37. Saoirse
Saoirse
Just A Girl In His World
Ihope that man with the green shamrock tatt on his hand gives my message to Morag. I need someone to know I’m here. Someone besides Declan and Rian and all his henchmen, that is.
I’m still scarlet from when Finn told me off for using street slang. It made me feel like I was right back in Patrick’s house, too scared to put a toe out of line.
I’m not blushing now, but it feels all hot and uncomfortable whenever I think about it.
I thought Finn brought me here so he could ravage me, catch up on all that hot grudge-fucking we used to have as enemies.
But he’s strict and disciplined. The complete opposite of whatever vibes his dirty home is giving.
Whatever I want I can have—within reason and his rules, that is. I ask for books, fashion magazines, makeup, and hair products.
The only entertainment available is downloaded movies, but I can’t change the channel on the flatscreen to show anything besides GAA.
I eat blaas with lots of butter and jam for supper, lying on my tummy in bed, watching a romcom movie. Dessert is an apple.
I try a handful of the peanuts, but they taste like cardboard without salt.
He sits on the stool and eats boiled chicken and steamed broccoli. Then he cleans his teeth and climbs into bed.
I’m ready for him, but he turns his back to me.
“After the fight.”
So, I turn my back on him too.
It doesn’t stick though. It’s lovely to spoon myself around his body and feel how warm he is, so that’s what I end up doing all night.
***
I find my hand reaching for his erection in the morning, but he pulls away from me and goes to the shower room.
When he comes out, I’m already dressed. That stops him short. “You don’t want to shower?”
Major eye roll from me. “I’m not dirty.”
I used the basin in the restroom to wash. I’m pretty low maintenance when I’m not working. Shirley bought me knee-length strappy summer frocks; I’m wearing the pale pink one.
Finn frowns. “Don’t you women do stuff in there… in the mornings?”
My chest heaves. He’s never lived with a woman before. He doesn’t have a clue…
“Finn—” How do I put this? “Please tell me you’ve slept with a woman before.”
He’s brusque. “You’ve got Maguire.”
“No,” I put a tight lid on my jealousy. I’ve got to be practical. “Have you spent the night with a woman… woken up with her… taken her out for brunch?”
He’s dismissive. “Nah.”
I can’t let it go. “Why not?” Jesus. Hasn’t he been lonely?
He perches on a stool. “On a scale of one to ten, what are the chances of you letting this drop?”
“Zero. But not because I’m curious about your exes. Because you’ll be thirty in three years. Living with a lover is natural.”
He gives me a stern look. “Living with a wife is natural, Saoirse. Jaysus. Can you hear yourself? Father O’Malley should say a prayer for you.”
This man is such a mix of contradictions, he’s more of a mystery to me now, than he was before I got dragged down here.
He grabs the key fob. Oh, God. Is he fed up with me already?
I can’t help feeling that I disappointed him.
“Come on. Get your arse up those stairs.”
He’s smiling, so I have to ask. “Why?”
“I’m giving you a driving lesson. There’s a private car park we can use.”
Dazed, but also in disbelief, I mount the stairs. The door’s open; so is the door leading outside.
It’s a beautiful day, which makes this even more surreal.
A cute little hatchback has been parked close by with its door open. Finn is behind me.
“Go on. Get behind the wheel.” He shuts the door once I get settled in and click the seatbelt.
It’s my first time. I’m excited, but hesitant. He sits next to me.
It’s strange, but I feel closer to Finn doing this than I do when fucking him. He leans in and shows me what to do, something no one in my life has ever bothered teaching me.
When I’m with him like this, I feel safe. I feel loved. It crosses my mind that keeping this protective blanket wrapped around me is worth sacrificing my marriage for.
One of the soldiers brings us wrapped sandwiches for lunch. We sit on the hood and eat them, chatting like two old friends.
He checks his watch. “I gotta bounce, mo chroí.”
I’m anxious. “Ooh, I wish you wouldn’t, Finn. It’s got to be dangerous.”
He cups my cheek, smiles, and kisses me. “I live for danger.”
When we go back inside, the apartment has been cleaned. Four dozen red roses stand in a crystal vase full of water. The air is fresh and fragrant.
I’m overwhelmed. “Finn! Thank you. This is wonderful!”
The smile is gone. The grin too. He’s back to scowling.
“It’s a fecking yatcha fight I’m gearing up for, woman. Save your compliments for after.”
It’s like a smack in the face. But after checking the shower room cabinets, I can’t put this off.
“I gave Shirley a list of the meds I need from the pharmacy, Finn, but she hasn’t brought it.”
He ignores me, goes into the weight room, and drowns out my presence by playing loud, beat-heavy music through headphones.
I stare at the roses and then at the brooding beast of a man pumping iron while glaring at his reflection. It’s like I don’t exist.
I could be sitting at the table making business decisions right now. This sucks.
***
Finn kisses my cheek and heads out.
What the fuck? “I thought I could watch?”
He’s dismissive. “Yeah. I’ll send one of the boys to fetch you.” He runs up the steep stairs.
His arse looks amazing in those brushed cotton joggers. But I’m dissatisfied. “Why can’t I come now?”
He ducks out the door. “I don’t want you hearing my walkout.”
Now, I’m not only disgruntled, but pissed too.
When Feargal comes to fetch me, I’m full of questions.
“What the fuck, Feargal? Stab me in the back, why don’t you?”
He sighs. “Ah, Mrs. M, I’m a working class lad, you understand. I can’t stand for those with wealth and influence using it to get more.”
I like to think I look good. My cashmere top falls off one shoulder and hits mid-thigh over pale blue skinny jeans. My hair’s down, framing my face like shiny black paint.
Feargal comments. “It’s grand you’re looking despite it all.”
Huffing, I fold my arms. “No thanks to any of you loyalists. Come on. What are we waiting for?”
A text comes through on Feargal’s phone. “The walkout is over. We better hurry. Finn doesn’t waste time shaking hands, if you know what I mean.”
“What’s a walkout?” We clatter up the stairs and onto the landing.
“The music a fighter chooses for his introduction. It’s like a declaration. A statement. For some reason, Finn doesn’t want you listening to his.”
I hear roars and hollering. The warehouse is dark, which only makes the caged ring in the middle brighter.
Two figures circle and weave. I just know that Finn is the one in the tight black briefs. They’re not boxing shorts, more like the trunks Olympic swimmers wear.
So, I ask Feargal to explain.
“They’re form-fitting Vale Tudo shorts. They compress that part of the body to hold the cup in place.” He answers me, but keeps his eyes on the ring.
It’s interesting to watch at first, but I have to turn away.
“Feargal… is he… losing?” God, but it’s brutal. They’re wailing on each other.
The punches are so hard they can be heard above the noise of the crowd.
Feargal looks grim. “It can turn at any moment, Mrs. M.”
“When will they ring the bell?”
Feargal tears his gaze away from the ring. “There’s only one round. They keep fighting until one of them taps out.”
“P… Please get me a chair.”
Feargal shakes his head. “Best that you stand. You’ll only have some drunken Irishman falling over you if you sit.”
“I can’t see all the way back here. I need the chair to stand on.”
Feargal goes searching for a chair and lifts one over to me.
Standing gives me a terrifying vantage point.
I can’t bear to look, but nor can I turn away. Everyone is intently focused on what’s happening behind that chain link fence.
It looks like Finn keeps his opponent guessing by crouching one moment and uncoiling like a striking snake the next. The man he’s fighting is huge.
Taller, heavier, with longer arms. More like a gorilla than a man.
If he gets Finn on the ground, I hope he taps out. I need this to finish.
He lunges for Finn with the kind of smackdown punch I’ve only seen in movies. Finn moves back, but the punch lands on his stomach instead of his face.
Half the crowd gasps. The other half cheers.
You’d have to be a fool to bet on Finn to win this. It’s insane. That guy’s got to be close to six feet, seven inches tall, and God knows how many pounds heavier.
Finn staggers back and has to shake his head to keep breathing. The tall man doesn’t step back or give him a chance to catch his breath. He closes the space between them and brings Finn to the floor.
I’ve never heard grown men wail before. Elbows lift as many men drink hard.
I have to ask. “Feargal, how much money have these men bet?”
He doesn’t look at me. “Dunno. Can go as high as fifty thousand sometimes.”
“But Finn told me millions of dollars are riding on this fight.”
He shoots me an irritated glance. “This is an international fight, Saoirse. Some guys bet tens of thousands from the comfort of their living rooms.”
He runs down some figures for me while watching the ring.
Some men bet on how long the fight lasts. Others call it a sure thing. Still others give it a long shot.
None of this means anything to me.
But it’s all linked to how many wins the fighter has and who his opponent is.
“So, that man in the green and gold shorts… is he the best?”
I can see that Feargal wants to hush me, but I don’t care. Finn is looking wasted. As I watch, he staggers back until his back touches the chain links.
The big guy starts pummeling Finn’s head, and when Finn uses his hands to block the blows his opponent simply starts pummeling his body instead.
I have too much adrenaline for me to think about crying, but I want to. Finn’s face drips blood. His body is slick with sweat.
I scream as Finn drops to one knee. I grab Feargal’s hand for comfort, but he shakes me off.
“Watch, Saoirse, for fuck’s sake.”
The big guy tries to take Finn to the floor, but misses his takedown as Finn ducks out of reach.
Finn… he’s… grinning. How is that even possible?
He’s ducked behind the big guy and winds up a punch. He lands it at the top of the man’s skull, where his spine is attached to his head.
“But… I thought hitting from behind is forbidden…”
Feargal grins. “Not with Vale Tudo rules. It’s just a matter of getting behind your opponent.”
The big man tries to shake his head to clear it, but Finn just winds up another punch. He lands it with surgical precision in the same place.
The big guy doesn’t even try to stand up. He goes down hard. And stays down.
The crowd goes wild. Two grown men in front of me are hugging and dancing. “Didn’t I tell you? Fucking legend! The boy’s fucking legend!”
The boy’s fucking wicked dangerous. But then, he always has been.
***
I asked Feargal to take me downstairs. Not so I can sleep, but so I can pace around and wait for Finn.
It’s at times like this when I wish I still bit my nails.
Leaving the men to celebrate or drown their sorrows, he comes back to me.
I hear the door click and look up.
He’s in the gray brushed cotton joggers and hoodie again. I run to him and we hug. He’s showered, and they did a good job at patching him up, but he winces when I squeeze him.
I thought I wanted to fuck him, but I don’t. I want to nurse him, kiss his wounds, and hold him in my arms.
We don’t talk. What’s there to say? That he’s brave and fearless and invincible?
That’s not up for debate anymore.
In bed, he pulls me close. “My girl.”
I’m just a girl in his world.
His brutal, savage, fierce world.