Paul’s first meeting with Kieran Carter had been twenty years ago. The fiery young redhead had been the youngest member of his construction crew, back when he’d been an up-and-coming foreman.

She’d gone on to bigger challenges since then, while he’d stuck with the trade, and later the Association.

Two decades later, Kieran Carter headed the Tanisport office of the Employment and Training Administration, part of the U.S. Department of Labour. A position which required significant contact with many associations, including the CWA.

So when he’d invited her over for a talk, he hadn’t been sure she’d come. After all, she had to work with the current administration, which meant Gordy Peaks and his clique.

Ten seconds after he’d sent the message, the reply had come: “When and where?”

And thus, Paul Drake had made sure the kids were out of the house that Saturday night. Some things you didn’t want to discuss in front of your children.

Kieran showed up at precisely eight-thirty.

“You’re looking young as ever,” Paul greeted her.

“And you’re still a flatterer,” his friend replied. “Where’s your daughter?”

“Out with friends. I thought we’d need some privacy for this.”

Kieran seated herself on the sofa. “You thought right. How’s the recovery going?”

“Slow but steady. I’ve been undergoing a customized physio regimen.”

“The CWA’s not covering it, I suppose?”

“Since I’m ‘retired’, no. Gordy Peaks cut off my benefits a few months ago.”

“I’ve been hearing things. Peaks and his clique have been consolidating their grip over the CWA.”

“I take it the ‘consolidation’ hasn’t been entirely legal.”

“Nothing we can act on. Whispers, mostly. How this contractor or that are getting special favours, training funds being reallocated to office expenses, stuff like that.”

“No complaints?”

“They wouldn’t come to my department, in any case.”

“But you hear things.”

“Of course I hear things, Paul. Franklin had the ear of Mayor Aldiss, Gordy Peaks is lucky if he can get hold of toenail clippings. The CWA’s influence is waning across the city. You’ll be lucky if you shed less than two thousand members this year.”

“That’s over and above the casualties from the attack, you mean.”

“That’s our best estimate. Internal projections? If Gordy Peaks continues as CWA President, in five years your members will drop to zero. Other unions will probably pick up the slack, of course, so total numbers won’t change.”

“Thanks, Kieran.”

“No worries. Just make sure nobody knows I told you this. The ETA is supposed to be neutral between unions.”

“So will you get arrested for telling me this?”

“Nah. Just in some bit of trouble, that’s all.”

Paul grinned. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll have you know I was a dedicated, serious worker.”

“You also got roaring drunk a dozen times and picked fights with blokes twice your size.”

“Never said I was a smart worker. Besides, you were right there with me.”

“Getting drunk, not picking fights.”

“But certainly winning them. Alas, to be young again.” Kieran sighed. “Still got that miracle hangover cure?”

“Yeah. Don’t need it much nowadays.”

“Your daughter not up to booze nights?”

“She’s fifteen. I’m hoping it’ll be a while before she starts on them.”

“Didn’t you get drunk for the first time at fifteen?”

“How do you know that?”

“I remember you telling me that when you were drunk.”

“Fine, yes, I did. Which is why I hope my kids don’t follow suit.”

“Kids, plural?”

“I have a son as well.”

“Since when? You’ve only ever talked about your daughter.”

“I recently adopted.”

“Wow, you have been busy. Can’t blame you for not reaching out to an old friend, then.”

“Things have been hectic. Recovery, physio, getting Andrew settled in, Anne’s school and the disruptions…”

“Yeah, plus the chaos the city’s been in. Did you follow the whole mess with Belessar?”

“Fairly closely, yeah.”

“Brahampton Stadium’s been condemned, you know. Structurally unsafe. They’re looking for contractors to repair it.”

“What about the funding?”

“There isn’t any, so they’re planning a fundraiser. Inviting athletes, alumni, corporate sponsors… even the Federal government’s been approached.”

“They have money for a fundraiser?”

“They convinced Aldiss to come and speak. Three hundred dollars a plate for corporate bigwigs to hobnob with the who’s who of government.”

“You going?”

“I’m invited, why?”

“I’d like to come along.”

Kieran cocked her head. “Paul Drake. Are you asking me to go with you to a ball? Like a date?”

“Actually, I want to use your connections. Get in touch with some corporate partners, influencers, network a bit.”

“... Paul. Are you going to run for CWA president?”

“I think I am.”

“Huh.” Kieran downed her whiskey. “It’s about time. How many tickets you need?”

“You have extras?”

“They sent a dozen tickets to my office and nobody wants to go. I can take as many people as I want.”

“I’d like to bring my son along.”

“Sure, I’d love to meet him. Stag, or couple?”

“I’ll check, but put down ‘couple’ for now.”

“He’s over fifteen?”

“Eighteen.”

Kieran raised an eyebrow. “You adopted an eighteen-year-old?”

“It’s a long story, and not only mine to tell.”

“Fine, fine. Someday I’ll get you drunk enough.”