by Josie Kerr
Carmichael signed a poster for Ashley and shook her hand, all the while wearing a bemused expression.
The guy in line behind Em and Ashley noisily cleared his throat, and Em thanked Carmichael and led Ashley from the table.
“Good luck tomorrow night!” Em said with a little wave.
“Thanks,” the big fighter said with a grin. The Latino guy behind him didn’t even bother to hide his amusement and laughed long and loud.
“Okay Ashley, I think you need a restorative drink, honey,” giggled Em. “That was about the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Em led Ashley back to the suite, where she ordered a pitcher of margaritas and some light appetizers from the room service menu.
“I am a total jackass, Em,” Ashley moaned. “I didn’t even say anything to him! What on Earth was wrong with me?”
“I don’t know, but it was hilarious, Ash. You were totally star-struck.”
Ashley just shook her head as she refilled her glass. “Thank goodness I didn’t splurge for the pre-fight mixer and front row tickets,” she laughed. “Talk about embarrassing to see him again.”
“I’m sure that he gets that all the time. He probably wouldn’t even remember you. Not that you’re not remarkable.”
Ashley laughed. “Good save, Em. Good save.” She took a sip of her drink. “Since you were so much more with-it, did you ever figure out who he reminded you of?”
“It’s very silly, but he totally reminds me of Mick,” Em confessed. Ashley rolled her eyes.
“Everything probably reminds you of Mick, Em. You’ve totally got it bad for that big guy.”
Em sighed. “I know I do, but Carmichael’s eyes are the exact same shade of blue as Mick’s, and I’ve never seen anyone with eyes that particular shade.”
“He doesn’t look like him otherwise, though, except for the height maybe. He’s a lot broader and more muscular and his hair’s not nearly as dark.”
“No, and his nose is different, but that may just be because it’s been broken.” Ashley nodded in agreement. “I guess he doesn’t really look like him at all. I’m just a bit obsessed, I suppose.”
“You really like this guy, don’t you, Em?”
“Yeah, I do. He’s just so...different.” Em looked out the window, her eyes a dreamy glaze.
“Have you two done it?”
Em snapped out her haze. “Done what? Oh no! No, Ashley. We haven’t really spent that much time together. We both travel a whole lot.”
“But you’ve kissed.”
“Oh, yeah, we definitely kissed.” Em sighed again. Boy, had they kissed.
“He’s not tried to do anything else?”
“No, though when we went to lunch last week, he was pretty flirty,” Em said, grinning at the memory. “And I think Rory wants us to get together. He keeps hinting around.”
Ashley whistled. “Now Rory is someone I could take a bite of. That man is fine.” She sighed.
“Sounds like someone else is a smitten kitten,” Em teased.
Ashley waved her off. “Oh please. I know what’s good for me, and Rory? That man is pure danger. No, thank you.”
Em sat back in her chair and sipped her drink. Methinks the lady doth protest too much.
*****
Mick sat the outdoor café table, waiting for Rory to arrive. He held the two small pendants in his fingers, stroking the edges of the small medals. He sensed his friend come up behind him. He didn’t raise his head, but just said his usual greeting.
“Whaddya at, Rory?”
Rory flopped in the chair. “Oi, Mickey. Why do you insist on sitting outside in July? It’s sweltering.”
“You afraid you’ll get that pretty porcelain skin burnt?” Mick teased with a wink.
Rory made a face and gave Mick an ugly hand gesture, but then laughed. “No, it’s just fucking hot, Mickey. At least we’re not in Vegas. You’d probably insist on sitting outside in the 110 degree heat. And don’t tell me it’s a dry heat, because 110 is still 110.”
Mick laughed. “So it was hot last week, no?”
“Fuckin’ brutal. And Em just traipsed around, happy as you please, not seeming to mind it at all.” Rory shook his head in disbelief. “That little woman is a machine, I swear.”
“People have said the same about you, Rory.”
Rory scoffed. “Yes, but I’m nothing compared to her.”
Mick made a non-committal noise.
“What’s got you quiet today, boyo?” Rory asked. “What’s that?” He motioned to the small objects in Mick’s hand.
“Saint Rita,” is all Mick said. Rory nodded in understanding.
“His birthday?”
“Yeah, his birthday’s today. He’s 35. Or would be 35.”
“You want me to step up the search, Mickey? If you do, just tell me. Now that I’ve got Em on the payroll, I have a bit of free time.”
Mick sighed. “I don’t know. You’ve been looking for him for 20 years now, Rory, and we’ve found absolutely nothing. Hell, Moira could have killed him and buried his body in Southie and disappeared.”
Rory looked horrified. “Mick, hey! None of that. I know Moira was a horrible, evil person, but I don’t think she’d kill her own child. Is that seriously what you think?”
“No, I don’t. But accidents happen, especially if you make a habit of knocking your kids around, or letting your drunken boyfriend knock them around.”
“Mickey...” Rory began, but didn’t finish. He didn’t know what to say.
Mick shook his head as if clearing it, and raised his glass. “To Colin, wherever he may be.”
“To Colin,” Rory repeated, making a silent vow to sic Em on the search for Mick’s long-lost younger brother.
“So what are your plans today, Mick? You don’t need to sit here in the heat and brood about your brother. That does no one any good.”
Mick barked a laugh. “I’m not going sit out here in the heat. You remember Jesse from the rec center?”
“Jesse? Lived with his granny? Big fellow that joined the military?”
Mick nodded. “He’s being deployed in a few days and he wants to list me as a contact. I need to sign some paperwork this afternoon.”
“Mick, you sure you want to do that?” Sweet Janey Mac, the last thing Mickey needs is more loss.
“I’m sure, Rory,” Mick said, still turning the small saint pendent in his fingers. “Sophie’s pregnant.”
“Oh, shite.”
Mick huffed a laugh. “Yeah, that’s what I said. Apparently, though, she’s clean, and has been since she found out she was pregnant. Jesse’s trying to get some base housing for her and his grandmother, get ‘em away from Sophie’s old crew, but there’s a waiting list. Anyway, he asked me to be a contact, and I said I would, so I am. I just hope that Sophie will reach out to me if things start getting rough. We didn’t have the best relationship.”
“Mickey, she fucking hates you.” Rory laughed without humor. “You really think she’s gonna come to you?”
“Honestly? No. But Jesse’s granny would, and maybe, just maybe, I can do some good that way.”
Rory whistled low. “Maybe, man. I hope you know what you’re getting into. When’s the baby due?”
“Late August, early September.”
“So, pretty soon then.”
Mick nodded.
“Better you than me, boyo. Better you than me.”
*****
Rory smirked at Em as she stirred her coffee. “It looks like you ladies had fun this weekend,” he said.
“Oof. I don’t know what’s kicking my ass the most, Rory: the time change or the hangover,” Em said with a huge yawn. “Good god a’mighty! I am definitely not 25 anymore.”
Rory laughed at the small woman. She didn’t look as fierce as she normally did, that’s for sure. “When you finish doctoring up your coffee, Em, come into my office. I have a special project.”
Em grunted at him and continued to stare dazedly at the coffe
e maker. Rory just shook his head and laughed.
When Em wandered back into his office, she looked a hundred percent better and was ready to get to work.
“First things first, Em,” Rory said. “What did you two get up to?”
“The usual: drag show, booze, gambling, booze, live band karaoke, booze, and an MMA match.”
“You two went to an MMA match?” Rory said in disbelief. “That doesn’t seem really like either of you.”
“We didn’t only go to a match, we went to the weigh-in and a meet and greet as well. I tried to convince Ashley to let me get tickets to the after-party, but she wouldn’t let me.” Em shrugged.
“Huh. Well, on to work now. I want you to search for someone. I don’t have a lot of information, but what I do have is in this folder. This isn’t a priority, but it’s not not a priority, if you get my meaning. When you have some downtime, I need to you look into it.”
“Who’s the client?” she asked, looking through the dossier. “Rory, this information’s from the mid- to late-80s. What’s going on?”
“I’m not going to tell you who the client is right now. Just...work your magic, okay?”
“Okay, Rory. This is going to be a challenge,” she said. “I’m totally excited!”
Em buzzed out of the office, a smile on her face, ready to get to work.
Chapter 14
September
Em hurried through the airport terminal, her cell phone in one hand and her suitcase in the other. “Everything seems to be in order,” she said to Rory on the other end. “All the equipment is in or scheduled for delivery and we actually seem to be at or under budget. I’m trying not to say too many good things because I’m afraid I’ll jinx the project. Are you in the office next week?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there for the first half, but then I’m headed to the new project site in Boston.”
“Home to Boston, huh?”
“I see you’ve gotten some info on me from Mick,” Rory said with a laugh. “Yeah, I’m staying over the weekend to visit with me parents, but I should be back on Tuesday.”
“Sounds good, Rory.”
“Em, I don’t say it enough, but you’re a life-saver. I could never have achieved what I have in the past nine months without you.”
“Thanks for the opportunity, Rory. It’s been a pleasure working with you.”
“And on a more personal note, I’m glad that you’ve connected with Mick. I was very pleasantly surprised to see you at the center again on Sunday. You’re really teaching the boys how to cook, yeah?”
“Yes, and meal planning and all the stuff that goes along with it. It was very humbling to see what you guys do for the center. I’m planning on doing the box lunches when I’m in town and Mick’s out.”
“Mick will be thrilled if you do that. He really identifies with those kids.”
“We talked some about that. He didn’t say a whole lot, but it sounds like he had a rough time of it when he was younger.”
Rory barked out a bitter laugh. “Oh, that’s an understatement. Next time we’re in the office together, Em, I want to talk to you about Mick.”
Em frowned. This didn’t sound good.
“I can hear you frowning over the phone, Em. It’s not anything bad and I suppose it’s not really my place, but I still want to talk to you.”
“Hm, okay, Rory. But I’ll just say two things to you. One, I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself. And two, if you’re not sure that it’s your place to say something, it probably isn’t and you probably shouldn’t. I’m just sayin’.”
“Ha, you’re probably right again, Em. Okay, I’ll see you on Monday.”
“See you, Rory.” Em signed off and trudged through the airport.
Another project finished, another five thousand travel miles. At least I’ll be able to take a decent vacation..sometime.
Em was very much looking forward to seeing Mick again. They had gotten together whenever they were both in town at the same time, which, as far as Em was concerned, was definitely not enough.
She smiled to herself, thinking about the difference between her relationship with Mick and that with Tripp. Mick seemed to actually enjoy her company, whereas Tripp, if she was being honest with herself, always seemed to regard spending time with her as a chore, something that he had to do to qualify for sex. She rolled her eyes at the memory.
Em was so deep in thought as she stood on the moving sidewalk that she didn’t hear her name being called.
“Em? Em! Em Davidson!”
She stepped off of the moving sidewalk and turned around, getting out of the way of the disembarking traffic. Speak of the devil.
She took a deep breath. “Hello, Tripp.”
“Hello, Em. You look really good. I mean, really good.” Tripp looked at her approvingly. “Have you lost some weight?”
Good grief, Tripp, you’re such a clod. You don’t ask if someone’s lost weight.
She considered calling him on his rudeness, but instead said “Thank you, Tripp. You’re looking well.”
They walked toward the baggage claim in awkward silence. Em prayed that their claim turnstiles would be far apart and she could just walk away, but their bags were coming in on the same carousel. Of course.
As she stood next to the carousel, she used the search for her bag as a cover to closely examine Tripp. While not necessarily a short man, Tripp was a good six inches shorter than Mick, and soft. During The Kiss, Em had confirmed that Mick was hard and muscular.
She really couldn’t believe she had found Tripp attractive at one time. True, he was never really her type, but his slick metrosexual persona was a needed change from her usual rough-around-the-edges type, men like her neighbor. She had only found him attractive because she didn’t really know him. He was whiny, entitled, and selfish, both in and out of bed. Not attractive traits at all.
“There’s your bag, Em,” Tripp said, interrupting her comparison. Of course, he didn’t actually retrieve the bag. Figures. And really, that completely epitomized her relationship with Tripp.
Em hauled the bag from the carousel and was walking away when she saw Bailey approach Tripp in the baggage claim area. When Em noticed the loose smock Bailey wore, her stomach knotted. Bailey’s bright smile faltered when she saw Em, but she recovered quickly, greeting Em with an embarrassed wave.
“Oh Bailey, you look great. Congratulations, you two,” Em said, truthfully. Em thought that Bailey did look good, really good, dammit. The fact that Em couldn’t have children had been a sore spot in her and Tripp’s relationship, and the fact that Bailey was pregnant actually made Em feel better. Biological children were the one thing that she could absolutely not give Tripp.
Em made it all the way home and into her living room before she fell apart.
Chapter 15
Mick threw his bags on the couch and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He could hear Em walking around upstairs. He wasn’t supposed to be back for a few days, but the project was running smoothly and he really couldn’t take any more of his client’s ego. Musical genius, my ass. He had been thinking about Em all week.
After he finished brushing his teeth, he peered at himself in the mirror. He saw a man with wrinkles around eyes that were red from lack of sleep, silver in his almost-too-long beard, and grey in his definitely-too-long hair. He hadn’t talked with Rory about The Kiss, knowing that the Irishman would break into his apartment and strategically place condoms everywhere, then do everything in his power to arrange a physical meeting between Em and Mick. Mick wasn’t sure he was ready for anything of the sort.
One thing he was sure about was the fact that he really did enjoy kissing Em, and he thought he might like to do it again.
He remembered Em’s small, soft hands on his face and around his neck and that luscious sent of oranges when he ran his nose behind her ear. The way she grasped his shirt. The little sighs she made as their tongues wrestled. Those thoughts made his balls heavy and his cock st
iffen.
What was he, 16? He hadn’t had a hard-on for anyone other than Grace, or dreams of Grace, in 20 years. But all last week, in his dreams, Em’s soft, lush curves and the dark brown waves of her hair had replaced Grace’s taut, athletic body and outrageous red curls.
He gripped the bathroom counter. What the hell was he doing? He splashed cold water on his face, hoping to clear his head. Was he ready for this? For anything? He knew that he wanted to see Em. He had enjoyed her company immensely, more than anyone’s company in a long, long time. He had friends, and had even dated a bit since Grace died, but he hadn’t felt anything that warranted a second date with anyone, much less a feeling that he would do just about anything to kiss her again.
Mick took a deep breath and then exhaled. He did it again. He looked in the mirror one last time. He looked down at his crotch.
“You, Willy, need to mind your manners. No barging out uninvited,” he lectured sternly. He clapped his hands and with a thumbs up to his reflection, left the safety of his bathroom and went upstairs to Em’s.
*****
Em had been home for hours, but she hadn’t done more than pour herself a stiff drink, open the carton of ice cream, and turn on a movie. God, she was a cliché. At least she wasn’t drinking Pinot Grigio or Chardonnay out of a screw-top bottle, or heaven forbid, a cardboard box.
She clinked her spoon against the lowball glass and took a swallow of Scotch. If she were Bailey, she wouldn’t be able to enjoy this Scotch because she was knocked up, which was the direct result of sex with Tripp. That was a definite plus.
Em contemplated sex as she rolled a heaping spoonful of ice cream over her tongue. It had been a long time since she had sex with another person. As many times as Big Blue made her come, it couldn’t compare with sex with a real, live man.
Well, not particularly sex with Tripp. That was eh bordering on ewwww. He was always selfish, hardly ever bringing her orgasm and then getting insulted when she tried to enhance the experience herself. And that was even before The Surgery.
After The Surgery, Tripp seemed to lose all interest. It was like if he couldn’t get a child out of the act, he didn’t even want to do it.