Page 23 of Beautiful Losers

He gestures at the empty chair beside him. I clench my jaw and approach the table.

‘Are you sure?’ I say. ‘I don’t want to interrupt your writing.’

‘I could do with the distraction,’ he replies with a yawn, raising his arms in the air and interlocking his fingers.

‘Working on the memoir? I ask, reluctantly taking a seat.

‘Why are you saying it like that?’

‘Like what?’

‘Emphasising the vowel sounds in “memoir”.’

‘I was being John Malkovich,’ I say.

He waits for me to elaborate.

‘InBurn After Reading? He’s writing his memoooooir.’

Jack gives me a blank look.

‘It’s funny is all. The way he says it. I don’t know, he has a distinctive voice. There’s something comforting about it.’

‘You have a thing for Hollywood actors of a certain vintage, don’t you?’ says Jack.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Tom Hanks? Who tells their kid their grandfather is a film star?’

‘Look, in terms of family, all Ari has is me. His relationship with his dad is a weekly Zoom call and my parents aren’t exactly worth knowing.’

‘That seems a bit harsh.’

‘Oh really? Didyourdad bring economic ruin to an entire country? Did he screw people out of their jobs andlife savings, then continue to swan around the place by private helicopter like nothing happened?’

‘Hang on a sec. Your surname’s Murphy, right? Is your father Desi Murphy? The property developer? The richest man in Ireland?’

He sits up in his chair, interested in the conversation now.

‘Formerlyone ofthe richest. Yep. The same Desi Murphy who built an apartment complex without bothering to make sure it met basic fire safety standards. Now the residents have to find a way to foot the multimillion-euro bill for the work themselves or they’ll be booted out on the streets. That’s my dad. Cheers!’

I raise my beer at Jack and take a long sip.

‘Like I said,’ I continue, ‘he’s not the kind of role model you want for your son.’

‘I get that,’ says Jack sombrely. ‘But what’s with the Tom Hanks thing?’

I let out a long sigh.

‘I don’t know … Ari kept asking about his grandad, and how do you explain someone like my father to a five-year-old? Anyway, his nursery was having some kind of bring-your-grandparent-to-creche day and he’d been badgering me all week about his grandad and why he’d never met him, and Tom Hanks was just … there. And he seems like a decent guy, right? Like, if you were going to have anyone as your grandfather you’d want it to be him. No one has a bad word to say against him. Graham Norton tried when Hanks was on his show. Said his producers dug deep to find dirt, but came up short. Did youknow he’s never played a villain until now? I don’t know why, at this stage in his career, he has to go and play fucking Hitler.’

Jack strokes his chin, studying me like a Victorian explorer who’s stumbled upon a rare oddity. I’m aware I sound unhinged, but I can’t stop talking.

‘I see,’ Jack says, taking a thoughtful swig of his beer.

‘You think I’m a mentalist or a bad mother or whatever, but see, I don’t care what you think.’

‘Of course you don’t,’ he says, unruffled.

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