Just Like You Said It Would Be

by C. K. Kelly Martin

  Zoey and Darragh crowded around the table as Rory edged his way to the bar. Nick jumped to his feet and motioned for Zoey to take his seat. “You were amazing up there,” I gushed, hugging my cousin’s shoulder as she slid into the chair next to mine.

  “We gave it our best shot,” Zoey said with a toothy smile. “But so will every other band in the place. I don’t know if I can bear to watch. Someone get me a bloody drink before I pass out from nerves.”

  Nick went off to do drinks duty as another band hit the stage and Roisin crowded in next to Zoey to ply her with compliments. As Zoey had predicted, each of the other bands were as good as the last, not all to my taste but undeniably talented. In fact, the bands were so entertaining that I was only distracted once, during the final group’s performance, by the sight of Ursula and Darragh standing side by side at the bar, redhead Sophie nowhere in sight. Darragh was staring straight ahead as he spoke to Ursula, her fingers creeping slowly up the back of his neck, curling into his hair. He stopped talking and looked her in the eye. I had no idea what she was saying just then but the way she stared back at him hurt so much that I winced. Then they kissed and I dropped my gaze. I had to. I couldn’t take it anymore. I could lecture myself all I wanted, but I couldn’t change the way I felt.

  If Joss, Yanna, and Kérane were there they’d have grabbed me, pulled me outside with them, and done their best to talk me down. It might have worked. I don’t know. But I couldn’t do it myself. I was paralyzed.

  A hush came over the room as the emcee strode on stage to announce the winners. “Everybody’s out there holding their breath,” he said, smile catching on his lips. “We had an exceptional competition tonight. The winning band will be back in a fortnight to open for Tripod and that band is…” He dipped his head dramatically and yelled: “Soul Unsaid!”

  A round of applause broke out near the stage and spread through the club like wildfire. The girls from Soul Unsaid tossed their arms around each other, grinning tearfully as their most boisterous member jumped up and down screaming. Rory and Kevin sauntered over to Mental Wealth’s corner while Zoey chatted to Roisin and Anne. Darragh and Ursula had unlocked their lips and were engrossed in conversation. Surprisingly, none of The Brash Heathens seemed hugely disappointed.

  “Soul Unsaid had some catchy tunes,” I told Gloria, forcing myself to act human, “but the singer didn’t have Zoey’s voice.” Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of Ursula clenching her teeth and flicking her hair around with the fury of someone on the verge of throwing a tantrum. She stomped to the exit without looking back. My gaze veered automatically to Darragh. He was talking to Kevin by then, the two of them standing around near the bar. Darragh Leavy in a black button-down shirt, running his fingers through his hair, making me crazy. I didn’t want to look at him a second longer. I didn’t want to stop.

  “Only thing about girl groups is there’s nothing to look at,” Gloria complained, a frown taking over her face. Her analytical eyes honed in on my pupils as she leaned into my personal space, hands glued to her hips. “What’s going on with you and Kevin?”

  My face fell as I stared back at her. “Nothing.”

  “Believe me, whatever it is, I can understand it.” Her voice struck an edgy tone I hadn’t known she had in her. “It’s obvious you can’t keep your eyes off him for ten seconds. Why don’t you just admit it?”

  “Because there’s nothing going on,” I spluttered. “You’re completely off base.” Gloria wasn’t buying it. She was glaring at me like she’d love to toss me off a cliff, if only there were one handy. I lowered my voice, the whole of Ireland shrinking around me. “I was looking at Darragh, okay?” The humiliation felt fatal. I wanted to rush back to Jack’s room, pull the covers over my head and stay there until the end of August. “I’m not into Kevin—I’m into Darragh.”

  Gloria glanced across the room at the subject in question. Perfect. Why didn’t I just leap onto the stage and announce it to the entire world? “Is that the truth?” Gloria asked, turning slowly back towards me.

  “It’s not something I want to be true but…yeah.” My fingernails pulled restlessly at my sleeves. “Let’s not globally advertise it, all right?”

  Gloria erupted into embarrassed laughter, her head shaking in regret as she tapped my arm. “Sorry, Amira. I must’ve sounded like a complete cow. It’s just that”—she brushed invisible hair out of her eyes—“Kevin and I had a fling a couple of months ago and, you know…” She stopped there, but I got the message.

  “You don’t have to explain.” No wonder she’d looked ready to murder Roisin on Zoey’s birthday. And then I’d gone and asked Kevin to dance last week. Wheels must’ve been spinning in her head all this time.

  “I really am sorry.” Gloria’s rueful eyes glanced past me and then down at her watch. “And we should probably leave now if you want to be home on time.”

  “Definitely.” And not a moment too soon. “Just give me a second to hit the bathroom.” I passed Zoey and Roisin along the way, both of them well way on their way to getting wasted. Roisin grabbed my hand as I went, following me inside the ladies room.

  “Brilliant show,” she slurred. I nodded, willing the line to move. Five more minutes and I’d be crossing my legs. Unfortunately, Roisin insisted on talking the entire time, stoking my impatience. “I reckon they’d have won if they hadn’t gone on first. It’s not fair, is it? You think you have so much time to get into the proper headspace and then they stick you on first. Isn’t the new song deadly? I reckon they should work Bad Out There into the set as well. Jaysus, this queue isn’t moving. I’m getting desperate.”

  Yeah, me too. Time to crawl into bed and rewrite my summer vacation. From now on it was going to be one-hundred percent about screenwriting. No more nights out watching Zoey’s band, I obviously couldn’t handle it.

  The second I was done I made a beeline for Gloria, rushing across the room like reaching the other side was my life’s ambition. If I’d seen them I would’ve picked an alternate route and made it. But like they say, hindsight is twenty/twenty.

  “Amira!” Kevin exclaimed, his fingers closing loosely around my arm. “I’m on my way to the bar—what can I get you?”

  “I’m okay,” I told him. “I’m just on my way out.”

  “It’s early,” Darragh boomed from the table next to me. “Sit down and talk to me, Amira.” He draped his arm across the back of Kevin’s empty chair as Kevin faded into the crowd on a mission for more drinks. The wooden table, initials carved into it in several places, was cluttered with empty pint glasses, soggy beer mats, and a crumpled cigarette package. I stood stiffly next to it, taking in Darragh’s extra loud voice and unfocused eyes. The entire band seemed dedicated to the idea of getting trashed and Darragh was in the lead.

  “Or are you still pissed off with me?” he asked, his hand rhythmically tapping Kevin’s chair. “You are, aren’t you?” He shook his head, his lips curling into a self-satisfied smile. “I thought we said it was all forgotten.” His eyes narrowed as he stared up at me, and I wished he’d been like this from the very beginning so I would never have given him a second thought.

  “I have to go,” I insisted, fixing my gaze just as tightly on him as I tried to shake off the feeling that I was under a microscope. “Congrats on tonight, though.” Looking down at that smug, drunken version of Darragh made me want to fight it out with him all over again, but what would be the point? “I’m sure I’ll see you around soon.”

  Darragh bowed his head slowly as if to say “of course”, but the weird vibe I’d picked up on when he came over for practice should’ve told me he wouldn’t let it lie. “You do realize you just congratulated me on losing,” he said flatly, stretching his legs out under the table as he wrapped his hand around the nearly empty glass in front of him.

  It was like he was mocking me, trying to push me into a corner, and I took a long bitter breath and said, “I was congratulating you on giving a good performance. Not on losing.” My he
ad was pounding and my ears had started to clog up the way they do when I’m angry.

  “But would you say it was an authentic performance?” he asked cynically. “I’m not entirely convinced we came off sounding as authentic as I’d hoped.” He’d slid even further down in his chair since we’d started talking and he pointed up at me and said, “And I knew Amira would be just the person to tell me.”

  I hated that he looked so sure of himself while I struggled to get a word out. “Sorry.” I shot him an unapologetic look. “I don’t think I’m the right person at all.”

  “Because I might start trying it on again?” Darragh’s jaw was tightening like it had last Saturday night out on the street, but his smile was frozen stubbornly in place.

  “Exactly.” My throat was on fire and I glared into his eyes, right back where we’d left off last week. “And then making snide remarks for your own amusement.”

  “Right,” Darragh said sharply, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair as he stood up. “I think we better have this conversation someplace else.”

  I shook my head like he was insane. Why would I go anywhere with him? But I did. I followed him out of Enda Corrigan’s and Darragh cocked his head and said, “Want to walk?” In my high heels he was still a few inches taller and he glanced down at me with unreadable eyes.

  “Where?” My voice was emotionless, but my mind was raging. Just who did he think he was? “They’ll wonder where we went.”

  Darragh shrugged like that wasn’t his problem. Then he groaned like I was being the world’s biggest bitch, took his phone out of his pocket and impatiently tapped the keys. “Sorted,” he said. “Come on.”

  I walked alongside him, guessing that he’d texted Zoey, although I couldn’t imagine what he’d told her. Why was I doing this? Why didn’t I just stop and point myself back in the direction of Enda Corrigan’s instead of trudging silently through Temple Bar, hating Darragh so much I could hardly breathe?

  “You’ve been pretty insulting,” he said, looking straight ahead. “You don’t even know me.”

  “What do you call the way you were acting in there?” I retorted, motioning back to Enda Corrigan’s as it shrank from view. “And that asshole stuff you said on the way to the taxi last time?”

  Darragh’s blue eyes dissected me, but he said nothing. The cobblestones weren’t easy to navigate in high heels so he was faster than I was. He kept glancing impatiently down at my platinum coloured toenails and slowing his pace so I could keep up. We passed a guy in red patent high top sneakers juggling lit torches at the bottom of Crown Alley, a crowd gathered snugly around him. On Temple Lane a teenage girl in a gypsy skirt was strumming Wonderwall, singing it so fiercely that I had to stop and listen. I dug two euro out of my purse and dropped it into her open guitar case. Darragh tossed a slew of coins in next to me and stood back, his hands pushed deep into his pockets. We started walking again as the song ended, circling Temple Bar endlessly, my feet aching and my mind spinning. It didn’t make any sense and it didn’t have to. Darragh was drunk; the usual rules didn’t apply.

  “How long are we going to do this?” I demanded finally.

  Darragh eyed me neutrally, that strangers on a train vibe back full force. His silence was throwing me off worse than anything and I crossed my arms in front of me, trying to conjure my earlier anger. “What do you want me to say?” I asked. “I already told you we could forget about last time.”

  By then there was about five feet between us, like we weren’t even together, and Darragh shook his head slightly. “We’re going round in circles.”

  “I know.” I sighed, my throat beginning to sting again as I blinked and stared away from him. “We should probably go back. You’re not even…” I’d said more than I’d meant to, which was a problem I’d had with him from the start.

  Darragh stopped walking and turned towards me, his eyes glassy. “Not even what?”

  “You’re not even looking at me. We’re just…” I rubbed my eyes and I couldn’t explain why the part about him not looking suddenly seemed so upsetting. Obviously I should’ve gone home when I’d had the chance. It would’ve been better than this emptiness. “We’re just walking. It’s pointless.” I shrugged in aggravation and shut up.

  “I know.” He said it in a resigned way that made me even sadder. It kept me from noticing the guy in a kilt barrelling up the road until he’d nearly collided with me.

  He was tall and in his early twenties, head shaved. “Where are we going, doll?” he said with a boozy smile, standing too close to me and swaying unsteadily. “Why don’t we find someplace you can wrap those gorgeous legs of yours around me and sit on my face?” He reached for my waist, Darragh bounding to my side.

  It all happened so quickly. Darragh threw his hands out, shoving the guy fast and furious. The kilted man hurtled back full force and before I knew it a second guy in a kilt materialized out of nowhere, launching his fist into Darragh’s face. He was smaller but stockier than his friend, with close-cropped red hair, and I automatically shot towards him, pushing him off balance before he could get another punch in. He stumbled, turning towards me with his fist raised.

  For a second I really thought he might hit me and that I’d have to go for his Adam’s apple, open-handed like I’d been taught in a self-defense workshop last summer. Then I saw the realization that I was a girl creep into his eyes. “We don’t want any trouble,” I said as he lowered his fist.

  “If you don’t want any trouble, your boyfriend should’ve left my mate alone,” he barked.

  Darragh grabbed my hand and pulled me swiftly towards him. “And your mate should learn to keep his hands to himself,” he snapped. Another four of their kilted friends were hurtling up the street towards us, and I tensed, but the two in the lead were shaking their heads at their pals.

  “Ya muppets,” the one in wire frame glasses admonished. “You promised you’d behave.” He turned sheepishly towards us. “Sorry they’ve bothered you. Gareth and James here can’t hold their drink. We’re taking them back to the hotel before they can do any more damage.”

  Gareth/James (I had no idea who was who) was back on his feet and glowered in Darragh’s direction while the redhead who’d nearly hit me wouldn’t look at us. Darragh tugged me forward, away from them all, only releasing my hand once we’d rounded the corner. Under the lamplight I got my first good luck at what Gareth/James had done to Darragh’s left eye. It was a wet, fragile shade of pink that would be a sizeable bruise by morning.

  “Shit, your eye.” I cringed to think how sore it must’ve felt. “You should get a doctor to look at it. Make sure you’re okay.”

  Darragh scoffed. “A doctor? I’ll be grand, thanks. All it needs is some ice.” Any vestiges of the smile I’d imagined I’d seen on his lips faded. “You should’ve stayed out of it. You could’ve gotten hurt.”

  “Yeah, well you did get hurt. Was I supposed to just stand there and let them lay into you?” I knew I was no action hero. It was just instinct.

  “I can handle myself. I just didn’t know there were two of them. But you…” He gazed down at my toes, that strangely melancholy vibe from before descending on us and my throat ache returning with it. “We should get back to the club. Like you said, this is pointless.”

  I felt shaky from the shock of what had just happened and that made his comment hurt more. We couldn’t even put our differences aside for long enough to talk about what we’d just been through. Nothing had changed between us. Aside from a few scary moments and whatever physical pain Darragh was feeling, this was another non-event. A whole lot of nothing was happening between Darragh and me in the middle of Temple Bar.

  “Right,” I told him. “Let’s go.”

  We began winding our way quietly back to the club, my eyes dry but my throat in flames. The second Enda Corrigan’s was within sight again Darragh paused in the street, his gaze hanging on me like the time he’d given Gloria her seat back. “Are you going in?” he asked with a tilt
of his head.

  I didn’t want to. I didn’t know what I wanted except not to feel this way.

  Then Darragh threaded his fingers smoothly between mine. He pulled me towards him, gently enough for me to stop him if I wanted to, slow enough for me to watch him take a breath and lean down towards me. He cupped his right hand around my neck and kissed me. He tasted like whiskey and he kissed me the way you’d kiss someone if you thought you’d never kiss them again. My body didn’t understand why I’d ever want to do anything else.

  We stood there forever, our bodies pressed firmly together, kissing each other so hard that my lips stung worse than my throat. Everything was different now. Following him out of Enda Corrigan’s changed everything between us.

  But the facts remained the same. “So where’s the girl from the bar?” I asked, pulling away from him.

  “You mean Ursula?” Darragh asked.

  “Or Sophie. If she was working tonight she’d be here now instead of me, wouldn’t she?” The truth was brutal, but it didn’t burn anymore. Everything but my body was numb.

  “Is that what you think?” he asked, looking at me intently.

  “It’s what I see.”

  “What you think you see,” he corrected. “I don’t know why you—”

  “You’re drunk, Darragh.” I said, cutting him off. I didn’t want to argue things out after all, for him to tell me how wrong I was when it would only be a lie. Even if he and Ursula weren’t a couple, they clearly had a thing. There were too many girls in this story already.

  But he looked incredible standing across from me, even with the raw eye. He could get away with anything looking like that—an irresistible combination of hot and a little vulnerable. It wasn’t fair.

  “I’m not that drunk,” he said, taking my hand again.

  And I was completely sober. I didn’t even have an excuse for myself.

  “You hungry?” Darragh asked. “There’s a deli round the corner.”