by Kelly, A. S.
“What are you doing around here?”
“I came to see if you want to have dinner together tonight.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes, why?”
“We usually have dinner together on Thursdays and lunch together on Sundays.”
“So?”
“So, if you’ve come here on a Monday, then something must be bothering you.”
“I’m not that predictable.”
She raises an eyebrow, questioningly.
“Okay, so I’m organised – that doesn’t mean anything.”
“If you’re sure…” She looks at me from above her glasses. “Your place or mine?”
“Wherever you like. I thought we could order a takeaway.”
“Why? I’ll cook.”
“Because I don’t want you to cook for me.”
“Who else am I supposed to cook for?”
I smile at her as she kisses my cheek gently.
“Give me five minutes and I’ll be ready to go.”
Jordan
Iris insisted on cooking, so tonight we’re having fettuccine with chicken and broccoli, one of her favourite meals. We’re sitting at the table, which is laid for two, in front of the window between the kitchen and the living room. We each have a glass of red wine and an unreasonably large portion of pasta in front of us. I barely touched my food at lunch, so I don’t hold back now, plunging my fork into the fettuccine and shovelling a generous helping into my mouth.
“Haven’t you eaten today?” She asks, watching me.
I chew quickly, wiping my mouth with a napkin.
“Not much.”
“Busy day?”
“Busy enough.”
“Is there something on your mind?”
“Maybe.” I take a sip of wine. “Someone.”
“Tell me everything. That’s what you’re here for.”
“I’m not just here for that – but I could do with some advice.”
“I’m all ears.”
“There’s this girl. She’s a real troublemaker – and when I say trouble, I mean serious trouble.”
“Go on.”
“She moved to town with her dad, and she’s applied to school – but her records are terrible.”
“What did she do?”
“Arson, vandalization…”
“Wow.”
“She’s fifteen, and she’s already been held back a year.”
“And you’re not sure whether or not to give her a chance.”
“She recently lost her mother.”
“Oh, the poor girl.”
“She was kicked out of three different schools just last year, and the Abbey seems to be her last shot.”
“It sounds like she’s looking for an outlet for her pain.”
“I think so, too.” I take another gulp of wine and begin to test the waters. “I know her dad.”
Iris lifts her eyebrow, interested.
“We went to school together.”
“Don’t tell me…”
“Don’t pull that face – it wasn’t what you think.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“We were barely even friends. His reputation kind of spoke for him.”
“What kind of reputation?”
“A bad boy, into sports, a bit of a player…”
“I know the type.”
“Exactly: the type of guy you should stay away from.”
“If you’re a good girl, like you were. I was the opposite: he would’ve been just my type.”
I smile.
“But you were different. Even at fifteen you were mature for your age, with a good head on your shoulders. You were in such a hurry to grow up.”
“I needed to.”
“No, you didn’t. No one expected you to. I never expected it from you.”
“Anyway, I obviously didn’t have a good head on my shoulders. I ended up marrying Steven Hill.”
“What an arse.”
“Iris!”
“What?”
“You’re not helping.”
“You’re right, let’s get back to the matter at hand. Who’s her father?”
I take a deep breath. “Niall Kerry.”
Iris’ mouth tumbles open for an instant. “Doesn’t he play for Dublin?”
“He used to. Now he’s moved back here, with a teenage daughter, a whole host of problems, and – from what I understand – no job.”
“I didn’t know he had a daughter.”
“Neither did I.”
“What a surprise…” she comments, finishing off her wine.
“You should eat, too,” I say, nodding towards her almost-full plate.
“Later, later. This story is too exciting.”
“I knew you’d enjoy it.”
“Go on, honey. Let’s not lose ourselves in useless chit-chat.”
“Anyway, Kerry has asked me to give his daughter a chance.”
“And you’re considering it because…?”
I sigh sadly. I have to tell her everything, or coming here and asking her advice would make no sense.
“I slept with him.”
The bottle of wine very nearly slips out of her grasp as she pours herself another glass.
“When the hell did this happen?”
“Last Friday.”
“Oh, Jesus.”
“It was a mistake, just an impulse that will obviously never happen again,” I say, hurriedly trying to clear things up.
“I’m still in shock.”
“It was stupid.”
“Well, that depends… A night of sex never did anyone any harm.”
“I thought that, too, before I found him standing in my office this morning.”
“At least you had…fun?”
“Iris!”
“It was just a question!”
“Thinking about it is not helping.”
“Okay, okay, sorry.”
“If I accept his daughter into the school and someone finds out what happened, I could be in serious trouble.”
“So you’re going to reject her application?”
“I don’t want to, but I don’t know how else this could work.”
“And you’re here to ask my advice?”
I nod.
“What a mess.”
“I know.”
“It sounds to me like a conflict of interest.”
“Even if it never happens again?”
“You slept together; his daughter is waiting for a response…”
I forget about the food and practically throw myself at the wine.
“On the other hand, this girl really needs your help.”
“If I don’t accept her, she’ll have to be home-schooled.”
“That sounds like an awful idea.”
I look hopefully at her, waiting for her to fix my problem for me.
“You can’t abandon her. That’s not you.”
I sigh, falling exhaustedly back against my seat.
“She needs help. They both need your help.”
“That’s where I had an idea.”
“An idea? Let’s hear it.”
“It’s a little…how do I put this…? Out there.”
“My favourite kind of idea.”
“I’ve thought of a way to help Skylar – that’s her name – and protect my own interests, too.”
Iris looks at me, pride welling in her eyes. “I like the way this is going.”
“A way to make sure he stays quiet about what happened.”
She slaps her hand down on the table, almost toppling over our glasses.
“That’s my girl!”
I laugh, and I begin to recognise her once again; I have to say that I’ve really missed her, these past few years.
Jordan
I help Iris take the plates through to the kitchen, placing them in the sink. She never wanted a dishwasher: she says it’s a waste of energy and water, and that, now that she’s on her own, sh
e doesn’t have that many plates to wash up.
Her apartment is tiny, with just one bedroom. When I was living here, I slept on the sofa; her living room became my bedroom, my stuff scattered everywhere. There were my books piled up on the coffee table, my clothes hanging from the drying rack.
Iris has always lived in this apartment, which is above her shop, Forget Me Not. It sells knick-knacks of every type: souvenirs, handmade trinkets, and a whole array of other useless items that tourists love to buy and locals love to give as gifts. I don’t know whether they do it because they love the craftsmanship or because they love Iris. They don’t want to see her retire. Everyone here is so affectionate towards her, and, because of this, she has always been affectionate towards me.
I love the way that her home always smells of fresh flowers. I love her little table in front of the window, and I love her tiny kitchen, where she once taught me how to bake biscuits.
And I love her: she’s my entire family.
“I think that sounds like the perfect compromise,” she tells me, handing me a steaming cup of tea.
“You don’t think it seems more like blackmail?”
“That depends on your point of view.”
I smile as she passes me a plate, laden with chocolate biscuits. I take one – I’ll get back to my diet next week, or maybe never – and bite into it with my eyes closed, enjoying the taste.
No one can make biscuits like Iris.
“I don’t think he’ll agree to it.”
“Aren’t you his only hope?”
“That’s what it seems like, but you never know with Kerry.”
“He’s not a bad boy.”
I glare at her.
“Okay, so he likes to have fun, and he’s never wanted to set himself straight – but who would have, in his position? With that handsome face and his charming smile, he could’ve done anything he wanted. If his sport career had never picked up, he could’ve been an actor or something.”
“He wasn’t that good-looking.”
“Is he better-looking now?”
“Mmm?”
“Well, you jumped into bed with him…”
I should never have told her.
“He’s exactly the same, just older.”
And more charming. And sexier.
And he made me come, three times.
Three times in one night.
I didn’t even think that was possible.
“Besides, like I told you,” I say, heading for the sofa as she follows me. I sit down, curling my legs up underneath me and leaning my elbow on the armrest. Iris mirrors me, sitting across from me. “It was just one crazy night. A huge mistake. I went out with Anya after I’d signed those damn divorce papers, and I wanted to just forget everything for one night. He was the perfect candidate. Except the fact that I found him standing in my office, with his daughter, asking for my help. Who would’ve thought it?”
“I never knew much about him after he moved away. I bump into his mother from time to time, and I always ask how he’s doing – but she never goes into detail.”
“And you don’t read the gossip columns.”
“Of course not.”
“That poor girl,” I say, sighing. “She really needs help.”
“And I’m sure you’ll give it to her; to them both.” She winks at me.
“Not the type of help you’re thinking of.”
“How do you know what I have in mind? Anyway, you seem to have decided on this plan, and I can’t see another solution.”
“Exactly,” I say, trying to convince myself.
“Then why are we still talking about it?”
I place my mug down on the coffee table and get up.
“Nothing. Let’s stop talking about it, now.”
I slip on the shoes I’d left on the carpet.
“Are you leaving already?”
“It’s only Monday. I have to be up early tomorrow.”
“Take some biscuits. You can eat them later, in bed.”
I smile as she heads into the kitchen to put some biscuits in a tub for me. Iris knows all of my bad habits.
“Here you go.” She pads back into the room and passes me the container.
“Thanks for tonight.”
“You’re always welcome, dear.”
I plant a kiss on her cheek and grab my jacket from the back of the sofa, putting it on and turning towards the front door. Iris opens it for me and I step past her, stopping in the hallway.
“I’m sure you’ll do the right thing,” she says, trying to calm me down. She must have noticed that I’m still not certain on what to do.
I smile warmly at her. “Goodnight, Iris.”
“Goodnight, honey.”
I go down the stairs that lead to the ground floor, open the door and step out onto the street. I cross the road quickly and head towards my building, which is only about a hundred metres from Iris’. I wave at the guys who work in the pizza place downstairs, who are bringing in the furniture for the night, and climb the stairs to my small, silent apartment. As soon as I open the door, Caramel comes trotting towards me, winding her way around my legs. I bend down to stroke her, as she pushes against my hand, and step inside my apartment. I go into the kitchen and grab a little bowl from the cupboard.
“I know, I know. Sorry I’m late,” I say to her, as she purrs against my ankles. “Here you go,” I say, placing the bowl on the floor and waiting for her to eat. I watch her for a few seconds before standing up and taking off my jacket, heading towards my bedroom. I kick off my shoes and slide out of my skirt, before standing in front of the mirror and unbuttoning my shirt. The bruises from Friday night are still there, marking my skin, reminding me of everything that happened; my legs begin to tremble again.
I let my fingers trail from my neck down to my shoulder, reaching my breasts. I watch my reflection as I take down my hair, ruffling it with my hands.
His breath on my neck, his hand slipping slowly up my side.
“Do you feel that?” he asks, pushing his erection against my butt. “I’m hard again.”
I lift my head to see Niall on top of me, his hands next to my arms, his lips brushing across my skin.
“It’s you,” he says, his voice laden with emotion, making me shiver. “Only you make me feel this way.”
I close my eyes at the memory of those last words, just like I did that night – I don’t want to keep asking myself whether they were true, or whether they were just another stupid lie.
Niall
I knock on the glass pane of her office door, and she lifts her gaze immediately from her desk. She nods at me to come in, and gets to her feet, smoothing down her skirt; her hands move slowly over her curves.
“Thanks for coming.”
I force myself to concentrate on her face. If I carry on this way, I won’t be helping my family at all. I’ll be in even more trouble.
“Thank you for contacting me – though the fact you asked to see me alone doesn’t fill me with hope.”
“I thought it would be best to discuss everything like this.”
She gestures towards the seat on the other side of her desk.
I sit down, and she echoes my movements; I wait for her to hand me my fate, nervously rubbing my clammy palms on my jeans. She takes off her glasses – fuck, I hadn’t seen wearing them yet, and I wish I hadn’t now, judging by the stirring in my pants – and studies me with her huge, dark eyes.
“I’ve considered Skylar’s situation in great detail,” she says, linking her fingers on her desk.
I look at them, because I can’t help it – just like I can’t help but think about those fingers sliding sexily down my chest just a few nights ago.
“I’ll be honest. I don’t think there’s a school in the county that would ever accept her. And, seeing as they’ve already rejected her down in Dublin, I’d imagine that no other county would take her, either.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding before it strangles me.
“I can move past the vandalism, but…” she pushes her glasses back onto her face, and I move around in my seat, agitated. “The other…obscenities …”
Please, don’t go any further: otherwise, there’ll be an obscenity right here on your desk.
“Almost all the other schools are Catholic.”
“She’s already a year behind. I’m worried that she’ll never be able to get back to a normal life.”
She nods slowly, her fingers drumming nervously against the wooden surface of her desk.
“Listen. I want to help you.”
“But you have to say no?”
“I have a proposition for you.”
“A proposition?” I ask, confused.
“An agreement.”
I reach my hand out across the desk in search of hers. “Anything you want.”
“Firstly,” she says, moving her hand gently, “this kind of physical contact needs to stop.”
“Absolutely.” I pull my hand back instantly. “Sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Any type of contact,” she says, waiting for my reaction. “That also includes any contact outside these walls, obviously.”
“Of course.”
“What happened the other night between us can never happen again, Niall.”
I think that’s the first time she’s used my first name.
“I’ve already told you that you can trust me. I’ll do anything you want, I promise.”
“You haven’t heard my proposition, yet.”
“I’ll do anything.”
“Okay. In that case…” She passes me a stack of paper.
“What’s this?”
“My proposition. Or, rather, the school’s proposition.”
I glance quickly over the first sheet. “What the hell is this?”
“A work contract.”
I lift my gaze to meet hers. “Work”
“I’d prefer if you read over that, first.”
“I’d prefer for you to tell me right now.”
She leans back against the armchair. “We’re participating in a tournament.”
“What kind of tournament?”
“GAA.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“The tournament was organised by Intersport, and all the schools in the county have to take part.”
