Chapter 2
Chapter Two
F rank had made women cry before. It hadn’t been on purpose, and he wasn’t proud of it, but it had happened.
However, it had never been because he’d given someone a beer and offered to punch out an asshole on their behalf.
“I’m…uh…sorry,” he said, after searching and failing to find something better to say.
Connie’s only response was another wail, muffled by the table. Unsure of what to do—growing up with all brothers had not prepared him for this—he awkwardly patted her shoulder and looked to Katie for a hint as to what to do next.
“It’s not you,” Katie grumbled as she offered a handful of wadded up bar napkins to her sister. “It’s all part of the process.”
Connie lifted her head and used the napkins to wipe the dark mascara lines streaming down her face, smearing them and giving herself an about-to-hit-the-gridiron look. Then she swiped the handful of napkins under her nose, leaving a black line across her top lip.
It took everything Frank had not to cut a smile—even the dumbass he was when it came to fully-clothed women knew that would be the wrong thing to do. This was confirmed with a glance over at the not-crying-in-the-middle-of-Marinos version of Connie. The sisters might be identical twins, but he could always tell them apart, unlike a lot of people could when it came to him and his twin, Paul. Yeah, both Madigans had the same curly red hair, dark eyes, full lips, and bodacious bods. But while Connie always had a sense of high drama around her, Katie was more serious, more in control, and had a more—to be blunt—scary-as-fuck attitude. She would definitely cut you if you crossed her.
Most of the men in Waterbury saw the danger sign and kept their distance. Was he an idiot for not being able to look away? Probably. But what fun was life without a little fire?
“The proshess ?” Connie tossed back most of her drink in one gigantic gulp. “You shay that like it’s ever been like thish before.”
Katie rolled her eyes. “It’s always been like this.”
“Not three times,” Connie shot back before finishing her drink. “Three!” Her chin trembled and she wiped her napkin under her nose again, spreading the black line into a pencil-thin mustache. Then, in a wobbly voice, she said, “And he shaid it was my fault.”
Okay, this was officially way above Frank’s pay grade. Buying sympathy beers? He could do that. Punch some guy’s lights out? Consider it done. Comfort a woman who was crying in public because her boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—was a complete douche bag? Nope. He had absolutely no reference for this.
“It seems like you two are in the middle of things…”
His skin was crawling with the awkwardness. He was a breath away from excusing himself and getting back to his friends who were waiting for their turn at the pool table, when Katie got up and the words died in his mouth.
Fuck .
There were other things he should be paying attention to. But some people just looked so fucking good in neon blue and acid- washed jeans that they demanded it all for themselves. Katie was numbers one through fifty on the list of things to pay attention to.
He would love to get between her and her Calvins.
Was he destined to squish himself into a hand basket headed straight for an eternity in an uncomfortably hot place for thinking about Katie Madigan’s ass while her sister was bawling her head off? Probably. But he’d deal with that later. Right now, he only had to step back when she got up and circled around the table to comfort Connie, and admire the view.
Katie squatted down so she was eye level with her sister. She cupped her face in her hands so Connie had to look at her. “How in the hell is it your fault?” Katie demanded. “Did you yank his pants down and demand he have sex with Miss August?”
“February!” Connie hollered, loud enough that people on the dance floor turned to see what the fuss was about. “She was Mish February.” She hiccuped. (From the tears? From the alcohol? Who knew.) “The month of love!”
Everyone on the dance floor was trying to get close enough to hear exactly what Blane Adler had done this time (not that they’d be surprised, it’s what he’d done every time). Across the bar, his twin brother stopped talking to two guys Frank didn’t know (and he knew everybody) and glanced over. There was no missing Paul’s flushed face, or the way the back of his hair stuck straight up like it always did when he rubbed it—a telltale sign he was up to something stupid.
Frank swallowed back a groan. He did not have time for more drama in his life. Running into burning buildings for a living, taking care of his mom after the city screwed her out of his dad’s pension, and whatever was happening with the Madigan sisters right now was more than enough, thank you very much.
“I don’t care if she was Miss All Twelve Months,” Katie said, dragging his attention back to the sisters. “ You didn’t do anything wrong.” Katie glared up at Frank. “Tell her.”
His gut dropped. Frank didn’t have shit to do with what that fucknut had done with his dick, but that didn’t mean he knew what to say.
“Tell. Her,” Katie said, emphasizing each word like it was its own sentence. “That. The. Creep. Not. Being. Able. To. Keep. His. Zipper. Up. Has. Nothing. To. Do. With. Her.”
Cliff Notes had saved him in Senior English when he’d spent most of class daydreaming about one Katie Madigan, and her version of them saved him now.
He turned his attention to Connie and settled his face into the serious one he used when he gave the stop-drop-and-roll lecture at grade schools during Fire Safety Week. “It’s not your fault Adler has a wandering dick.”
Connie sniffled and grabbed the beer he’d brought over for her. “It’s because I don’t orgashm very often, and when I do it’s not as loud as the women in the videos.”
Holy shit. He’d known Adler was an asshole. He hadn’t realized he was that much of an asshole. “ That is a him issue, not a you issue.”
“But he’s the one with experience,” she said, before downing half the beer. “He says it’s not like that with other women.” She finished the rest of it so fast it was like she was trying to drown herself in Bud. “He’s the only man I’ve ever been with.”
“Liberal use of the word ‘man,’” Katie grumbled as she moved her own, untouched, beer out of her sister’s reach.
“Look, Connie.” Frank turned the empty chair at their table around and sat down, resting his forearms on the back of it. “Blane Adler is a dickless dweeb.”
“No he’s not.” She shook her head. “Everyone likes Blane.”
“Not even his toady friends like him,” Frank said, speaking the truth that everyone in Waterbury, except Connie (and maybe Adler), knew.
Connie looked at him, her eyes watery and the tip of her nose a bright enough shade of red that it was visible even in the deep recesses of the sports bar. Something that looked a little like understanding and acceptance flashed in her unfocused eyes, and she stood up. She was wobbly and Katie already had her hands out in preparation for disaster, but Connie managed to keep her two feet planted firmly on the ground.
Then she turned to say something to Katie and must have moved too quickly, because all of the color drained out of her face.
“I’m gonna ralph,” Connie said before slapping her hand over her mouth.
“And on that note, I think it’s time we go.” Katie shot him a look of what-are-you-gonna-do. “Thanks for the beer.”
“Maybe next time, you’ll get to drink it.” He shoots, he scores?
One side of Katie’s mouth went up in a half smile that he couldn’t interpret. Not that he ever knew what she was thinking. He’d been trying to figure that out for years, and was still as clueless as he’d ever been.
“Never mind,” Connie said as she wavered in place. “It pashed.” She let out a drunk’s happy sigh and her eyes started to close. “Jush gonna close her eyes.” She giggled. “My eyes. Jush my?—"
She started to topple before she could finish the sentence. Frank moved fast, but Katie moved faster, getting her arm around Connie’s waist and bracing her sister before she could fall to the floor—which was good, not just for the possible whacking her head part but also because no one wanted to end up on the floor at Marinos.
He’d been here on a possible gas leak once. Seeing the place with the lights on and the floors still sticky almost made Friday nights as a paying customer a thing of the past. But this was the bar where Katie went. So this is the bar where he went.
Not that she noticed him most of the time.
But he never missed her.
Katie hauled her sister close. “Guess we’re skipping the third part of phase one and going straight to the passing out part. I’d better get her out of here.”
“Here, let me help,” he said, going over to Connie and scooping her up into a fireman’s hold. “I’ll carry her to your car.”
Katie hesitated, as if she was going to argue. He held his breath, because yeah he was doing this so that Connie didn’t face plant on the beer-soaked floor, but also because it would give him another few minutes with Katie. He was about to make his case when Katie sighed and shrugged.
“Come on,” she said. “I’ll bring the car around front.”
Yeah, like he was going to let her walk alone to her car when the street light in the Marinos parking lot was busted. Not gonna happen.
So he followed her out the bar, around to the back of the building, and through the maze of cars parked willy-nilly in the gravel lot. It took her two tries to get the passenger door of her Pinto open, and when she did, the hinges squeaked like they were in a horror movie.
Connie snuggled into his chest as he carried her over to the car. “He shmells good, Katie.” She poked his pecs with her fingers. “Very sholid. Definitely can hold you up and bang you against a wall. Blane can’t. He dropped me. Twice.” She sniffled and used Frank’s Springsteen shirt to wipe her tears. “Why doesn’t he love me?”
“Because he’s a dumbass,” Frank said.
That earned him a real smile from Katie as she stepped aside so he could put Connie in the car and shut the door. Then, he walked Katie around to the driver’s side and opened the door for her, noting that the door should have been locked. No, the Pinto wasn’t exactly on the list of ‘cars most likely to be stolen,’ but still, he worried.
“So, I guess this means I get to buy you another beer sometime,” he said as she got in.
For a second she didn’t’t say anything, and the whole world was full of possibilities.
“Gotta motor,” Katie finally said.
It wasn’t a yes but it also wasn’t a no. Frank was going to hold onto that like the fucking sap that he always was when it came to Katie Madigan.
He shut her door and stepped back onto the sidewalk in front of Marinos. Someone opened the bar’s back door and the sound of a million conversations and the opening of The Police’s Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic poured out.
“Get your ass back in here, Frank.” his brother Paul called. “We’re next for pool and I’ve got money riding on it.”
“Be there in a minute.”
Paul said something in reply, but Frank wasn’t listening anymore. He was watching the one working taillight of Katie’s retreating Pinto until she turned left and disappeared out of sight. Then, he made a mental note to stop by Hazel’s Auto Parts tomorrow morning for a brake light and a can of WD-40 for the Pinto’s hinges, before going back inside.