organised slavery - part 2

Six days in the Galway, best times of her life surmised Eva,  english improving too, her purse cash laden, no longer afraid to go out, she bore nothing in common with the young shy woman she was when she first arrived thanks to her boyfriend. On the phone to her mother she described him as a twenty something doctor. How conor dolan would have liked to hear that description of himself, a doctor. She was going out for breakfast, the time ten and ten.

Passing reception she asked for Mario. She wanted to treat him. I’ll buy him something instead once she was told that he’d worked the night shift and wouldn’t be back till later that evening. The morning was fresh, the world a perfect sight in her eyes. New york new york, should have called it galway galway she smiled in a world of her own. The hotel receptionist gave her a map, and kindly marked out where they were located and where she could go for the best irish breakfast in the world, fanny o’briens, a small eatery located on Quay Street. It meant a short stroll, the journey taking no more than fifteen minutes.

I’ll buy momma something too, send her money, her father and two cousins, and uncle Thomas, she made a list while she wisped along, carelessly relaxed. Stopping at a jewellers, she looked at the glitter on display, admiring the price of everything. Conor had bucket loads of cash, and she was his girl. Conor, she liked the name. rolex watch, cheaper at home, and, her heart jumped. Wedding rings, she liked the one with the four stones on the gold band, wasn’t too expensive, only five thousand euro. I’m worth it she sighed, full of hope, still dreaming. She ventured further down shop street, the main shopping thoroughfare. Creative people these irish she decided, as there were street performers every twenty yards. She stopped at a mime artist, dressed in a silvery outfit. He stood like a statue on the street. People dropped coins into a bowl he had in front of him. each time they did, he moved his arm sharply, robot style. Eva stood watching too before moving on, preferring the sound coming from further down the street, sounded salsa. Only ten in the morning, what would the city be like later on, alive or what.

“conor dolan” announced Antoinette.

Rooney shook his head. Too early to be dealing with this shit he thought, his head under pressure, a late drinking bout having it’s affect.

“I’ll ring him back Antoinette, tell him I’m not here, tell him I’m not here” he said, adding.

“did we get those contracts signed, the bank wont release the money unless we have signed contracts, when are they in” he asked, referring to the murphys and their attempt to buy a first time home.

conor dolan stood listening outside rooneys office door, waited for Antoinette to hang up, a big husky smile on his face.

“do you see what I have to put up with, I send you, in the last three years I’ve sent ye more business than anyone else in this town, and do you listen to that yoke in there, the little whore, takes your money” chirped dolan.

“I suppose he was on the batter last nite” he added, about to enter into rooneys inner sanctum.

The door opened. Rooney not at all impressed, the situation out of his control once he saw who it was. Conor dolan had the charm of an Irishman when it was demanded of him.

“I want to show you something, get your coat on we only have half an hour” smiled dolan.

“we’ll have to be quick, I’ve clients coming in at eleven” replied rooney, on his feet and not feeling too well “we’ll have to stop for coffee” he added, out the door, and almost on the street. Dolan walked fast. Rooney followed.

“where we going” he asked.

Ten minutes later they were at the harbour, a short walk away. Site for sale,  half acre or thereabouts right next to the docks.

The harbour in galway is a very square affair, small compact and confined, no real space for expansion, but international in terms of it’s attraction. Dolan’s plan became obvious to rooney quickly. One side of the harbour was devoid of building, the opposite side full of them. Town was gaining international status, property prices climbing faster than anywhere else in the world.