Finally Finn (Los Rancheros #4)

by Brandace Morrow

  “No.” She grips my wrist with more strength than I thought she had. “I want Porter. Make me beautiful, Sadie.”

  I look down, arranging brushes, and try to blink back my tears. Finally, I reach up for her face and hold it in my hands. “You’re already the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

  Mara’s mom wraps her arm around my shoulder and pushes her head into mine, looking at her baby. “She really is, huh?”

  I smile shakily as everyone starts crying, the nurse included. “You bet your ass, momma.”

  Everyone laughs and I force it out of my chest too, because this is Mara’s time and it was meant to be happy.

  “Now, about this hair color?” I prompt.

  “I want the red.”

  ~

  Hair done in a graceful updo, makeup subtle to the eye, but enough to cover the dark circles under her eyes, dress shaped to disguise a gaunt figure, and ballet flats for easy maneuvering, Mara turns at the knock on her room door. The jewelry around her neck and ears sparkle in the fluorescent light as she moves with wide eyes.

  Mara’s dad, who is divorced from her mom, stays her with a hand. “This is my job, baby,” he says, moving to block the way. Her mom stands, anxiously holding a camera, and I step back with my fingers crossed so hard my fingers cramp.

  “Hello, sir. I’m here for Mara,” Porter says, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows nervously.

  Mara’s dad holds out his hand to shake, and Porter bobbles with the little plastic box in his other hand.

  “It’s nice to meet you, son. I hope you won’t keep her out too late.”

  “No, sir. I’ll have her back in time.” Porter’s eyes move to Mara, as her dad steps aside and he smiles shakily. “Wow, you look like a gothic Cinderella.”

  My eyes close and I breathe finally as Mara giggles.

  “Let me get your picture. Oh my goodness, you look so handsome,” Mara’s mom exclaims, moving to Porter and introducing herself. He shakes her hand politely and I help Mara from her bed to the wall. Porter makes eye contact with me before jumping to hold her hand instead.

  “I have this. Do you want me to put it on?” He holds up the wrist corsage in the plastic box.

  “Yes. Please. I have one for you, too. Not a corsage, a boutonniere thing.” Mara stumbles and I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling. I never thought I would see the day that that kid would be anything but a badass.

  Mara’s hands shake as Porter fits the stretchy band around her wrist. When it comes time for Mara to put the little flower on his lapel, her hands are shaking so badly I’m afraid she’ll pin him, so I take the camera from her mom and nudge her forward. I click the shutter silently and capture as she moves her hands around her daughter’s shoulders and pushes the pin through. Porter stays still, I don’t even think he’s breathing when her mom pushes her head into Mara’s neck and breathes deep.

  Her face is set when Porter takes Mara’s hand and puts it in the crook of his elbow and supports her as they leave the room. We walk slowly behind them, into the common room that’s covered in paper decorations, and icicle lights.

  Mara laughs and turns to smile at her mom. She drops the camera where it catches at her wrist to clap with her daughter in excitement. I move to the side as the first slow song starts from the iPod and speakers I gave to the staff earlier.

  I clench my jaw to stop more tears while I watch Porter handle Mara with such care. He moves slowly, bringing her arms around his neck, and sways from side to side. Her bell skirt swaying with her, Mara’s eyes sparkle with happiness. I know we did it again. Or I did, that is.

  They dance two dances, and we watch as Mara’s strength flags minute by minute. Finally, I hear the song I’ve been waiting for and nudge her dad. He looks at me.

  “Go dance with your girl, Daddy.” It’s an oldies song called “My Special Angel” and is about an angel from heaven, and the stars in her eyes. Porter moves graciously to Mara’s mom’s side and she collapses against him. He wraps his hands around her back and lets her cry while pretending to dance. I cry with a silent, straight face as Mara steps on her Daddy’s feet and he keeps dancing with her even after she can’t stand on her own anymore.

  As the song comes to an end, we all pull away to clap and I notice that someone is clapping beside me. I turn my head to look and take a step to the side instinctively.

  “What are you doing here?” I whisper through numb lips.

  “It’s Sunday. Where else would I be?”

  I choose to ignore him and nod for Porter to go back to his date. He hugs her mom, then walks to Mara, picking her up without hesitation like a bride. We follow him back to her room and he places her softly on her bed, then amazingly pulls up a chair. Before he sits down, he kisses her cheek softly.

  I left a note in the bag with his suit that explained exactly what I wanted him to do, knocking on the door, the corsage, the dance, but this is beyond that.

  “Can I sing you a song, Mara?” he asks so quietly, I almost don’t hear him. Her face flushes prettily with color and she nods shyly. The adults back up and try to blend with the wall as he serenades his date. She holds his hand tightly, taking in everything about him for as long as her eyes will stay open, then closes them with a smile on her face.

  ~

  “Is she . . . She’s not gonna, I mean—” Porter can’t get the question out, but I sigh heavily, anyway.

  “Yes, and yes. You did a good thing back there. Thank you for that. You have no idea what you gave that family,” I answer solemnly.

  “You do this a lot?” he asks with wide eyes.

  I nod. “Yeah, kid.”

  I watch him walk down the hall, then turn and stick his hands in his pockets. “When I get here for the live shows, can I maybe come back?”

  I walk toward him. “You want to see these kids again?”

  Porter breaks eye contact and shifts his feet, shrugging. “Yeah? I think. I mean, yeah, I do.”

  I squint my eyes at him. “You have to be healthy. You can’t come here sick. They don’t have any immune system at all so you have to be really careful about that.”

  He nods again. “I understand. Thank you for letting me be a part of this. I mean that, Sadie.” He makes eye contact and I actually believe him.

  “Yeah, well, just don’t let me catch you in anymore bathrooms, alright?” He chuckles and I give a small smile as he steps on the elevator.

  “There’s a driver waiting to take you to the airport, Porter. Have a safe trip home,” Finn says from behind me. Of course, I knew he was there, hanging back. My body won’t let go of the goose bumps that always happen when he’s at my back.

  I stay where I am, since apparently I don’t have anyone to drive to the airport. Then I look around. “Wait, there were paparazzi out here when we got here. Where did they go?”

  My Batty crosses his hands over his chest and walks toward me, his cape billowing behind him lazily. “Please, Sadie. I’m Finnigan Brennick. I can move a few dozen people out of a hallway.”

  “Hmm. So you’re talking to me now?”

  Batty sighs and drops his hands. “Yeah, about that.” He pulls out two white clumps of material from behind his back. They must have been in his pockets or down his pants or something, I think wildly.

  “I fucked up, Sadie. I took my anger out on the wrong person and treated you unfairly.”

  “And how did you come to that conclusion?” I ask, because I know my man and he’s stubborn as all hell.

  “Aiden . . . and Pop . . . and the girls,” he says with a roll of those grey eyes I love so much.

  “What did they have to say?” I ask curiously.

  “A hell of a lot. Brian showed up at the school again, and Aiden lost his mind. I had to bribe the Chief of Police to not press charges on him.”

  My mouth drops open. “He hit him?”

  Batty laughs. “He beat the shit out of him.”

  “Good for Aiden!” I smile genuinely for the first time in
what seems like a lifetime.

  “Yeah, he seems to be coming back to life, if slowly.”

  “That’s great, Batty,” I say quietly.

  His eyes cut to mine. “You called me Batty.”

  I look around and shrug uncomfortably. “You’re in a mask and cape.”

  “What if I had something else besides these costumes for us to wear out of here?” he asks. I immediately feel my irritation start to form and my muscles get tight.

  “Of course we couldn’t walk out of here like this, because then people would know what we do. Can’t have that.” Batty doesn’t say anything, just tosses me one of the white things with a soft smile. I catch it out of reflex and look down.

  When I hold it up, I see a white t-shirt with half of a wing outlined in red and the word Robin inside of it. I blink and pull it down to look at Batty.

  He’s holding up a shirt that’s several sizes bigger with half of a batwing outlined in yellow and Batman in the middle.

  “If we wore these out there, we would be like—”

  “Two parts of a whole? Exactly. We can do this together, babe. I was wrong to leave you earlier. I love you and I never should have left you alone with that pack of wolves literally at your door,” he says while walking toward me slowly. I blink stupidly.

  “You do what?” I ask. Batty laughs and pulls his mask off first, then his shirt. Right in the middle of the damn hospital.

  “I love you, Sadie Dinah. And I know you love me, so you can go ahead and tell me,” he says with a cocky smile.

  “Well, I don’t know where you got that idea. I don’t recall—”

  Batty leans forward to bite my lip, effectively cutting off my snarky comeback. “I distinctly remember you saying it when you were riding me, and I was balls deep inside of you, baby. I’m not letting you take it back, either.”

  I press my lips together to keep the smile from forming. “Well, that’s not nice at all.”

  He shakes his head. “I’m not a nice guy, sweet girl.”

  I push his shoulder. “You kind of are.” Then I shrug and add, “Just not all the time.”

  “That’s okay, because you’re not nice all the time, either.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “I rest my case. So put on the shirt I got you and let’s go out there and give them something to write about.”

  “You’re bossy.”

  “Shut up, you love it.” Batty shoves his hands through the shirt and pulls it down his chest. It’s deliciously tight. I look both ways in the hall and see that it’s empty except for Alyse at the end of the hall. I cross my arms and pull my red shirt over my head, going for wow and sexy. Of course that doesn’t happen because my cape gets caught on my hair and I’m stuck with my arms in the air holding an upside down shirt above my head. Thank Jesus I wore a bra.

  “Ack. Help me, asshole. Don’t just laugh,” I say through the material, hearing him laughing his hot ass off.

  “Turn around, you exhibitionist.” I spin and feel hands in my hair, pushing, pulling, then freezing.

  I move my arms from side to side slightly. “Batty? Where’d you go?”

  “Is this real?” he asks in shock.

  “What?” I try to spin to him, like I can actually see through the shirt around my head. He holds me still around my waist and lightly touches the stickiness on the back of my hip.

  “There’s a bat right next to your ass, Sadie.”

  I explode. “No shit? I wish I could see it, but I can’t because I’m standing here like a fucking idiot!”

  Batty laughs and tosses my shirt off with one pull and I twist to glare.

  “You’re cute,” he says, bringing his hand to my face. I slap it away.

  “Shut up, I hate you.”

  Batty gives me his dimples as his grin widens and his eyes shine like gunmetal. “No you don’t. You got a tattoo because of me and I know for a fact you’re deathly afraid of needles. That means you love me.”

  I sniff indignantly and pull the white shirt over my head. “Well, I thought you were forever lost to me. Now that I’m stuck with you, I might have it removed.”

  Batty throws his head back and laughs before hooking me around the neck with his arm and pulling me into the opening elevator behind exiting hospital staff. “You’re so full of shit.”

  Epilogue

  “Who the fuck is this?” I walk over to the CD player and eject the disk. “Moore Dove?”

  “Mordovey?”

  “Horse shit,” I say, tossing it into his trashcan.

  He looks from me to the trash. “I was considering signing them.”

  I sit on his desk. “Then you’re a shoddy CEO.”

  His eyes narrow. “You’re just trying to get me riled up. They’re good, right?”

  “Do you want to know a secret, Batty?”

  He nods. I lean in to whisper, “I hate grunge rock.”

  His eyes widen. “Me too,” he admits slowly, as if sensing a trap.

  “You can’t understand the words, and the audience in live shows are too busy elbowing each other in the face to pay attention anyway. So we’re out there ruining our voices for some punk kids that just need a place to get their rage out.” I look down at my hands flying around wildly and realize I am venting. “Sorry.”

  He pulls me into his lap and kisses my temple. “No, baby. You’re completely right. But there is a niche for those things.”

  “Not those guys. If you want to find talent you go to the Czech Republic or Germany. For the soulful alternative singers, hit up Ireland pubs and Seattle poetry houses.” I snap my fingers in front of his face and get that dimple I want to eat off of his face.

  “Or YouTube,” he supplies smugly.

  I shrug and try to stand up, but his arms tighten around my waist. “Okay, fine. You might be able to find some talent there, I guess.”

  It’s the understatement of the century. Triple Threat is on its third season, still with the original judges, and is wildly popular. The two winners so far have gone on to win Grammy’s, so we’re doing something right.

  To our surprise, as soon as we walked out of that hospital and the paps got a view of our united front, fans of the show went almost cult following crazy supporting us. The media was forced to change their tune, except for some hard right wing zealots that always hated me anyway.

  We became victims overnight, and even though the kids were known entities to the public, Finnigan Brennick can afford some bodyguards. No one ever bothered them at the school again after he got done putting up fences and guards. The man likes gates, but no one would oppose his generous donation because it keeps their kids safe, too.

  As for Jacque, well. My mom became my dad’s power of attorney and fixed the visitation so that even if the asshole did show up, he wouldn’t get past the front desk and they would never know of it.

  I kind of felt sorry for the kid, even if all of my siblings are off their fucking rocker crazy. He found out that Brian and Patricia siphoned all of my money and thought he would do the same thing. I played right into his hands.

  I gave him some cash to go away, along with a nice little contract saying he would stay lost to me. Brian and Patricia were another matter altogether. They ran out of money for their lawyers and went to jail for a bit.

  I never saw a dime, but I did get some justice. Batty tells me that since I’m a grown up that’s what should matter. I humor him.

  Is he Batty or is he Finn? Well. He’s Finn when we’re with the kids, his family, in public, and most of the time in his office. Except for right now, because his door is locked and I’m wearing a skirt. Right now, he’s my Batty.

  I slide my knees on either side of him and he frames my hips. “What are you doing, sweet girl?”

  I move my hands to mess up his hair and rub my nose softly against his as he smiles. “Batty,” I whisper against his lips.

  “Ah,” he sighs in revelation and moves his hands to my ass. “You want something from me, Sadie?”

/>   I rock against him and bite his lip. “Need. I need something from you.”

  “Mmm. I like the sound of that.” Batty pushes up against me and I gasp as he hits the perfect spot through my thin panties. I gather my skirt and move the lace to the side as he undoes his belt and in seconds his cock is springing free.

  I slide slowly down his length, feeling myself stretch to accept him. When my knees are off of the chair and I can go no further, I tangle my tongue with his, then lean back to bring my hands behind me to his knees.

  I rock forward, then back and shudder when he thumbs my clit so perfectly. “I fucking love you, Batty.”

  He smiles, the ocean behind him in his high-rise office, in his expensive leather chair that creaks as we move and he digs his hands into my waist to bring me back to him. Always back to him.

  “I fucking love you too, Sadie.”

  Acknowledgements

  I need to give a huge thank you to my husband. He has given up his days to sleep in, so that I could stay up all night writing this serial. He’s brainstormed with me, cleaned the house, and taken care of our kids when I had to shut myself away to hear Sadie’s voice. She’s a lot like Lu, but it required a lot of rum to get it right. So thanks babe, I love you soooo much. ;)

  I huge thank you to my editor, Edee Marie Fallon at Mad Sparks Editing. You’ve talked me down from the ledge a million times with these charecters. You’ve been patient, adapting to my time change and crazy work schedule. You’re funny and unlike a lot of edtiors, tell me what you love, not just what I did wrong. I value our relationship and can’t wait to work with you again. Thank you Edee, for getting Sadie, rooting for Batty and beliving in me!

  To my beta team: Faith, Chundra, Anne, Mary, Rachel, Tara, Amanda W., Amanda D., Mariah, Corinne, and Sarah, y’all were all over the place on this one. Some liked Batty, some hated him and the same for Sadie. I heard everything you had to say, and I hope that I assuaged your fears. Thank you for not giving up on these charecters and what they needed to do. A special thank you to Mary for hating Batty, and then allowing him to win you over slowly. Thank you Anne, for hating trashy Sadie, and not give up when I said she would be maturing. Tara, your notes are always a pleasure, always, always. You were the first blogger to read any of my books and have the best things to say. Mari, so glad we met at the pool this summer. Thank you SO much for telling me to just write my vision and figure out the rest later. I needed to hear that, probably more than once and you were always there. Sarah, your need for my words always makes me laugh, and your reviews are thoughtful and insightful. Thank you!