Five(55)
Except, Liam prefers telling the story that the world wants to hear, of Danny as the disabled, dependent brother and Liam as the selfless hero. And worse than everyone accepting that version of events is that Liam does too.
All right, then, Danny thinks. Let Liam live on in his myth if that’s what will keep him—them—going. And he puts his brother’s words away in the place where he keeps Doreen’s words and the drink of kings, although he’s starting to run out of space. And patience.
The business grows and expands. The brothers are at the forefront of designing cutting-edge assistive equipment. They are leaders in speech-generating devices and adaptive keyboards. Their biggest success comes in 2000 with the production of a voice-activated device allowing the user to control appliances with verbal commands, helping many people with disabilities gain greater independence in their own homes.
Public relations play a role in their early success. Liam learns quickly about the power of the combination of his gap-tooth smile, his strong arms, and his accent, especially when they accompany Danny onto a stage. They become media darlings. It is more than just the classic tale of rags to riches via the pulling up of bootstraps that the public devours, it is the photos, the optics that they love. They love to seek out resemblance between the twins. They try to find the thread of similarity that binds the Grecian god–like looks of Liam to the thin figure of Danny in a wheelchair or leaning on his crutches, and marvel at the lottery of birth, and say things like “Can you imagine,” and “How is it possible,” and “The big one must thank his lucky stars.”
They are interviewed on Parkinson and Good Morning Britain, and they even make an appearance on The Oprah Winfrey Show in America. Liam talks about the fake seizures and getting into the cinema for free when they were kids. How Danny has always been the brains in the family, how he helped Liam with his homework, how their mother worked two jobs to pay for Danny’s tutors. “He were that clever,” he says, knowing the authenticity that his errant grammar lends to the story. He puts a hand on his brother’s knee, nudges Danny with an elbow playfully if they’re sitting side by side.
Danny says little in the interviews. The interviewers simply don’t have the time or patience to wait for him to speak. When they do turn to him, it is usually for the last question, when they say slowly and loudly, “What would your mother think of your success?” and Danny says, “She—would—say,—well—done—you—cunts,” and everyone leans forward just a little and thinks they must have misheard, that he must have actually said, “She would say well done to us,” of course that’s what he said. His speech is just a bit slurred, that’s all, and some people giggle at their mistake, and some feel ashamed that they even thought it.
And then the camera pans to the audience, where more than one woman is brushing away a tear, imagining herself as Doreen, and the interviewer, slightly flushed, says something like, “Yes, she would be so proud of you both indeed,” and only Danny and Liam know that Danny did actually say cunts, because that’s what he thought of everyone who interviewed him this way, with the exception of Oprah, who started the interview with a question for Danny, and held his hand and shed a tear when he spoke of the death of Doreen, and paid little attention to Liam, knowing exactly what he was about the minute she shook his hand and saw the gap in his smile.
Danny tolerates the interviews, the photos in Hello! and the Sunday newspaper magazines. He tolerates the tone people use with him, speaking to him as they would a child, the condescension, the talk of miracles that someone like him could have built what he did with Liam. He tolerates it because he knows that D-Tech products transform people’s lives, but also because Danny is an entrepreneur, and he is wealthy. He likes money. And he wants more of it.
So when it’s time to grow D-Tech, to take it to the next level, to diversify the product, to get into research and artificial intelligence, to make not just specialized products but products for everyone’s homes, to go public, to really raise its profile and leave its mark and create a legacy, the brothers look for a new chief financial officer.
Emma interviews with them at their offices. She is the youngest candidate. Her rise to this position happened rather quickly, and there are rumors about how she achieved so much in her career so fast, but the brothers soon understand how she has set herself apart from the rest.
As Danny describes his vision of a future accessible to everyone, of leading the world in innovation and creativity, breaking down barriers, extending their reach to schools and governments, Emma looks at him directly with her piercing eyes, perched on the edge of her chair, legs crossed, left arm folded over right resting on her knees, back straight, like a praying mantis prepared for battle. She says, “Sure Danny, that’s great, but to be honest, I don’t really give a fuck. I’m here to make you some money.”
The brothers look at each other.
“Wel—come—a—board,” Danny says. And Liam smiles.
* * *
He smiles because this woman is going to need him, and he can’t wait to see what she wants. No, Liam knows what she wants as soon as she walks in the door. He can’t wait to see how she asks for it. He knows she will.
There’s no denying that Emma is impressive. Self-made, ambitious, brilliant, wealthy. He’s heard the stories about her and her former colleagues. But she’s thirty-seven, almost thirty-eight, single, unattached, living alone, no ex-husbands, no children. Despite the ball-busting, man-eating persona and the foul mouth, he knows she’s lonely. It’s all a cover for her ticking clock, her shriveling eggs crying out under that dress that makes her look like a nun. And a whore.