He chuckles heartily as we head across the dark, chilly parking lot. A full-body shiver works its way through me, and I can already tell reports about the cold winter weather were not unfounded. I sense a shopping trip in my near future.
“Relax, love. It’s only a figure of speech. I’ve heard all the birds in Hollywood are real beauties and they all want to be actresses.” He stops at a black Mercedes car with a yellow taxi sign on the roof. He continues talking while he opens the trunk, and I glance at the other cars around us, spotting a lot of brands I’m familiar with. “Is it true they all have fake knockers?” he asks.
I blink profusely, staring blankly at him. I thought they spoke English in Dublin, but I’m completely confused and second-guessing myself.
He chuckles at the expression on my face. “Plastic tits,” he explains.
Ah, now I’m getting the gist. “It’s true a lot of women in Hollywood are fans of cosmetic surgery.” Not this gal though. I plan to grow old gracefully, like Mom.
“I’ve only been to America once,” he adds, swiftly stacking my suitcases in the trunk. “I brought me missus and the kids to Orlando, when me missus was me mot. It’s a fecking fantastic place.”
He might as well be speaking Gaelic. For all I know, he is. I stare blankly at him again, and he chuckles as he opens the back door of the car for me.
“I always forget you Yanks speak differently. Me missus is me wife.”
“Good to know. Thank you.” My smile is genuine, because it’s easy to respond naturally to his friendly manner.
Removing a photo from his wallet, Micheál leans back to show me. “That’s my Maureen, and my three boys. She’s still a looker, even after all these years.” His chest swells with pride.
“You have a beautiful family,” I agree, handing the photo back to him.
He talks nonstop throughout the journey from Dublin Airport to the city center, changing subjects seamlessly and barely pausing for a breath. Traffic is heavier than I was expecting but it’s not as bad as L.A. His driving skills leave a lot to be desired, and he’s constantly switching lanes, honking his horn, cussing, and shaking his fist when other drivers try to cut in front of him.
By the time we reach the brown brick and glass high-rise I’ll be calling home for the next few months, my heart is in my mouth from the stress of his crazy driving and he’s given me a summary of his life story and a list of places I need to visit. “Home sweet home, love,” he says, pulling into an underground parking lot under the Capital Dock Residence building. “This place is the perfect location,” he adds, maneuvering into a vacant spot by the doors that lead to the elevators. “You’re right beside the Liffey, and it’s only a ten-minute walk to Trinners. You’re slap bang in the heart of the city with access to all the shops, pubs, and restaurants. You’ll have a grand ole time in our fair city.”
“Thank you so much, Micheál.” I lean forward, handing him a fifty-euro bill as a tip. Mom’s assistant Moira booked everything, and I know he’s already been paid for the journey.
“Jesus, love. You can’t be giving me that. It’s too much.”
“Trust me. It was worth it for the wealth of knowledge I’ve gleaned on the journey here. You should be a tour guide,” I quip, climbing out of the car.
“Maybe I missed my true calling.” He waggles his brows while unloading my suitcases.
He insists on coming inside with me, and between us, we manage to get all my luggage into the small elevator. Or lift, as Micheál keeps calling it.
Micheál whistles under his breath as we step out of the elevator into a large lobby. “Would you get a look at this place?” he says, looking awestruck as he glances around. “This is how the other half live.”
A tall, slim woman with dark hair pulled back in a ponytail steps forward to greet me. She’s wearing a navy skirt suit with a white blouse and holding a clipboard. “Ms. Mills?” she asks, extending her arm for a handshake.
“That’s me.” I shake her hand.
She smiles, flashing a set of beautiful white teeth. “I’m Ciara, the manager on duty today. I’m delighted to welcome you to Capital Dock Residence, and I hope you’ll enjoy your stay with us.”
“You’re in capable hands now, love.” Micheál grabs my hand, pressing a card into my palm. “Enjoy your time in Ireland, and if you need a taxi, I’m yer man.” I wave him off while Ciara arranges for someone to take my luggage up to the penthouse apartment.