Dragons Luck

Thirteen

Griffen was brooding. He had holed up with a whiskey on the very end of the “family side” of the Irish pub bar. Which meant that other than when the bartender and the occasional person headed to the men’s john, he was left alone with his thoughts.

Those thoughts were all about the conclave. He had started to feel more and more overwhelmed, a surge of near panic pushing him out of his apartment late afternoon. He just couldn’t seem to get his head straight and was feeling antsy and nervous. Eventually, he had stopped by the A&P and picked up a new notebook and a pen. His plan was to sit at the bar and write out what he knew, and some of his own thoughts. Mostly he was hoping to pin down some thoughts in words he could organize and examine to get his own head straight.

That notebook was depressingly empty. He had filled up a whole two pages with the various groups supposed to be involved and the little he knew of each thanks to Slim and Flynn. Then he had drawn a blank. His own thoughts were too chaotic to get a toehold on. And he had begun to realize he only had the smallest clue of what actual issues were going to be discussed.

What was worse, he didn’t quite know what a “moderator” was supposed to do. Was it his job to settle debates? Or just hold the peace? How far was he supposed to go to keep order? Much more, how far was he willing to go? Maybe it was just his mood and Irish, but he was beginning to feel even more lost than he had when he first found out about dragons.

He was so wrapped up that he didn’t notice Jerome till he was pulling up the stool next to him. Griffen looked up, eyes not quite tracking, then did a double take and smiled. He reached out and shook Jerome’s hand.

“Hey, Jerome, haven’t seen you around for a couple of days. How are you doing?”

“Same old, same old, Grifter. You?”

“Still trying to get my damn head around things. If the others in charge of this conclave are even a third as disorganized as my head right now, it’s going to be a real mess.”

“Are they keeping you in the dark on purpose?” Jerome asked.

“Possibly. Been thinking just that. I’ve been wondering if maybe I shouldn’t put word out among our network to keep an eye on the delegates. I mean, if I don’t know what to expect, the more viewpoints the better. We might even have to think about considering security.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea,” Jerome said.

His tone was a bit sharp, and, to Griffen’s ear, bitter. Griffen looked over at his friend seriously for the first time. He hadn’t noticed the rings around Jerome’s eyes before, the haggard touches to his features. Jerome looked strained. Angry.

“Problem, Jerome?”

“Look, we got some of the best watchers, shills, dealers, and the rest I ever did meet. Our operation is tops, but it’s not designed for that sort of work. We don’t have much in the way of thugs, and what we do have is tied up on the regular games.”

Griffen closed his notebook and took a sip of his Irish.

“You’re right.” He nodded to Jerome. “I hadn’t thought of things that way.”

“Yeah… I noticed.”

If anything, the tone was sharper this time.

“Okay, Jerome, you are right, I admit it. Still you’re pissed. What am I missing?”

“Damn it, Griffen, what aren’t you missing? When was the last time you asked, or even thought, about the operation you are supposed to be running? Your head’s been so wrapped up in this conclave that the only time you think of us is when you need us for it.”

“Whoa, whoa. You haven’t come to me with anything either.”

Jerome’s hands clenched for a moment, as if he wanted to do something but was restraining himself. He nodded.

“Sure, boss, sure. I ain’t brought much to your attention. When you first started, I had to, but then you started asking for regular reports and things got covered when you asked. Then Rose comes along and… hell, there hasn’t been anything I couldn’t handle on my own, so I let you work through things. But, still, you’ve gots a job to do. It ain’t a nine-to-five like some people, but it’s what pays your rent and puts food on your table and whiskey in your glass all the same.”

Griffen didn’t hip-shoot that. Though a part of him wanted to say it was a job he never asked for, but that was a small, small part that he was immediately ashamed of. Jerome and Mose had done a lot for him, did a lot for him. He wasn’t all too sure he’d still be alive if not for them. He certainly wouldn’t have been living comfortably in his new favorite place on earth.

“Again, you’re right,” Griffen said finally.

“Go on, I’m listening.” Jerome took a sip from his drink, and it was clear to Griffen he was finally working to control his voice.

“I’ve been getting tunnel vision. And I’m sorry for that. I won’t say I’m totally to blame, but next time you have my permission to give me a kick in the ass if you have business I need to be attending to.”

“Want to make that an order, boss?”

Jerome smiled, and Griffen found himself returning it. Despite the frustration both felt, they were friends.

“An order for the next butt-kicking sure. Not an order for all time,” Griffen said.

“Damn, guess I’ll have to make the most of it.”

Jerome clapped Griffen on the back, and some of the tension eased from his face. Griffen hadn’t really realized how much this had been on Jerome’s mind, and with that realization came a need to understand more. As tempting as it was to let things slide and go back to their drinks, Griffen pressed on.

“You aren’t happy that I agreed to Rose’s favor, are you?” Griffen said.

“Not without knowing a lot more, no. That was risky and foolish, and you of all people should know better. Besides, I’ve got to ask myself, where is our end? What do you or your people get out of sticking your nose in a mess of folks that we haven’t ever dealt with in the past?” Jerome asked.

“Just because you haven’t dealt with them doesn’t mean we won’t have to someday,” Griffen said.

“Sooner rather than later now that you are on their radar.”

“Now that I’ve been thinking on it, dragon or no dragon, I think if I wasn’t already on some of their radars, Rose wouldn’t have come to me. One thing I hope to gain out of this whole mess is to find out how the rest of the world responds to dragons, and me specifically.”

Now it was Jerome’s turn to stop and think.

“Well now, I can’t say that’s not something worth learning. But it seems an awful little reward for what could be an awful lot of trouble.”

“Maybe you’re right a third time. Has Mose been feeling the same way?” Griffen asked.

“Hell if I know.” Jerome lost what good cheer he had gained. “He’s been worse than you. I go to him with something, and he says ‘run it past Griffen’ or ‘that should be Griffen’s baby.’ Between the two of you, I’ve been the one left trying to hold things together. And I’m too small a fish, or I wouldn’t have backed you for the frickin’ job.”

“Nice to be appreciated,” Griffen said.

“Yeah, well, if you want to make it up to me, you’ll go brace Mose on it. I want to know the lay of the land before we get hit with anything too big to handle.”

Griffen sighed and nodded. He had already planned to go see Mose soon. Now he had better questions.

Conclave pushed aside for the moment, Griffen’s head was beginning to clear.