Kiss Me, I'm Irish

by Barri Bryan

Margaret declined politely. “That would give me nightmares for sure.” She made her excuses and went to bed only to find herself faced with monsters from her past that made sleep difficult and rest impossible.

  Chapter Six

  Connal drove into the parking lot of O'Neil's Lumber and Hardware and parked his Ferrari in a slot near the front entrance. The car with its top down was enough to make people in the parking lot and pedestrians on the sidewalk stop and stare.

  Connal climbing over the door and swaggering toward the store's entrance made onlookers’ gazes shift from the car to the man who had been driving it. Women sent him glances of admiration and men shot fleeting looks of envy his way. Children gaped open-mouthed.

  Seemingly oblivious to the stir he was creating Connal strode toward the store's entrance. His blond hair gleamed in the sunlight. His tight jeans and knit shirt accentuated his muscular physique. He hadn't taken three steps before he was besieged by two teenage girls. As they neared one of them gushed, “Please Doctor Drayton may we have your autograph?” She gave him a pen and squared her shoulders indicating that he should autograph the front of her tee shirt.

  Connal smiled as he took the pen. With a flourish he wrote Michael Drayton/Connal Cassidy. Before he had completed his task a small crowd had gathered around him asking for autographs and firing questions at him about the current state of Michael Drayton's love life.

  A security officer appeared from nowhere and broke up the gathering. “Move along now, all of you. You're creating a safety hazard."

  As the crowd slowly dispersed, the officer asked, “Would you like me to escort you inside and accompany you while you shop?"

  Connal was accustomed to incidents such as this. “I can manage alone, just show me the way to Ms. O'Neil's office."

  The officer tipped his hat. “Sorry sir but I have my orders. I must accompany you while you're in the store."

  With a shrug Connal agreed. “Take me to Ms. O'Neil's office."

  "Yes sir, this way.” The officer ushered Connal through the store as gaping onlookers followed some distance behind, pointing, laughing and shouting compliments and questions. When they reached the door marked Private he held up one hand. “That's it, folks. The show's over.” Opening the door he pointed up a flight of stairs. “Ms. O'Neil's office is up the stairs and to the left."

  As Connal began his ascent, the officer came through the door and closed it behind him before calling out, “Doctor Drayton?"

  Connal turned, “Yes?"

  The officer cleared his throat. “Do you think I could get your autograph?” He whipped a pad and pen from his shirt pocket. “It's for my wife. You're her favorite TV star.” As he spoke he followed Connal up the stairs.

  Connal nodded; “Sure,” he took the pad and pen. “What's your wife's name?"

  "It's Mattie, sir, Mattie Ryan."

  Connal wrote To Mattie Ryan with love, Michael Drayton and gave the pad and pen back to the beaming officer.

  The man hurried down the stairs and out the door saying as he went, “Thank you Doctor Drayton, thank you so much."

  "No problem,” Connal began once more to climb the stairs. He had no idea where Margaret's office was. As he reached the top landing a pretty young woman with a toothy smile rushed to greet him. “Oh, Doctor Drayton, it's such a pleasure to meet you in person.” She extended her hand. “I'm Sylvia Warden, Ms. O'Neil's assistant. She asked me to conduct you to her office."

  So Margaret already knew he was here. News traveled fast around in this place. Connal shook the woman's hand causing her to blush a charming shade of red. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Warden."

  As she turned, the young woman said, “It's Miss Warden.” She nodded indicating that he should follow her. “This way,” She led Connal down a long hall and through a door into an outer office. “Be seated please, Doctor Drayton. Ms. O'Neil will see you soon."

  Connal sat and looked around the office. It was neat and functional and not in the least pretentious. He picked up a magazine and flipped through it, thinking as he did so that Ms. O'Neil was certainly taking her own sweet time.

  Ten minutes he was drumming his fingers on his chair arm, wondering if she'd forgotten him and thinking of leaving. As he tossed the magazine aside Miss Warden came through the door. “Dr Drayton, Ms. O'Neil will see you now. Come in please."

  People simply did not treat Connal Cassidy in such a cavalier fashion. He pushed down his annoyance and hurried into the inner office to find Margaret seated behind a small desk perusing the contents of a folder. Without looking up she said, “You're excused, Miss Warden."

  Miss Warden's glance lingered over Connal as she turned to go. “Yes ma'am, Ms. O'Neil."

  Over the slam of the closing door, Margaret asked, still without looking up, “What the hell are you doing here?"

  Connal replied caustically, “You asked me here, remember?"

  Margaret closed the folder and met his steady gaze. “I asked you to call me this morning.” She glanced at her watch. “Which you didn't do, it's past noon."

  She was pissed because he hadn't called. Without invitation he sat in a straight backed chair near her desk and glanced at his watch. “It's only a few minutes past noon, would you like to go to lunch with me?"

  Margaret's reply was short and succinct. “No.” She tagged her querulous refusal with a terse, “Did you talk to C. J."

  Connal had never before known a woman who could upset him with a look or wound him with a few negative words. He was angry with himself for what he perceived as a weakness. “I did, that's why I'm here."

  Margaret pushed her chair back. “Are you going to tell me what he said?"

  God, she was one high-handed female. “No.” Connal levered himself to a standing position. “So long, Maggie, see you around."

  Margaret pointed to the chair he'd vacated. “Sit down,” She tagged her command with an unexpected, “Please."

  Connal dropped back down into the chair as Margaret offered an apology of sorts. “I shouldn't have yelled at you but you shouldn't have come here."

  Connal turned his head to one side, “Why not?"

  Margaret replied, “Because I don't want people to start talking and because you create too much of a stir by your presence."

  "God, you are one uptight woman."

  Margaret ignored his caustic remark and asked, “What did C. J. say? Did he give you the tapes?"

  Connal was pleased to announce what he considered good news. “C.J. says he destroyed those tapes a long time ago."

  Margaret's eyes narrowed to two green slits as her voice lifted in surprise. “And you believe him?"

  Connal shrugged trying to rid himself of a persistent pang of annoyance. “I have no reason not to believe him."

  "I do.” Margaret straightened her shoulders and leaned backing her chair. “You do know that C. J. and Patrick were political enemies."

  Connal didn't see how that had anything to do with old tapes and he said so and then added, “That's all in the past. Patrick O'Neil is dead. What could C.J. possibly do to hurt a dead man?"

  Margaret frowned. “He could tarnish Patrick's good name."

  Once again Connal was on his feet. “I swear you are paranoid. Forget those damn tapes, take the rest of the day off and relax a little. I'll take you to lunch and then we can do whatever strikes your fancy."

  Margaret shook her head. “Are you ever going to grow up?"

  This woman knew all the buttons to push to make him feel inadequate and immature. He spread his hands and hid his annoyance behind a smile. “I'm mature in all the ways that count, want me to prove it?"

  Margaret sneered, “That's debatable and no thanks."

  Connal's grip on his anger slipped. “I'd rather be immature than grow up to be cold hearted and unfeeling.” He turned on his heel. “Goodbye, Maggie love."

  He was almost to the door when Margaret called after him. “I'm sorry, please come back and sit down."

  Connal heaved a sigh
as he turned to face her. “So you can insult me again? I don't think so."

  "I said I was sorry.” Margaret's voice dropped and took on a pleading tone. “It's just that I'm so worried about those damned tapes."

  "How many times do I have to tell you that there are no tapes?"

  Margaret suggested, “Maybe we should get together tonight and talk about this with C. J."

  "There's nothing to talk about.” If Connal never heard the word tapes again it would be too soon. “Let it go, Maggie."

  Standing, Margaret extended one hand, “Connal can't you see ... ?

  Connal shook his head. “You are worse than paranoid, you're downright unreasonable."

  Margaret rocked back on her heels. “I'm not unreasonable, I'm cautious.” She clenched her fists and held them close to her side as she came around her desk and advanced toward him. “And you are juvenile, irresponsible and reckless—still."

  If he hadn't be so hurt and so angry Connal would have realized that he was behaving like the juvenile Margaret was accusing him of being. But he was and he didn't.

  "I'd rather be a juvenile than a suspicious, middle-aged, old drudge."

  Margaret picked up a paper weight from her desk. “I am not middle-aged. You take that back."

  Connal stuck out his tongue. “Make me.” He dodged as she threw the paper weight. It missed his head by inches and hit the door with a resounding thud before falling to the floor.

  Margaret's anger had cooled to cold fury. “Get out of here."

  Connal shrugged and watched as her face set in hard lines. “Whatever you say, Maggie love.” He bolted through the door and was through the hall and down the stairs in a flash. As he hurried along he smiled. He'd just gotten a glimpse of the fiery, feisty woman he'd known eighteen years ago. So Maggie Donovan hadn't vanished she was just hidden under all those layers of Margaret O'Neil. He managed to slip through the store unnoticed and was almost to his car when a shrill feminine voice called out, “Connal, yoo hoo, over here. Felicia O'Neil was seated on the passenger side of his sleek Ferrari.

  Her calling his name caused others to turn and stare. He sprinted across the lot, climbed over the door and slid into the driver's seat. “Felicia, what the hell are you doing here?"

  A crowd had begun to surround his car.

  "I'm here to collect a ride from you."

  Connal started his motor and drove slowly until the gathering throng moved back. As soon as the way was clear he pushed down on the accelerator and sped from the lot. As he pulled into the stream of traffic, he asked, “Does Margaret know where you are?"

  Felicia laid her hand on his leg. “Will you forget about Margaret?"

  Maybe that's exactly what he should do. Immature was he? Connal glanced briefly in Felicia's direction. “Can I drop you some place,” He pulled his eyes back to the road, “School, home, a friend's house?"

  Felicia pouted, “You took Margaret to Circle C. That's where I want to go too."

  Connal shook his head. “I don't think I can do that."

  Felicia responded with, “Then take me someplace for lunch."

  That suggestion appealed to Connal. “I've been looking for a lunch date. He slowed his car as he asked, “Where would you like to go?"

  Felicia settled back in her seat. “There's a darling little restaurant over on Maple Avenue called Flynn's Place. That's where I want to go."

  As they drove through the streets of Summerville Connal's anger began to cool. Margaret was right; he had behaved like an immature teenager, but then so had she. It irritated him that she was so concerned about her dead husband's good name and so insensitive to him and his feelings. Was he jealous of a dead man? No way, Connal Cassidy had no reason to be jealous of any man—living or dead.

  Felicia's calling his name brought Connal back to the present. She pointed, “Over there, just ahead and to the right."

  Connal wheeled into the parking lot, slipped into a slot and set his emergency brake. The restaurant nestled beside a larger and more impressive building. From the outside it appeared to be trendy with an appeal that would draw the younger, more ‘in’ crowd. He asked as he came around to open Felicia's door. “Have you been here before?"

  Felicia got out of the car. “Not for a while.” She took Connal's arm. “Let's go."

  Inside the restaurant was dimly lit and very chic. A duly impressed waiter showed them to a table as he gushed, “It's a pleasure to serve you Doctor Drayton."

  Felicia raised an eyebrow. “For heaven's sake, the man's name is Connal Cassidy."

  The waiter uttered a meek “Yes ma'am” before he dashed away.

  As his eyes became accustomed to the dim light Connal looked around the room. The place was decorated with taste and style. It was also filled almost to capacity.

  A waitress appeared with glasses of water and menus. As she set Connal's glass before him she gasped, “Oh my God, you're Doctor Michael Drayton."

  Felicia snapped as she glanced up from the menu. “Mister Cassidy only portrays Michael Drayton on TV."

  The waitress pulled her gaze from Connal long enough to glance toward Felicia. “Hello, Miss O'Neil. Welcome back. It's been a while."

  Connal and Felicia had placed their orders and the waitress was turning to go when a thin man that Connal judged to be in his early forties came to stand beside Felicia's chair. Without bothering with hellos or introductions he demanded, “Felicia, what the hell are you doing here?"

  Felicia's pretty little nose lifted a few inches. “I'm hoping to have lunch.” She extended one hand in Connal's direction. “This is my friend, Connal Cassidy. Connal, meet Flynn Taylor he owns Flynn's Place."

  The air sizzled with unspoken animosity as Flynn acknowledged the introduction. “It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister Cassidy. Welcome to Flynn's Place."

  Quickly he shifted his attention back to Felicia. “I hope you and your friend enjoy your lunch.” Turning on the ball of his foot he hurried away.

  As he disappeared behind the swinging doors at the back, Connal asked, “What was that all about?"

  Felicia tried to appear nonchalant but the tears in her eyes gave her away. “Flynn and I were once engaged.” She swallowed and said, “I don't want to talk about it."

  Connal couldn't shake the feeling that he'd been used. Had Felicia brought him here to make Flynn Taylor jealous? If that was her intent, she'd succeeded admirably.

  Lunch arrived and Connal realized that he was ravenously hungry. He raised his water glass to the young woman across from him, “Bon Appetite".

  Chapter Seven

  Margaret pushed a half eaten sandwich aside and tried to concentrate on the work before her. She couldn't. Wadding her napkin into a ball she tossed it toward the wastebasket and missed. Connal Cassidy certainly brought out the worst in her. She hadn't resorted to throwing things since.... The last time she'd quarreled with Connal.

  Sylvia knocked before coming from the outer office. Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it. “Mister Cassidy is outside. He says he has to see you."

  So Connal was back again. Margaret wondered how he'd managed to get inside and upstairs without creating another minor riot. “Tell Mister Cassidy to go to.... “Her sentence snapped in mid air. “Never mind I'll tell him myself.” She was on her feet and coming around her desk when Sylvia said, “It's not Doctor Drayton; it's his father, C.J."

  Margaret leaned against her desk. “C. J. Cassidy is in my outer office?"

  Sylvia grimaced. “Yes ma'am, he is."

  Margaret found her chair and sat back down. “Did he say what he wanted?"

  "Yes ma'am, he did. He said he wants to see you."

  Margaret shook her head in dismay. “What the hell for?"

  "That he didn't say."

  Margaret hesitated a moment before saying, “Show him in."

  Sylvia opened the door and motioned with her hand. “Ms. O'Neil will see you now, Mister Cassidy."

  C.J. got slowly to his fe
et. “It's about damn time."

  Sylvia opened the door wider and stepped back. “You will have to get rid of your cigar. Ms. O'Neil doesn't allow anyone to smoke in her offices."

  C.J. took his stogie from his mouth. “Where the hell do you want me to put it?"

  Sylvia retrieved a Styrofoam cup from her desk and held it out to C.J. “Drop it in here."

  C.J. let out a string of imprecations as he put his half smoked cigar into the cup, “God damn waste of money throwing away a good smoke."

  Sylvia said as she hurried through the outer office door. “I'll put some water in this."

  C.J. came into Margaret's office and kicked the door shut with his foot. As he eased down in the chair in front of her desk, he announced, “You and me got some talkin’ to do."

  Margaret was set to tell him to go to hell then she reconsidered. “Good afternoon, C. J. To what do I owe this dubious honor?"

  C.J.'s voice was surprisingly soft. “There's no call to go getting’ your tail over your back. I'm here on legitimate bizness."

  Margaret doubted that C.J. knew the meaning of the word legitimate. Then it hit her like a bucket of cold water. He was here about those damned tapes. She decided her best defense was to go on the offensive. “Give me the tapes you have of Connal and me or I will drag your sorry ass into court and sue you for every cent you're worth."

  C. J. was the picture of innocence. “I told that boy that I ain't got them tapes no more.” As Margaret was drawing a sigh of relief he added, “I put every last one of them on one DVD before I destroyed ‘em."

  His words made Margaret sit up and narrow her eyes in his direction. “You bastard, you lied to Connal."

  Leaning back in his chair, C. J. smiled. “No I didn't, I just didn't tell him all the truth."

  Margaret saw no reason to beat around the bush. “And now you're here to blackmail me.” An icy chill froze up her backbone. “Spill it, C.J., what do you want."

  "I want to please Connal's mamma.” C. J's expression was serious but his eyes twinkled. “And Connal's mamma wants him home."

  Margaret lifted an eyebrow as she pointed out, “He is home."