"Where's Ian?" he asks, coming to sit with me in the booth.
"I told him I loved him, he yelled ‘Fuck you' and stormed out," I say with no emotion, keeping my attention focused on my notes.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Pappy's mouth drop open as he stares at me. I keep typing, and he keeps staring. Finally, he says, "Kelli!" and I look up and have to laugh at his expression.
"It's what you wanted, right? For me to love him?" I ask.
"Aye, ‘tis," he says. "I was hopin' he might go ahead and say he loved ye back. I'm not sure ‘Fuck you' is the response I was hopin' for."
I laugh again, "I know Pappy, me either. But he's not going to make it easy for me, or himself for that matter."
Pappy nods his agreement, "Sure enough, that he won't."
I nod and say nothing and Pappy continues to stare at me.
"I'm sorry, lass," Pappy says quietly.
"What for?" I ask.
"I didn't raise me son to curse at women," he says, shaking his head sadly.
"It's okay, Pappy. I didn't take it personally," I reassure him and he quirks an eyebrow at me. I stop typing and give him my full attention. "Ian's struggling with how to deal with all these emotions I keep trying to get him to acknowledge. He's uncomfortable, and scared, and out of his depth. When he yells ‘fuck you', I don't think it is at me so much as at the entire situation. I believe Ian loves me, but he doesn't know how to express that love, so he yells, and curses and runs away. It's his coping mechanism." I pause before hemming, "Oh, I don't know, maybe I'm just being naïve. Maybe he really is cursing at me."
"No, darlin', no. Yer right, he's not cursin' ye, he's cursin' at himself." Pappy pauses a moment before asking, "Ye really love him? Kelli, ye really do?" his voice is small and unsure.
"Yes, Pappy, I really do love him. Although I'm not sure how far that is going to take us. I may be able to admit it, but he's made it clear he's not just going to accept it. And in fact, he's going to fight it."
"Aye, I know it," he says and begins to smile at me with such a pure joy that I can't help but return it.
"Why are you smiling?" I ask, shaking my head. "You just admitted that your son is going to fight loving me tooth and nail. I don't think that warrants glee," I mumble with mock annoyance.
He doesn't answer me, just pats my hand and takes a sip of his eggnog latte.
"He's an idiot, me lad is," Pappy says. "This latte is amazin'."
I throw my head back and laugh. "Let's get to work. Tell me about the differences between how men pick up women at a pub in Ireland compared to here."
Chapter 8: Tit for Tat
A week has passed since I told Ian I loved him, and as expected, he's been moody and distant. It's a slow Friday night, rain keeping the temperamental southern Californians home. Tracey, who was supposed to be at a party, shows up so I don't have much to do. I down a shot of tequila, pull a cider for myself, and plop down on the stool beside Abby normally occupied by Ben.
The warmth of the tequila is already making its way through me and I smile over at her.
"What's up, Abby?" I say.
"Hey, I'm having a holiday party the day after Christmas. Are you going to be around? I'd love it if you'd come!" she responds.
"Sorry, I'm heading out to visit my mom and sisters in Vermont," I say.
"Oh, that's a bummer. How long are you going to be gone for?" she asks.
"I'm leaving on Christmas morning and I come back the 29th."
"That sucks you won't be around; it is going to be epic. I have a friend who is going to dress up as Santa, and some friends of Tracey's who are in a dance troupe are going to come as Go-Go Elves. There will be special ‘Santa Cookies' and magical milk." She grins ear to ear and I have to laugh.
"Hmmm, perhaps it's a good thing I won't be there, it sounds like you all are going to get fucked up!"
She nods her head, "That's kinda the point! Oh, you could have met my brother, he's wicked hot."
"Oh really," I say with interest, "Tell me more."
"Well, he's 29, 6' tall, with dirty blond hair, plus he's ripped."
"Interesting, very interesting … " I say, looking over at Ian. He seems to be engaged with a group of female customers, but I have a feeling he's half listening to us as well. "I assume he's single?"
"Yep. But … " Abby pauses a moment. "Are you looking?" She too has glanced over at Ian, who now appears to be fully engaged with the group.
"Before answering that, I need another shot!" I jump up and walk around behind the bar. I have to slide behind Ian and I put my hands on his hips and brush my chest against his back and my hips against his ass. There is plenty of room for both of us, but where's the fun in that? He has frozen me out since I told him I loved him and he's beginning to piss me off. I'm not a particularly patient woman, and beyond that, I'm crazy horny.
I pour myself a shot and offer one to Abby who happily accepts it. Ian glares at me.
"I'll pay for the shots!" I glare back and turn to the register to pay for three shots. He shakes his head but doesn't say anything.
I make my way back to my stool, this time dragging my hand along his ass as I pass him. He gives me a warning look as I emerge from the bar and I give him a bright, bleary smile.
"Hey, a girl's gotta get it where she can," I say, raising my hands in a gesture indicating I'm helpless to do anything different.
I retake my spot and turn to Abby, "Where were we?"
"You were going to tell me about your dating status," Abby says clearly. Damn that woman has a high tolerance. She's already had two pints, and a shot, and she's still more sober than me. Whatever.
"Ah yes, my dating status," I say, raising my voice on the last two words. "Well, you see Abby, I do have feelings for someone but he is not inclined to act upon my feelings. Whether it is because he finds me repulsive," I pause here and look at Ian. He's wiping down a glass and refuses to acknowledge my comment. "Or, he is too scared," I pause again, daring him to make a comment. He remains silent, but he does look at me. Oh, if looks could kill! "Well, I don't know which one it is. Either way, I'm horny as hell. If I were able to go to your party, I would most certainly be interested in meeting your brother if he's as hot as you say he is."
Abby looks at me with a raised eyebrow. "This guy you like, is he anyone I know?"
I laugh and shake my head, "Nope. I'm not even sure how well I know him. He's pretty guarded, this guy, and even though I know enough to love him, he won't let me in." I look at her then, feeling suddenly sad. "Have you ever been in that situation? You were in love with someone who wouldn't let you in?"
Abby nods and puts her hand on my shoulder. "Yes, Sweetie, I have, and it sucks."
I nod and we fall silent.
"Kelli, what are you doing for Christmas?" Jaye asks, leaning around Abby to engage me.
I smile at him, shaking off my sadness. "Not a whole hell of a lot, what about you Jaye?"
******
Anticipating that the week before Christmas was going to be brutally slow, Ian decided to go ahead and book the Fighting Irish into the pub for Wednesday night, December 23rd. He figured if we cleared out the belly bars, there wouldn't be too much chance of damage. He called in both Hal and Sean to be on hand, and put the set time relatively early at 8pm.
Bernie and the band roll in around 7pm to get set up and have a pint before the show. I decide to stick around and watch them. It's either that or get back to Rory and Lorelai. Honestly, it was a harder choice than it should have been. A concert with friends or a Gilmore Girls marathon, and I went back and forth in my mind more than once. Finally, actual human contact won out to the virtual world of Stars Hollow.
"Beautiful," Bernie bellows after placing the set list on the ground next to an amp, "have a drink with me!"
I walk behind the bar and ask, "What'll it be?"
"Guinness, of course!"
"Right, of course!" I pull him a Guinness, doing my best to get the perfect head. I do a good job and am pleased as I pass him the pint. I grab another glass and pull a cider for myself.
"Oh, Kelli, Love, you disappoint me. Cider? Really?"
"Right?! It's atrocious," Ben says.
"Leave me alone, both of you!" I say. "I like it, and that's what matters. I couldn't care less what you fucks think."