Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
“If you’re hungry, you’ll say ‘Am clamming.’ You don’t need the I—everyone knows who you’re talking about,” he said with a wink.
“Naturally. Except…I’ve never heard anyone say that. Ever.”
“And you won’t, unless you travel north.” Buzz buzz. He stood and inclined his chin. “That’ll be the pizza.”
We ate at the island, stuffing our faces while we continued our conversation.
I had a million questions, but Graham had a knack for skimming the surface. I wanted to know about the town he was from, his family, how he became so successful, and why he’d dropped his accent.
What I got was, “It’s small and working class. I’m the only one of my family who’s moved away. Success is an uphill climb, but I’ve worked hard. As for the accent…I got tired of repeating myself.”
That was it. Ugh, he was frustrating. Luckily, I was a master information-gatherer. I’d learned that I got the best results when I concentrated on one detail at a time. Starting with the accent.
“Your fellow Brits understand you, right?”
“Not always.” He bit into his crust and shook his head with a wry half smile. “I talk fast when I’m trying to convey that utmost speed is necessary. I’ve been told that the more animated I became, the more difficult it was to understand me—especially when I was younger. No doubt there was a bit of prejudice at play in a business setting. Arseholes are eager to judge before you open your mouth. Once you do, you’re judged again.”
“True,” I acknowledged.
“It wasn’t enough to hope someone was willing to give me a chance. I had to suck it up and learn to play the game, dress the part, speak the language. Some call it conforming, but I see it as a weapon, a tool,” he said coolly. “Using those tools doesn’t mean I’m not proud of where I’m from.”
“I didn’t say—”
“Quite the contrary. I’m smarter, tougher, and maybe even more cunning because of me upbringing, not in spite of it.” His accent thickened as he continued, “I come from nowt, mind. Me family was poor as church mice. I wore me fatha’s auld jumpers, a neighbor’s cast-off trainers, ate stale bread the baker gave me Mam outta pity. We didn’t turn the heat on in winta ’cause there was no change for the gas meter. I used to nick apples from Tesco, hide ’em in me pocket, and waltz out the door, whistling like I didn’t have a care in world.”
“Nick? You mean you stole?”
“Aye. Fruit, chewy, sweets mainly. Petty thievery. Shared them with me brutha and sista who were clamming like me. I got caught on a surveillance camera shoveling candy into a knapsack at age twelve and let’s just say, that was the end of me life of crime.” Graham leaned his elbow on the island and snorted. “Me poor parents. Me fatha came bloody unglued. Christ, he was scary when he was mad. He wasn’t just angry about my lawless behavior, though. He was ashamed, disappointed. I’d showed the family up, ye nar. I’d taken what he wished he could give freely. Dishonesty brought shame to all of us, and that was me real crime. Shame.”
I made a yikes face. “Ouch.”
“He’s been gone almost twenty years now, but Jayzus, I still remember that speech. Shaking in me boots, anticipating a smack that never came. It was awful. Mind you, it was a bloody defining moment. I didn’t want to bring shame or disappointment and I didn’t want to be poor. I had to find an honest way to somehow make it up. I became a good student, the most attentive kid in church, and the best athlete the Horshams ever knew. I went to uni and gorra few degrees that led to an apprenticeship and eventually…I founded The Horsham Group.”
“That’s amazing.”
“Maybe, maybe not. I had something to prove, a debt to pay, and a strong desire not to freeze my arse off in winter. That’s all.”
The harsh set of his brow, the slope of his broad shoulders, and the visible tic at the corner of his mouth elevated him to a new level of badass. Graham was not the guy to pick a fight with at the pub. He looked like what he was, a fierce and proud warrior who occasionally dressed as a gentleman.
I swallowed hard. “Your family must be very proud of you.”
He demolished half of a slice of pizza in one chomp and grunted, chewing noisily before replying. “Meh.”
“What do you mean, meh?” I frowned, spreading my arms to encompass his modern open-style kitchen and the floor-to-ceiling wall of glass windows leading to the terrace garden and his domain beyond. “You crushed your goals, man.”
“But in some eyes, I ruined it by being…homosexual.”
“Oh. Your family doesn’t like that you’re gay?”
Graham waved dismissively, pushing the pizza box aside. “That’s old news now. I’m forty-six, Ray-n. My sexuality isn’t a concern to anyone anymore. Even my family. Enough about me. You’ve done it again.”