Reed initially thought the storey was unbelievable—perhaps even made up—but as he discovered more about McGee’s boyhood in New York, his aloof and violent father, and eventually the loss of both parents to sickness, he began to warm up to the young man. McGee’s past was dark, there was little doubt about that—something he wasn’t telling Reed about. Reed, on the other hand, remained silent. He didn’t care about the details; all he cared about was the way McGee stared at him, like if he were a beacon of light in the midst of the darkness. It appeared to be impossible.
“But enough about me,” McGee finally muttered, despite the fact that he didn’t seem ready to stop talking. “My past isn’t nearly as bad as what you would hear in the news.” Reed’s gut flipped with anticipation as he heard him giggle. He crossed and uncrossed his legs several times. McGee continued, “I read any newspaper I can get my hands on.” “Do you find the news interesting, Mr. Reed?”
“Me?” Reed smirked into his whiskey, oblivious to the fact that he didn’t want to answer any questions. He felt captured and exposed once more. “I think I’m as interested in the news as any other businessperson.” McGee began to recite a succession of delightfully terrible stories he’d lately read. Two weeks after a devastating tornado ravaged Natchez Trace, victims were still being discovered, and Christian clergy were denouncing the opening of an immoral play in Philadelphia. Then there’s a curious storey about a German ship that became lost at sea and how, as the weeks passed without assistance, passengers and crew members were forced to turn to cannibalism to stay alive. Edward’s eyes sparkled as he described how they gutted a corpse in a lifeboat on the open sea, cracking rib bones apart to suck out the marrow, and Reed wondered if Edward was telling the truth. But why would he do that for the sake of prolonging the moment? Was he also sad that their time together was coming to an end?
“I was hoping you’d like to join me for dinner, Mr. McGee?” I was only passing through on my way to the chophouse across the street.” What was the source of this concept? He was on his way back home to eat dinner with his family. Margaret and the kids had been anticipating his arrival. Nonetheless, it was critical that his talk with his new junior clerk continue. “They make a fantastic lamb dish with mint jelly.” If you want to crack the bones for the marrow, you have my consent.” Reed had cracked a joke, which he didn’t normally do. He was taken aback by this. He was also taken aback later when he realised he’d forgotten to bring his new hat home.
Because Edward McGee had seen something in Reed with those searching eyes—had uncovered, or sensed, the truth that lurked deep within James Frazer Reed—the inevitable began that night. He had a good idea of what Reed desired long before Reed had admitted it to himself.
The shift happened over a glass of brandy after dinner, the alcohol softening Reed and lowering his guard. He fixed his stare on the cashier, who did not avert his sight. They both reached for the bottle of brandy at one point, and the young man’s hand came to rest on Reed’s. It was only for a brief minute, yet it was sufficient. Reed would remember that touch for the rest of his life.