The Hooker and the Hermit

by L.H. Cosway

  “Like hell we’re not.” He reached for me, and I stepped to the side, evading him.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  He moved like he was going to reach for me again, and I stiffened, adding more force to my voice. “Don’t touch me; I mean it.”

  That seemed to do the trick because he reeled back like I’d struck him, and he looked equal parts surprised and hurt.

  “What happened?” His eyes searched me as though he were looking for a sign, an injury.

  He wouldn’t find the injury because I’d never let him see it.

  “I have to go.”

  “Dammit, Annie. What the fuck is going on?”

  “I promised Kurt we’d spend the day together.” It was such a low blow that even I flinched as I said the words. “I don’t want to keep him waiting. He doesn’t like that.”

  Ronan winced, his eyes half blinking. Then he stared at me. He reminded me of a gathering storm, imminently threatening. He was so strong, so big, so powerful. But it wasn’t his body that was dangerous. His words, his looks and touches, his laughs and smiles…his lies.

  And he looked hurt. His face told me that I’d hurt him. I felt myself soften toward him; my chin wobbled, but I quickly caught the instinct to soothe and comfort before I gave into it, into him and these feelings I had no right feeling because I knew better. I ripped my gaze from his and stuffed my hands in my coat pockets.

  “I have to go,” I whispered.

  “Go then.” His tone was flat, and he took a step back as though giving me a wide berth, showing me he wasn’t going to stand in my way.

  I nodded, knowing with certainty that I was going to start crying in the next sixty seconds. I would cry all the way home. I was going to be that mad, insane crying woman, walking the streets of New York, sobbing like a fool.

  Because there was nothing else to say, I left.

  And I cried.

  Chapter Fourteen

  @RonanFitz: My phone keeps whistling at me. Anybody know how to shut it up?

  @Irenelovesrugby: @RonanFitz If I were your phone, I’d be whistling at you too, sexy ;-) :-* <3 :-P

  @RonanFitz: @Irenelovesrugby Something wrong with your keyboard, darlin. Shitload of nonsense at the end there.

  *Ronan*

  “Loooook, darling brother, I brought you a gift,” Lucy singsonged as she came into my room and draped a blue and green scarf around my neck. I took a glance at the label and saw it cost over two hundred dollars.

  I let out a low whistle and said, “Pricey. What’s this for?”

  She perched on the edge of my bed and crossed one leg over the other. “I thought a gift might cheer you up.”

  I was sitting in a chair by the desk at the window, pathetically reading through all of the emails I’d swapped with Annie, aka The Socialmedialite, and trying to find a clue as to why she might’ve withdrawn. In other words, I was moping.

  “And I thought you believed that happiness can’t be found through material possessions,” I countered, arching a brow.

  Something passed over her face, but it was gone in an instant. Now she was smiling. “Ah, that’s true, but it doesn’t count for gift giving. Studies have actually proven that we derive far more happiness from buying things for other people than we do buying for ourselves.”

  “Yeah, well, a scarf isn’t going to make me feel better,” I said and ran a hand down my face. “I really thought I’d made a breakthrough with Annie, and then she just rushes off like that during breakfast.” In all honesty, it was taking every ounce of my willpower not to go over to her place because thinking of her spending even a second with that overly coiffed dickhead of a neighbor made me want to break something, preferably his smug face.

  Lucy sucked in a deep breath, and her words came out in a hurried, whispered tumble. “You know, I couldn’t say anything in front of Ma at the restaurant earlier, but I don’t think Annie’s rushing off had anything to do with her feelings for you. It wasn’t your fault. Ma was an absolute cow to her. She first insinuated that Annie was with you for the money, and then she…well, she made it sound like you’re not....”

  I held my breath; I didn’t even blink. When Lucy didn’t continue, I pressed, “Like I’m not what?”

  Lucy huffed, “Like you have ‘commitment issues,’ like you don’t believe in monogamy.”

  I got up abruptly from my chair, jaw clenching, temper rising.

  “She did what?” I asked, my voice low in disbelief.

  “I’m sorry, but it’s what she said. You’re always away, whether you’re travelling with the team or coming to New York for a break. You don’t spend time with Ma the way that I do. You get her in small, palatable doses.” Her voice grew sad as she looked down at her hands in her lap. “Besides, you’re, like, her favorite person, so obviously she’s going to be nice to you. You don’t see the side of her that the rest of us see.”

  Frowning, I walked toward her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Has she been giving you trouble?”

  Lucy scoffed, but it seemed forced. “Hardly. Her remarks have just gotten worse the last few years. Before then, you were always around to temper her moods.”

  “That’s not on. I’m going to have a word with her.”

  “No, don’t….”

  Lucy grabbed my wrist to try to pull me back, but I was already marching from the room. I found Ma in the lounge going through a bunch of shopping bags she’d just brought back. She and Lucy had spent the day enjoying some retail therapy. When they’d arrived the other night, Ma had said she was desperately worried about me over the whole Brona thing, and that’s why she’d dropped everything to come see me. Now I was beginning to wonder if she’d just wanted to enjoy the shopping opportunities New York provided and stick her nose in my business with Annie.

  “What do you think you’re playing at, talking to Annie like that?”

  She didn’t look up from her treasures as she asked, “Has Lucy been telling tales?”

  “What exactly did you say to her?”

  When she did glance up, she gave me a placid look like I was being overdramatic and took her time setting the Louis Vuitton bag aside before answering me. “Oh, Ronan, come sit down. I only have your best interests at heart.”

  “No, you obviously don’t. If you did, you’d be treating Annie like a queen rather than sniping at her behind my back. That girl is everything to me, so you’re going to have to accept her. Jesus, the shit she’s been through, and you go and pull a stunt like this.” I was wracked with worry, furiously running my hand through my hair, trying to figure out a way to apologize to Annie.

  Ma scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Please, I’m sure whatever she’s told you is a web of lies concocted to solicit your sympathy. Girls like Annie see men like you coming from a mile away. Believe me, I know.”

  “Girls like Annie?”

  “You know, the ones that rely on their looks and their horizontal talents.”

  Something in me snapped. “God give me patience, you haven’t a clue. So in future, you can keep your mouth shut and your nose out of it. I’m going out. If you want dinner, you can order something in.”

  I grabbed my shoes from where I’d left them by the door to the room and pulled them on, giving her my back.

  I heard her sniff then take a shaky breath.

  I ignored her dramatics and continued, “Oh, yeah, and take it easy on Lucy, would you? She’s your daughter and the only female friend you have, so quit giving her shit all the time. She’s a great girl.”

  I made the mistake of glancing toward her. My mother’s eyes were watering, and she looked at me like I’d struck her, like I’d betrayed her.

  Just. Fucking. Fantastic.

  I didn’t want to apologize. Hell, I had no reason to apologize. So I turned from her watery gaze and marched to the door. I was just about to leave when she spoke up, and I could hear the falling tears in her voice. “I’m sorry—I’ve been missing you, that’s all,” she called after me, her words e
nding on a sob.

  I loved my mother to pieces; but she was a master manipulator, and I knew the crying jag was her way of getting me to feel sorry for her. No matter how angry I was, I couldn’t walk away from her when she crying; I just didn’t have it in me.

  “Fuck,” I swore and walked back to her, flopping down beside her and pulling her in for a hug. “The next time you’re around Annie just be nice to her, okay? She’s an amazing woman, and I really think you’ll like her once you give her a chance.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said again, and I patted her on the back before standing up. “I really don’t know what I could have said that upset her so much.”

  I ignored this statement because it sounded false. “I really need to get out for a while. I’m going stir-crazy sitting in this place all day.”

  She nodded, and I gave her once last reassuring look before I left. I’d hardly made it to the street before my phone started ringing. I pulled it out immediately, hoping it was Annie. Disappointment struck when I saw it wasn’t a number I recognized. I answered, and Joan began talking down the line immediately.

  “Okay, so I’ve just been in a video conference with your people back in Ireland. As you’re probably aware, the Sportsperson of the Year Awards are taking place in Dublin next weekend, and the organizers would like you to go and present an award. As well, we’ve arranged several additional public appearances. You’ll be there for three weeks at least. Apparently, they’re on your side in relation to the bad press surrounding your ex. Rachel and Ian have been working around the clock finding ways to discredit her. We have quite a laundry list compiled. No need to thank them—Brona has made it quite easy. Also, the ceremony will be a great way for you to initiate your return to the team, get your picture in the magazines and such. I’m going to arrange for Annie to accompany you. You’ll leave on Thursday morning and fly back to New York on Sunday. That gives you a couple of days to prepare. Sound good?”

  I laughed. “Did you even breathe during all that, Joan?”

  “I’m a busy woman,” she replied, a smile in her voice. “Now, are you on board for this or not?”

  “Yeah, I’m on board,” I answered. I didn’t relish the idea of going home so soon, but several weeks alone with Annie all to myself was too good an opportunity to pass up. She clearly didn’t want to be around me right now, but I didn’t think she’d say no to Joan. After she passed on a few more details, I hung up and typed out a message to Annie.

  Ronan: Lucy told me what Ma said to you. I’m so sorry. She was way out of line. We need to talk. I’m going to call you in a minute, so please pick up.

  I crossed the street and walked inside the park, finding a bench and sitting down. Then I dialed Annie’s number. No answer. I tried again twice, but there was still no answer, so I sent another text.

  Ronan: Please tell me you were lying about Kurt. I’m going crazy here. I can’t stand the thought of you with him. With anyone. Please pick up. I never beg, but I’ll beg for you, Annie.

  After several more attempts to call her, I hung up. She was shutting me out.

  I ended up taking a cab to Tom’s. The place was crowded and busy, but he made time to sit with me and listen to my woes. For the second day in a row, I found myself drinking; and it’s embarrassing to admit because I certainly didn’t look like a lightweight, but I was tipsy by the time I got to my second beer. I’d been living so clean, putting my health and fitness first, that my body wasn’t used to alcohol. Tom had to take my phone off me when I tried to drunk-dial Annie.

  It wasn’t like she was going to pick up anyway.

  Later on he brought me back to the penthouse, and Ma looked horrified to see I’d been drinking. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t take a small amount of pleasure in that. She’d screwed things up for me with Annie, so I wasn’t feeling so warm toward her right then.

  The next morning I woke up with a thumping headache. It was safe to say this was the first time I’d experienced a hangover in a long while. Even after all the drama of my breakup with Brona, I never hit the bottle. I was being ridiculous. After some exercise and a nourishing breakfast, I decided to try a different tack and emailed The Socialmedialite.

  March 23

  10:07 a.m.

  Dear SML,

  Here lies the message of a desperate man.

  I need your advice. It saddens me to admit that I’m having woman troubles. I’m crazy about Annie, but she’s not taking my calls. We were getting along great, but then my mother showed up for an impromptu visit and said some harsh stuff to her, all of which was complete bullshit. My mother can be possessive and overprotective, but that doesn’t excuse her behavior. In a nutshell, Annie’s feelings were hurt, and she ended things. I need to make this right, but I have no idea what to do. You’re a woman—tell me how women think, what they need.

  Your suggestions are much appreciated.

  Ronan

  After stewing for a minute or two, I hit “send” and waited. And waited. And then waited some more. Deciding that a watched pot never boils, I went and took a run around the park. I was going overboard with the exercise, but it was the only thing that channeled my restless energy. I had REO Speedwagon blaring on my iPod in an effort to drown out my thoughts.

  I spotted a group of college guys playing a game of rugby and offered to join in. A couple of them actually recognized me and were over the moon to have me take part. All of Annie’s teachings must have been rubbing off on me because I took the opportunity to take a picture with them and posted it to Instagram.

  @RonanFitz: Saw these boys in the park. Decided to join them for a match.

  I felt weird and stilted in the way I wrote the caption, but I just didn’t know how to insert my personality into the post. Still, after only a couple of minutes, the picture had thousands of “likes,” and people were commenting on how they wished they could be there. A bunch of people who were in the area even came by to watch. It surprised the shit out of me. I’d never tried anything like this before, never knew the influence a single picture could have. I mean, people who had seen the picture came to watch the game, and they were actually nice to me, offering compliments and words of support.

  We all got very excited to have an audience, and things got a little over-enthusiastic between me and the boys. I walked away with a couple of bruises, but for the first time in a long while, I felt good about the sport. I’d been so angry about what the fame had brought into my life that I’d almost forgotten how much I loved to just play, be a part of a team, enjoy the sense of competition and camaraderie.

  And, to be completely honest, I loved the brutality of it. Though it was a match, it was real in a way real life isn’t. You hit, you scrum, you fight, you kick and punch and beat the living shit out of each other, and it’s glorious. Everyone knows the point. Everyone knows the goal. There’s no second-guessing, and there are no pulled punches.

  After the match, I signed a bunch of autographs and talked to the people who’d shown up. I declined going to the pub for an obligatory beer. By the time I got home, I was exhausted but in a good way.

  “Where have you been all day?” Ma asked when I arrived at the penthouse. There was a hint of annoyance in her voice that said she was looking for a fight, but I wasn’t going to engage her.

  “Out,” I replied shortly and walked down the hall to my room.

  “Well, that’s you told,” Lucy chuckled from where she’d been lounging on the sofa reading a magazine.

  “Shut up, you,” Ma snapped, and I heard her heels clicking on the wood floor before the front door opened and shut, signaling her departure.

  I opened up my laptop to find a response from The SML.

  March 23

  5:22 p.m.

  Hi, Ronan,

  I don’t remember ever telling you I was female. Still, if you want my advice, here it is:

  If Annie needs space, give her space. From the stories about her so far in the press, she sounds like a sensitive girl, and perhaps
cooling things off for a while could be a good thing. Maybe your relationship was too much too quickly.

  Perhaps the harshness from your mother was a bit of a wake-up call, a good reminder that you belong to a lot of people—and not just your family. Think about it. She’s a normal girl living a normal life. She’s not used to people with cameras following her everywhere she goes. Perhaps it’s not that her feelings for you have changed, but more that all of it—meeting your family, dating a celebrity—is just overwhelming.

  I don’t have much more to offer than that.

  Of note, I’m going to be away on vacation for the next ten days, so I’ll be out of touch.

  Yours,

  The SML

  P.S. I saw you’ve been a bit of an Instagram sensation today. I think it’s safe to say you’re officially embracing my way of life. Well done! Plus, you must not be so brokenhearted. People were posting lots of pictures of the game in the park, and it looked like you were having a fantastic time:-)

  Okay, so she was definitely being passive-aggressive with that last bit. And now I really regretted ever having played that game today. I must have been experiencing a moment of stupidity when I neglected to realize that Annie, being the online wizard that she was, would see the picture I’d posted.

  I wanted to write something in reply, but I didn’t see the point. My entire plan had backfired. I’d futilely hoped that Annie would reply with some suggestions on winning her back like, I don’t know, showing up outside her place and butchering a love song or something.

  Her advising me in a roundabout way to back the fuck off was not my desired outcome. Also, the idea that she was overwhelmed by the media circus that was my life hurt. I wanted her by my side, but I didn’t want her to feel harangued.

  So I moped around for the rest of the evening. Lucy tried her best to cheer me up, but it was a hopeless mission. I was wallowing like a lovesick fool. When Ma got home, she was clearly in a huff with me because she went straight to the guest room without so much as a word.