The Hot Shot(61)

       
           


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Jamie laughs.

"True," James says. "But as to the ruler of my package?

"Let me guess," I put in. "Mr. Hand?"

"Har. That might have been the case a few months ago, but now the  supreme ruler is Jamie, so she really shouldn't be laughing at poor  Dick."

Jamie flushes pink and leans into him. "Aw, that's so sweet."

I suppose it is, in a weird way. Doesn't stop me from wanting leave the table so I don't have to watch them cuddle.

You had that, you moron. And you had to think about "things."

It really sucks when your conscience starts to hate you.

"I would have whispered sweet dick jokes in your ear too," Finn's voice says in my head.

"I know you would have. You never could pass up an opportunity to talk about your junk."

"Neither could you, Chester. I'm pretty sure you're obsessed with my junk."

It really, really sucks when you start having conversations with a man who isn't there.

The waitress comes up to take our order. "We're having a special on  Guinness tonight. And the chef's specialty of the evening is steak and  kidney pie."

"I'll have a Harp and a pie," I tell her.

"Guinness for me," James says. "And the fish and chips."

"I'll have the pie too," Jamie orders. "Oh, and a white wine."

"What did I tell you?" Finn's ghost whispers in my ear. "Women like to order white wine. Even when they're in a pub."

"Isn't there a lamp you could go haunt?"

"I'm a quarterback, Chess, not a genie."

"What's that smile about?" James asks me, cutting into the ridiculous and probably unhealthy conversation going on in my head.

"The impending promise of hot food," I lie.

He looks at me as if he knows better, but thankfully he doesn't say anything.

Our drinks arrive and, while we wait for our food, a band comes out and  begins to play. It's a full Irish band, complete with a flute player,  two fiddlers, and even an accordionist. And they're good.

Soon, the bar is filled with lively music and people tapping along.

The singer is a young woman with curly hair and a voice like a pixie.

We eat our food as they play.

And it is almost perfect, soaking up good music and good food with good  friends. I can see myself in the future, having more nights like this. I  will have a good life. I know it. I can feel it in my bones. And a  sense of peace comes over me. I'll be okay.

No matter what I do, I'll be okay. But is okay enough?

The band finishes a song and the singer accepts a pint of Guinness from a  waitress. She takes a long drink before setting it down on a stool by  her side. "I love the film Some Kind of Wonderful," she says in the mic.

The crowd whistles their approval.

She nods, her curls bouncing. "The end is especially lovely. You remember it?"

As one, we all shout, "You look good wearing my future!"

Laughter rings through the small space.

"Aye, so romantic." The singer grabs her tambourine. "We're going to  play a little homage to Some Kind of Wonderful and Lick the Tins, who  did a brilliant cover for the flick."

I'm smiling, but a niggling feeling begins to start up around the edges of my heart.

The band begins to play a lively, Celtic version of "Can't Help Falling," and my heart clenches. Oh, God, I truly am haunted.

Around me, people start to sing along, an utter wall of sound rolling  over me, insisting that some things were meant to be. And I can't stand  it. I can't stand that Finn isn't right here with me, laughing in my  ear, demanding that I take his hand, that we could be fools together.

He's been doing that since the beginning. He's known. He's been trying  to tell me what we were to each other all along. I just hadn't listened.  He might be stubborn, and his refusal to give in a little still pisses  me off. But he is mine.

A sob breaks free. And I'm stuck between laughter and crying.

James looks at me sharply. "What's wrong?"

"The song. Elvis. He's everywhere."

James frowns, leaning in so we can talk over the ribald singing. "And that makes you cry?"

I shake my head, tears running down my face. "I love him."

"Elvis?" Jamie asks, confused.

"Finn. I love Finn. Doesn't matter where I go … " I lift my hands helplessly toward the band. "He's my fate."

James smiles softly. "Your perfectly imperfect."

"I have to tell him."

"You will." James reaches across the table and puts his hand on my trembling one. "Do you want to step out and call him?"                       
       
           


///
       

"He's playing a game right now." I wipe my cheeks. "I should do it in person."

"Okay." James gives me a squeeze. "We'll get you home as soon as we can."

Home. I need to go home. The heat of the room and the sound of the band press in on me.

"I have to get out of here," I tell James. "I can't breathe. I need to see Finn. I have to … "

"It's all right," James says. "Don't panic."

My fingers are clumsy as I fish my wallet out of my purse and pull out some bills. "I'm going to take a walk."

James grabs my wrist. "You're not going out alone."

"I grew up in this city, James. I'll be okay."

"Doesn't matter," he insists. "We're coming with you."

He tosses some more money onto the table then sets his empty glass on  the pile to secure it. But I can't wait any longer; I'm halfway across  the room by the time James and Jamie catch up to me.

I stumble outside and draw in a deep breath of icy air. It burns going  down but I suck in another breath. James and Jamie stand beside me.

"You all right?" Jamie asks, resting a hand on my arm.

"Yeah." I give her a weak smile. "Sorry for the drama."

Beneath the lenses of her glasses, her eyes crinkle at the corners. "It's pretty emotional, falling in love."

"I shouldn't have left him. I should have stayed."

James pulls out a cigarette and lights it. "If leaving meant you finally  realized without a doubt that he's the one, then don't punish yourself  for it." He takes a drag then lets out a puff of smoke. "Consider it  time well spent."

"I hurt him."

"Something tells me he'll forgive you." James winks at me, then laughs.  "My grumpy Chessie bear is dating the quarterback. Will wonders never  cease?"

"I think James is a bit jealous," Jamie teases.

"I'd like to point out that I had a crush on Manny before Chess met  Finn, and before I met you." James flicks the tip of his cigarette. "Now  it would be too weird to keep him in the spank bank. I'd start  picturing Chess's disapproving face and … total bone kill."

"You're not supposed to have a spank bank now," I say. "You have Jamie."

"When I enter my bank, Jamie is always there to watch," James retorts with an evil grin.

"TMI," Jamie huffs, pinching him. "You're going to give Chess indigestion."

"Well, she's killed prime fantasy material for me so we're even."

I know Jamie is embarrassed on my behalf, but I also know James is  trying to distract me. He's doing a good job of it. We exchange a secret  smile between us, one that's gotten us through a lot of tough times.  Gratitude fills me, and I want to hug my best friend. He gives me a  little wink in silent reply.

"I'd flip you off," I say with false annoyance, "but it's too cold."

I tuck my icy hands under my arms.

"Come on." James snuffs his cigarette on the side of the building then  tosses the butt into a nearby trash can. "Let's find a bar and watch  your boyfriend play."

Three doors down, we find a bar that, no surprise to anyone, is showing  the game on multiple TVs. Patrons are yelling at the screen and I see  that the score is seven to fourteen, and New Orleans is down. Given that  Finn's team is playing against New York, everyone is ecstatic.

We get our beers at the bar and then James finds us a seat by the door,  facing one of the TVs, and we sit down as Finn and his offense trot back  on the field. I can't see his face behind the helmet he wears, but just  the sight of the number ten on his jersey has my heart clenching.

Although his team is currently losing, he moves with authority, bringing  his guys in for a huddle. They're on their home turf and the crowd  chants for Finn. The commentator on the TV spews on about the offense  not being at their best in games past and how Finn has struggled  throughout the season to regain control.

"That's why our defense is gonna kick your ass, Manny," a guy at the bar shouts.

I know it's not personal; it's part of the game. But it feels personal. I  want to yell at the guy to either put on a uniform and try it or shut  the fuck up.

James reads me well. "Easy there, tiger."