Chapter 24 Don’t upset your mother.
Don’t upset your mother.
Sean
I STAB AN extra sliver of lime on a toothpick and drop it into my LaCroix on the rocks. Da’s party is hopping, and it’s huge. I’ve been here for twenty minutes, and I still haven’t seen my parents or Siobhan.
Our tuxes and ball gowns fill up four connected event rooms at the Wynn Hotel.
I make my way onto the terrace to lean on the railing and gaze out at the Vegas skyline.
The neon lights against the black desert make it look more like a fictional realm from Lost Star than a real-life city.
Not far away is the Sphere. I haven’t even been there yet.
It feels weird being here all alone, drinking sparkling water no less. What have I become?
“Hello, Sean.” The woman is wearing red silk and enough diamonds to blind an attacker.
“Heidi.” I touch my cheek to hers.
“You’re looking subdued tonight.”
I nod as her gaze peels the tux off me piece by piece. “When a man turns sixty-five, another man shouldn’t show up at his party and steal his thunder. It’s rude.”
“The classics suit you.” She bites her red bottom lip.
“Have you seen my da?” I glance at the next room and point in its direction. “I think he went that way. He’s been looking for me. Nice to see you again, Heidi.”
I duck into the melee, past where Bono is warming up the crowd (he owed me a favor), and find my parents at the back of the room.
Da is clapping hard with a big grin on his face.
Mam is practically swooning, although can you blame her?
It’s Bono, after all. When she spots me, she throws her arms around me and gives me a noisy kiss.
“My boy!” she says, smooching me some more. “My handsome boy!”
“I love you, too, Mam,” I say, patting her back.
Da wraps me in a wiry hug. “Good to see you, son.”
“You’re both acting like I just got back from the war,” I joke. But I know why they’re being overly affectionate. It’s Seamus. Anytime he’s in the picture, Mam and Da both get weird. They cling to me like they’re afraid that if they don’t love me enough, I might go off the rails, too.
“Seamus got in all right,” I report, to spare them having to ask.
Da makes a noise of disgust. “I don’t want to hear it!” But the relief is clear on his face.
“I put him in the west wing. There’s plenty of food in the house.”
“I said, I don’t want to hear it!” Da puts his two pinkies in the corners of his mouth and whistles as the guitarist strums the intro to “Sunday Bloody Sunday.” “This is a party. We’re supposed to be happy. Don’t upset your mother.”
Mam nods, her lips turned down in a frown like a marionette. I don’t want to upset my mother, but Seamus is back, and he’s part of this family. I think we should at least talk about it.
Siobhan swoops in at that moment like a bird of prey, kissing both our parents on the cheeks.
“You got Bono! Well done! Cheers, Mam! Happy birthday, Da. A word, Seanny Bear?” I don’t even get the chance to properly greet my two nephews before she hooks her arm in mine and whisks me off to the buffet.
“You had to bring him up first thing, did you?” Siobhan pins me with a glare as she bites a shrimp in half with a vicious snap of her teeth.
“He should be here, don’t you think? It feels wrong leaving him home.”
“Seamus made his bed, and he can damn well lie in it. He doesn’t belong here, anyway.”
I look around at the ballroom full of powerful, beautiful, influential people. “You mean at this party or in our lives?”
“Ach!” She smacks my shoulder. “Don’t be so dramatic. And I still think you were stupid to take him in. What are you gonna do when he fecks up again and you’re the one in the blast zone?” Her accent is coming out stronger now.
“I don’t think he wants that.”
“I don’t think he can help it. Something in him is… broken. He’s always been strange—”
“Don’t say that,” I cut her off. A mix of feelings gush into my stomach like they’re coming from a fire hose—nostalgia and sadness and I don’t know what else. “I don’t remember him like you do.”
“I know.” Siobhan’s green eyes flash under her halo of ginger hair. “And I used to worry he was rubbing off on you too much. Mam and Da did, too.”
The fear bucks inside me like a horse. I wonder if my parents know about the escapades Seamus dragged me along on.
Spying on Siobhan with her boyfriends. Climbing the fence of his pretty young musical theater teacher’s house.
I didn’t feel good about any of it, but I didn’t back out, either, did I? “What do you mean by that?”
“You’re eccentric, Seanny Bear, but in a good way. A likable way. Seamus…” She shakes her head, her lips pulling into a scowl. “He’s different.”
I do my power move—look over all the heads of the room like I own the place. My collar feels too tight. Beads of sweat have broken out on my forehead. When one of Siobhan’s friends greets her, I take advantage of the distraction to slip out into the hallway.
Siobhan is wrong. I’m more like Seamus than any of them knows.
I just hide it better. My brother swaps out obsessions: women, gambling, booze.
Meanwhile, I’ve held onto the same one, my costume collection.
It keeps getting bigger, the stuff that catches my eye, rarer and harder to get.
And now I’m buying stolen goods, for crying out loud. That’s not normal.
Then there’s Josie, whom I can’t seem to get off my mind. I’ve been so careful to keep women at arm’s length, so how did I let my guard down with her?
I breathe against the wall as the waitstaff make their way past me, not looking my way, as they’ve been trained to do. Somebody like me losing his shit needs to be invisible if you want to keep your job.
It’s fine. I just need a minute.
My phone chimes with a text. It’s from Josie. What? Were her ears burning? I tap it open.
Josie: Stop what you’re doing right now and do exactly what I say.
I take a couple of gulping breaths, and my heart rate downshifts. I wipe the sweat from my brow with my handkerchief and reply.
Sean: I’m listening.
Josie: Go to the bar. Get two glasses of the finest champagne available. None of that cheap stuff.
The corner of my mouth flicks, and I text back.
Sean: I’m not drinking right now, remember?
Josie: It’s not for you. Just do as I say. No questions! No comments! No monologues! Just tell me when you’ve done it.
All righty, then. I head to the closest bar and order up two Dom Perignons.
Sean: I’ve got your hooch.
Josie: Now pour one of them into a to-go coffee cup.
I have zero hypotheses as to where this is going, but I don’t ask or comment or monologue about it.
Instead, I head for the elevators and down to the restaurant level to scout out a coffee shop.
Is there a chance she’s meeting me there?
But no, that’s ridiculous. If she’d wanted to come, she would’ve come with me. And it’s a five-hour drive.
“Can I get a to-go cup?” I ask the skinny kid behind the counter. His face lights up when he sees me.
“Captain Footwork! Aw, man! Maddie, look! It’s Sean O’Sullivan! Can you believe it? Hey, can we get a selfie?”
I put an arm around them both and grin for a photo taken by a woman waiting for her chai latte. Then I do the same for the woman and her husband. Ten minutes later, I have a coffee to-go cup full of champagne and a flute in hand. I find a quiet corner in the casino area and text Josie back.
Sean: Mission accomplished.
Josie: You could’ve been slower.
Sean: Delayed by fans.
Josie: Fine, you get a pass. Now head out to the pool area.
The pool area? I scout out some signage and cross the casino full of noisy slot machines. When the patio’s automatic doors slide shut behind me, it’s like the world has been severed into two parts, leaving the bustle inside and enveloping me in cool quietness.
Sean: I’m at the pool.
Josie: Do you see anyone?
There’s movement by an oversize planter. For a moment, my heart thrills, but it’s just a worker wiping down the pool’s handrails.
Sean: A member of the cleaning staff.
Josie: Give her the coffee cup and let her take you to a second location.
I shake my head. This is a fun game, but I wonder if it’s going too far.
“Excuse me,” I say, approaching the cleaning lady. I expect her to look concerned at being approached like this in darkness, but her face lights up. She takes the to-go cup from my hand, a playful glint in her eye, and waves for me to follow her. “Sígame.”
When we reach the far end of the pool, she stops, raises her coffee cup in an air toast, and disappears behind another enormous planter.
My eye falls on a double lounger shadowed by a whispering palm.
A woman reclines on it, but all I can see outside of the shadows are a pair of platform shoes and white bell bottoms.
The legs slide off the edge of the lounger and suddenly Josie stands before me dressed like 1973.
Her white, sequined jumpsuit hugs every curve.
Her platforms make her as tall as me. Her hair is styled away from her face, showing off a pair of futuristic glasses.
I feel my mouth fall open as she takes the champagne flute from my hand and sips it with a sultry smile.
Then she leans in close and whispers, “Surprise.”