Thankfully, this was one whim she refused to tolerate.
“So, basically, the article covered everything that made a musician a walking, talking rock and roll stereotype?”
“Yup, pretty much,” she’d agreed numbly.
“I gotta say though, I’m a bit surprised by the whole orgy thing.”
She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Not me.”
“I feel like there’s a story here, but I don’t know if I’m supposed to ask you what it is or feign ignorance.”
“No, it’s fine,” she said chugging back a gin and tonic that was disguised in a sparkling water bottle. “He’s been trying to get me to do a three-way for years. I finally told him I would, but only if I could pick the third.” She shrugged. “He dropped it after that. I’m starting to think he wanted Trinity to join us.”
I kept my eyes on the road while trying to keep them from bugging out of my skull. Katie was adventurous, yes, but I didn’t think she was that adventurous. She loved Jackson, flaws and all, and for the first year of their relationship wouldn’t even look at another man. Anytime I’d try to point out a hot guy for some innocent ogling, she’d tell me as far as she was concerned no one could compare to Jackson.
“The cocaine and heroin use had to shock you though, right?”
“Can I tell you something?” she asked in a small, unhappy voice.
Ah shit.
“Of course. You can tell me anything.”
The words were an echo of what I’d once told Declan. The realization brought a stab to my chest that I masked for the sake of my best friend’s pain. While everything was so fresh and raw for Katie, I could hide my own problems. Once things settled down a bit, we’d have a good cry together, but right now I needed to be strong—for her sake.
“Jackson’s gone to rehab twice. The heroin’s new, but coke is kind of his thing.”
“Katie …” I intoned, squeezing her hand while I steered the car down a narrow country road, my other one white-knuckling the steering wheel. “How come you never told me?”
She let out an angry huff and launched into her story, venting all her pent up rage and frustration. “He didn’t want anyone to know. You wouldn’t believe the secrets I’ve kept for him, and this is how he repays me? Funny how he got me to sign a fucking NDA but not his whore. He always did have the worst instincts.”
She snorted and took another chug of her G&T.
“You’d think someone who’d gone to such lengths to hide his stints in rehab might have tried to keep this story under wraps too but he’s soaking up the drama. Would you believe when he finally got around to calling me, he refused to apologize?! He tried to convince me the affair was good for his career which made it good for me too because any money he made off it would be mine once we were married.”
“He did not!”
That fucker.
“He did!” she screeched. “And get this: he was shocked when I broke off our engagement. After one final attempt to get me to ‘see reason’—” she used finger quotes “—he said I could keep my ring and our flat since he’d never really liked either anyway.”
And that’s when Beyoncé voice came blaring through the car stereo, singing about single ladies. Given our current predicaments, the song didn’t sound at all celebratory. I wanted to put my hands up, all right. Straight into Jackson’s windpipe.
“Anyhow, I couldn’t leave London right away due to the paparazzi. I’ve been holed up in our flat because they wouldn’t leave me alone. I didn’t do anything wrong!” She flung her hand wide and smacked her knuckles against the window but with the amount of gin she’d consumed, it didn’t faze her. “Sorry for yelling. It’s not your fault.”
“You go ahead and scream as loud and as long as you want. I might just join you. What a fucking fuck face. I could kill Jackson right now.”
“Thank you for picking me up. When I got to Heathrow I didn’t know where I was going but when I checked the departures board there was a flight for Dublin leaving in an hour. I marched over to the ticket counter, slapped down Jackson’s black AmEx, and well … here I am.”
“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me. How have you been handling this on your own?”
She lifted a shoulder. “You’ve got your own problems to deal with. I didn’t want to bother you.”
“Bother me?! You’re my best friend and you just found out your fiancé’s been cheating on you.” Then, more softly I added, “I would have been there for you, Katie.”
“I know.” She reached over and squeezed my arm. “Besides, I’m here now.”
I turned at the next intersection and after a few minutes pulled the car into my parking space. “Welcome home,” I said, flipping the ignition.
“We’re here already?”
Katie turned and looked through the back window, a slice of ocean visible in the distance beyond, then faced forward and craned her neck to take in the building in front of us, the same shabby exterior that had greeted me a couple of months earlier.
“That was quick. I thought you said you lived out in the boonies.”
“Trust me, this is the boonies.”
She glanced around again. “Hu. I expected more sheep.”
Together we hefted her luggage up the back stairs into the apartment above Fitzgerald’s. I gave Katie the quick, two-minute tour, then led her to my bedroom at the back of the building.
“Home sweet home,” I intoned, pushing the door wide and welcoming her inside.
Katie stepped over the threshold and stopped, no room to actually move about. The floor was covered with my own open luggage, piles of family mementoes I planned to take back to my mom’s place, and the folders, papers, and books I’d amassed while trying to come up with a plan to save the family business.
“It’s not much, but it works.”
“I should get a hotel,” she said, eyeing the tiny twin-sized bed.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I responded. “First of all, Dublin’s like a 40-minute train ride and that’s too far away, and second of all, my grandma would have a seizure if a friend of mine came to visit and stayed somewhere else. You do not want to offend my grandma.”
I bent down, gathered up my papers, and placed them in a pile on my desk in the corner. Flipping my luggage closed, I shoved them under the bed. “There,” I said, gesturing around the room. “Now there’s plenty of room for the both of us.”
“Um, Sophie …” She turned in a slow circle. “I love you like a sister, but there’s no way we’re sharing that bed.”
“I’ve no intention of sharing a twin-sized bed with you … or anyone for that matter. There’s a blow up mattress in the hall closet. Take my bed and I’ll sleep on that.”
“You haven’t even asked how long I plan to stay. I don’t want to put you out.”
“I haven’t asked because it doesn’t matter. You can stay here as long as you like and you’re not putting me out. You and I both know I’ve slept on much worse than a blow up mattress.”
She shuddered and a look of horror crossed her face. “Do you remember that resort in Goa?”
I shivered in response. “Nope, don’t remember it. I refuse to remember it. In fact, I’ve completely blocked it from my memory.” I shook my head and hollered a hearty “la la la” to drown her out.
Years ago, we’d taken a month-long backpacking trip through India with a handful of other young twenty-somethings and it had been … enlightening, but not necessarily in the way the tourism board had intended. One of the first trips we’d been invited to participate in as part of a paid media group, the intent was to present India as a safe and inexpensive destination for those fresh out of college to travel to. It proved to be both, but we’d also gotten more than we’d bargained for.
The organizers had put us up in a tented eco-resort that would have been a splendid way to say goodbye to India, but unfortunately, it had rained the entire night and when we woke up the next morning, part of our tent had collapsed, floodi
ng our room with water and sandy mud. That would have been disaster enough, but things only got worse from there. After dinner our second night, several people became ill and the bathroom facilities proved … unequal to the challenge. As we’d laid in our side-by-side cots that night, we vowed never to go on a trip like that again. Of course we’d both broken that vow—many times over—but it still ranked as one of our worst vacations ever.
Sleeping on an air mattress in my childhood bedroom was a luxury compared to that.
“I can’t take your bed,” she protested.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. It’s enough that you dropped everything to pick me up, no questions asked. I couldn’t make you sleep on a blow up bed as well.”
“Okay, fine. I’ll take my bed and you’ll get the air mattress. For what it’s worth, I’m not sure which is more comfortable.”
Katie plopped down onto my mattress and bounced a few times. When the springs made a horrible screeching sound, she looked up at me and laughed. Pointing her finger, she declared, “You wanted the air mattress!”
“Shh,” I cautioned her. “Don’t let me grandma hear you. She’s so proud the mattress is still ‘good as new after all these years.’ I don’t have the heart to tell her it needs to be burned.”
“No wonder you look tired,” Katie said sympathetically. “You probably haven’t had a good night’s sleep since you got here.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” I admitted, as I turned off the light and we made our way downstairs.
Just as we were finishing up the grand tour, Cian sauntered in for his shift and immediately Katie went on high alert.
Interesting.
“So … Cian?” Katie inquired some time later, her head angled his way.
I had no desire to get in the middle of whatever was brewing between the two. I’d watched as she’d laughed at everything he said and tossed her hair coquettishly to capture his attention. She was definitely interested in him, which worried me because I didn’t think Cian made a great rebound guy.
“Tell me everything you know.”
The problem was I didn’t actually know a whole lot about him. Cian and I hadn’t exactly been bosom buddies lately. We could be cordial with one another, but our budding friendship had cooled and he’d become even more reserved around me since Declan had dumped me. We still joked around every now and again, but I sensed he purposely kept our banter inconsequential, avoiding the elephant in the room.
“He’s kind of complicated.”
“Complicated how?” She grabbed my cider and took a large gulp.
I bit the tip of my thumb and considered how best to describe Cian. I thought he had the capacity to be a great guy if he put his mind to it, but he came with a lot of baggage she might not be ready for.
“Well, he can be a moody fuck, but underneath it all he’s a sweet guy who, I think, is trying to work through some things he wasn’t quite prepared to deal with.”
“That sounds ominous,” she remarked, snatching one of my fries and shoving it in her mouth.
“Do you want me to order you something?”
“Nope, not hungry.” She winked and reached over to swipe another fry from my plate.
“Right, and I’m the Queen of Sheba.”
I pushed the basket of fries between us so we could share.
“It seems like you care about him,” she replied, her curious tone catching me off guard.
She was right, in a way. I did care about Cian even if I didn’t know how to be the kind of friend he needed … and vice versa. Before the whole mess with Declan, I’d thought we were something almost resembling friends. I wanted him to be happy, and from what he’d shared the few times he’d opened up, I thought he needed some friends outside his old rugby mates. To be honest, I didn’t actually know who Cian spent time with. That was, aside from a few local ladies I was pretty sure he had on regular rotation.
“I do. He’s a good guy underneath all the brooding.”
“So … have you slept with him?”
I spit my cider out and tried to hold back my coughing fit as some of the liquid came shooting out my nose. Katie jumped up and smacked me forcefully on the back while I attempted to get my breathing under control, my eyes watering at the sting of bubbles forcing their way through my nostrils.
“I’m sorry, but what the ever loving fuck was that about?” I choked out.
She shrugged. “Sorry, it’s just that you got this sort of dreamy look on your face when you said you wanted him to be happy, and since I would very much like to sleep with him, I wanted to make sure you hadn’t already beaten me to the punch.”
“I can assure you I have not slept with him.”
“But you want to?”
“Dear God no!” I squawked, before checking to see that no one had overheard her ludicrous statement. “I don’t think of Cian like that.”
“Good,” she said, draining the last of my cider. “I don’t do sloppy seconds.”
I debated how much to share about my history with him. It wasn’t like we’d had some great, tragic romance or anything, but he had tried to kiss me.
“I didn’t sleep with him, I promise, but I should warn you he did express some interest in me. Which I did not reciprocate.” I stressed that last part just in case she was feeling weird about it.
“How’d he take that?”
“Well, that’s where the whole ‘he’s complicated’ thing comes in. I sometimes wonder if his interest stemmed not so much from genuine attraction, but rather as a way to get one over on Declan.”
“How does Declan play into this?”
“They are best friends. Have been since they were kids.”
“That doesn’t sound like something a best friend would do,” she observed, munching on another fry.
“No, like I said … it’s complicated. Cian used to play professional rugby but he got hurt and it ended his career before it ever really got started. He was good too, which made it even worse. Now he’s working to build a life for himself here while Declan is off signing endorsement deals and making more money than Cian ever will.”
I walked around the bar and started pouring us each a cider so she would quit drinking mine.
“And you think Cian wanted to use you to get even with Declan?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure, really. It’s just a theory.”
“Men are a bunch of assholes,” she muttered, squirting a stream of ketchup all over the rest of our fries before I could stop her. I’d forgotten she used food as a vehicle for sauces and not the other way around. Shoving a fry in her mouth, she chomped it down.
“I still can’t believe you fell for Declan so quickly. I mean, I haven’t seen you serious about someone since Stephen.” She scrunched up her nose and raised her eyes to the rafters. “I don’t think you’ve even talked about a guy in more than an offhand way since him.”
“Well, there was the one in Spain, but you’re right … he was just someone to pass the time.”
Aside from my relationship with Stephen, my transient lifestyle had only ever allowed for a few meaningless flings. But somehow, even though Katie had led a nomadic life too, when she’d fallen ass over teakettle for Jackson, she’d made it work. It wasn’t her fault he’d turned out to be a philandering drug addict whoremonger. I didn’t think anyone could make a successful relationship out of that equation.
If I was being honest, after Stephen I’d worried I wasn’t cut out for anything more, but now I wondered if I hadn’t been trying to convince myself that was the case in order to protect my heart from becoming too invested in someone and not having the sentiment returned. The theory went a long way in explaining why I’d fought my attraction to Declan at the beginning. Could things have played out differently with him? If I was sticking around, would he have tried harder too, or was he always going to cheat?
Maybe cheat, the voice in my head amended.
“So what happened?” she asked.
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br /> “He’s a player is what happened. Even though he said he wanted to make us work, apparently he changed his mind.”
“So he broke it off, just like that?”
“Nope, not just like that,” I admitted wearily. “You remember that Christmas party he took me to?” When she nodded I continued. “Well, I came face to face with one of his past conquests who informed me she wasn’t as far in his past as I would have liked.”
“He cheated?!” she bleated.
“So she said.”
“Shit,” Katie muttered. “What the fuck kind of man cheats on us? We are amazing, beautiful, smart, talented, wonderful, glorious women. They are fucking eejits.”
“You, my dear, might be all those things. But me?” I asked, holding up my red, cracked hands. “I’ve seen better days.”
“Shut it,” she demanded, smacking my shoulder. Then peering at me closer, added, “You just need a good night’s sleep and some moisturizer. And maybe some bronzer.”
Ouch. It was one thing to think you’d lost a bit of your hot, but having it confirmed so succinctly stung. Maybe because it was the truth. Especially because it was the truth.
“I know what you need!” Katie exclaimed apropos of nothing. “You need to get laid!”
She raised her hand for a high five, but I left her hanging while I pointedly looked around the pub, my eyes alighting on the four men in the room: an octogenarian with a paunch the size of a keg, a balding man with one leg shorter than the other, my grandfather, and Cian. As a group, they were a pretty good representation of the type of men available in Ballycurra. Since we’d established I hadn’t slept with Cian, nor was I ever going to, that left me with two old dudes. Not exactly inspiring options. I slapped her hand limply, my lack of enthusiasm apparent.
Trying Sophie: A Dublin Rugby Romance Page 32
