Javy chuckled. “Damn straight, G-Man.”
And Callan’s smile widened.
“Your mother first introduced me to you as Grandfather Edward,” G-Man was saying. “I guess she’s trying to separate me from your other grandfather, Shelbourne Murphy.” He paused as though thinking about that. “What the hell kind of name is Shelbourne?”
Waving a hand as though it was inconsequential, he said, “Anyway, I think Grandfather Edward sounds like a constipated prick.”
Callan and Javy both laughed at that.
It felt amazing to laugh again.
“I considered something less stuffy, like Grandpa Eddie, but that made my balls shrivel. So I’m going to give this more thought. But what I really want to say, Callan, is that you are already very special to me. I barely know you and I love you so immensely. I might not tell you that enough in the years to come, but I’ll try. I’d like to do better with you than I managed with your mother. I suppose that’s every grandparent’s prerogative.”
His grandfather paused to take a sip of the drink sitting on the table beside him before he continued, “It’s my fondest wish to be around when you take your first steps and speak your first words. I want to see you smash your first birthday cake and make an enormous mess. I want to take your picture when you’re headed off to your first day of school with a backpack almost as big as you are.
“And although it’s your father’s right, I want to teach you how to tie a tie, how to give yourself a proper shave, and how to dress for your first date.”
Emotion once again swamped Callan, making him reach for the whiskey. His grandfather had done all of those things and so much more.
“I don’t know where your path will lead you,” his grandfather concluded. “You might end up President of the United States, a Hollywood actor, or the next Picasso, though I have no idea what the hell anyone sees in that guy’s work. I’d say you might end up some unemployed socialite with more money than brains, but as long as I’m alive, that’s never going to happen. Any grandson of mine is capable of great things. I want to help you achieve them.”
He lifted his glass towards the camera. “Here’s to your first year, Callan. I look forward to every moment.”
Callan and Javy both lifted their glasses and shared a drink with his grandfather’s image.
The video ended with G-Man leaning forward and saying, “For the love of—did I hit the goddamn camera when I touched it? It better have caught all that.”
As touching as the video had been, that last scene lightened the mood in the room. Callan was sure that was why G-Man had left it in the video. He could only appreciate his grandfather’s foresight, anticipating what Callan’s frame of mind would be when this time finally came.
Callan set his plate aside and swapped out the video with another one. Javy rose and refilled their whiskeys. Then they both took more pizza as Callan cued up the next video.
The overall theme of the videos remained much the same as the first. His grandfather loved and supported him and wanted Callan to find his passion…to achieve the potential within him and shine in whatever he wanted to do.
Once Callan started hockey, the videos largely featured his games and his grandfather’s random commentary. His grandfather envisioned Callan becoming one of the key players the team relied on, one who led his team to greatness. And when G-Man realized hockey wasn’t the path Callan would have chosen for himself, his message returned to his greatest wish being that Callan achieved his full potential in anything he did, whether or not it involved hockey.
Callan and Javy finished the pizza and shared another round of whiskeys before Callan insisted his neighbor return to his own condo. Javy had an afternoon game the next day and needed to be rested for it.
“You sure?” Javy asked. “It’s barely midnight. I can crash on your couch if I get tired.”
“I appreciate it, Jav. I really needed this. I didn’t even realize it. But I’m good. Get some shuteye so you can kick San Fran’s ass tomorrow.”
“All right. If you change your mind, you know how to reach me.”
Callan leaned in to give his friend a typical bro-style, back-pat hug. Instead, Javy drew him into a full-on hug of support that had Callan once again battling emotion.
“Things are shit right now, amigo,” Javy said against his shoulder, “but they’ll get better. I’m here if you need me.”
Callan nodded and gave his friend the back-pat he’d intended to give him since he couldn’t issue a verbal reply. Thankfully, Javy let him go without commenting on his condition and headed over to his own condo.
Although he figured it wasn’t the wisest choice considering his emotional state, Callan went for more whiskey and cued up the next video. Seeing and hearing his grandfather was bittersweet. He found himself wanting to experience the happiness he gained from the videos even if it also brought wrenching pain.
He stayed up the entire night watching video after video. In them, his grandfather praised Callan for what he had achieved and touched on achievements he hoped were still to come. He said in several videos that he hoped he got to see Callan lift the Stanley Cup in victory that year and bring the Cup to Houghs Neck for a huge celebration, something Callan hadn’t ever done. Indeed, he had never known it was something G-Man wanted.
It was one of many lofty goals his grandfather had adamantly insisted Callan could achieve.
It was deeply humbling and more than a little humiliating to learn he never did measure up to the standards his grandfather had set for him over the years. But G-Man hadn’t ever expressed disappointment in him, not until their last time together. And even then, all he said was he wanted Callan to be the high caliber hockey player he had the potential to be.
Well, Callan might not have cared enough to accomplish that while his grandfather had been alive. But he was damn well going to do it now.
For G-Man.
By the time he watched the last video as dawn lightened the sky beyond his windows, Callan had made himself a vow. This coming season, no matter what, he would do everything in his power to become the man his grandfather believed he could be.
Chapter Ten
“Son of a bitch!”
Roxy wanted to slam down the phone, but she was on her cell. There was something incredibly unsatisfying about simply tapping the “end” button when she was so seriously pissed off.
“What happened?” Darcy asked.
She, Ted, and Roxy were the last agents left in the office for the day. Everyone else was either finishing up their work from home or out touring with clients. Though Roxy and Darcy usually shared a desk, Roxy had moved over to Ava’s desk once she left to give her and Darcy a little space. Ted glanced over from his desk, where he was currently on a call of his own. When Roxy signaled that he should continue doing his thing, he returned his attention to the client on the phone and his computer screen.
“That was Morton Anderson,” Roxy replied, tossing her phone onto Ava’s desk calendar in another fit of temper. “He just said that he and Geneva decided to go in another direction with their agent.”
Darcy’s brow furrowed. “Oh, no. Did they say why?”
“They said they wanted to work with someone with more experience.”