by Josie Kerr
He met Rory for their weekly burgers and beer. He’d considered inviting Em and seeing if she would bring Ashley, but now he didn’t think that was a great idea.
He got anxious just thinking about Em. It had been a week. Things were going to be awkward enough without Rory being himself and not-so-subtly insinuating that they should sleep together. But as obnoxious as his friend could be, Rory was the only person who could understand Mick’s feelings of conflict around this growing attraction to Em.
“So, you’re in her apartment, she’s completely trashed and looking at you for comfort, and you leave? Are you crazy, man? That was a prime opportunity!”
“God, I am not a rapist, Rory. She was way too far gone.”
“Good God, boyo, I wasn’t talking about doing anything that night. I’m not completely uncivilized. I’m talking about afterwards. You didn’t stay? Comfort her in the cold light of day? I’m not saying that you needed to sleep with her, but maybe get to second base!” Rory looked at his friend and shook head as he noticed Mick’s hand pressing the left side of his ribcage.
“She’s not going to tell you what to do, Mick,” Rory said, his voice gentling and nodding toward where Mick’s hand lay on his chest. “She can’t tell you what to do.”
“But I think she is, kind of.”
Rory blinked. “What?”
Mick took a deep breath, knowing that Rory would probably think he had completely and utterly gone off the deep end. “I think Grace is telling me that I need to do…something...with Em.” When Rory didn’t speak, Mick continued. “For 20 years, almost every night, I’ve dreamed of those last moments, when I saw her off to take the boys to your parents’ house so we could celebrate our anniversary. In the dream, she’s always said ‘See you soon’ and then I get the call that she and the babies are gone. After Em kissed me, the dream changed. She’s been saying ‘Goodbye, Mick’ these past few weeks.” Mick swallowed hard. He reached for his glass, his hands shaking.
“You never told me you had those dreams,” Rory said quietly.
Mick blew out his breath. “It was a private moment, you know; something that the two of us, and only the two of us, shared. I remember every second of that afternoon. And I didn’t want to upset you. I know I wasn’t the only one who lost her that day.” He took a sip of beer. “I mean, I KNOW intellectually that she’s not really communicating with me from beyond, but…”
“But. Yeah, I know. Mick, you know I’m superstitious enough to take it as a sign,” Rory chuckled. “So what are you going to do? And, also, what the hell do you mean, ‘Em kissed me?’ When did this happen? I’m assuming it wasn’t when she was sloppy drunk.”
“Well, she did kiss me last night, but yeah, it was sloppy drunk, bawling girl kissing, so not exactly appealing. The Kiss happened after we got back from that very first visit to rec center the weekend we met.”
“Why are you holding out, Mick? Jaysus! You know I’m going through a dry spell. Fess up! I need details!” Rory laughed, knowing that Mick would never tell him exactly what happened. He never had. Not that he really wanted the details of Mick’s sex life, mainly because that past sexual partner was his sister and no, he absolutely didn’t want to know exactly what they’d gotten up to.
Mick grinned shyly. “It was really nice. And hot. And just...right.”
Rory grinned back at Mick. “Mick, boyo, I believe you’re smitten. So, my man, what are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know, Rory. I do not know.”
Chapter 17
October
Em wondered if Mick had said anything to Rory about her tearful, drunken encounter with him. She was still embarrassed, but what was done was done, and she couldn’t take it back. She was a grown-ass woman with her own house and a cat and a career. If she wanted to kiss and grope someone on the stairs and then get sopping drunk later and cry in that someone’s arms, she could very well do that. So there.
Em had been staring at the same screen for half an hour. This was ridiculous. SHE was ridiculous. She still hadn’t talked to Mick or even seen him, as he had been out of town for the past two weeks. She continued scowling at the computer screen, analyzing the situation because that was what she was –an analyst. Ashley Em said thought way too much about stuff. Maybe she did.
Maybe she should just go with it, but too much spontaneity made her break out in hives. Last-minute plans, she could deal with. Like the trip to the rec center with Mick. That was last minute and she’d loved every second of it. A happy medium is what I need. Nothing crazy.
Em almost jumped out of her chair when Rory said, “Wow, you’re a million miles away, Em.”
“Holy shit, you scared the crap out of me, Rory,” Em sputtered. “I was thinking about...stuff.”
“Would this stuff be about six foot six and have a soft spot for weeping neighbors?” Rory smirked.
“Oh, God, he told you,” Em moaned. “I’m so embarrassed. He must think I’m a basket case.”
“No, he doesn’t. But I do have a reason that I’m in your office and yes, it does involve Mick.” Em groaned again.
Rory laughed and said, “I promise it’s not going to be painful at all, Em. Some friends of ours from Boston are playing a show at the pub and I wanted to invite you. Mick will be there, but since it’s a show, it won’t necessarily be as tense as you two sitting across the kitchen from one another, wondering what the hell to say.”
Em’s response to Rory’s invitation was interrupted by a jaunty ska ringtone. She blanched when she heard the ringtone and saw the look on Rory’s face. Licking her lips, she answered the phone. “Hey, Mick. We were just talking about you.”
“Hopefully good things, yeah?” Mick said. “I know it’s last minute, Em, but some old friends are playing at the pub tonight and I wanted to see if you and Ashley wanted to meet me and Rory there? The set starts at nine o’clock, so not terribly late, even though it’s a school night.”
“Rory was just telling me about the show. It sounds like fun. I’d really like to go. I’ll see if Ashley is available.” Em looked at Rory when she mentioned Ashley, and her boss’s face remained carefully bland. Hmm, very interesting.
Em and Mick said some awkward goodbyes and Em hung up the phone to find Rory grinning at her. “What the hell is that ringtone, Em, and why have you associated it with Mick?” he asked, laughing.
Em reddened. “‘El Solo Toro,’ and you absolutely cannot tell him about it.”
“‘The One Bull’?”
“It’s ‘The Lonely Bull’ because Mick kind of reminds me of Ferdinand the Bull and he seems really lonely and he likes ska and it seems to suit him,” Em blurted out so quickly that Rory almost didn’t catch her explanation.
Rory’s face softened. The song did suit Mick perfectly.
“Ashley originally assigned ‘Mickey’ by Toni Basil to him, and that was just unacceptable.” Thank goodness Em had caught it before she was around Mick or Rory.
“Oh, you would have been in trouble if Mick had heard that. He abhors that song.” Em had expected that reaction to the popular eighties song, but not Rory’s demeanor when he confirmed it.
“Why does he hate that song, Rory? It sounds like there’s more to that story.”
Rory rubbed his forehead. “We met a couple of years after that song came out, yeah? People would sing that to him, taunting him, because, you know, he wasn’t fine at all in those days. He was a really tall, really skinny, really shabby kid with a terrible haircut and too-short trousers and holes in his trainers.”
Em frowned. “That breaks my heart, Rory. That’s horrible.”
“Of course, we were in junior high—no one looked beyond the bad haircut and terrible clothes to see that he really was very handsome, even then, and he was always kind and, yes, very gentle. Probably too gentle.” Rory shook his head at the bad memories. “So, you’re going, right? I’ll even look the other way if you tie one on and need to come in late tomorrow morning.” He looked at her with pleading eyes.
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“Oh, all right. I’ll be there, even if Ashley’s not. This sounds like more my scene than hers, anyway.”
“Excellent! We’ll have a reserved table so we can see, but everybody usually ends up dancing, so dress accordingly. See you there!”
Em chewed her lip again as she dialed Ashley’s number. “Ash, you’re going to the pub tonight, I don’t care if it’s a school night or not. You need to come over at 7:30 and help me pick out an outfit. Mick will be there. And Rory.”
*****
“Em, love, you’re looking deadly tonight,” Rory said, kissing her cheek. “Ashley, as always, it’s a pleasure.” Rory squeezed Ashley’s hand in greeting, at which Em raised her eyebrows. When Ashley scowled, Rory quickly removed his hand.
Em spied Mick talking with a guy who, she assumed, was the guitarist of the band. He didn’t see her, and she took advantage of his distraction to peruse his long, lean body.
He looked good, really good, in his dark jeans and boots. The sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up. Boy, there was almost nothing sexier than a nice manly forearm. Sigh. He was wearing his hair down and brushed back, which enhanced his strong profile.
Rory pulled her attention from Mick to introduce her to several members of the band. Em shook each man’s hand in turn. Liam, the bassist, held on to her hand a beat longer than the rest.
“I think you might have an admirer,” whispered Ashley from the corner of her mouth.
Em turned her attention back to Liam, who looked at her appreciatively. Em cleared her throat.
She just knew she was going to regret wearing this blouse, a red, short-sleeved, tailored chiffon number with white polka dots. And a very plunging neckline.
Liam lingered beside her and made small talk, asking how she knew Rory and generally being charming. He said something amusing, making Em laugh. The sound of her amusement caught Mick’s attention. He narrowed his eyes when he saw Liam’s hand on Em’s soft shoulder, touching the fluttery sleeve of that luscious blouse.
Mick’s eyes drifted down Em’s body. She had on her cuffed jeans, the ones that hugged her curves so perfectly, and the black platform sandals that she was breaking in when Mick showed up with breakfast those few months ago. In tune with the clothing, Em’s hair and makeup were rockabilly style, her hair caught up in a red bandanna.
“Who’s the chippie with Liam?” the guitarist, Rich, asked.
“That’s Em, and she is absolutely not with Liam,” Mick growled. Rich stifled a laugh as Mick stalked over to the two.
“Mickey! How are ya?” Liam exclaimed.
Mick simply nodded at Liam, but blazed a look at Em. “Em, I see you’ve met Liam.”
His gaze burned into her and took her breath away. “Uh, yeah,” She licked her lips. “We were talking about where they were headed on the tour.”
“Yeah, they’ll not be around for too long at all,” Mick said pointedly. Liam decided that now would be a good time to go tune his instruments, leaving Mick and Em to stare awkwardly at each other.
“You look great,” they both said at the same time, and then laughed nervously.
“I’m really sorry about the whole drunken, crying thing,” Em said. “I usually hold it together. I don’t know what happened. But thank you for being so thoughtful and sweet.”
“I would say it was my pleasure, but that doesn’t sound exactly right, seeing as how you were a miserable, bawling mess. But I was definitely happy that I could be of some help.” Mick looked at Em’s face. “Um, I was some help, right?”
Em laughed that tinkling laugh that Mick liked so much. “Yes, you helped. But I wasn’t a bawling mess; I’d passed that stage. I was merely sniveling by the time you arrived.”
Mick smiled that heartbreaking smile. “I’m glad you came tonight.” He lightly squeezed her upper arm.
“Me, too.”
“Looks like they’re about to get started. Can I get you a drink before they take the stage?”
“Yes, please. Can I get a hard cider?”
“Sure thing.” Another little touch sent electricity zinging up her arm and to her sex. Yowza!
Em sat down at the table and Ashley immediately appeared at her side. “Girl, did you see how fast Mick moved to your side when he thought that bassist was moving in on you? That is HOT. He was totally jealous.”
Em made a face. “He wasn’t.”
Rory slid into the seat next to Ashley. “Em, he was completely jealous. I thought he was going to rip Liam’s arm off and beat him with it when he touched your blouse.” Ashley nodded her head emphatically.
Huh. Mick returned from the bar with their drinks, eyeing Rory suspiciously.
There was no further conversation, because the band started playing. They performed a mixture of original tunes, Celtic rock, and ska. Em thoroughly enjoyed it.
Halfway through the set, Paulie, the lead vocalist, said “Now, this is the high-brow portion of our set. We have some friends from Southie in the audience and we’d like them to join us. Give a hand to Mick and Rory!”
The bar patrons hooted and Rory leapt from the table, while Mick remained seated. Em looked expectantly at Mick, who rolled his eyes and made his way to the stage.
Mick replaced the drummer, while Rory sat down at a piano. Paulie stepped back to let the saxophonist take center stage and Liam switched to an upright bass. Mick counted off the quartet and they exploded into a rendition of “Blue Rondo a la Turk.”
They were absolutely amazing. Rory’s fingers flew over the keyboard, and Mick looked at home behind the small drum kit, holding the drumsticks in a traditional grip. When they finished, the crowd was silent for a few beats, then erupted in cheers. Rory beamed and Mick smiled shyly but looked pleased.
“Okay, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way. Back to what we do best!” Paulie once again took the mike, and the saxophonist moved back, but Rory stayed on the piano bench and donned an accordion while Mick sat up on bar stool with a bodhran. Skankin’ Janey Mac, along with Mick and Rory, spent the rest of the evening performing a variety of songs, finally bringing down the house with a blazing medley of “Run Run Away” and “The Hills of Connemara.”
Chapter 18
Mick buzzed with the adrenaline of performing. It had been a long time since he was on a stage in front of an audience and not in a studio with one or two people. He’d thoroughly enjoyed it.
They stayed at the pub until closing, which was extended for a private party for the band. It was good to see the guys of Skankin’ Janey Mac.
Liam walked up to Mick and slapped him on the back. “Hey Mick, I didn’t realize. No hard feelings, okay?” he said in a low voice.
Mick raised his chin and his glass to his friend. “No, no hard feelings.”
He caught Em looking at him. She smiled and he found himself walking over to her.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself, Mick. That was incredible, just fantastic. Why don’t you play live more often?”
“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t figure I had the time.” Because I want to fuck when I get off the stage and I don’t have anyone to love.
Em stifled a yawn. “Boy, I’m getting old. Two ciders and I’m absolutely beat.”
“You do realize it’s like three o’clock in the morning, right?”
“What? How’d it get so late? Oh, I’m going to regret this tomorrow. Or rather, later today.” Em groaned. “Luckily, Rory said that we didn’t have to come in until noon or so.” She frowned. “Where is Rory, anyway?”
“He took Ashley home about three hours ago,” laughed Mick. “Or rather, he drove her home in her car since I drove us here.”
Em groaned again. “She was my ride.”
“It’s lucky that I happen to know someone who lives really close. Maybe he could give you a ride?” Mick grinned and pointed his thumbs back at himself.
“You’re a goof. I am really tired, Mick. Do you mind if we go?”
“Not at all. Let me tell the
boys goodbye.”
Mick sneaked looks at Em all the way to their house. She dozed in the passenger seat, leaning up against the window. A piece of hair had escaped from her bandana and Mick barely resisted the urge to wrap it around his fingers.
When they were safely in the garage, Mick placed his hand on Em’s neck, squeezing it softly. “Em, we’re home.”
“Oh, that was quick,” she said, stretching like a cat, her breasts thrusting out as she wiggled her back. Oh dear lord. Mick’s cock hardened at the sight of her. He took a deep breath and exited the car to help open Em’s door, only to find her already out and making her way towards the house.
Em stumbled up the steps. She didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the fatigue that made her so wobbly. Mick, on the other hand, seemed wide awake, but also seemed to be having trouble walking.
“You seem very...hyped up, Mick.” she said, in awe that he would have so much energy at such a late hour.
“I’m always this way after I perform. Adrenaline rush.”
“Do you want to come up and have a drink? Some tea or hot chocolate or hot milk? It might relax you.” Em couldn’t decide if she was seriously brilliant or completely moronic. He seemed on edge, but not in a bad way. Mick’s eyes shone with mischief and the corner of his mouth curled up into a half smile.
“I’d love to, but only if you’re sure that you aren’t too tired.”
“I’m sure. I think I’m at the point where I’m overtired and need something myself.”
“Well then, sounds great.”
Beauregard greeted them at the door, complaining loudly about being left alone. Mick scooped up the tubby cat for some belly rubs and chin scratches while Em put on milk to warm.
“So you want hot chocolate or just milk?” Em asked.
“Well, what are you having?”
“I’m having hot chocolate.”
“Then that sounds good for me, too,” he grinned.
When the cocoa was ready, Em poured the hot drink into two mugs and made her way to the living room. She plopped down next to Mick on the couch and leaned against him, handing him his mug.
