The Power of Weakness

Chapter 38

When Meyer left Murdoch's pub, he had the cab take him to Alaris Gentleman's Club. A muscular man, dressed head to toe in black, opened the heavily carved oak door.

"Good evening Mr. Meyer."

Meyer nodded at the man whose job title was doorman, but who served more like a bouncer as he granted entry to members and denied all others. At the time of its founding in the late eighteen hundreds, AGC granted membership only to the elite businessmen of the day. As the world moved forward, so did the club. Once a preferred location for client schmoozing and backroom deals across all industries, it was now open only to those in the financial sector. And, although the name stayed the same, women had been admitted as members decades ago. Meyer scanned the space to look for the least populated part of the main room.

He chose to sit on a leather stool at the imposing bar which was carved with the same motif as the front doors. AGC had been open more than a century and had changed its interior several times, but it retained the deeply masculine-posh feel of the original. The bartender looked expectantly at Meyer. When Meyer made no request, the young woman took it as a cue to pour Meyer his usual. She set a crystal tumbler with his favorite forty year old single malt whiskey on the bar in front of him. All members of the serving staff were expected to know each member by sight as well as memorize their preferred drink.

Meyer and the other patrons appreciated the bar for the high end liquors and the lack of riff raff, except for those of the seven figures and up variety. AGC was officially a "no shop talk zone." Unofficially was a different story, but no one who showed up half a sheet to the wind after ten on a Saturday night was there to cut a deal under the table. Meyer's bad mood was evident on his face, but not everyone gave him the space he needed.

"Meyer," Valerie Garcia, a woman in her fifties, greeted him as she stepped up to sit next to him at the bar. "I heard a little something about your meeting with Lee Wong and Harry Walsh."

Meyer didn't look in her direction, but she continued. "I wish I had seen it in person. They say old Harry looked like he was going to shit in his pants." She didn't let Meyer's continued silence stop her. "You're probably the first person who could intimidate the bastard. If you ever want to leave Fairfield and gain the title of partner instead of VP, you know where to find me."

He continued sipping in silence as the bartender kept serving him fresh glasses of whiskey on the rocks. Other than Valerie's brief attempt at conversation, no one spoke to Meyer. Certainly no one was asking him about his sex life or his possible anger management issues. Only the small circle of his frat brothers could get away with something like that and Meyer had more than enough of that earlier. None of the staff even talked to him after the bartender subtly spread the word to keep a distance. When Meyer finally made his way to the door, they didn't even stop him to ask that he leave behind the Moser crystal tumbler he still held onto.

Meyer's driver was waiting with the car door open when Meyer stumbled down the steps of AGC. Meyer was not cooperating in getting into the car, but eventually the driver got him to crawl into the back seat. To the driver's credit, he managed to maintain his composure while watching the tall, muscular Meyer struggle through the simple activity.

"Where would you like me to take you, Sir?" he asked once Meyer was securely inside.

"Take mmme tooo my bed."

"In which location do you wish to spend the night, Sir?"

"Take meee to thuh white one."

What Meyer meant was his house in the hidden enclave which was clad in creamy white stucco. Even when drunk he remembered his intention to physically separate from Ari. However, the driver interpreted the sparse direction to mean the twenty-five floor building which made the color white a prominent feature of its design.