Julian Jerome was lost in memories as he ambled down 7th Street to McSorley's Ale House. The Irish tavern, established in 1854, was deeply woven into the Jerome family fabric. His grandfather, Victor Jerome Sr., had drank there, even during the prohibition days. Those had been the, albeit waning, years of Tammany Hall and Irish Democratic power and pride. There was some irony that he hadn't been able to remain at Georgetown long enough to complete his dissertation on the efficiency of an urban political machine. If only his government professors could see him now he thought with a wry chuckle as he pulled open the door and stepped into the pub.
He was halfway to the bar when he caught his breath. He nearly pinched himself because he wasn't sure he really believed that she was truly standing there in front of him. Then their lips met and he both remembered, believed, and forgot anything else.
"Alexis?" he asked between gasps when they separated. "What are you doing here?"
"I work at a law firm in the city now," Alexis replied quickly.
Julian thought he heard disappointment in her voice. Had she figured out that she still occupied his thoughts? Had his gifts given it away? Had his questions caused her to question that? Or was he just projecting the disappointment because he needed their meeting to something more than coincidental? "This hardly seems the scene of Whitter, Whitaker, and Holmes," he finally said.
Alexis smiled uneasily at first but then her smile seemed to broaden as Julian wanted to believe she realized that she was hearing validation and reaffirmation of their continued connection. "Good point. I heard about your father and, well, he was your father, so, I'm sorry," she said.
Julian noted that she hadn't exactly expressed sadness that Victor Jerome Jr. was no longer alive on the planet unleashing wanton death and destruction. To be honest, he wasn't saddened by that himself. He also hadn't exactly been heartbroken when his father had gotten life without parole for Duke Lavery's murder. In fact, he had felt liberated at his father's sentencing hearing. It had given him some small sense of justice for Duke, his wife, and his stepdaughter. It had also given him the green light to legitimize the organization.
Unfortunately, his father's time in prison had been short. He had escaped about four months into his life sentence. Julian was quite certain he had also coordinated the Manhattan Diamond Heist the next day. He carefully hadn't asked that question because, honestly, he had no interest in some overzealous prosecutor considering him an accessory after the fact.
"That he was," Julian finally agreed.
Alexis forced a laugh. "We don't get to choose our family," she said.
Julian supposed if anyone would understand that simple truth it would be Alexis. The Cassadines might be Russian Aristocrats, exiled to Greece, but they had been staging their own deadly vendettas long before the Jerome Family got involved in bootlegging or extortion. "Another excellent point. May I buy you a drink? I'll show you how to pour a proper Irish Half and Half," he said.
"A what?" Alexis asked.
"It is very similar to those Black and Tans that your old buddy Mikey Baldwin used to drink in college. Of course, no self-respecting Irishman would ever use that term."
Alexis seemed to catch the reference to the Royal Irish Constabulary. "They say that those who do not remember history are doomed to repeat it."
Julian chuckled. That comment definitely applied to Michael Baldwin. To add a different irony to the words, his undergraduate major had been history. "Touché! Don't go anywhere I'll be back in a minute," he said as he worked his way through the throng to the bar.