Page 4 of Assisting April

“I can handle one little Irish pub,” I say in my best Irish accent. It’s not great, but he chuckles anyway. God, I think I’m in love with my assistant.

“Not in South Boston, you can’t. Have you ever even been down there?”

“Well, no, but…”

“South Boston isn’t Beacon Hill. Trust me, baby.”

“I do trust you,” I tell him when I realize that I do. Weird. “ And when exactly did you start calling me baby?” I ask, not affronted in the slightest, but I feel like I should pretend to be.

“Right now. Get used to it, baby,” he deadpans, and I can’t help giggling.

After work, we grab a cab and take it to McGinty’s. Inside, it looks exactly like I thought it would. Dark wood floor and a bar that takes up most of one side of the room. The one thing I wasn’t expecting was for it to be packed. For a Thursday night, there are tons of people milling about. Ken pulls me closer to him and I can’t say that I mind. He leads us up to the bar, where he pulls a stool out for me. There’s just the one, so he stands beside me. Close to me. So close I can smell his cologne again. It’s doing things to me again.

“Welcome to McGinty’s. It’s ladies’ night,” the bartender says. I look around the room. I’m the only woman in the room. “Most don’t show up until later. But what can I get you?”

“I’ll have a Kilian’s. On tap if you have it. Bottle’s fine if you don’t,” I say, pretty sure my usual on-the-rocks margarita is out here.

“Sure thing. And for you?”

“A Guinness.”

“Coming right up.”

“Um… Excuse me. Do you know where I can find Rory Callahan?”

“Who’s asking?”

“I am,” I say quickly.

“And who might you be?”

“Oh,” I say, laughing. “I’m April Van Houten.”

“I paid my bill,” he says, confusing me.

“What?”

“You’re from Van Houten Foods, correct? I paid my bill.”

“Are we your food service provider?” Ken asks.

“Yeah, that’s why you’re right. I was late, the economy and all, but I paid it in full last week.”

“No, sir, but thank you for being a loyal customer. That’s not why I’m here. You’re Rory?” I’ll remember to look into his account to ensure he’s getting the best rates we offer.

“I am,” he says resigned. He pulls the Killian into a pint glass and then begins to build the Guinness.

“I have a delicate matter I’d like to discuss with you.” I don’t know how to do this, so I’ll just do say it. “Did you… um… donate sperm…”

“Let me stop you right there. No, definitely not. Sorry. Here’s your drinks.”

He sets the glasses on the bar and moves to another customer.

“Well, that was…”

“A letdown,” Ken says, somehow knowing exactly what I was going to say.

“Yeah.”

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