Worcester Nights - The Boxed Set (24 page)

Ethan gave a quick honk on the horn and waved his hand when Mrs. O’Malley looked up. She immediately strode around the bar. She pointed at Joey, said something, pointed at the counter, and then she was stepping through the door. She went around the other side and slid into the seat next to me. Ethan pulled out into the traffic without a word.

Mrs. O’Malley put out a beefy arm to draw me in, and I collapsed against her bulk, breathing in that jasmine-and-orange scent of hers. I couldn’t think. Nothing made sense. I was lost, and the world was closing in around me, shrinking down to a mote of dust.

The taxi drew to a stop, and I looked out. It was the O’Malley’s house. Mrs. O’Malley stepped out of the taxi, came around to my door, and helped me out. She waved to Ethan, and then she guided me up to the front door. In a moment, I was settled onto the dark green tapestry couch. She went into the kitchen for a moment, then returned with a pair of thick, oversized highball glasses. Each glass held a single, large, round ice cube about the size of a baseball.

I stared at mine as she returned to the kitchen again. It was like a crystal ball, with delicate fissures and bubbles within its frozen water body. It held my fortune within it. And what could that be? After all I had gone through, had I trusted in a man who was untrustworthy?

A nervous giggle ran through me. I was trusting in a professional liar. His whole purpose in life was to deceive people, to convince them he was something he was not. Why should I be any different? With that kind of a talent, surely he could have any woman he wanted, and convince each one that she was the most important thing in his life. He could live the male fantasy – a new girl every night, a continual rotation of fresh, nubile bodies, there for him to use and enjoy.

Tears slid down my cheeks, and Mrs. O’Malley stepped in front of me. She poured my glass full – perhaps a third of the bottle. Then she filled her own glass. She put the bottle down onto the oak coffee table, then leant over to tap her glass against mine. “Men are pigs,” she offered. “Us women always have to stick together against them. Always been like that, always will be.”

She took a long drink, and I mirrored her action. The thick whiskey coursed through me, sturdied me, and I took in a deep breath.

Her voice was steady and warm. “We’ve all been there, Katie. Sean’s just a guy – and there’s many who are far worse. Look at Roman Polanski. He was in his mid-forties when he raped a thirteen year old girl. Thirteen! He flees to France, where they all fuck anything that moves, and he’s still praised as a great man. Sure, he fucked a girl barely into puberty. That’s OK, he’s a guy. Guys do those sorts of things.”

She took another drink. “How about Woody Allen? When he was fifty-six, he started sleeping with the girl who he had raised as his stepdaughter. There he is, a father figure, someone she looks up to and trusts, and when she turns nineteen he’s sucking her tits. But that’s all right, of course, because he’s a famous guy. It’s what guys do. They like to touch young girls, and we cheer them on. Heck, it’s in their nature.”

I took another drink of my whiskey. I felt sick. Soul-deep sick.

My phone rang, and I pulled it out. It was Sean. I hit the “reject” button.

Mrs. O’Malley patted my arm. “It’ll get better, honey. I know it seems dark right now, but a few days will put it into perspective. It’s why I thought you should get through it sooner rather than later. Give you time to build up your skin. He’s still the same Sean he’s always been. He’s just a man. It’s what they are.”

She gave a snort. “Look at Allen. He’s been praised for staying with his step-daughter for so long. Praised! As if continuing to sleep with the girl who wholly trusted him was an admirable thing? ‘What a good guy, he’s still willing to climb on top of that sexy young daughter of his.’ She couldn’t even
drink
yet, when he started sticking his cock into her.”

My phone rang again, and I pressed hard on the OFF button. The noise cut off into silence.

Mrs. O’Malley ran her thumb over her ice ball, giving it a spin. “Life can suck for a woman. Look at Demi Moore. She marries Freddie Moore when she’s eighteen. The guy is twelve years older than her and had already been fucking her a while. Nobody blinks an eye. It’s just what guys do, fuck under-age girls.” Her gaze darkened. “Later on, she is interested is Ashton Kutcher. He’s twenty-five, so far from a child. But she’s older than him.” She downed another gulp. “And the world goes mad! How could she! She’s older than him! He can’t know what he’s doing! She’s using him!”

Her phone burst into life, and she looked down at it for a moment before hitting a button and bringing it to her ear. “Yeah, Seamus?”

She listened for a long moment, nodding. She glanced over at me. “Yeah, she’s here. We’re fine.”

Another murmur of talk, and she pursed her lips. “Hold on.” She hit the mute button. “Sean wants to talk with you. Make sure you’re OK.”

I huddled back into the couch. “I don’t want him here.”

She gave me a pat. “I know, sweetie. But you know how these guys are. If he thinks you’re not OK, he’s liable to come storming over to make sure I’m not holding you hostage or something.”

I flushed. That would be just like Sean, too. I put my glass down on the table.

She looked at me carefully. “You sure you can talk to him calmly?”

I nodded, taking in a deep breath. “I’ll get rid of him.”

She gazed at me for another moment, then nodded. “You’re a good girl.” She hit the mute button again to deactivate it. “All right, put him on.” She handed the phone over.

Sean’s voice was tense with worry. “Kay? Are you there?”

My throat tightened at hearing his voice. Overlaid with it was the sound of his voice calling out of his studio after Francesca.

He’d slept with her.

In our bed.

I forced a coolness into my voice that I wouldn’t have thought possible. “I’m here Sean. I’m fine. Mrs. O’Malley and I are just chatting about the party on Saturday.”

There was a pause, and his voice seemed to ease slightly when he spoke again. “I can be by in about ten –”

“No, no, that’s all right,” I assured him. “I’m enjoying our chat. I think I’ll spend the night. A girl’s night out, that sort of thing.”

His voice was still laced with worry. “Are you sure? It’d be no trouble at all.”

“We’re having fun, drinking and talking. I really shouldn’t be on a bike like this. I’ll sleep it off here.”

I looked over at Mrs. O’Malley, then said into the phone. “Oh, I have to go. Talk to you later.”

“All right … if you’re sure … I’m here for you, Kay, so call if you need me.”

“Sure. Bye.” I hung up the phone and handed it back.

Mrs. O’Malley nodded with satisfaction. “I knew you had it in you, Katie. I knew you’d be able to handle the truth. We need more people like you on our team, Katie. Women are tougher than men, you know. We have to be. We shoulder the burdens, and they just fuck themselves out of thinking about things. We’re the one left to pick up the pieces and make it work.”

I stared into my drink. “You’re right, Mrs. O’Malley. Pick up the pieces.”

She patted me on the shoulder. “Call me Bridgit, lass.”

I nodded. She was my friend. She was the only one who told it like it was. “Bridgit,” I agreed.

She reached over to the stereo on the side wall, and hit the on button. Another click, and the Dubliners burst out of the speakers, filling the room with lively, rich music.

As I was goin' over the far famed Kerry mountains,

I met with Captain Farrell, and his money he was counting.

I first produced me pistol and I then produced me rapier,

Saying: "Stand and deliver, for you are a bold deceiver!"

Bridgit nudged her head at the speakers. “There you have it. Men lusting for adventure, for glory, for that rush. It’s what they do. In our modern world they can’t go out and slay dragons. So all they have left to prove their manhood is the conquest of women. The younger, the better.”

She patted my hand. “Just make the best of it you can, lass. Enjoy the time you have. Don’t fuss too much when he goes out. It’s for the best. Really.”

I blinked away the tears which were starting up afresh, and drowned myself in my whiskey.

Chapter 9

I
groaned, pulling the covers higher over my head. It was pitch black in the room, but it felt as if blindingly bright lightning was streaming through my veins. Thunder growled in an iron ball rolling from one ear to the other. Surely I’d been kidnapped and put onto some sort of a slaver’s ship, heading around Cape Horn. I needed to sleep for another twenty-four hours. Maybe then I’d be capable of standing.

Had we really finished the entire bottle?

A tapping noise wiggled its way through the swirling chaos of my mind. I wearily pried my eyes open, looking at the door. The clock on the stand read two a.m. Good God.

The tapping came again, from the other wall.

I turned – and nearly filled the room with a piercing scream. It took every ounce of effort to bite down on the sound, to bury my mouth in the blanket before me.

A man was looking in from the other side of my window.

My heart beat in a frenzy, and I shook my head in disbelief. Big mistake. The world swirled and spun, and I nearly emptied the contents of my stomach right there. It took me a moment to remember that my room overlooked the attached garage. Undoubtedly whoever it was was standing on that garage’s roof.

And I had no doubt who it was.

Sean’s face was tense with concern. He dropped onto one knee, then pointed at the latch on the window.

I pulled the blanket against my chest. I didn’t want him in here. I just wanted to curl up and let the world go away again.

His brows creased.

I realized, if I didn’t do something, that he might decide to take action. I probably wouldn’t like his choice. I had to get him to go away.

I pulled the blanket around me like a queen’s cloak and carefully climbed out of bed. The floor tilted beneath me. I lurched, holding onto the bed for a long moment. When I’d gotten a sense of the angle of attack, I made my way unsteadily over to the window. I leaned my forehead against the cool glass for a moment.

That felt good.

There was a tapping, and my eyes popped open. When had I closed them? I looked up, and Sean’s gaze was there before me. He now looked more amused than worried.

A coursing of anger flowed through me. How dare he think this was funny! I reached up to pop the latch open, then stepped back.

He slid up the window, eased in through the opening, then shut it behind him. He turned with a smile, then stepped toward me with his arms out.

I stepped back, pulling the blanket tighter around me.

His eyes focused on my face. “Kay? I think you might have had a little too much to drink.”

The words tumbled out of me before I could rein them in. “Where were you this afternoon?”

He paused, and his tone was more careful when he spoke again. “You were at the bar when we discussed it. I went with Seamus and Jimmy to the warehouse. We were working on preparations for the whole evening.”

Bitterness coursed through me, and my tone grew hard. “You mean you never went back to the studio?”

He stilled. “How did you know I was there?”

The outrageousness of his question burst through me like a spark in a powder house. My voice rose into a shriek. “How do I know? Is it really that fucking important how I know?”

There was a thump down the hall, and the padding of footsteps, then a knock came at the door. Bridgit’s voice was steady. “Katie, dear, are you all right?”

I took in a deep breath, willing myself to be calm. I would get through this, and get him out. “I’m fine, Bridgit. Just having a brief chat with Sean. He’ll leave in a minute.”

There was support in Bridgit’s voice. “That’s all right, Katie. You call me if you need me.” The footsteps faded back toward her room.

I turned again to Sean, reining in my volume. The anger still flared from every word.

“I saw her, Sean. I saw
Francesca
.”

He flinched at the name, then glanced at the door. His gaze hardened for a moment. I giggled to myself. Apparently the man had figured out who my guardian angel was, who had warned me of his evil ways. Not that it would do
him
any good. He was in trouble now, boy!

The world tilted left, sashayed right, and settled at an oblique angle.

Sean’s gaze gentled as he brought it back to me. “Look, Kay, I can explain.”

I hunched my blankets closer over my shoulders. “I’m waiting.”

“She’s … she’s my parole officer, Kay.”

I blew out my breath. “Jesus, is that the best you can come up with?”

He glanced again at the door. “I swear it, Kay. She’s my parole officer. Remember, I’m an ex-felon? I have to meet with a parole officer as part of my conditions. I have to be available for random checks.”