No One to Trust

by Julie Moffett

  “Damn,” he breathed. “We’re here, lass.” He reached across me and opened the door.

  I tried to calm my breathing and act casual, like good-looking guys kissed my neck every day. I wriggled to the door, trying to figure how to get out without ripping or falling out of my spandex-squeezing gown. Thankfully, the driver gallantly stepped up and stretched out a hand.

  “Careful now, madame,” he warned.

  Like, duh. What did he think I was doing?

  When he saw me just sitting there trying to mathematically calculate the safest move, he grabbed my hand and pulled hard. I guess he had some experience at rescuing spandex-clad women from limos because, to my great relief, I exited the limo with dress intact and Finn following close behind. He took aside the driver and slipped him something.

  Finn had just rejoined me on the curb when a stocky man with blond-streaked hair tied back into a ponytail came out to meet us at the curb. A cigarette dangled between his lips and he was dressed in a black suit with a white turtleneck and tennis shoes.

  “Well, Finn, ye ole dog.” He smacked Finn hard on the back. “Damn good to see ye, mate. How’s the form?”

  “Just grand, Colin. And you?”

  “Brilliant,” he said and then his gaze settled on me. He gave me a long and thorough perusal and then grinned. “Who’s the lass?”

  “Let me introduce you to Lexi Carmichael,” Finn said, his hand still resting in the small of my back. He pushed me a little bit forward. “Lexi, this is Colin Kelley, owner of the Shamrock Gallery.”

  I noticed that Finn’s voice had immediately changed to a full-blown Irish lilt upon our arrival and it made me smile. “It’s nice to meet you,” I said to Colin.

  To my surprise, Colin snatched my hand and pressed it to his lips for what I thought was an inordinate amount of time. “So, an American lass,” he murmured against my skin. “That’s a surprise.”

  I wasn’t so sure what was surprising about that, but before I could say anything, Finn spoke up.

  “Colin and I go way back.” He extracted my hand from Colin’s lips. “We’ve been friends since primary school.”

  Colin glanced with amusement at Finn. “Has it been that long?” He eyed me while taking a long drag of his cigarette and blowing it out the side of his mouth. “Finn was the favorite o’ the nuns, ye know, whereas I was the black sheep. But if the truth be known, Finn was always the instigator o’ trouble.”

  Finn laughed. “Don’t pay him any mind, Lexi. Colin is the master of exaggeration…among many other things.”

  Colin stared at me for a moment longer and I got the distinct impression that he was trying to figure out what a guy like Finn was doing with a girl like me. I didn’t blame him; I wondered the same thing myself. All the same, I shifted uncomfortably on my feet until Colin abruptly took my arm.

  “Now why are we standing out here jabbing in the draft?” He pulled me along with him. “Come in, ye two, and take the weight off yer feet.”

  Colin led us into the gallery and a blast of warm air. I took one look around and my mouth fell open. The building looked rather ordinary from the outside, but on the inside, the two-storied building had been architecturally redesigned to form one great room with vaulted ceilings, glass beams and a striking green marble staircase. A gorgeous crystal chandelier hung from the center of the room nearly touching the outstretched hand of an enormous, stunning white marble statue of a nude maiden sitting by a fountain. The fountain was real and sprayed water lit by a background rainbow of colors. But the sight that shocked me the most was the sea of black and white that filled the gallery. My heart dropped to my feet and stayed there.

  “Are those priests and nuns?” I asked Finn, my voice sounding strained and squeaky.

  Finn glanced at me. “Oh, did I forget to mention that proceeds from tonight’s gala are to be donated to Our Lady Queen of Ireland Parish?”

  Boy did he ever.

  “Um…I guess it must have slipped your mind.” A nun passed by me and smiled.

  Finn shrugged. “Here, Lexi, let me take your coat.”

  I stood frozen to the spot. I was dressed to kill in a sinfully low-cut gown and he wanted me to take my coat off in front of an army of God’s servants? I started to hyperventilate. I was going to kill Basia. I knew I should have chosen the black gown on the half-price rack.

  “I…I…just…”

  Finn slipped out of his coat as a young woman with spiked black hair, a nose ring and a stud in her lip arrived and quickly took it from his hands. I didn’t miss the look of pure appreciation she gave Finn or the look of disdain she gave me.

  Finn tugged impatiently at my coat and I realized I couldn’t wear it all evening. Thank God, I still had my shawl. Finn helped me slip off my coat, while I made damn certain that one hand clutched the shawl tight around my chest. Finn looked at me a bit strangely but I pretended not to notice. I heard the studded girl give a snort at my death clutch, but she took off with our coats anyway.

  “Would you like me to carry your shawl?” Finn asked gallantly.

  “Actually, I’m a bit cold,” I said even though the room was well heated.

  Colin introduced us to an elderly couple and went off to speak to someone. Finn captured a couple of flutes of champagne. Somehow I managed to hold my drink, keep a death clutch on the shawl and smile until my cheeks hurt. We mingled for a while until Finn excused himself to speak to someone and I was left alone. As I stood there at a loss, a jolly-looking priest with a shock of black hair, red cheeks and the hint of a belly beneath his priest’s attire approached me.

  “Ye’re looking a bit lonely,” he said. “I’m Father Mulrooney, one of the priests at Our Lady Parish.” I judged him to be a bit over fifty, with a warm smile and eyes crinkled with laugh lines. “I’m mighty pleased to make your acquaintance.” He stuck out a pudgy hand. Since I was holding the glass in one hand and the shawl in the other, I couldn’t shake his hand. So, I just smiled brightly until he dropped his hand.

  “I’m Lexi Carmichael. Finn’s uh…colleague. We work together at X-Corp.”

  Father Mulrooney nodded. “O’ course, ye do. I noticed ye the minute ye arrived. Ye know that Finn’s our guest o’ honor tonight. He’s a dear one to us, that lad. He’s been very generous with his time and money to support the parish.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  “Personally, I love the lad as if he was me own son.”

  “Well, he’s very lucky then.”

  “So, how long have ye known our Finn?”

  I thought back. “About six months or so.” I didn’t see how useful it would be to tell him that we had met under life-threatening circumstances involving handcuffs, terrorists and guns.

  “And ye say ye work with him. That’s in the office, right?”

  Jeez, where else would I work with him? “Yes. In the office.”

  The priest put an arm casually about my shoulders. “Ye know, lass, none o’ us would ever want to see Finn hurt in any way at all. Do ye know what I mean?”

  Whoa, was it getting hot in here or was it just me? I really, really wanted to take my shawl off, but I didn’t dare. On the other hand, I suppose seeing my cleavage might distract the father from a line of questioning that was starting to feel increasingly like the Spanish Inquisition. However, a part of me had this horrible feeling that Father Mulrooney could already see right through my shawl to the exposed flesh beneath. Undoubtedly he had made me out to be a slut, a tart or perhaps even Jezebel herself, planning on leading Finn down the slippery slope of perdition.

  “So, what is it exactly ye do at Finn’s company?” the priest continued.

  I ignored the thin sheen of wetness now forming on my upper lip. “I’m the Director of Information Security.” When I got a blank look, I added, “Computer stuff.”

  To my relief, his eyes lit up. “Computers? I love computers. God, computers and crossword puzzles—those are my passions. I also like gin rummy. Do ye play?”

 
“Don’t even think about it,” I heard Finn say, coming up behind me and putting a hand lightly around my waist. “She is unbeatable at rummy. Utterly unstoppable. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Finn was referring to the time I beat him forty-six games in a row, letting him win the forty-seventh so that he could salvage what was left of his pride. I smiled modestly.

  “It’s nothing, really. By and large, the game of rummy is a mathematical equation. Elimination, deduction and a little luck are really all it takes to win consistently.”

  “Och, be still my beating heart,” Father Mulrooney said, clapping his hands together in delight. “You’ve found a gem, my lad. Can I borrow the lass from ye sometime?”

  When Finn narrowed his eyes, the priest smiled. “There’s an extra round at the rosary said for yer soul, plus a votive candle lit every Sunday. ’Tis a generous offer, if I do say so myself.”

  Finn frowned. “Sounds more like a bribe.”

  Father Mulrooney beamed. “Watch now how ye consider the motives o’ a man o’ the cloth.”

  “Well, if the shoe fits…”

  The priest chuckled. “Be a good lad, would ye, and go fetch a wee dram for an old man. I think I might be failing a bit.”

  “He just wants to be alone with you,” Finn whispered in an overly loud voice to me.

  “Don’t worry. I can hold my own.”

  Finn wagged a finger at the priest. “Go easy on her. I’ll be right back.”

  As soon as Finn left, the priest whipped a pen and a crumpled piece of paper out of his pants. He smoothed out the paper on a nearby table and looked up at me hopefully.

  “Would ye mind helping me a bit on this puzzle, lass? I would be mighty appreciative.”

  I looked over his shoulder to the paper. “You carry a crossword puzzle around with you?”

  “Aye. What better way to keep the mind sharp? Will ye help me?”

  I guess I had gone from Jezebel to schoolmarm. “Sure. What do you need?”

  “A five-letter word for licorice flavoring.”

  I thought for a moment. “Anise.”

  Father Mulrooney jotted down the word. “Dead on!”

  “Now how about a five-letter word for pottery from Japan?”

  “Imari.”

  He looked at me in surprise. “Aye, it fits. How do ye do it so quickly, lass?”

  “I’ll let you in on a little secret. It just so happens crossword puzzles are one of my passions, too. I did the puzzle this morning.”

  The priest chuckled. “Why ye truly are the full shilling. At last Finn has found himself a true cracker. How unexpected and how wonderful.”

  Before I could figure out what the heck he’d just said to me, Finn returned, carrying a drink for the priest.

  “Thanks, lad,” the priest said, taking the drink from Finn. “I’m away now. But I’ll be seeing ye later.” He winked at me and then hurried off into the crowd.

  “What was that all about?” I asked.

  Finn watched the priest as he crossed the room. “You didn’t just help him with a crossword puzzle, did you?”

  “Why? Is that a cardinal sin?”

  “Sort of. He has a daily bet with Sister Aileen on who can finish the Washington Post puzzle first. I think you just won him twenty-five dollars. It also means you’ll be his friend for life.”

  “Wow.” A priest who drank, bet and obviously had a great fondness for his parishioners. How come I’d never had a priest like that when I was growing up? “He called me crackers. Should I be offended?”

  Finn laughed. “It just means he likes you. You’ve made quite an impression on the father.”

  I wasn’t so sure, but I could hardly argue when half the time I had no clue what these people were saying to me. Social conversation was hard enough for me, and tonight, I had to do it in a foreign language. Sheesh, it was just my luck.

  Eventually dinner was announced and Finn and I were seated at the head table with gallery owner, Colin Kelley, and some other distinguished-looking people. Somehow I was not surprised to see Father Mulrooney finagle a seat next to me. He leaned over close and immediately started telling jokes. I couldn’t help but be completely charmed.

  It wasn’t easy eating and keeping my shawl tight around my neck, but somehow I managed. I know Finn, among others, thought I was acting strange, but there was nothing else I could do.

  Salad and soup were served first and Colin got up to introduce one of the featured artists for the night. The man talked on about Irish art, culture, and history, interspersing lots of accolades for Finn’s support—which I learned was a generous twenty-five thousand dollar donation.

  I was a bit dismayed when dinner was served and I saw a steak, baked potato and vegetables on the plate. I wasn’t sure how I’d be able to keep my shawl tight around my shoulders and cut my meat, so I’d have to be inventive.

  While one of the speakers droned on, Father Mulrooney tapped my elbow and then surreptitiously pulled out a bottle of steak sauce from beneath the table. As my eyes widened, he put a finger to his lips.

  “I can’t eat a steak without it,” he whispered.

  Everyone else’s attention at the table was on the speaker, so no one noticed the priest pouring it over his steak. With a grin he handed it to me.

  “Go on, lass.”

  Since I didn’t want to appear rude, I took it. Without thinking, I did what I always did to a bottle—I shook it vigorously, not realizing the lid wasn’t on tight. To my horror, it flew off the bottle with the force of a speeding bullet and hit the father just above his forehead. I gasped in shock as his hairpiece flew off and landed directly in the soup of the woman sitting next to him.

  I’d also spilled steak sauce down the front of my shawl. Before I could move, a nun who must have witnessed the entire horrid chain of events, quickly came up behind me and whipped the soiled shawl off my shoulders.

  “Dinna worry,” she said as I felt a huge draft and realized I had just been revealed in all my glory. “I’ll have it back to ye in a few minutes. Ye go ahead and eat, dear.”

  The room fell silent and even the speaker on the podium looked over at us and lost his place. As if in slow motion, I turned my head to look at Finn who was now staring at my near-naked bosom, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open in stunned amazement. My face flushed hot and I tried to think of something, anything, to say to get every eye in the room off me.

  “I’m…ah, really, really sorry about your hairpiece,” I whispered to Father Mulrooney, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole. This was the most embarrassing moment of my life and I wanted nothing more than to vanish in a puff of smoke. But I was frozen to the chair.

  The priest was utterly speechless, but he managed to tear his gaze from my bosom to the location where his hairpiece had landed.

  “Ach…ah…’tis o’ no consequence, lass.” He retrieved his soggy hairpiece from the soup dish and shook it out. “In fact, there isn’t a soul in the room who doesn’t know o’ my vanity. I’ve been meaning to get rid o’ it for some time. Perhaps this is a sign from God that now is the time.”

  I didn’t think my mortification could go any deeper, but it did. “Oh no. I think it looks great on you. I mean, I didn’t even know it was fake.”

  Jeez, could I have said anything more stupid? Why hadn’t I just kept my mouth shut? I closed my eyes. My face burned so hot, it was like I’d been sunburned in the Caribbean.

  Thankfully, about this time, the speaker at the podium cleared his throat and began speaking again. I didn’t dare take another glance at Finn. No way was I brave enough to withstand the horror in his eyes now that the shock had worn off. Instead I slid down in the chair as low as I could and pushed around the food on my plate, managing some small talk with Father Mulrooney. He seemed to have recovered far more quickly than I and had resumed telling jokes. Still, the evening crawled by so slowly I thought it would drag on into infinity and beyond.

  Finally dinner ended and
the nun returned my clean shawl. I felt relieved to be covered again, but the damage had been done.

  When I stood up from the table, I glanced at Finn, but his face was completely neutral. My heart sank and I had a knot the size of Texas in my throat.

  Finn took me by the elbow and whispered in my ear. “Would you like to go?”

  Oh, boy, would I ever. “If that would be all right with you.”

  “It is.”

  Finn began his good-byes, and Father Mulrooney, now sporting a shiny, bald head, came over and enveloped me in an embarrassingly big bear hug.

  “Finn has my number if ye want to visit the church sometime.”

  I’m not sure if he said that to be nice or, since he had seen for certain the way I was dressed, wanted to save me from boiling in the deepest pits of hell.

  “Thanks. And I am really, really sorry about your hairpiece.”

  He laughed. “’Twill be the talk o’ the parish for a good week or so and then Mrs. O’Shea will have a new bout o’ indigestion and that will be that. Don’t ye worry about it, lass.”

  Amid a chorus of cheerful farewells, we headed out to the limo where I feared the most dreaded part of the night was waiting. I’d be alone with Finn for at least thirty minutes and would certainly face either a stony or awkward silence. As we climbed in, I could feel my body trembling.

  After the driver pulled away, Finn spoke first. “So, did you enjoy yourself tonight, Lexi?”

  As weird as it seemed, up until the hairpiece disaster, I really had enjoyed myself.

  “It was great. The people were the best—so interesting and friendly. I’m just sorry that I ruined it for you.”

  “Ruined it? What are you talking about?”

  Oh, God. Was he going to force me to relive it? “Well, I shot Father Mulrooney’s toupee into a bowl of soup and I dressed like a…a ho. I didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of your friends.”

  Finn looked at me with a puzzled expression. “You dressed like a what?”