Twisted Love and Money

Twisted Love and Money

By Thomas
Kennedy

Smashwords
Edition

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Twisted Love
and Money

Copyright 2010©
Thomas Kennedy

Twisted Love
and Money

This book is a
work of fiction and none of the characters are intended to portray
real people. Names of characters, places and incidences are either
the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously,
and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, or
locales is entirely coincidental.

By the same
author:

Dark Drink and
Conversation

A warm tale of
conversation, murder and mystery

More Dark Drink
and Conversation

A warm tale of
conversation, kidnap and mystery

Love on the
Dark Side of the City

A Romantic
Thriller set in Dublin, Ireland

The Irish
Detective

Hard-boiled
detective stories.

Druids Raptors
and Egyptians

Children’s
fantasy adventure

Twisted Love
and Money

By Thomas
Kennedy

Chapter
One

“The project is
still on schedule,” the Architect explained.

Jeremy smiled
encouragingly. He listened to the details as he cut the sticky bun
in half. Lovingly he spread the butter and then taking a slug from
his mug of tea, he sat back and admired the scene as the Architect
rattled on.

God, it’s great
to be back in Dublin, he thought.

“Do you know,
it’s twenty years since I sat in this spot,” he said, cutting
across the Architect.

“Is that right
Jeremy,” the Architect smiled agreeably. “The Quantity Surveyor…”
he added, but Jeremy cut across him.

“Shag the
Quantity Surveyor. Drink your tea and have your sticky bun.”

“Jeremy, I did
not come to Dublin to do sticky buns. I am supposed to be building
the new ‘Jeremy and David,’ Dublin store, old man.”

“I know George,
you build all my stores and you do it well. I don’t need the
details unless you have a problem. Do you have a problem?”

“Nothing I
can’t handle. You know me Jeremy, I get it done.”

“So have your
sticky bun.”

George smiled
and shut up.

“I used to come
here, to this cafe, when I was at U.C.D.” Jeremy added

“U.C.D.?”
George raised an amused eyebrow, “is that something like AC,
DC?”

“F’ off,”
Jeremy replied good- humouredly, dismissing the oblique joking
reference to his homosexuality.

“For your
information Darling,” Jeremy pressed a finger on the back of
George’s hand as he spoke. “I was at University, University College
Dublin U.C.D., old man.”

George smiled;
he could handle Jeremy, and said, “I did not know you had
graduated?”

“Those were the
good old days. Do you know I wanted to be a priest?”

George
guffawed, “You a priest. “Weren’t they lucky that you gave it
up!”

“Piss off.”

“Sorry, no
offence.”

“It’s all right
George, none taken. I wasn’t always Gay. Correction, there was a
time when I was not aware of Gay. Homosexual was a word in the
dictionary, not really understood. I was a very serious young man
from a religious family. I genuinely wanted to be a priest. I did
Philosophy for two years at U.C.D. as part of my studies. Sex, well
that was something other people did.”

“You are full
of surprises, Jeremy. I thought you started out as a shop assistant
and worked your way up.”

“In the rag
trade. Luck would have it that when I ran away to England I got a
job in the rag trade.”

“What happened
that you chucked the Priesthood? I mean...?”

“Oh, I
discovered I was not right for the religious life. My mother is a
very strong woman. She wanted a priest for a son. I fell for it.
Then as it got near the time for vows I had a change of heart. Also
I became aware of personal inclinations, which made me unsuitable.
Like I said I took religion seriously in those days. In the heel of
the hunt I lit out for London. The rest is history.”

“And the
mother?”

“Never forgave
my departure, never understood.”

“Your
father?”

“He died when I
was young. Cancer. My mother brought up me and my brother and
sisters against all the odds. She made me a scholarship lad. Pushed
me hard. I was an honours student all the way. Ended up training
for the priesthood with a scholarship for U.C.D. I was a real
mothers darling. She put a lot of her cash into me, God love her. I
don’t know to this day how she made ends meet. A will of iron.”

“Do you still
see her?”

“I keep in
touch by phone. My married sisters look after her to the extent she
will let them. I haven’t been home in twenty years. Every time I
talk to her she still goes on about it. About my leaving the
priesthood, going to London, breaking her heart.”

“Does she know
you are gay?”

“No George, and
if you ever meet her, don’t enlighten her.”

“Don’t worry.
Look old man, I have to get back, do you mind if I push off?”

“No, work away
George.”

George threw
back the rest of his tea, left the sticky bun and gathered up his
papers.

“This will be a
first class clothes shop Jeremy. I mean that in the best
sense.”

“Do your thing
George and we will do the rest. David is coming on Friday.”

“Give him my
regards,” George threw in as he made to depart, “I’ll be in touch
before Friday. You and David make time to come and see the premises
on Friday. You’ll be amazed at the progress.”

“Will do
George,” Jeremy replied and George was gone.

The reference
to his partner David made Jeremy frown. David, his partner and
lover would arrive on Friday morning.

Funny how they
had matched? David was outrageously Gay and also loved to dress
women. Jeremy was quiet and had been swept away by David.

Inglewood Road,
West Hampstead, Jeremy gave a sigh. They lived there in David’s
flat for the first year. Great times.

Jeremy reached
over and took the sticky bun George had left behind. He’d made
Bewley’s Café at least three times a week during his college days.
Used up all his spare cash in those hard up days. Tea and a sticky
bun and read the lecture notes, and discussions with equally poor
and equally intense scholars about Philosophy.

What was that
discussion? Jeremy frowned in remembrance. What was it, the
argument over Saint Thomas Aquinas?

That day he had
argued that Aquinas was not engaged on enquiry, asserting to his
friends that before Aquinas begins to philosophize he already knows
the truth, it is the declared Catholic faith.

“Let us
consider wisdom,” Phillip, his fellow philosophy student had
argued, “Aquinas reasoned that the good of the universe is the good
of the intellect, and the good of the intellect is the truth. The
pursuit of wisdom in this sense is the most perfect, the most
sublime, profitable and delightful of pursuits.”

“His purpose
was to declare the truth the catholic faith professes,” Jeremy had
retorted.

In retrospect
the argument was part of the road to Jeremy’s departure from the
path of righteousness. A beginning of his rejection of his path to
the priesthood.

Now the Cafe
was very busy. The customers were all the genuine article,
Students, housewives, professional people, varying between orders
for Breakfasts of rashers and eggs to tea and coffee with pastries
and sticky buns. Stray tourists were dotted about but this time of
year it was a venue for Dubliners.

Jeremy was
using Bewley's and it’s easy going Cafe style as his office,
drinking copious cups of tea and meeting people. Fabric sellers,
designers, and all the support they would need for the proposed new
Dublin store. David provided the flair to the partnership. To
Jeremy it fell to be the serious man of business, to keep the
wheels oiled and turning and making sure that the cash flow and
profits were in order.

Jeremy finished
up. He had an appointment at twelve, which gave him nearly an hour
to kill.

He decided he
would go for a breath of fresh air, a walk across Stephens Green to
Earlsford Terrace.

He walked up
the centre of Grafton Street, taking in the shops as he passed. His
new store would be near the top of the street. In his estimation a
bit of a dead part of a lively street, but the best site available.
For his high price, high margin lines it would be perfect. He was
optimistic.

He had a simple
philosophy for all his shops. He hired the best people he could
find and paid them above the odds. He would weed them out after
three months trial and keep the best. If the store did not work out
his philosophy was, close it quick, and don’t hang on. Get out
before the cash flow went to hell. There were plenty of good spots.
You did your homework and if it was wrong, face up to it and start
again after a reasonable period. It was a tough business and he was
good at it.

As he walked
Jeremy tried to analyze his mood, sad, happy, restless, nostalgic
at being back in his old City, all emotions mixing together, he was
back in his old city after twenty years.

Next week he
would get up the nerve to visit his mother. Although he had kept in
touch by phone he could not face her disapproval so he had kept
away. But neither of them was getting any younger.

He stopped a
minute and listened to a group of young buskers. Then he threw some
euro coins into the open guitar case and moved on.

He was a multi-
millionaire now, billionaire according to his Accountant, but he
could not admit that. Valuations depended on the buyer and he was
not interested in selling the business. Mind you he had enough
millions in property. The property market had been so good to
him.

Funny how easy
it had been.

Then he had met
David. David had persuaded him to join him in the rag trade.
‘Jeremy and David,’ became a fashion house. Money made money made
money. Magic really.

Jeremy crossed
into the Green. He smiled when he saw the ducks and made his way
towards the central pond. He’d sit and watch a while.

He decided he
wasn’t really sad, just scared. His appointment at twelve was
important. He couldn’t wait. How it went would be critical.

He’d lived with
David for fifteen years now. And now at twelve he was meeting
someone else. A little betrayal, no a big betrayal. And David was
coming on Friday. Jesus.

He sat on the
public seat, recessed in off the pathway and looking out over the
pond. Ducks of various sizes paddled about on the pond and came up
to passers by, looking for pieces of bread.

Coming out had
been traumatic. It had struck him with shock in his second year in
University. A girl, Barbara was her name. She had given out free
pink carnations to every man who would take them. Jeremy in all
innocence took one and wore it all day. It was only when the
Monsignor was shocked that he had found out.

The day was Gay
Day. Gays who were coming out of the closet, as it was called in
those days, were supposed to wear pink carnations to declare
themselves. Barbara had made a point of offering carnations to all
the clerical students, her idea of a big joke. There was uproar,
but the indignation died in the laughter.

They’d been
caught out good and proper.

The rest of the
clerics had laughed it off. But Jeremy was in shock; a deep fright
had bit his soul. Something had grasped his entrails. A
realization.

So he ran away
to England. Then the misery, the drink, the start in the miserable
job, his secret never to be revealed, The driving ambition to make
money to be free from poverty and dependence on others.

Then David.
David had seen through him and carried him away to a Gay world.
Made him truly happy. David was the light of his life. He had never
been with anyone else. And now he was going to betray him. . Had
betrayed him already. Going to betray him again at twelve by
keeping his appointment.