Wild Irish Envy (Copperline #2) Page 7

  “Perfect,” I murmured, “we can hide out up here until the shades have gone.”

  “The shades?”

  “The peelers? The garda?”

  “The police?” she grinned, the faint light from the town below us casting a warm glow on her features.

  “Right, the police,” I said. “We’ll be able to see when their lights go off. Can give a little time for them to leave, and we’re grand.”

  Fliss continued to smile as she looked down the hillside. She lifted her leg some and rotated her foot a little, grimacing some, but working the muscles to relieve the pain.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “Since my dad is a… what did you call it? A peeler?”

  I nodded, allowing the amusement at her accent to show on my face.

  “Right, anyway, I shudder to think what kind of shit I’d be in if I got busted. I still live at home.” She laughed. “I may be eighteen, but he’d probably still ground me.”

  “I imagine he’d be rather protective. You’re his little girl, to be sure. Always will be.”

  “Yeah,” she grimaced. “I’m moving out after the semester, though. I need to grow up sometime, right?”

  She clearly wasn’t expecting an answer, which was for the best because I don’t think I could have given her one right then. She looked so beautiful in the moonlight with the glow of the city warming her face. For a second, when she glanced up at me, I saw a flicker of longing in her eyes. Her face softened and her breathing seemed to slow.

  Then she quickly looked back down the hillside from our perch up on the hill at the edge of town. “It’s so quiet up here,” she murmured. “It seems kind of weird because we’re really not very far from town, but it’s like we’re a world away.”

  “So how’s school going for ya?” I asked, trying to distract myself from the fact that she was here… with me. She was Trent’s girl, but that didn’t make me want her any less. I sorta began to wish I’d taken her someplace else, someplace with people where I could have just left her there. It was torture being alone with her. There was just a thickness in the air that made it sort of hard to breathe around her.

  She shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s school, a means to an end.” After a long silence she looked up at me. “Why did you leave?”

  Oddly, nobody had really asked me when I dropped out. Not my parents. Not my friends. The instructors probably would have, but I just sort of quit going. The more scientific and analytic things became in class, the more I heard song lyrics in my head. The more I felt a riff beating in my heart. The more I wanted to create something beautiful.

  And, knowing she was Trent’s girl now, my last shred of motivation had disappeared. My fascination with her caused more of a lonely ache than alluring excitement.

  Like I could tell her that, though.

  “I guess I finally decided that I don’t really want to be an engineer,” I offered with a wry, sheepish twist to my lips. “I don’t really know what I do want, except that, the more the guys and I play, the more I want that… just to create things.”

  “You’re very good,” she smiled, and it twisted at my heart a little bit. She was so feckin’ beautiful and it was physically painful sitting here so close to her knowing I couldn’t have her. “I’d seen you practice, but until I got to hear you at the Copperline, it had just seemed like you were messing around. Even then, though, you have a rhythm. A sound.”

  “Yeah, a sound that makes dogs howl and glass break,” I laughed.

  “No, really,” she giggled back, a light, cheerful sound, musical in its own right. “You know, I used to listen to you on the radio at night, when you guys did your show.” Her smile faded and her voice grew a little quieter, as though she was telling me a secret or whispering the remnants of a dream. “Your voice carried through the night, rich and strong. And the things you say in your songs…” she shook her head and gave a wistful smile, “they’re beautiful.”

  For a moment, my eyes caught hers, and the sincerity of her words mesmerized me. The glimmering honesty that reflected the city lights below us.

  For a long while, we were both silent, but in an oddly comfortable way. It felt almost intimate just breathing her air, quietly perched on the hillside. My mind began to wander, lulled by how easy it was to just be with her. Wishing that the shades would stay down there, lights flashing all night so I wouldn’t have to take her back to Trent.

  Feckin’ hell… Trent.

  “So,” I said, clearing my throat, “how are things going with Trent?” It was abrupt, but I had to bring him back into my head somehow. She was entirely too tempting sitting here beside me.

  Her eyes dropped down to her hands and she shrugged. “Okay, I guess,” she replied, chewing at her lower lip, clearly not really wanting to discuss him.

  Maybe a little ashamed for thoughts that might have been running through her head, thoughts similar to mine. She went from relaxed and calm to rigid in a moment, leaning forward to hug her legs.

  She looked up towards the mountain peaks that bordered the edge of town, up to the Lady of the Rockies, a giant statue of the Virgin Mother who looked over the predominantly Irish Catholic city below. Glancing up at me, she nodded towards the massive, illuminated shape that appeared, from a distance, to be tiny.

  “You know, my grampa helped build that,” she murmured. “The whole town had lost so much over the years. It was kind of a tough time for the miners because so much had changed since they went underground. That was their whole life. When they closed the last of the mine shafts and went solely to strip mining, they lost a sense of themselves.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “The late seventies or early eighties, I think. Before I was born, but not a horribly long time. The construction of the Lady did so much to bring Butte together, to raise the spirits of the town. To renew the sense of pride in being from such a unique place.”

  I chuckled. “I doubt there’s another place like Butte in all the world.”

  “Not with the character, that’s for sure,” she mused. “My mom never really got it, I don’t think.” The smile that touched her lips faded some, grew a little melancholy. “I guess she always wanted to leave, to go back east where she’d grown up, right up until she died, but my dad was Butte born and bred.”

  “What was your ma like?” I hadn’t heard this, didn’t realize it was just her and her da.

  “I don’t remember a whole lot. I was pretty little,” she murmured, gazing back up at the white form lit up on the distant mountaintop. “But I used to be able to see the Lady out my window as a kid. I guess I sort of felt like she represented my own mother watching over me.” She gave a hoarse, dry laugh. “That sounds totally cheesy, doesn’t it?”

  “Not if it gave ya comfort,” I replied. “Did your da ever remarry? Date? Anything?”

  “If he dated at all, he kept it from me,” she shook her head. “He made sure, though, that I didn't feel lonely or neglected. There was a lady who used to take care of me a lot when I was younger. She kind of filled that role for me, sort of a pseudo-mother to be there when he couldn't be around.” She grinned unabashed. “Or when it was some girl thing that was outside of his comfort zone.”

  I shuddered a little. “Hmm, girl things. Not many men want to take on stuff like that.”

  Fliss giggled in response, but then grew somewhat forlorn. “I worry about him… worry that he'll be lonely when I move out. He's kind of married to his job. That's what he says, anyway.” She thought for a moment, then looked back at me. “Maybe without me there, though, he'll have more energy to focus on that part of his life. I don't want him to be all alone.”

  “That's understandable, and right sweet of ya.”

  A light breeze picked up, blowing down the hillside behind us, and Fliss gave a slight shiver. She lowered her gaze from the peaks, back down to the town below.

  “How about you,” she asked. “Do you miss your family?”

  “I miss my nanny,” I repl
ied. “I miss my ma and the old man, too. Even my brat of a sister sometimes. But I miss my nanny the most.”

  “You had a nanny? Is your family kind a rich or something?”

  I chuckled. “Not so much. My nanny is my grandma. That’s what I always called her. After my grandfather died, my nanny came to live with us. I wasn’t very old and my sister was just a baby, but she kind of raised us when my ma went to work.” I looked over at Fliss and flashed her smile in the darkness. “She’s kinda off her nut.”

  “Why did you leave Ireland?”

  “I’m not really sure. I saw the movie A River Runs Through It, and the landscape intrigued me. That, and I’ve grown up watching John Wayne movies about the Old West. Montana seemed like it still had a little bit of the Old West to it.”

  “I suppose we do have that,” she smiled.

  We were quiet for a little while, just sitting up there on the hillside looking over the city. Not quite the same quiet as before, not quite as comfortable, but still with that feeling of being together.

  “It looks like the cops are leaving,” she finally said, nodding towards the house we’d run from. “It’s probably okay to start heading back.”

  I nodded and stood, offering her a hand to help pull her up. She looked at it for a minute before she took it. That same electric pulse that I’d first felt so long ago on the steps of the Main Hall tingled through my bloodstream. Her delicate fingers were chilled against my skin, and I instinctively enveloped her hand in my own and pulled a little. As she rose gingerly, favoring her ankle, I lifted her hand and cupped it in my own, blowing warm air on it and rubbing it to offer a little warmth.

  And I did all this knowing I was kind of a fuckhead for it. Knowing that she was my buddy’s girl. Knowing she felt it too as she leaned into me. Her breath caught and her tongue skimmed the soft promise of her lips.

  But also knowing that there wasn’t any more I should – or could – do. I was already dipping my toes in a pool of temptation that would kill my friendship.

  “Denny,” she whispered, shaking her head from side to side sadly, “things with Trent—”

  “He’s done a lot for me, Fliss,” I interrupted. Then watched as her eyebrows drew together with a pained look. I didn’t want to hear what she was going to say. I didn’t care if she was going to tell me she loved him dearly or that their relationship was rocky and painful. He was still my friend. And she was still his girl. “Let’s get ya back to him.”

  Fliss frowned, but nodded. She took a deep breath, pulled her hand away, and slowly began to walk down the hillside, limping ever so slightly.

  Trent had been right relieved to see her, although he gave me a bit of an odd look as I walked in behind her. He thanked me for getting her out of there as he slipped his arm around her possessively. It all felt rather uncomfortable, for me anyway, but I couldn’t really tell if it was the situation or if he was on something that was making him seem a little paranoid.

  “Here’s your girl,” I said, as Fliss quietly stepped into his arms.

  “Right,” he replied, sounding just a little too emphatic “my girl.”

  He held her like I wanted to hold her. He kissed her hard, and I turned away. Walking back into the house to see an almost-full bottle of Jameson.

  I finished off the bottle all by myself that night. Alone. Sitting out on the hillside behind our campus quad and staring over the city below, trying to relive that moment I’d had on another hillside earlier that night. All the while trying to erase that feeling she instilled in me. All the while trying not to think that she was probably in his arms, maybe even his bed, at that very moment.

  I had to do something different. I just couldn’t be around her anymore.

  So, I did do something different.

  The next time I saw her, I coolly brushed her off, ignoring the pained confusion in her eyes. I did everything I could to appear unaffected by her presence. I flirted with other girls, made out with other girls right in front of her, and could almost feel the tumult emanating from her. I ignored her when she spoke to me, pretending I hadn’t heard her. It killed me to do it, but avoiding her like I had been wasn’t enough anymore. I had to actually push her away.

  I needed her to hate me.

  I took Trent’s side when they fought, which they began to do fairly often after the first month or so. I expanded on his arguments with scathing comments, no matter how irrational his bickering was. I ignored tears in her eyes and the betrayed tremble of her lips.

  I essentially became a real dick.

  I left whenever she arrived, dragging Brannon away with me to the Copperline, away from the parties where Fliss stood tucked up against Trent. Evading the haunting blue of her eyes. Off chasing tail. The Bangin’ Mofos were beginning to earn some small-town celebrity status, and it was easy to find a ride here and there. Any fine bit of stuff that could ease my physical ache with a warm, soft body.

  Always hoping that, if I got drunk enough or stoned enough, I could numb that part of my soul that ached for Fliss as well.

  Present day

  “It was such a short moment in time,” Fliss whispered as we meandered along the street and into the lush beauty of St. Stephen’s Green. “For years, I keep replaying those first couple times we met over and over. You were kind and considerate. You were funny and polite. And then it was like you weren’t the same person. I started to wonder if I had imagined how you were at first. If maybe you were a real dick then, and I just didn’t see it. But no matter how many times I look back and think over every second, you were different, and I don’t understand. Was it something I did?”

  “You didn’t do anything.”

  She turned away and started walking along the footpath, over towards the Summer House. Stepping inside and over to the railing, she wrapped an arm around a post, leaning her head against it as she watched the ducks.

  “Well, something happened,” she murmured.

  “Something happened in me,” I clarified. “I was going through some things, and I took it out on people around me.”

  “Seemed like it was just me,” she said.

  “It wasn’t.”

  “Yeah? Okay, who else?” Her eyes lifted to mine, searching deep inside me, skeptical of anything I had to say.

  And, fuck it all, I could barely think when she did that. I wanted to name off a bunch of blokes and birds that I had treated equally as shitty, but I knew she was the only one. Trying to overcompensate for the way I felt, I had been pretty awful.

  “Jesus, Denny,” she muttered, “I felt like fucking Yoko Ono. I’d stay away for a while, and Trent would get pissy. He’d go off about me not spending any time with him. But every time I’d show up, you’d leave and then everyone would complain about you being gone and hint, not so subtly, that you couldn’t stand me.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said in all honesty, not sure how to explain. Part of me wanted to tell her, to confess how I’d felt for her all this time. I knew she had some feelings for me, too, though. Feelings I couldn’t act on. What would it help to admit how I felt? “I never meant to make you feel that way. Can we just not get into the why? Maybe move past it and be friends?”

  “I don’t know,” she frowned, gazing back over the smooth, mirrored surface of the water. “I didn’t really like being a whipping post.”

  “I promise… truce. I’ll not do that again.” I watched her weighing the thought in her mind and felt a little annoyed with myself that it mattered so much to me. It shouldn’t. I told myself it was just the guilt and, by offering this olive branch, I was seeking absolution for my transgressions. “I’ll tell ya what,” I suggested, “let me take ya around, show ya some of the sights. Some of my favorite things about Dublin.”

  “Why?” she asked. “Why would you want to do that? Why would I want you to?”

  “I want to do it because I want to make amends. I know I was a right bastard to ya many times, and I want to make it up to ya.” I leaned against the railing and leaned
a little closer into her space, ignoring that tingle of remembrance as the light scent of her perfume tickled my senses. “You are brand-new in town, and you don’t know anyone yet. Travel guide might show you some interesting places, but there are things about Dublin that you won’t find in your little book.”

  “So, where do you suggest?”

  “Well,” I grinned, “first I’ll take ya to one of my favorite little shops. It’s a secret shop.”

  “A secret?”

  I nodded. “I used to spend hours there before I left for Tech.”

  We wandered up William Street, and Fliss seemed enthralled with the close buildings and tight quarters. It was a fair bit different than just about anywhere in Montana, even with the narrow mining camp streets that curved and twirled around the hillsides. After a bit, we turned down another street to stand before a small yellow sign over a doorway.

  “A hairdresser?” Fliss smirked, looking at the sign up top, and I simply gave her an exasperated look. “No? Ok… I’m guessing then it’s The Secret Book and Record Shop.”

  I nodded, smiling wide as I motioned into the long hallway. “Come on, it’ll be great craic.”

  She was skeptical, but her excitement soon overcame her wary reserve as she flipped through the eclectic selection of records in the music store section, now known as Freebird Records.

  “ABBA,” she laughed. “My dad loves ABBA, still to this day.”

  “Jaysus, your da listens to ABBA?” I gawked, trying to imagine the big, fierce-looking sheriff of Silver Bow County ‘diggin the dancing queen’ while he was out on patrol.

  “He does, but he sort of gives off the impression that he’d kick anyone’s ass who gives him a hard time about it,” she laughed.

  “Well, he is a mighty big fella. I sure as hell wouldn’t give him any shite.”

  “Oh my God!” Fliss squealed as she grabbed another record, doing a little happy dance. The sway of her hips about had me busting out of mine. “My mother had this record. This song,” she pointed to the back of the jacket, “I loved it. I used to twirl around the living room to it when I was just little.”