Black Irish

by Tricia Andersen

  »»•««

  This was the busiest the diner had never been. For most of the night, patrons waited for one of the six tables to become available or a seat to free up at the counter. The tips flowed freely. It was a very good night.

  Finally, by one-thirty in the morning, the crowds started to slow. The booths and stools were still full, but no one was waiting.

  “Abbey, have you taken a break yet?” a voice boomed from the kitchen.

  Abbey poked her head in. Barker stood over the grill, the sweat from his head glistening off his dark skin. The white cotton apron stretched across his rotund belly was stained with the night’s success.

  “Not yet, Barker,” she replied.

  “Abbey, you’ve been on your feet all night, non-stop. You need to take a load off.”

  She glanced out at the dining room. More customers were coming in. There were still more tips to be had. With a night like this, she could renew her hopes of going home. “I will in a bit, Barker.”

  Barker stared at her and then smiled and shook his head. Abbey knew he worried about her, but he also understood her need for money. He tried as much as he could to get her closer to going home. She smiled to herself. He was probably the closest thing she had to a father.

  “Abbey, you have another table,” Mitzi’s singsong voice announced as she came around the corner. Mitzi was in her early thirties and was very attractive in a tired, four-packs-of-cigarettes-a-day way. Abbey offered a quick “thanks” and scampered off on tired feet to fill glasses with water.

  Very carefully pinching the four small, clouded glasses together, she balanced them out to the dining room. Setting them on the table of the booth closest to the window, she reached into the pocket of her uniform to get her pad and pen.

  “Good evening. What can I get you to drink?”

  She lifted her gaze to take the first order. Her heart seized in her throat. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t pull free from the eyes that locked with hers—eyes equally wide in surprise.

  Ice blue eyes. Unmistakable ice blue eyes.

  Abbey forced a smile as she took a step away. Without another word, she fled to the kitchen and pressed herself against the cold tile wall, praying it would swallow her whole.

  “Barker, you’re right. I think I need that break,” she squeaked. He nodded in agreement. She turned as Mitzi rounded the corner again.

  “Mitzi, could you take my table?” Abbey pleaded.

  Mitzi glanced out with a grin blooming across her face. “Those four guys that just came in? Hmmm…they’re hot, and they look rich.”

  “Uh-huh,” Abbey agreed, wishing she would go away.

  “Especially the one on the end with the black hair and the crazy beautiful blue eyes. When I walked by, I heard an accent. Mmmm…very sexy.” Mitzi giggled. “I’m gonna get his number.” She skipped off to take their order.

  Abbey forced a grin on her face even though she could feel jealousy bubble in the depths of her belly. “You’re right. He is cute. Let me know what he says.” She huffed. She knew she had no right to feel any envy if her friend was successful. But still—at one point the man was my husband.

  Abbey shuffled across the kitchen to sit on an upside down five-gallon pail. She sank down on it then took the cheese fries Barker offered her. She nibbled on them, the electric terror vibrating through her nerves robbing her appetite. Abbey lifted her head as Mitzi breezed back into the kitchen and tacked her new order over the grill.

  “So, did you get the hottie’s number?” Abbey asked weakly, forcing a smile on her face.

  “Nope,” Mitzi answered. “Sadly, he’s a married man. He’s wearing a gold band on his left finger. A lot like the one you wear.”

  Abbey didn’t react as the cheese fries slid off her lap onto the floor. She shook her head to bring herself back to her senses and then kneeled on the cold, tile floor to gather the fries back onto the plate. “Sorry, Barker.”

  “Hey, no big deal.” Barker reached for a roll of paper towels and handed them to her. “I’ll make you another batch. See what I told you? You’ve worked yourself into a frazzled nerve.”

  “You have no idea.” Abbey wiped up the smeared cheese sauce as her stomach flipped. Once the mess was cleaned up, she settled herself back on the bucket. She glanced at the reflection in the rounded mirror that allowed the kitchen to see the dining area. Even though the image was clear as day she was still in disbelief. Spain. He’s supposed to be in Spain. It can’t be him.

  Abbey didn’t move from her perch on the bucket until the four men finished their meal, paid the bill, and left. She heaved a sigh as she stood.

  “You all right?” Barker questioned.

  “Yeah.” Abbey frowned.

  “You’ve been sitting there for an hour.”

  Abbey glanced at the bucket then back at him. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s the longest I’ve ever seen you sit. You’re always on the go when you work. And if you tally all the cigarette brakes Mitzi has taken tonight you still have another thirty minutes. Are you good to go?”

  Abbey offered him a smile. “Never been better.” She slipped her pad from her apron then hurried to the dining room to wait on their newest guests.

  Abbey never noticed as the rest of the night slipped by. Her mind couldn’t tear free from the memory of those ice blue eyes. Before she knew it, her shift was over and it was time to close. She stepped out between Barker and Mitzi as Barker turned and locked the door of the diner. Mitzi bid them a tired, yet cheerful goodbye before venturing down the street toward her apartment.

  Barker grasped Abbey’s shoulder as she descended the steps to the sidewalk. “Abbey,” Barker warned, “Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you home? Sure as hell, if you walk home alone, you’ll get mugged.”

  She smiled reassuringly. “It’s okay, Barker. I have my pepper spray. I’ll be fine.”

  “If you’re only attacked by one. If there’s a gang…”

  Patting his hand, she repeated, “I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  Abbey walked through the dark four blocks of her neighborhood, her pepper spray in one hand, while the other held her thin jacket closed against the bitter winter wind. She ignored the cold wet feeling slipping through the cracks of her loafers as her eyes darted from one side of the street to the other.

  Her heart raced as she heard the sound of voices behind her. She glanced over her shoulder. In the alley between the buildings, shadows shifted against the brick walls, stalking her. Instinct demanded she run, but she knew that would only egg them on. She quickened her pace toward home.

  Just as the voices grew louder in attack, they disappeared, scattering into the night. Their retreat didn’t slow her any. She jogged the last three blocks. As she turned her doorknob, she gazed through the halos of lamplight down the street.

  The grill of a black Hummer sat at the corner, watching and waiting for her to slip inside the building. She heaved a sigh as she watched the vehicle for a moment. Then she let the door latch behind her.

  »»•««

  Sloan sat in the burgundy upholstered chair, watching the office buzz around him. He brushed at the snow and salt residue that caked his leather boot, which was propped on his knee. As he heard his name called, he uncrossed his leg and stood slowly, stretching to his full six and a half feet, like a panther on the prowl.

  This was unusual for Sloan—waiting. His appointments were set for him. People waited for him. He’d worked too hard, too long to be anyone’s lackey. He was legendary.

  But this mission he’d adopted couldn’t wait for secretaries to communicate. Sloan wanted action now. And if that meant sitting in the reception area of Panda Publications for two hours…well, so be it.

  He nodded his thanks to the young woman who escorted him through the halls to Aubrey’s office then knocked on the door. After hearing Aubrey’s voice summoning him, he turned the knob.

  Aubrey smiled at hi
m from behind her desk. The cold, winter sun bathed the room in pure white. The white power suit she wore added to the dazzling bright light of the office. He could tell by the glimmer in her eye she was exceptionally curious why the great Sloan O’Riley had spent half the afternoon sitting in the lobby waiting for her. The slight smirk on her face indicated that she was going to torture him slowly until he gave her the reason for his visit. And that she would enjoy every moment of the torture. He was completely at her mercy.

  “Hello, Sloan. I didn’t realize you were back in the States. Have a seat,” she said as she gestured toward the chairs on the opposite side.

  “Hello, Aubrey. You’re as lovely as usual,” he replied as he sat. He had used the same chair the last time he met with Aubrey in this office. Glancing at the empty one beside him for a moment, he turned his attention back to the publisher.

  “What can I do for you, Sloan?”

  “I need a favor.”

  Aubrey stared at him quizzically. “I have no work for you, if that’s what you’re looking for. I can’t imagine you need the money.”

  “It’s not that.”

  “What is it then?”

  Sloan paused then smiled. “I want you to agree to reinstate Panda’s contract with me. And Abbey Wright.”

  She smirked at him. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

  “Forgive her. The whole fiasco in Miami wasn’t her fault, Aubrey.”

  “Then whose was it?”

  Sloan fell silent for a moment. “Mine.”

  Aubrey laughed. “How could her immaturity be your fault, Sloan?”

  “I lied to her. I told her I was gay. She felt betrayed.”

  “What possessed you to tell her that you’re gay?” Aubrey asked incredulously.

  “She was about to abandon the whole deal. You said it yourself, that book was a bestseller. You should be thanking me for telling her that.”

  Aubrey shook her head as she laughed. “Be that as it may, that’s not why I said it isn’t possible. She disappeared. I left a message that I wanted her advance returned. When she didn’t call me back, I tried to reach her again. Her number was disconnected. Then I called her home in Iowa. Her mother told me that she never came home. That woman was beside herself with worry. Abbey has sent letters to her but that’s it. I have no idea where she is to reinstate the contract.”

  “I know where she is,” Sloan assured.

  “Where?”

  “She’s a waitress in Brownsville. Gordon, Robert, Bartholomew, and I found her waiting tables on New Year’s Eve.”

  “Brownsville?” Aubrey screeched.

  “Yes.” He stood before leaning against her desk, his fists pressed against the wood. “Help me fix my mistake, Aubrey. I don’t want any money upfront. If I can get Abbey to agree to come back to the project, I want your support.”

  “And if I agree?”

  Sloan cocked his head and flashed his perfect, sexy grin at her. “I promise you not one, but five bestsellers.”

  Aubrey examined him wordlessly for several long moments. Then, she pushed to her feet, leaning across until she nearly met him nose to nose. Her green eyes locked with his ice blue ones. Although she stood statue still, he could sense the debate going on inside her mind. Finally, with a deep breath, she broke the silence.

  “Deal.”

  »»•««

  Abbey spent New Year’s Day curled in a ball beneath the sheets of her bed. She couldn’t shake those piercing blue eyes. She stared at the door, waiting for Sloan to pound on it. As the street lamps outside her apartment illuminated the room, she realized he wasn’t going to show. He never came looking for her. Abbey was relieved and devastated all at the same time.

  The next morning, she dragged herself out of bed, dressed, and trudged through the new-fallen snow to the diner. All day, her head snapped around each time the chime on the door rang, distracting her from her customers. The anticipation of seeing the tall, sexy Irishman walk in again burrowed a pit in her stomach.

  He never arrived.

  The days passed and Sloan never set foot in the diner or anywhere near her apartment. Abbey resigned herself to the fact that the eyes she had seen were not his. They were a figment of my imagination. Her hopeless heart caused her to lose some much-needed tips.

  At the end of her shift, Abbey slipped the pad and pen from the skirt of her waitress uniform and set them on the counter next to the cash register. She picked up the threadbare jacket she stored on the shelf under the till. She tugged the sleeves onto her arms and then struggled with the zipper until the jacket closed. Bidding Barker and Mitzi goodbye with a cheery wave, she set off into the freezing winter twilight.

  Dodging cars and construction vehicles that sped down the street, she smiled. At night, the streets were menacing, but during the day, the neighborhood was predictable. The same people stood on the sidewalks talking. The same people huddled beneath the bus stop waiting for their ride home.

  As she turned the final corner on her way home, she found something seriously out of place—a six and a half foot tall Irishman standing in the middle of the street. A calf-length, black wool trench coat covered Sloan’s black Armani suit and white linen dress shirt. His dominating stature cleared the road of both cars and people.

  A grin cracked across his face at the sight of her. “Abigail.”

  Abbey twisted her face into a scowl despite her thundering heart. She quickened her pace to pass by him, but stopped suddenly when she felt his hand snake around her upper arm.

  “Abigail, we need to talk.”

  She spun at him. “I have nothing to say to you. You lied to me.”

  “I know. I apologize. I can make it up to you.”

  “I’m not interested.”

  “I smoothed everything over with Aubrey to publish the second book. She’s fully on board. I know publishing the first book was your dream come true. Let’s do it again.”

  Abbey wrenched free from his grasp. “As I said, I’m not interested.” She stormed off to her apartment building, slamming the door closed behind her.

  Abbey spent the next few days tearing herself apart for what she said. But she knew she was right. If she let Sloan in, he would just break her heart again. He seemed to take what she said to heart. She didn’t see him again, and it made her miserable.

  »»•««

  Abbey wiped the diner counter with the soapy cloth. The breakfast rush had just wrapped up. The lunch crowd would arrive soon. It was the calm before the storm.

  The sound of the door chime caught her attention. A young delivery boy stood in the entranceway, a large package wrapped in brown paper and twine cradled in his arms. She glanced around him at the bicycle that waited for him. How did he travel with such a large package on his bike?

  “How can I help you?” she greeted.

  “I have a delivery for Abigail O’Riley.” He balanced the box in one arm as he brushed stray snowflakes from his close-cropped brown hair.

  The name caught her up short. Not many knew her by that name. “I’m Abigail.”

  The boy set the package on the counter silently. Bewildered, she dug a couple of dollars from the tips in her pocket and handed them to him. With a quick thanks, he dashed out the door, hopped on his bike, and rode away.

  “Who’s it from?” a deep voice boomed from the kitchen.

  Abbey turned to find Barker standing in the doorway. She shrugged, “I don’t know.”

  “Well, open it,” he encouraged.

  Searching beneath the counter until coming across a pair of scissors, she snipped the twine and peeled it from the box. Then, she cut the paper free before opening the lid.

  Nestled between folds of tissue paper was a black and white Spyder ski jacket. On top sat a folded piece of paper.

  Only one person who knew where she was could give her such an expensive coat. And would call her Abigail O’Riley. Her fingers trembled as she picked up the note.

  Dearest Abigail, I hope you’ll reco
nsider my offer. Regardless if you do or not, the jacket you were wearing the other day is too thin for these brutal winters. Please accept my humble gift. Yours forever, Sloan.

  Abbey let go a shaking breath. She jumped as Barker appeared over her shoulder.

  “So who’s it from?” he repeated.

  “Nobody,” she muttered.

  “Abbey, wearing that coat in this neighborhood isn’t a good idea. It’s worth some cash. You could get hurt.”

  She looked out the window where the delivery boy had just rode off on his bike. Across the street sat the Hummer, lying in wait. Abbey thought for moment. The past few days, she had caught glimpses of the vehicle whenever she left her apartment, day or night.

  She sighed. “I don’t think I’m going to have a problem, Barker.”

  Chapter Eight

  Evan was getting pretty tired of making daily deliveries to the diner. Abbey could tell by the exasperated look in his young eyes. The fact that he delivered all the packages addressed to her on his bicycle told her he couldn’t live too far away. But the fear in his eyes every time he brought another one told her he lived far enough away.

  By the ninth delivery, she was able to get some information from him. He was seventeen and saving for his first vehicle. With a car, his deliveries in the winter would be so much easier. It was difficult to ride a bike in the snow.

  Knowing the man hiring Evan, the boy would get what he wanted in no time.

  Abbey sighed as she gazed at his newest drop-off. She had received a package every day for two and a half weeks, each one wrapped in brown paper and twine. It became quickly evident that Sloan did not know the diner was closed on Sundays. The following Monday, Evan had arrived with two bundles balanced in his arms.

  She took the scissors, cutting the string and slitting the paper open. She shook the lid gently to loosen it. Her mind raced to guess the contents. Is it more flowers? More chocolate? Mitzi had enjoyed the gourmet truffles. Another pair of Betsy Johnson pumps?

  If the gifts were a way to get her attention, Sloan got it.

  The bottom of the box landed on the counter with a thump. Abbey rustled the tissue paper to find what was inside. Her fingers brushed against the weathered covers of books. She carefully scooped it up to look at it closer.