He hadn’t cracked a good joke, but then he didn’t laugh.
The featured photographer didn’t go around illegally up-skirting women or, in a few cases, men. I’m sure his models were well paid. I didn’t like to criticize anyone’s interpretation of art or music. “Lots of people try to play Bach, but it takes hard work and the right interpretation to be good.”
He snorted. “Right. Sure. I think these rich people like to get together and compare wallets.”
I shrugged. Charlie didn’t rank among my favorite people, but I only had to get along with him for a few hours. Working side gigs, I met a lot of different people. “It’s hard to see it, I know. The money from a couple of photographs would cover my expenses for months.”
As I walked down into the cellar, Charlie followed behind me. With the key in my hand, it took a few times to get the handle and bolt unlocked. Finally, the door handle creaked left, and the bolt opened with a thunk.
“Is this building like hundreds of years old?” he asked.
This part of the gallery did have a run-down feel. Dirt and grime had built up in the creases of the stairs and landing. “Probably.”
We entered the small space, and I searched for a light. Nothing on the wall by the door. Then the door closed behind us.
Charlie’s arms went around me, and he squeezed my ribs. His body pressed into mine, and I struggled to push him away. “Hey, stop!”
He laughed and tightened his grip.
Bile rose in my throat. “Stop. What are you doing?” I kicked at him and thrashed to get free. Panic roared in my ears. He was being crazy, but no way was I letting this asshole assault me. Not today, not any day!
Charlie’s wet mouth pressed against the back of my neck. “Come on, let’s blow off some steam. This job sucks.”
He ground against me, his hips pushing into my butt. The storage closet was small and dark and smelled like the inside of a drain, adding to my panic. “I don’t want to. Let go.” My heart raced, and my skin went slick with sweat.
“Don’t be a prude. I need less than two minutes,” Charlie growled and squeezed me harder, pinching my skin.
“Get off me!”
He grabbed my hair and pulled it, turning my head and forcing my chin up. His mouth came on top of mine, our teeth striking together, and I bit him. He swore at me, slapped me, and I stumbled over my feet and fell against the shelves.
My brain spun as I tried to stay focused. Grabbing on to the shelves, I slipped and hit my head on a wooden plank, landing in something sticky.
“You’re all the same,” he snarled. “You flirt and then you act all innocent. You made me do this. You made me lose control.” He opened the storeroom door, grabbed the crate, and left.
I stayed there for several minutes, my whole body shaking violently. Would he come back? Had I been attacked? That couldn’t be. He’d shoved me and then left? Or had I fallen?
That was the other thing about me living in New York. My first job had been with Kieran, and he’d been protective. Very protective. He’d escorted me places himself or he’d sent a driver. He would never have sent me on a dangerous errand, although he did once ask me to stand on top of his piano while he played, something about the top of it rattling and making his ears ring.
Finally, I stood, feeling ashamed, a classically bad reaction, but I’d been groped and kissed in a dirty, musty-smelling closet in the pit of a gallery.
Hot rage and fear flooded me, leaving me unbalanced. What if he came back? It’d happened so fast, I had trouble processing it. I tasted metal and tried to spit it out, but my mouth went dry. I ran up the concrete stairs, my knees quaking, my legs not moving nearly fast enough. The muck from the floor of the storeroom stained my white shirt.
Sarah needed to know what’d happened. Would she believe me? Would she create a huge scene?
I located a bathroom first and pushed inside, bolting the door shut behind me. What if Charlie came into the bathroom and tried to hurt me? Or threaten me? He couldn’t have walked away from that experience unaffected.
A glance in the mirror showed my lip was bleeding and my hair had been pulled from the bun into total disarray. Grime smeared across the freckles on my cheek. I did what I could in front of the sink and then went in search of my friend.
Kieran found me first. “What happened to your mouth?”
Charlie stood in my peripheral vision, and my gaze dropped to the floor. I hated myself for the victim response, but alarms sounded in the recesses of my mind. Trembling, I really, really wanted to go home and take a hot shower. “I need to find my friend. She works here.”
Kieran seemed to grow bigger, almost standing over me, around me, sheltering me with his body. He removed his white handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to my mouth. It came away dabbed with red. “I’m your friend. Tell me now.” The danger that glittered in his voice didn’t scare me. He wanted to protect me.
I swallowed. “I umm, went to get a case of champagne, and I fell. In the closet. The floor was wet and gross, like toilet water or something.”
His brows knit together in confusion, like when I spoke too fast or used slang from the nineties he didn’t know. “You fell? Then let’s get some ice for your mouth. Did you hit your head?”
Kieran’s mother had been beaten by his father in his childhood, and he’d have a bad reaction to this if I told him the whole truth. He’d throw punches before thinking. Not at me, obviously, but at anyone who hurt his friend.
He didn’t need to be arrested on top of everything else.
However, Charlie needed to be arrested. When I thought about that smoky-dancer rat being led away in handcuffs, relief sank into me.
Sarah rushed over, trying to push between me and Kieran, but he remained a wall, unmovable. “Oh my God. What happened?”
The truth burst out, fueled by anger. “Charlie tried to kiss me in the storeroom, and we fought.” Did that make me sound brave?
Sarah clutched her phone in her hand. “I hired him from the temp agency. I can’t believe he’d do that. I’m calling the police.”
Kieran’s hand tightened on my wrist. “Someone hit you? For why?”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. When he was angry, his English was sometimes a little off. “Not for why, Maestro. Please, don’t make a scene. This is humiliating. I know what’ll happen next.” I’d get blamed somehow, called names, be accused of flirting, asked what I was wearing, smeared, and put through a degrading interview.
Had this really happened? My head throbbed, and my heart contracted painfully.
Screamed words split the air. Sarah was shouting at Charlie, her phone pressed to her ear while she aimed a finger at him, her face flushed with rage, and, yup, making a scene. Anger pulsed off her in waves. She loved this gallery, but apparently, she loved me more. “What’s the matter with you? You can’t go around grabbing people! You’ll wait here for the police.”
Charlie gestured at me with his hands raised in the air. “She wanted it, and then she freaked out. I didn’t do anything! I left her down there.”
Head down, Kieran rushed him and barreled into him. The impact reverberated around the room, the thump of fist on flesh.
Charlie hit the floor, and Kieran landed on top of him, swinging his fists into Charlie’s face. That’s the other thing about Kieran. He’s polished now, and the music has refined him, but he’d grown up in a rough neighborhood in Ireland, and he’d shared with me that he’d done his share of ass kicking.
“Hey, man, she wanted it!” Charlie cried through a split lip, trying to fend off Kieran’s blows.
A total lie, obviously. What woman wanted to be hit in the face in a cold, dark, stinky closet?
Kieran swore at him in Gaelic. I’d heard him speak to his mother in that language, and he reverted to it when he was upset. Though I wasn’t interested in helping Charlie, I had to pull Kieran away from Charlie before he killed him.
As a crowd gathered, I wrapped my mind around how bad this had gotten. I kept my
head low and tried to pull Kieran away, holding his left arm, his punching arm. He was swearing, though now he spoke in English too, threatening Charlie’s life. Then he heaved away from Charlie, leaving him limp on the floor, and let me lead him away.
“Please, stop. For me. Stop this now.”
Kieran’s arm went around me, holding me against him. His chest rose and fell in huffs, and quiet rage hummed inside him. His jacket had been torn and the sleeve hung away from it with a frayed edge.
“For you, I’ll stop. For you.” He took my face in his trembling hands. “Are you okay?”
I couldn’t control the shaking and bursts of panic igniting in my stomach. The wildness of his eyes pierced me. We both teetered on being totally unhinged by this. “I want to go home.”
Kieran turned back to Charlie, who knelt on the floor, his face swollen, blood dripping down his temple. “If you come near her again, I’ll kill you.”
Sarah hurried over to me, her cheeks red and her nostrils flaring. “Nine-one-one asked if you could stay. The police want to take your statement.”
Kieran’s arm tightened around me. He spun my shoulders to face him. “I don’t give a damn what they want. If you want to leave, we’ll leave, and I’ll have my lawyer sort this out later.”
I took a deep breath. I wanted to get this over with. “I’ll stay. Will you stay with me?”
He hugged me to him, his hand on the back of my head and his strong body wrapped around mine. “Always.”
In his arms, safety settled around me. He wouldn’t allow anything else to happen to me.
We sat inside near the entrance to the gallery on one of the window ledges. The security guard for the building stood with Charlie, and Sarah paced in front of Kieran and me, her black hair swinging back and forth.
She stabbed her fingers into her hair. “I’m sorry, Rae. I can’t even believe this happened.”
“Neither of us did anything. It’s that jerk who needs to be sorry,” I said.
Sarah brought her slender hand to her forehead. “You’re right. I called my boss. She’s pissed at Charlie and the temp agency.”
She kept repeating that, but men like Charlie were capable of anything—lying, hiding who they really were. He’d shown his true colors.
When the police entered, two uniformed officers, a stocky male and a tall, athletic-looking female, relief wound through me. This would be over soon.
Sarah introduced herself, exuding a calm I couldn’t have. The male officer went to speak to Charlie, and the female officer knelt on the floor next to me. She removed her hat, revealing dark red hair tucked neatly back into a bun at her nape.
“Are you Rae Davis?”
I nodded.
She addressed Kieran, her green eyes alert and snapping. “Can I get your name?”
“Yes, ma’am. Kieran Gallagher. Rae’s friend.” I had to give it to Kieran. Street-fighter Kieran had disappeared, and he’d morphed into the model citizen, polished and polite.
The female officer had presence. I wouldn’t mess with her. “I’m Officer Sinclair. I’d like for you to come with me to be assessed for medical treatment and to talk about what happened here tonight.”
She spoke like she already believed me. My nervousness moved down a few notches.
“I don’t need medical treatment,” I said.
Kieran and Officer Sinclair exchanged looks.
I fiddled with my sleeve. The dishwater-gray smudge on my previously pristine white shirt would probably stain. “I’m fine. I’m rattled. I don’t know why he gave up…”
“If you decline medical treatment, I’d like you to make a statement,” Officer Sinclair said. She glanced between Kieran and me and stepped between us. She held up her hand to Kieran. “Sir, could you please take a few steps away?”
He shifted uneasily, but at my nod, did as she asked.
Officer Sinclair lowered her voice. “Anything you say to me now is not part of my report. Are you afraid of that Irish man? Is he involved in this?”
“Kieran? God, no, I’m not afraid of him. Kieran’s a composer and conductor. I’ve worked with him for years.” I didn’t want to mention him throwing punches. Maybe he could get out of this without an assault charge.
The officer nodded once, swiftly, accepting my answer.
The stocky officer walked by with Charlie in handcuffs. When he caught sight of Kieran, Charlie started yelling. “Hey, that’s the guy who hit me. Hit me for no reason! Isn’t he getting arrested too?”
Officer Sinclair waited until the officer had put Charlie in the back of another car that had arrived on the scene, then she sighed. “They always make it harder. But we’ll sort this out. It’ll be okay.”
The next thing I knew, Kieran was in a squad car with me on our way to make a statement about the events of the night.
“It’s not a big deal. He tried to kiss me, and I said no. It got out of control fast,” I insisted. I kept trying to remember the sequence of events, but they were jumbled together in my head.
“It is a big deal. You said no, and he hit you.” Kieran brought his hand to my face and lightly stroked my cheek. His touch undid my control. I started to cry, letting out the emotion wound tight inside me.
Officer Sinclair, riding in the front passenger seat, glanced over her shoulder at us. “Are you all right? Are you sure you don’t want medical treatment? He can go with you.”
Kieran tensed. “Why don’t you let the doctors examine you?” His thumb skimmed over my temple, and I flinched when he touched the tender skin. “I’m sorry. You have a bump here.”
“I hit my head when I fell, but I didn’t black out. I just want to get this over with.”
Officer Sinclair’s partner glanced at Kieran and, maybe sensing my unease, changed the subject. “My wife and I attended the symphony last month. You were fantastic.”
“Thank you,” Kieran said. “I love my work. This is my Rae. She used to work for me.”
My Rae? I supposed part of me would always belong to him, but I’d never refer to him as “my Kieran.”
“I’ve seen this stuff before. It works out,” Officer Sinclair said.
She was trying to make me feel better. Her job had to be brutal, dealing with the worst of society on their worst days, over and over, forever.
With my head on Kieran’s shoulder, I closed my eyes. He could handle this while I sorted my thoughts. Telling the story clearly would be important. I remembered hearing other women speak on TV about reporting assaults, and I didn’t want to babble and give anyone the opportunity to dismiss me as a liar.
Kieran didn’t leave my side while we were at the police precinct. “Is there anyone you need to call?”
“I left my phone at the gallery.”
“Sarah said she’d bring it by later.”
Kieran’s lawyer joined us after ten minutes, although the police didn’t seem especially concerned about Kieran hitting Charlie.
I told the story, and the police kept asking about the details. With each repetition, Kieran’s face grew stormier, his eyes hard and cold.
He’d fisted his hands in his lap. “Is this really necessary? She’s told you a dozen times.”
Kieran’s lawyer set his hand over his client’s forearm. “You’re not a suspect. Neither is Ms. Davis. The police want to be sure they have it correct.”
In the end, no charges were filed against Kieran, but Charlie would be spending the night in lockup. Kieran put his arm around me, and I sank into the comfort of his strength.
He kissed my temple. “I’ll take you home and stay with you tonight. If you don’t want to be touched, I’ll sleep by the door.”
“Thank you. I’d like that.” I didn’t want to be alone, but I also didn’t want to talk endlessly, and Kieran would respect my need for silence.
We stepped out of the precinct, and reporters started talking to us immediately, shouting questions at us.
“Maestro, why were you arrested?”
“Maestr
o, do you have a comment on your arrest?”
Someone had tipped off the police that Kieran had been arrested, which wasn’t true.
He shielded me with his torn navy coat, and I turned my face into it, the clean linen smell comforting and familiar. His lawyer walked protectively at his side, holding up his hand and trying to push the reporters away as we moved along the sidewalk.
“This has been a misunderstanding. A friend of the Maestro’s was in trouble, and he stepped in to help her. The police are not filing charges. All will be well,” his lawyer said.
Kieran steered me into a waiting black car with dark tinted windows. I recognized the driver as Nathan, one of the drivers Kieran used and my favorite. Nathan knew when I wanted silence, when I needed to talk, and when the radio was best.
“You doing okay, Rae?” Nathan asked, craning his head around from the front seat.
“I’m holding it together.” An honest answer. Nathan wore his hair close-cropped as I imagined he had when he’d worked in special ops. I’d gotten the impression Nathan could shed his pristine black suit and double as a security guard if the need arose.
We didn’t speak further on the drive to my apartment. We thanked Nathan and declined his offer to wait outside. I handed Kieran my key, and he led me inside, then locked the door behind us. When I turned to face him, my breath caught.
There were tears in his dark, tortured eyes. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”
He was thinking of his mother and how his father had treated her. Kieran didn’t speak of it often, but his father had died of a stroke, freeing her and Kieran from his abuse. From the stories he’d told, though, he and his mother had spent nights in family shelters when his father’s drinking and subsequent abuse had been at its worst.
I crossed the room to him. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
“I would’ve killed him if you hadn’t stopped me.”
“I know.”
He tossed his jacket on the futon and took my hands in his, lightly squeezing my fingers. “What do you need? Let me be the man you need tonight.”
Those words were salve on the ache. He was being the man I needed—a friend, a dear sweet, come-when-called, no-matter-how-inconvenient friend. “I just want a shower. I feel dirty.”
The Maestro Page 5