Hitting That Sweet Spot

by Lara Ward Cosio

  It was bath water that was running. Jessica was letting it run in an unsuccessful attempt to hide the fact that she was getting sick.

  Shay got out of bed and crossed the marble floor to the bathroom. He tapped gently on the door.

  “I’ll be out in a minute,” Jessica called, her voice full of tears.

  She sounded terrible. He knew it wasn’t related to drinking too much as she hadn’t anything but mint tea when they took brief breaks from dancing. She had adored the club’s mix of local and western pop music and would have been happy to dance until the sun came up.

  Opening the door, he found her wearing the hotel robe and sitting on the floor in front of the toilet. Her eyes were red and wet. She waved him off while also flushing the toilet.

  “Don’t, please,” she said. “I don’t want to get you sick.”

  “Jess, it’s okay.” He sat next to her and wiped at the tear falling down her cheek. “It’s probably something you ate, love. You get it out of your system and you’ll be grand.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, breaking down into quiet weeping.

  Shay pulled her into his arms, cradling her gently. “No need to be sorry, love.”

  “I don’t want to ruin our trip.”

  They had planned to take a stroll along the Corniche after breakfast. The promenade along the Atlantic was popular with locals and tourists alike. Later they would tour King Hassan II Mosque. The largest mosque in Morocco, with the tallest minaret in the world, it was open to non-Muslims. The architecture and design, including hand-crafted marble walls, glass chandeliers, and a retractable roof made it a must-see destination. Standing on a promontory overlooking the ocean, it was a stunning worship location, able to accommodate up to 105,000 people.

  “You haven’t,” Shay told her. “It’s not even morning yet. Let’s get you back to bed so you can rest. We’ll see how you feel later, yes?”

  She nodded feebly but didn’t move.

  “I’ve got you,” he said. He tightened his hold on her and stood up, carrying her to bed.

  ~

  Shay’s theory that Jessica would get over whatever ailed her and soon be better wasn’t borne out. She slept deep into the afternoon without stirring. Shay asked the hotel staff for advice on how to help Jessica through it and was given an orange juice-based concoction. Once Jessica was finally awake, he had her drink it but she couldn’t keep it down.

  At least she was upright and communicative. Shay had to count that as progress, even if she was slumped against pillows in bed.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice hoarse.

  “Stop that. I want you better, not apologies.” He sat with her and stroked her cheek.

  “I—”

  His cell phone rang out, startling them both. He hadn’t realized the ringer was on. The incoming number was a foreign exchange he didn’t recognize. Something about that made him answer.

  “Yes?”

  “Shay! Brilliant! I can’t believe this. Listen, I only have a minute. They’re going to cut me off.”

  “Danny Boy?” Shay asked cautiously. It sounded like his brother but there was so much noise on the line—static, shouting, metal clanging—that he had to ask to be sure. He stood up and moved away from the bed, toward the windows. The room had been in darkness for most of the day. When he pulled the drapes open a few inches the shock of sunlight made him squint.

  “Yes, yes. I’ve gotten myself into a bit of a situation here in bloody Portugal. I’m in Lisbon of all places.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m all right, but I need help with a bit of a bribe, if you will. I’m in a sort of unofficial jail here with the guarda salivating for a few Euro but I’m clean out.”

  “What did you do?”

  “We can go through all that once you’re here.”

  “I can’t go there, what are you on about? I’ll wire money if I have to.”

  “That won’t work, kid. They require a cash infusion in this scenario.”

  “Or what’ll happen?”

  “Or they’ll fucking lock me away for heroin trafficking, Shay! This is serious.”

  “You’re fucking joking me,” Shay said, closing his eyes.

  “It’s all bullshit. I was trafficking nothing. I might—might—have tried to buy some smack off some fella that turned out to be a guarda. But what is even the crime in that? Anyway, they’re open to a bit of cash to make it all go away.”

  “How much?”

  “I believe the agreed upon price is ten grand.”

  Shay opened his eyes again. There was only one way that amount of money could have been negotiated. “They know about me, yes?”

  “Well, how else was I going to convince them I was good for it? I had to tell them my baby brother was a famous rock star. Now get moving, Shay. They want it by midnight or in the morning they’ll process me.”

  “I can’t just drop everything, Danny Boy. I’m not even in Dublin right now to get the cash.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Casablanca.”

  “Bloody hell! Casablanca as in Morocco? You’re even closer, then. Hop to it. They want me off the line. Come to the station on Cardeal Saraiva. Ask for the copper called Ronaldo. Yeah, Ronaldo like the bloody footballer!”

  “Danny Boy—”

  “Shay, tell me you’re coming. Don’t let me go to fucking jail. Please.”

  Though he really wanted to punch something, Shay just nodded. “Yes, I’ll be there.”

  The line went dead in the middle of Danny Boy shouting his thanks. Shay wanted to strangle him. Danny Boy knew he’d drop everything to come to the rescue. They had been through this before, but never with such serious consequences in the balance. And now Shay had to choose between Danny Boy going to jail and taking care of Jessica. It was an impossible choice, but one he had, nevertheless, just made.

  “Everything okay?”

  Shay turned at the sound of Jessica’s weak voice.

  “Not exactly.” He went back to her and sat at the end of the bed. “That was my brother. He’s in trouble with the police but says he can buy his way out if I come tonight with cash.”

  “Oh, wow,” she said, but he wasn’t sure she was processing what he said.

  “He’s in Lisbon. I’m guessing it’s about a two-hour plane ride from here. I’d need to catch a plane, charter one, something. And I’ll have to get James—our band manager—to wire me money and find a place that’ll cash me out.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  He watched tears fill her eyes. She must have felt like he was abandoning her. He decided once he got Danny Boy out he really would strangle him. Moving closer to her, he took her hand into both of his. It was clammy.

  “Jess, I’ll be back early morning at the latest. I’ve got to bail him out but after that he’s on his own. And I bet after you sleep some more you’ll be in great shape.”

  “Wait, when are we supposed to be going home? I’ve got my days—I’m not sure what day it is.”

  “We have a five o’clock flight back to New York tomorrow, love. I’ll be back by then. I promise you.”

  She nodded uncertainly.

  “I’m so sorry about this. I really am. I’ll make it up to you somehow, okay? We’ll get you feeling better and then we’ll plan another trip, yeah?”

  Instead of responding, she hugged a pillow to her body and lay down.

  “I’ll leave word with the hotel to check on you, Jess. Try to eat what they bring, okay?”

  Her eyes were closed and she either didn’t hear him or chose not to. He got on his knees beside the bed and kissed her on the forehead.

  “I love you,” he told her. Again, she did not respond. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  But he wasn’t back quickly or even before their flight. Nothing with Danny Boy was ever easy, and especially not this situation. The local police played games with Shay until they’d gotten him to commit to five tho
usand more euros. That meant another wire transfer, but not until the banks opened in the morning. Once the cash changed hands, the police took hours to bring Danny Boy out of a side door at the station. His brother was his usual glib self, unconcerned with what Shay had gone through and more worried about trying to find a fix. He was just as focused on trying to convince Shay to join him.

  When it was clear that Shay wouldn’t make it back to Casablanca in time, he called Jessica’s cell. She didn’t answer after several tries, so he called the hotel and asked for assistance in locating her, even if it meant someone had to go to the room. But he was told that Miss Hall had checked out of the hotel and taken a car service to the airport. The thought of her making this journey—in a weakened state and alone—sent him cold with anger. Anger at Danny Boy. Anger at himself.

  “Now you’re out. Why don’t you try staying out of trouble,” Shay said and started to walk away.

  He was in a city he didn’t know well, other than that it was the capital of Portugal and its hills, electric street trams, and crowded housing overlooking a bay that emptied into the Atlantic Ocean lent it San Francisco feel. He’d traipsed over cobblestone streets in his quest to secure cash, then more cash, for the bribe. All he wanted now was to find the first flight to New York.

  “Wait, you can’t just leave,” Danny Boy said, following behind him.

  “I need to get to the airport.”

  “Where are we going?”

  Shay stopped and looked at his brother. “We aren’t going anywhere. I’ve done what I came here for. You’re out. Now I need to get back.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “No, you won’t. Jesus, just go back to whatever party crowd you were with and leave me be.”

  “You say that to your own brother?” Danny Boy said with feigned horror. What he added next had more of an edge to it. “The one that brought you up since you were only little? Where’s the gratitude, kid?”

  Shay leveled a hard stare at him. “Fuck that. I’ve given you everything I have, Danny Boy. And I’ve always been happy to do it, so don’t you dare suggest I don’t show you my gratitude.”

  Danny Boy smiled and held up his hands. “Okay, easy there. Just making a point. Why don’t you come with me, party a little and relax.”

  “I have to go,” Shay said and disappointment filled Danny Boy’s face. As ridiculous as it was to feel bad for not partying with him, Shay couldn’t shake off a sense of guilt over it. Danny Boy wanted the two of them to get lost in drugs together, to chase after the intense high that would—at least temporarily—assuage the wounds of their childhood. And there was a part of him that would never forgive Shay for refusing to join him. But Shay wasn’t wounded in the same way his brother was. He didn’t need an escape. The thing was, Danny Boy had given Shay the very caring and attention he had also needed but gone without. As a result, he had been chasing an escape from that profound deprivation for years.

  “Well, then fucking go already,” Danny Boy said.

  That was always the choice with Danny Boy—either join him in his drug oblivion or say goodbye. Hesitating, Shay suddenly felt the chill in the late afternoon air. He wore his usual black flight jacket but Danny Boy wore only a tee shirt.

  “Haven’t you a jacket?” Shay asked.

  Danny Boy looked perplexed. Mundane comforts like that were the last thing he thought of when all he wanted was a heroin fix.

  Shay took off his jacket and held it out. “Take it.” He pulled from his pocket the small wad of cash he had remaining. Keeping just a couple notes, he pressed the rest into Danny Boy’s hand. “Take care of yourself.”

  Danny Boy smirked as he pulled on the jacket. “See ya around, kid.”

  Watching him go, Shay felt both drained and relieved. It was a familiar feeling.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  The only shot Shay had at fixing things was to show up. Yes, it was belated and in the wrong city, but the effort had to count. Or, so he hoped. Jessica didn’t exactly welcome him with open arms, however, when he bypassed her building’s lobby and went straight to her apartment door. When she answered his knock, she had no words. She only looked at him and he knew his time was already running short. Though there were circles under her eyes and she was thinner than usual, he was glad to see her recovered from the worst of that unfortunate bout of the Moroccan flu.

  “Can I come in, Jess?” he asked.

  She shook her head but didn’t move to close the door.

  “Listen, you know this isn’t how I wanted things to go, right? I honest to god thought I’d be back in time—”

  “You left me—”

  “I didn’t want to, believe me. But I had no real choice—”

  “Just stop.”

  He closed his mouth and waited her out. Her eyes were full of tears and she was struggling to formulate her next words.

  “Here’s the thing,” she finally said. “I do understand. On an intellectual level, I understand that you needed to help your brother. I get that. But right now, I can’t get past my heart aching over how it felt to be in that situation—so awfully sick and alone. And I can’t stop thinking that this is a big wakeup call about us going too fast. I mean, it’s crazy to think I’d just move to another country and give up everything I have here.”

  “It’s not, no,” he said. “It’s not crazy if what you said is true.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You said you loved me. I believed it. Don’t give up on me, Jess, ‘cause I love you. I love you so much.”

  When she blinked and looked down, the tears fell from her eyes.

  “I’m gutted that I hurt you,” he continued. “And I’m so sorry. I don’t want to lose you. Give me a chance, love. Give me a chance to prove you weren’t wrong about us.”

  The wait for a response from her seemed to go on forever. Just when he thought she was going to say no and close the door, she surprised him by taking a step closer. She leaned into him, resting her head against his chest and he quickly wrapped her in his arms.

  She took a deep, shaky breath. “You’ve been smoking,” she said, though without anger.

  “Tend to when my nerves are wrecked,” he admitted.

  “I’m still not sure about moving.”

  He was disappointed but tried not to show it. “Okay.”

  “Is your brother all right?”

  She still had her face buried against him. He kissed the top of her head and rocked her gently.

  “Danny Boy is grand. He always ends up just fine.” It was time to worry about himself for once. He was determined to give Jessica his full attention and make things right.

  ~

  Jessica had given up her job at the restaurant in order to have the time to go to Morocco. Now jobless, she and Shay spent their days together wandering the streets of New York, rekindling their easy connection.

  One afternoon, they went to the Empire State Building on impulse, wondering if they’d be able to see into his hotel room. Though they weren’t quite sure which room was his, they could see the hotel. The 86th floor main observation deck offered 360 degree views of the city, including Central Park, the Hudson River and East River, the Brooklyn Bridge, Times Square, and The Statue of Liberty. As the sun set on a cold, clear day, Shay decided to push things back toward the direction they had decided upon while on their trip.

  “Jess, how about coming to Dublin with me for Christmas? It’d be lovely to have you see my city.”

  She leaned into him for warmth. “Just a visit?”

  “Yes. I know you’re still not sure about everything else, but it would be good to see it all, right?”

  “My family was expecting me to come home.”

  “Ah, I did take you away once, didn’t I?”

  “We could always ask them to come to Dublin,” she said with a laugh.

  “That’s not a bad idea,” he said and she turned to look at him. “Think they’d be up for it? I’d make all the arrangements.”
>
  “Shay . . . .”

  “I know it’s moving fast. I know. But this—us—it’s right. I know it is.”

  “Or you could be crazy,” she said.

  He could see she was only half-kidding. But he didn’t care because that meant there was a part of her that was ready to trust him again.

  “I won’t disappoint you, Jess, I swear.”

  She watched him for a moment, struggling to decide.

  He took her hand and pulled it up above her head while simultaneously leading her in a spin and making her laugh. “Come on, love. You know we’re good together.”

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him. “You’re right. Let’s do it.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Determined not to screw up his chance to convince Jessica that their original plan of her moving in with him and working for Rogue was still the right thing, Shay made quick work in arranging a trip to remember. He went home by himself to see to all the details.

  Jessica came in two days before her parents and brothers. Shay picked her up from the airport and took the scenic route, showing her around Dublin and stopping for a traditional Irish lunch at Quay’s in the heart of Temple Bar. Dining there had been Jessica’s first real experience of seeing Shay treated like a celebrity as he was recognized a half dozen times and asked for photos. She was amused the first two or three times, but began to grow weary after that. She, like Shay, was a naturally reserved person, so when they were done with lunch, she was glad to go to his house.

  “Everything seems so close . . . small,” she said as he parked in the driveway.

  “It’s a different scale than New York, no doubt about that.”

  “It’s also really white.”

  “I take it you don’t mean the dusting of snow we got?” He turned to her in his seat.

  “No, not that.”

  “I know it’s not the most . . . cosmopolitan city, Jess. But you won’t be trapped here. You can get to all parts of Europe so quickly. And even back to New York isn’t bad, is it? And besides, your presence would do a lot to enrich the culture around here.”