by Cecy Robson
“Rip you off my body like Velcro as much as possible. Don’t look at me that way,” I say when she does. “There has to be believability.” I shrug. “I may or may not have ripped a few girls off me in front of my Ma. But let’s try not to do that. She doesn’t like it, and I think she still carries a knife in the waistband of her underwear. Ready to go?”
Allie doesn’t move.
“It’s just a little knife,” I assure her.
“Oh, God.”
“I mean, it’s not like she needs it,” I say, trying to make her feel better. “She’s Irish. She could probably kill you with her bare hands.”
Look at that, now she’s glaring. “Seamus, you are the worst motivational speaker ever.”
“I don’t know about that,” I begin.
“Are you not listening? I want to make a good impression. I don’t want to upset anyone, let alone be stabbed.”
“It was just that one time, and no offense, that guy deserved it for trying to steal Ma’s purse.”
Wow. I can actually see the color drain from her face. “I guess we should head inside,” I say.
“I guess so,” she says, not meaning one word. She squares her shoulders. “Just do me a favor. Whatever happens, don’t leave me alone with your family. I’m not certain I can pull this off without you beside me.”
I pull the egg casserole she made from the back and shut the doors, leading her toward the wrap-around porch with my hand. “I think I can do that. At least for the first two minutes we’re there.”
“For the first two minutes?” she shrieks, stopping at the bottom of the steps. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We’re kind of old fashioned, at least when it comes to meals. The womenfolk usually gather in the kitchen getting all the food ready. Except for Wren. She usually hangs with us. She’s good at serving the food and setting the table. But that, and helping me and the boys clean up after, are the only things we let her do. She tried to cook once. But she fucked up the potato pancakes so bad it’s like our insides melted and we were sick for a week. So, if she tries to offer you anything she’s claimed to have made, don’t take it. She needs to leave the cooking to Evan. The food he makes is good and our insides haven’t fallen out yet.” I slap her ass when we reach the front door. “Ready gorgeous?”
She rubs her butt. “After that gentle caress of encouragement, how can I not be?”
“Hey, ballers do it all the time,” I say. “I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t like you or if you didn’t look so hot in that dress.”
“Ah, thank you?” she replies.
“Anytime,” I assure her.
She watches me warily and reaches for the crook of my arm at the same time I try to hold her hand. We end up slapping at each other, trying to do what the other one wants and laughing as we try to figure it out.
The door flies open and out steps Curran, his baby girl chewing on her fist as she lays against him. I snag Allie’s hand in mine as his stare bounces from her, to me, and back to her again.
“Hi,” Curran says.
“What’s up?” I lift my hand to wave, remembering too late I should be using it to hold Allie’s. “This is Allie. You remember her? She taught you all about Saint Christopher right after she broke up the fight you had with little Stephen Dormer when he tore your picture of the Holy Mother.”
“Allie Mendes?” Curran asks, glancing back at me. “You’re here with Allie Mendes?”
Allie offers a little wave. “How are you, Curran? I never told you this, but your paint by numbers rendition of the baby Jesus was the best I’ve ever seen.”
“No, shit,” Curran says, beaming.
Whatever doubt Curran has dissolves at the paint by numbers reference. I remember that painting. He gave Jesus some kind of green blanket the color of puke. We crossed ourselves when we first saw it, insisting no way did Jesus deserve a puke colored blanket. But Curran thought it helped the image of Jesus to pop. “You don’t want Jesus to pop?” he asked the rest of us. I’ll admit, none of us could deny him that one.
He grins and looks back at me. “You’re seeing Allie Mendes,” he repeats.
By now, he’s sounding impressed. “Sure am,” I say, lifting her hand as proof. “Isn’t that right, sweet cheeks?”
Allie’s smile falters at the reference. I’m guessing that’s not a nickname on her approved list. Like the champ she is, the corners of her mouth lift. “That’s right, Teddy Bear,” she says, looking up at me. “I’m all yours.”
Curran cracks up. I can’t be sure if it’s because of the look on my face when Allie calls me her Teddy Bear, or because I’m just standing there. Of all the things she could’ve called me, stud muffin, hotness, sex god, Teddy Bear doesn’t fit my very awesome package.
“Hey,” Curran hollers behind him. “Seamus is here. With his girlfriend.”
“Is she trying to steal your car?” Finnie asks, confused.
“It was one time!” I yell. Christ. You smile at a pretty girl and things are going great. Next thing you know, you’re naked in the woods, tied to a tree, watching that pretty girl drive off with your truck.
Curran shakes with laughter, matching Allie and all the giggles she’s trying to hold in. Sweet. We can do this. All she has to do is keep laughing and being cute and my family will believe we’re together.
“Come on,” I mutter. “Let’s get it over with.”
We’re a little late. That’s all my fault and maybe Allie’s, too. She was so worried about how to dress, she tried on close to seventeen outfits. After the sixth, I helped myself to breakfast, because I was getting hungry and thought it was better to shove food in my mouth than say something stupid like, “Hey, you’re smoking. Can I see your bra and panties without all the titillating clothes getting in the way?”
I think that might have been inappropriate, but maybe it’s just me.
Allie hangs tight to my hand. I think she’s worried about falling, since she’s still not used to the high heels I told her looked hot. She probably also feels guilt about lying, especially if she thinks so highly of my crazy family. Maybe her guilt makes me feel a little guilty, too. I remind myself this is for both of us, and may help us get to know each other better.
I don’t want to admit it, but I really like what I see. I don’t just mean how her dress cups her ass or how the color brings out her olive skin tone and those eyes, too. I’m not even talking about how her pouty mouth looks fuller with that gloss she’s wearing. Allie is a good person with a sweet personality. Maybe God sent her to me, instead of the other way around as I claimed.
“Are you certain I look all right?” Allie asks me, keeping her voice quiet.
“Nope,” I answer.
She pauses before turning the corner into the family room. “I don’t?”
My gaze fixes to her panicked expression. “No. You look beautiful.”
Shock swirls through her pretty eyes. She doesn’t believe me. But she should.
“Aw. Isn’t that cute?” Curran says bringing me back to the moment.
What I said was good for show. But that’s not why I said it. Allie is beautiful. She just needs to believe it.
We follow Curran through the foyer and into his large family room. He holds out his hand, getting everyone’s attention. “Youz are going to fall over when you see who Seamus brought.”
“Aw, shit,” Wren says already psyching herself up for the worst.
Curran steps back, unveiling Allie directly behind him like a human curtain. All at once time stops, everyone freezing in place like I’m hefting the Ten Commandments on my shoulders, instead of holding Allie on one arm.
Tess is the first to move, inching slowly, little Fiona glued to her hip and a tray of monkey bread in her hands. Awesome, that’s my favorite.
I head straight for the monkey bread, until I realize I’m still attached by Allie’s vice grip on my hand. I’m reminded everyone still hasn’t moved. I under
stand Fiona’s shyness. She’s little and is probably wondering what a stranger is doing in her house. Especially when the stranger is holding her favorite uncle’s hand. I can respect that.
Everyone else doesn’t have that excuse. They’re staring, waiting for my next move. The only sound is coming from the television as the Phils take the field.
Ma crosses her arms over her chest like I’m up to something. That’s when I forget about having my first bite of monkey bread. She knows. Everything. At least, that’s my guess.
Allie is dressed like someone I would date, except not dressed like someone I would date, if that makes sense. She’s arousing. Someone I’d take to bed, yet something about her gives the impression she doesn’t go to bed with just anyone.
I’m starting to doubt whether I can pull this off. Wren doesn’t help. She sits up from where she’s perched on Evan’s lap. “Allie Mendes,” she says, barely believing it. She looks at me “You’re dating Allie Mendes.”
It takes some doing, but I release Allie’s death grip on my hand and drape an arm around her shoulders. “Yup,” I say. Short and simple. That’s how I need to do things. The more I talk, the more my mouth will get us in trouble.
“Allie Mendes,” Wren repeats, unable to believe it. “But she’s . . . nice.”
“Why does that shock you?” I ask.
Wren gives me a look. The same look everyone else does. “Never mind,” I mutter.
This is where Allie’s choice of dress works to her advantage. She doesn’t notice everyone scanning her bare arms for tattoos. But I do.
“Is something wrong?” Tess asks.
“No,” Sofia says, “everything is wonderful.”
Tess sighs, likely thanking God Curran won’t have to frisk her for weapons.
Sofia doesn’t talk much, but what she says in her gentle voice always seems to ease the tension. She slips away from Killian. It’s the first time I can really see her baby bump. I almost tell her how cute she looks carrying my little brother’s baby, but her tender voice beats me to the punch.
“It’s so nice to see, Allie,” she says. “It’s been a long time, but I really appreciate all the help you gave us in preparation for our wedding.”
Allie smiles, appearing relieved to interact with someone who’s almost as quiet as she is.
“You’re very sweet,” Allie tells Sofia. “But I didn’t do much. I merely referred you to a florist.”
“A wonderful florist,” Sofia says. “And the most lovely woman to sing at our wedding.”
Sofia turns to Killian as he reaches her. “You remember how Allie saw to all the church details, don’t you?”
Killian is another one who doesn’t talk much, leaving all the loudmouth bickering to the rest of us. Like me, he’s not great at remembering people he’s met in passing. But he remembers Allie and it’s not just to placate Sofia. “You recommended that violinist,” he agrees. “I didn’t think we needed one, but she played the best version of Ave Maria I’d ever heard.”
“I remember that, too,” I say, surprising myself. “Hey, Alz. How were you still volunteering at the church with your business running like it was?”
As if on cue, and to add to all the good vibes Allie has going on, she blushes. “Mrs. Rodriguez normally handled all the wedding preparations. When she broke her ankle, Father Flanagan asked me to help.” She looks at my brother and Sofia. “It just happened to be during the time you were getting married.”
Killian reaches out to lift the casserole Allie made out of my hands, as well as Tess’s monkey bread, placing it on the buffet table near the fireplace.
Sol speaks up, glancing around. “Seamus brought someone nice home? What does this mean, exactly?”
Sol is getting her doctorate in psychology and is one of the smartest people I know. She doesn’t sound as smart now. In her defense, she seems as dumbstruck as the rest of my family.
Finn laughs, taking a bite out of the muffin Sol is holding and speaking as he chews. “It means you don’t have to hide all the booze like the last time.”
Sol covers her heart, appearing relieved. I feel bad for her. It took her an hour to scrub down that bathroom. I feel bad for me, too. Drunk or not, the last date I brought to brunch chased me three damn blocks. I had to hide behind a dumpster to escape that crazy bitch.
Wren clasps Evan’s shoulder like this is the greatest day ever. “Allie used to teach Sunday school,” she explains, loud enough for the rest of to hear. “She still volunteers at the church, owns a killer real estate business, and might possibly still be a virgin.” She scowls at me. “Possibly.”
Allie’s voice trails as she finishes congratulating Sofia and Killian on her pregnancy.
Me being me, I become defensive. “I’ll have you know I didn’t pluck the cherry off this tree.”
“Seamus,” Allie warns, stealing a glance in my mother’s direction.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you,” I promise.
“Oh, yeah,” Wren says, like she’s remembering. “It was Andres what’s his face? The guy with the Velcro shoes.”
“The special needs guy?” Curran asks.
“Yeah, that’s the one,” Wren says.
“It was real nice of you to help him out like that,” Finnie says, even though he doesn’t seem to really mean it. “I don’t think many women, or men, would have put up with all that Dungeons and Dragons shit. Hey, who wants to bet he would’ve banged that green chick from Star Trek if he could?”
I point at him. “That’s what I was thinking.”
“What green chick?” Wren asks.
“The one with the octopus arms,” Angus says, chiming in and sounding way too curious for his own damn good.
Finnie grimaces. “She had octopus arms? I’m not a racist or anything. But if a woman has tentacles, there has to be something wrong with her—”
“Finn!” Sol shrieks. “Your mother is right there.”
“I hear ya,” Finnie says. “Hey, Ma. Don’t you think a woman with tentacles must have some messed up lady parts?”
Ma looks at Finnie. Finnie takes her barely-there response as a resounding, yes. “See,” Finnie says to Sol, all proud-like. “Told you.”
“Your ex-boyfriend was into some kinky shit,” Curran agrees, grimacing.
Allie stumbles into me. I catch her and keep her on her feet. “Something wrong?” I ask.
“You mean besides everyone here thinking Allie lost her virginity to some guy in Velcro shoes who fantasizes about having sex with Octopussy?” Killian asks, unable to beat down his smirk. “Probably.”
Sofia gasps, blushing in a show of solidarity for Allie, whose face is roughly the color of a stop sign. “Killian,” she whispers.
Finnie raises his hand. “Just one question and I’ll let it go. Did he take the Velcro shoes off during the act?”
Sol covers her face with her hand and groans. “What?” Finnie asks. “I think it’s a fair question.”
“Bastard owes me a pack of gum,” Angus mumbles.
“Sorry we’re late,” Declan and Melissa stop dead in the archway, their arms filled with baked goods.
“Allie Mendes?” Declan asks. He analyzes the way I’m holding her. Shouldn’t surprise me. As the current District Attorney, Declan dismantles everything piece by piece. “What are you doing here?”
Tess, Wren, Sofia, and Sol rush forward, giving Declan and Melissa kisses and lifting the bakery boxes from their grasps.
No one is kissing me or Allie yet. I kind of take offense to it. Yeah, yeah, they’re all in shock and shit. But come on. I showed up with the best woman I could find, like, ever. Maybe even on the entire planet. Cut me some slack here.
“What do you mean, what is she doing here?” I ask Declan. “She’s here with me. She’s my girlfriend.”
I almost trip over the word “girlfriend.” Almost. Melissa doesn’t seem to understand what’s happening and she can’t read our lips with ou
r backs to her. Curran passes the baby to Sofia so he can catch Melissa up in sign language, his hands moving fast.
Thank God Curran only shares the good parts.
Declan holds his palms up, trying to stop Curran or at least get him to slow down. He’s just learning sign language and can’t keep up with how fast Curran is signing. “Curran, wait. I’m lost. All I got was something about a green woman with octopi vagina.” He glances at Melissa. “That can’t be right.”
“Yeah, it is,” Curran replies, like Declan is the stupid one.
Melissa places her hand gently on Allie’s shoulder. Melissa is tall and very voluptuous, her figure dwarfing Allie’s petite body. “If Allie wants to have consensual relations, it shouldn’t matter whether her partner wears Velcro shoes—”
“Yes, it should,” me and my brothers collectively mutter.
“Real men take that shit off,” Wren says.
“Hell, yeah. Damn straight,” my boys and me agree.
Wren dances her eyebrows at Evan. “Or wear nothing at all.”
She had to go and spoil it.
“What the hell?”
“Seriously?”
“God, Wren.”
The women and Evan, unless you count Evan’s chuckle, have been tight-lipped. But it’s like all at once, they have to save Allie.
Tess slips in to put her arm around Allie, knocking mine out of the way and trying to shield her from the rest of us. I don’t know what Tess’s problem is. We’re just having a little fun.
“Don’t you worry,” Tess tells Allie. “We’ve all been there and somehow made it out unscathed.”
“What that’s supposed to mean?” I ask.
Tess adjusts her tiny black glasses. That’s how I know we’re all in trouble. That’s when I know we’ve gone too far. “It is absolutely unconscionable how this poor woman has been treated,” she tells me. “Look at her. She didn’t take two steps into my house before you accused her of losing her virginity to a man suffering from severe mental retardation and tasteless fashion.”
Finnie raises his hand. “I’m sorry, Tess. You lost me after unconscious.”
“She means youz are all a bunch of animals,” Molly, Angus’ fiancée answers for her, her high-pitched Edith Bunker voice sharp enough to cut glass and her red hair practically on fire. “It’s like any time any of youz bring someone decent home, youz jump on her like a pride of hungry jackals on an unsuspecting flamingo.”