Eight

Why am I so nervous?

Because it’s dinner with Jesse. Damn, I can’t help grinning and I’m all giddy inside. This is so not like me, but I love how it feels.

It still shocks me that he has a kid and honestly, I’m not quite sure how I feel about that. Still, it isn’t like Jesse and I can actually have a relationship anyway. He’s here and I’m at Vassar, with no time for a social life. My main plan for coming back was to hopefully get to know him better, see if there was something there, and then look forward to the summer, when I’ll be around a hell of a lot more. So far, it’s gone better than expected. Well, except for yesterday when some asshole decided to play a prank on me. I’m still pissed about that, but I’m not going to let it ruin my date with Jesse tonight, or any future dates, if there are any.

But am I ready to date a guy with a child?

“Stop jumping ahead of yourself.” It’s not like we’re dating, or even in a relationship.

I look in the mirror one last time, pleased with how my hair and makeup look, and head down the stairs. I just reach the living room when the doorbell rings. Kian, my oldest brother, answers it before I have a chance to.

“Come in, Jesse.”

Damn he’s hot in those faded jeans and long sleeved t-shirt. I’m glad I decided to go casual too. Though, I am wearing a skirt and cute top.

“Where’re you two headed?” Kian asks, following Jesse into the living room.

I roll my eyes. The one thing I don’t miss about being at home is having an overprotective brother. Thank goodness it’s only Kian. If all five of them were here, they’d send Jesse running for the hills.

“Sullivan’s.” Jesse looks at me. “Unless there’s somewhere else you’d rather to go.”

“Sullivan’s is fine.” It’s the first place we went together and I love that pub. I was practically raised there and it always felt like home.

“Hey, Jesse,” Alexia says as she comes from the kitchen.

“All finished up for break?” Jesse asks.

“Yeah.” She chuckles. “I could do with the time away from Baxter.”

“We all could.”

From what I understand, Baxter only accepts troubled teens with incredible talents. My brother Kian attended, not that I’ve ever understood how he got in. He’s about the least talented person I know.

“I’ve got more paintings from the kids, if there’s room in the gallery,” Alexia says, stopping beside Kian.

“Sure is.” Jesse nods with a slight smile. “Sold a few more this week, and a couple pots.”

“The paintings are from the students?” I thought all of that work was Jesse’s.

“And some sculptures,” he answers proudly.

It’s great that he’s letting the kids sell their stuff in his gallery. That’s really cool.

“What they make goes into a trust for their futures,” Jesse explains.

“If you’re going to be around Saturday, we’ll drop them off,” Alexia offers.

“Sure, come by around eleven.” He turns to me. “Shall we?”

We step outside but I don’t see a car.

“I hope you don’t mind walking. I thought it was a waste to drive four blocks.”

“Not at all. It’s a beautiful night.”

We turn the corner and I glance up. Larry’s standing in the window, holding Cam and glaring down at me. The hair stands up on the back of my neck again. I don’t like that girl and can’t explain why.

I guess it doesn’t matter. If she’s good with Cam, that’s what’s important.

All the tables are full when we step inside and Jesse escorts me to two empty stools at the bar. “Mind if we sit here until a table opens up?”

I don’t care if we sit here the entire time. But, as this does qualify as a date, sitting at the bar isn’t exactly intimate.

I barely sit when a shot glass is slammed down in front of me and Seamus, the owner, is pouring Tullamore Dew into it. My eyes meet his twinkling blue ones.

“Ya promised ta celebrate yar twenty-first here.”

“I would have if I hadn’t had three exams the next day.”

“Are ya sure dat’s it? Ya weren’t partying at school?”

“Do you think I’d want to celebrate my twenty-first anywhere else?” I’d been looking forward to having my first official adult drink at Sullivan’s. Unfortunately, that day fell on a Tuesday with exams on Wednesday. I was a little pissed that day. I wanted to be here.

“Well, it’s better late dan never.” He pours some into his own shot glass and raises a toast. We clink the glass and toss back the shot.

I had no idea Deirdre had a birthday since Thanksgiving. Not that a few months are that big of a deal as far as her actual age goes, but I’m more comfortable now that I know she’s legal age, even if she was already an adult. Deirdre doesn’t seem so much younger all of a sudden.

She leans in close to Seamus. “I’ll let you in on a secret.”

“Ya?”

“This is my very first drink as an adult. I saved it for here.”

“It better be yar first drink ever.” He’s wagging a finger at her.

Deirdre just sits back and grins, not confirming or denying.

I have to laugh. “Pour her another, and one for me and you,” I tell Seamus. “This is a celebration.”

He grins and puts another shot glass on the bar. “I knew I liked ya.”

We toss them back. The whiskey’s smooth, and my favorite. It’s just too expensive for my wallet. But tonight is an exception.

I turn to Deirdre. “Another?”

“Oh, no.” She’s waving her hand away. “I need to eat something first.”

“After, then.”

“Yes. After.” She laughs.

A couple is getting up from the table in front of the windows and Seamus nods. “Get it while ya can.”

I stand and wait for Deirdre then escort her over. This is perfect. We can look out at the square and we’re further away from the larger tables with families.

The waitress comes and takes our orders. Seamus has the best burgers in probably the State of New York, but I just had one so I order a tenderloin instead. She gets a burger and we order a basket of fresh cut fries to share. Deirdre opts for a Coke and I do the same. We just had shots on an empty stomach and I don’t want to get drunk any more than she does.

“So, what does one do with a degree in cognitive science?” She told me her area of study last November and I looked it up when I got home. All I know is that it’s a science involving humans, animals, computers and probably other things. I’m just not sure what kind of job it leads to.

“All kinds of things, actually.”

“Really?” I kind of find that hard to believe.

“Seriously.” She laughs. “Hotel management, archeologist, psychologist, lawyer, sales manager, creative director or urban developer. There’s a whole list of things I can do or continue to study.” She holds up her phone. “I can google it for you.”

She’s grinning and I laugh. “Okay, so, what does Deirdre O’Brien plan to do with her degree?”

“That is more difficult to answer.”

“No set dream job yet?”

The waitress returns and puts the Cokes on the table, and Deirdre takes a sip.

“I’m torn between psychology, being a counselor, and becoming an advocate for children, either in the court system or as a social worker.”

I’m impressed. “Those are all great career choices.”

“I just need to decide on a focus before the end of May.” She makes a face as if she’s not looking forward to having to make that decision.

I can relate to that. “I hated having to decide on what I needed to do.”

Her eyebrows rise. “I figure you always knew it would be art.”

“I did,” I laugh. “But, I had to get a degree that would also feed me in case sculpting failed.”

She nods. “I get that.”

The waitress returns and puts the food on the table in front of us.

“Can I get you anything else?”

I look over at Deirdre and lift an eyebrow. She shakes her head.

“We’re good,” I tell her.

“So, what degree did you pick to feed you?” She bites into the burger and chews, waiting for my answer.

“I double majored in education and psychology.”

Her eyes go wide. “Not art?”

“It’s a minor, but all I really cared about was working with metals. I added ceramics and sculpting for fun, but I didn’t take any of the other art classes.”

“Yet, you’re an art teacher at Baxter.”

“Alexia teaches most everything. I’m just the clay guy.”

“It probably helped that you had a psychology degree when you applied there.”

I’m sure the combination of education, art and psychology is exactly what got me the job. “They have some of the most talented kids I’ve ever seen. I’d love to introduce metals and see what they can do, but welding, flames and sharp objects aren’t exactly the safest materials to work with.” I shove my sleeves up and show her my various scars on my hands and forearms from being cut and burned on occasion. I don’t mind them at all and could probably list which art piece belongs to which scar, but the kids at Baxter already have enough scars, inside and out, and don’t need anymore.

“Or, it’s better those kids aren’t working with them,” she adds.

I just nod. I don’t discuss details of Baxter, none of us associated with the school do, but if she’s lived here all of her life, or at least most of it, and her brother and his girlfriend are connected with the school. Deirdre probably already has an idea of the type of students that are at Baxter.

“My students wouldn’t be a problem though. They are all about art. It’s their happy place.” I grin. At least that’s how it feels when they’re in the classroom creating. And, while there is some competition, it’s all friendly. Every one of those kids support each other, and offer honest critiques or suggestions if something isn’t turning out like planned.

“Wednesday was the first time I’d been to Baxter. I didn’t even know the gallery was open to the public.”

The art gallery is only one of two buildings that has direct access from a parking lot. The other is the theatre on the separate side of campus. Even though a guard is on the door, anyone can come in during normal operating hours, but any of the doors that lead to the campus are locked and alarmed to protect the kids.

The theatre is a different matter. Patrons still can’t get to the campus, and you can’t walk in off the street expecting to see a show. Tickets must be purchased at least two weeks in advance. This is also for the protection of the kids because students are the performers and Baxter is very picky about who they let near any of the kids.

Dierdre barely eats half of her hamburger before pushing it away. “I forgot how big they are.”

I can’t finish my tenderloin either. “But so good.”

The waitress comes back and cleans the table and I ask for the check. I could sit here and talk with Deirdre longer but it’s getting loud. The late dinner crowd is disappearing and those coming to the bar just to drink are showing up and the place is getting rowdy.

When the waitress returns, she’s carrying two more shots and a cupcake with a candle. She places the ticket upside down on the table.

Seamus walks over with a shot in his hand. Deirdre closes her eyes for a minute, then opens them and blows out the flame.

“Happy Birthday!” Seamus yells and we toss back another shot. We need to get out of here before he has us both drunk.

“Thanks, Seamus.” Deirdre’s smiling up at him. “But I’m taking this with me.” She points to the cupcake. “I can’t eat another bite tonight. You really should think about making a smaller burger.”

He laughs. “I’ll get ya a box.”

I flip over the check and reach for my wallet. Happy Birthday is written across it and the tab is zero.

“Wow!” Deirdre says.

“Wow, is right.”

The waitress returns a minute later and puts the cupcake in to a small box so Deirdre can take it with her. I still calculate the tip on what the bill should have been and leave a ten on the table. She shouldn’t be screwed because our meal was free. It’s more than twenty-percent, but I don’t want to be that guy who asks for change. Besides, I’m still getting out of here a hell of lot cheaper than I planned.