Turning around, I head back into the party I had just vacated. It was an end of tour and homecoming celebration all in one. I wouldn't be getting any enjoyment from Renner the rest of the evening, so I might as well go back and party with my mates.
***
Swallowing the last of my Guinness, I set the pint glass down and indicate to Maureen that I'll take another. I'm well on my way to getting drunk, and I'm hoping it will fuzzy my thoughts up a bit where Renner is concerned. Twice, after she left, I had the sudden urge to track her down...go to her apartment or wherever the hell she's living, and... and... what? Kiss her? Fuck her? Hell, I don't know... but I need something.
Picking up my cell phone, I shoot Cady a text.
Why didn't you tell me Renner was in Dublin?
My reflexes are muddled from the alcohol and it takes me a few minutes just to type that one message.
I wait and wait for her to respond. Maureen brings me my next Guinness. What is that... like twelve already?
Finally, my phone vibrates and I look down at Cady's response.
Didn't I tell you? I thought I did.
Oh, bollocks! Who does she think she's kidding? I may be well on my way to a vicious hangover tomorrow, but I've still enough wits to know she's trying to pull one over on me.
I try to type a response, but after several futile moments where my fingers don't seem to be working, I dial Cady instead. She answers on the second ring.
"Howeya, Cillian. What's up?"
"Save the 'howeya'. You know what's up! Why didn't you tell me Renner was here?"
"What do you care? You don't even really know her."
Really, why did I care that Cady didn't tell me? It's not like Renner and I are friends. Hell, we're barely acquaintances. Still, I can't shake the feeling Cady is trying to keep some distance between Renner and me, and that makes Renner suddenly seem like forbidden fruit. And you know, that didn't work out so well for Adam and Eve.
"Come on, Cady. What's the deal?" I hope my words don't sound as slurred to her as they are sounding to me.
I can hear Cady sigh on the other end. "Look Cillian... Renner's a nice girl and she's been through a lot recently. She doesn't need someone screwing with her head."
"I wouldn't screw with her head!" Other parts of her body, yes... but not her head.
Cady gives a bitter laugh. "You may not mean to, but you'd do it all the same. Just give it a rest, Cillian, and leave her be."
It's a sad fact, but when I get drunk, I can sometimes get mean. It's in the genes, after all. And I don't like one bit that Cady is demanding I leave Renner alone. Nothing gets my hackles up more than someone telling me no. "What the f**k do you know, Cady? What the f**k do you really know anyway?"
My intent is to hang up on her before she can reply, but my finger doesn’t move fast enough to disconnect the call, and I hear her clearly say, "I know you, Cillian. I know you well."
I hit the end button, pissed I didn't get the last word, and take another long swallow of my beer. Gazing at the table, I start to make plans for how I can see Renner next.
Cady's warning be damned.
My thoughts are disrupted by a figure sliding into the booth next to me. I look over and gaze impassively at Maeve Mullowney—OTE's bassist, vocalist, my very good friend and my former lover.
"What's the long face for, Cillian?" Her eyes are bright with alcohol and she slides in close so that her leg is flush with mine. I want to crawl in the opposite direction but there's a wall to my left and nowhere to go.
"Nothin'. I'm fine."
Maeve's hand snakes out and lies on top of my thigh. She squeezes and starts to move her hand higher. I take my hand and place it on hers, stopping her upward ascent. "Don't, Maeve. Just don't."
She gives me a pout and removes her hand. I start to breathe a sigh of relief but she just moves her hand from my thigh to lay it along my face. "Cillian... something's bothering you. Let me take your mind off whatever it is. You know I can."
I look into her blue eyes... eyes that I thought I'd be happy to stare at for an indefinite period of time, but that was nothing more than a pipe dream. I would never end up in Maeve's bed again, although she certainly didn't stop trying to make it happen.
Taking her hand off my face, I give it a friendly squeeze. "I'm sorry, Maeve. But it's a no. It will always be no. You would do us a both a world of good if you quit asking."
Maeve’s eyes are hot with anger as she slides out of the booth. "You're wrong, Cillian. We're good together. You'll see it one day."
I don't respond to her because it would do no good. It seems like we’ve had this conversation a million times. Maeve and I became quick friends when I started OTE and there was no doubt that she was the best bassist for the job. About a year ago, we both got massively drunk one night and ended up in bed together. It wasn't awkward or anything the next morning and I have to credit that to the friendship and business relationship we had first. So, it just seemed natural that we would keep sleeping together, then that developed into a relationship of sorts. I mean, it was nice having someone by my side when we were on the road. It wasn't as lonely, and I didn't have to spend time trying to sort out my next f**k. And for a while, it was nice knowing that it would just be Maeve.
We had sizzling chemistry in the bed, and we have sizzling chemistry on the stage, but past that... there's not much more to Maeve and me. Eventually, I started to get bored and I knew that a long-term relationship with her wasn't possible. On top of that, Maeve parties really hard. I get it's part of the lifestyle, but she takes it to the extreme. I've seen the girl wake up after a night of slamming drinks, just to reach over and pull out a pint of vodka to take a swig. She insists it's better than coffee.