Red Light (26 page)

Bennie leaned into my shoulder. “And she sings, God…
look
at those fucking legs, they reach all the way to my neck!” she said into my ear. “There’s
no
way
you haven’t thought of it, and she’s a medic—man, I’ll bet she’s got
great
hands.”

I put my glass down and stared at Bennie. That was just…wrong. “Bennie, don’t…don’t talk about her like that. She
is
a great medic, okay?” I returned to my beer.

“And we'll all go together, to pluck wild mountain thyme all around the blooming heather…will ye go, lassie, go?”

Roy leaned over on the other side. “You know, Tori, you never gave me shit about Aileen and the baby, and I never said word one to you about Kerry or your booty call—”

I stared at him. “What?”

He waved a hand. “It’s not like nobody knows, but look, just look.” He pointed to the stage where Jean still sang. “She’s singing that for
you
, no one else. I hope you’re listening.”

I focused on the stage and saw Roy was right—Jean’s eyes kept returning to me as she sang. She was amazing to watch; she moved with confidence and grace, and as much as I hated to admit it with Bennie sitting right next to me after that comment, her legs were incredible. Then again, so was everything else about her.

“I will build my love a tower, near yon pure crystal fountain…And on it I will build all the flowers of the mountain…will ye go, lassie, go?”

Bennie chimed in again. “I’m telling you, if
you
don’t ask her,
I
will.”

This time I glared at her. “Look, I’m not stopping you from doing whatever you want to do. Jean jokes around a lot, okay? You know what? I don’t have to explain myself.” I pushed my chair back. “I’m done. I’ll call you guys Sunday and we’ll work out the drive, all right?”

Bennie grabbed my arm as I stood. “At least wait until she’s done, that’s fucking rude.”

“Oh, so now you’re the expert on fucking rude, right?” I spit back. “First you talk about her like…like”—I was furious as I cast about my mind for the right words—“like she’s meat or something, then you bug me about asking her out. What the fuck?”

“Calm down, man, I’m just teasing you,” Bennie cajoled and tugged on my sleeve. “No one’s trying to insult anyone, okay?”

I pulled my arm away, sat back down, and folded my arms across my chest. “Yeah, fine, just don’t, okay?”

Bennie held her hands up for peace. “Hey, here,” she pushed my beer closer, “relax, man.”

I glowered at her another moment as I reached for my pint, and Roy wisely ignored us both.

And just as suddenly as it came, the heat left my body. What was I getting all crazy for? Bennie was good people, and I knew that. If she wanted to ask Jean out… “I’m sorry, Bennie, just the stress or whatever, you know? Sorry.”

Bennie smiled. “Drink your beer and relax. We’re off for a few days, so enjoy it, you know?”

She was right, and I took a sip and enjoyed the rest of Jean’s performance, then stood up with everyone else when she was done to clap enthusiastically. She had a very good voice, and I wondered if she’d ever thought of doing anything with it.

Her brother Pat gave her a big hug as she came off the stage, then handed her a fresh beer.

“You might have guessed this ugly so-and-so’s my sister,” he joked as they neared. Jean punched his shoulder and I held out my hand.

“Nice to meet you, I’m—”

“Tori Scotts, or Scotty,” he answered for me with a smile as he took my hand. “I’ve heard
quite
a bit about you.”

“All lies, I’m sure.” He had a good handshake.

“Oh, so you
do
know my sister,” he said and grinned again, which earned him another smack from Jean, this time on his ear.

I laughed, like I always did around Jean, and everyone introduced themselves as she wiggled around the table to find a seat and pull it up not quite next to me and half behind me.

Bennie shot me a quick smirk that earned her a scowl, so she volunteered to get the next round, and we got food to go with it.

The rest of the night flew by, between the beers and the music, the dart games that began to get dangerous when Roy pinned someone’s hat to the wall—I grabbed Jean’s wrist when she aimed at her brother Pat’s ass.

“But I’m a medic, I know how to fix that!” she protested as she tried to throw it anyway.

“It’s called ‘darts,’ not ‘dodge,’” I told her, and we both laughed as she tried to escape. I put my arm around her waist to catch her, and the next thing I knew, I was staring into her eyes.

I forgot we were in one of the straightest, most Irish bars in all of Brooklyn when I dropped her wrist to reach for her face; I didn’t think of anything except how smooth and warm her skin was under my fingertips.

I don’t know what happened to the dart because the band had started to play “Whiskey In The Jar,” Jean closed the distance between us, and surrounded by friends and peers, I kissed her.

I fell in love with her mouth all over again, stunned by the realization that I’d been aching to feel it for so long; I was lost, wonderfully lost in the completeness of the moment.

It wasn’t until the rousing rendition of “Irish Lullaby,” which signified the end of the night (it was four a.m. and even the bartender appeared exhausted) and required group participation, that we finally came up for air.

“You’ve got a great voice, you know,” I told her as I held her.

“Thanks, but it’s not like your cousin’s,” she said, and I smiled as I watched the light pink that spread across her cheeks.

“Well, whose is, right?”

We finished the last verses together, and Roy stood next to me, belting his heart out, which garnered him a quick, bemused glance from Pat.

“Hey, my last name’s Mulligan. Haven’t you ever heard of Black Irish?” Roy joked, and continued singing as Pat cracked up and couldn’t continue.

“Did you drive or can I give you a ride home?” Jean asked as the song ended and the party broke up.

“I’m supposed to go with Bennie and Roy, I’ve got the toll tonight,” I said regretfully. I would have liked to spend more time with Jean, give in to the tide that pulled on my blood, but then…I didn’t really want to hear the speculation from Bennie when we saw each other next. That kiss had been very public, but everything else—
if
there was anything else—I wanted to keep private. “They’re probably waiting for me.”

“I totally understand.”

We separated though we remained touching, her hands on my waist and my fingers through her belt loops. Although I doubt she did it consciously, when she moistened her lips it was one of the most sensual things I’d ever seen.

I didn’t want to let this go, didn’t want to let things just…hang…between us.

“I’m free for a few days, if you want to…you want to do something?”

Jean flushed and glanced down before speaking. “Actually, tomorrow my parents, they’re having a bit of a dinner party for me, you know, because, well, they’re all proud and stuff.” When she looked at me, her grin was so charmingly self-conscious I wanted to kiss her all over again.

“Doyouwannago?” she asked in a rush.

I
had
to touch her. I took her face in my hands and kissed her, a delicate glide of my lips on hers. When she again granted me entrance to her mouth, I could have sworn that I knew exactly how it would feel to have her ride my tongue, and the sensual image was so strong I thought my knees would give as her hands wreaked havoc along my neck and shoulders; I could literally feel her heart beat against my chest.

“So…that’s a yes, then?” Jean asked, breathing hard, as hard as I was, and I couldn’t help but repeatedly brush her long strands of hair behind her ears.

“Just tell me when and where. I’ll be there.”

Bennie and Roy were already waiting in the car when I finally walked out of the bar with the time for tomorrow and Jean’s parents’ address written neatly and folded into my wallet.

As I slipped into the backseat I caught the quickest of grins between Roy and Bennie.

“Thought you might get a…lift…from Scanlon tonight,” Bennie commented, peering at me through the rearview as we pulled out. I could see the smirk trying to work its way out from the corner of her mouth.

“What, and have you remind me every day for the rest of our lives that I skipped out on the toll? Not on your life.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bennie retorted, laughing. “Roy owes me twenty, donchya?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled good-naturedly and fumbled for his wallet. “You won, fair and square.”

“Knew I would.” She laughed harder. “I told you.”

“Do I wanna know what this is about?” I asked from my perch in the back as we flew over the bridge.

“Yeah, you do,” Bennie said.

“Definitely not,” Roy said at the same time.

“Now I really want to know.” I looked from one head to the other expectantly.

“Shit.” Roy sighed dramatically.

“No big thing,” Bennie said as we turned down my block. “I just bet Roy a twenty that you’d ask Jean out by the end of the night.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Roy sighed again. “I thought you might wait a few days, but she”— he jammed his thumb in Bennie’s direction—“thought if you got pushed enough you’d do it sooner, like tonight sooner.”

“But only because you both looked like you were going to combust every time you looked at each other by the grease trucks this whole week, and you know, that would have deprived the rest of us of coffee. And when I found out for sure you hadn’t asked her out, I figured you needed…assistance,” Bennie added helpfully.

I shook my head, more amused than anything because as much as I hated to admit it…well, I did have a date with Jean the next night. But still, I couldn’t let them get completely away with it, either. “You guys suck. And you both kinda lose, ’cause I didn’t ask her out.”

“That’s right, you didn’t,” Bennie agreed. “You were just practicing rescue breathing, borrowing each other’s lungs, vertical fu—”

“That’s enough. I’ll call you guys Sunday to work out the week,” I said as I got out of the car. “And just so you know?” I told them through Roy’s window, “You both still suck.”

“That’s what friends are for.” Roy grinned at me.

“Yeah,” Bennie said, leaning over to the window. “Just remember, we suck in the right way.”

I rolled my eyes. “Good night.” I walked the path behind the house to my apartment, kicking the snow as I went. I’d take care of that first thing in the morning, I thought, but first, I was going to take a shower, as cold as I could possibly stand it, and hope it cooled the fire Jean had set ablaze under my skin.

*

After clearing the snow, then sparring with Samantha in the morning, I decided to get a haircut so I’d look presentable when I showed up at Jean’s folks’ place. I preferred my hair to skirt my collarbone rather than flow past it.

The Scanlon home was a three-story brownstone not far from Peggy’s in Bay Ridge, and I was glad I already knew how hard it was to find a parking spot or I’d never have gotten there on time.

Several young men in leather jackets and kilts lounged along the stairs that led to the front door—two police department and two fire department, from the colors of them, and the music that poured out of the door was distinctly Irish.

“Hey, Scotty!” One of the young men detached himself from the cement railing and became Pat in the early twilight as he bounded down the steps. “Welcome to the
ceilidh
!”

He grabbed my hand and dragged me up the steps. “Ignore these dirty layabouts. They’re just here for the free beer.”

“What’s a
ceilidh
?” I asked Pat as he took my coat from me.

He stared at me, mock horror on his face. “Your last name is Scotts and you don’t know what a
ceilidh
is?”

“Nope,” I shook my head, “I don’t.”

“Don’t let my da hear you say that!” He grinned. “Or you’ll be listening to a Scanlon version of Celtic history for the next hour!”

“And who’s needing a history lesson?” A distinctly male rumble cut through the noise and I knew, without a doubt, that this burly man, with his shock of thick gray hair and barrel chest, wearing the same tartan Pat wore with a navy blue fire-department polo shirt, was none other than Pat and Jean’s dad. She had his eyes, a sparkling warm brown, and I realized what they made me think of: cider. Dark, hot, cinnamon-spiced cider.

“Mr. Scanlon,” I held out my hand, “I’m Tori Scotts, and I’m glad to finally meet you.”

He smiled, a huge smile, and instead of shaking my hand, he pulled me into a bear hug.

“We’re all family here, all nine-one-one, and I’m glad to meet you, too. Pat, where’s her beer?” he asked as he released me and tucked my hand in his arm.

“I was just getting her coat and—”

“Beer, man! Get her a beer! What the hell kind of host are you to your sister’s”—he gave me a sidelong glance and the tiniest of grins—“friend?”

I grinned back. I didn’t know what Jean and I were, either, but I knew that friend was somewhere in there.