Chapter Three

Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me

On Tuesday morning Marissa was neck-deep in her master’s thesis when she heard the doorbell. Assuming it was neighborhood kids selling yet more candy for their school fund drives, she grabbed her wallet and headed downstairs. At least she hoped it was candy and not magazines. Why would the schools send those poor kids out selling magazines when they could be delivering fresh yummy chocolate to poor grad students? It was a mystery to her.

She opened the door to a grown man.

“Marissa Byrne?” he asked.

“Yes,” she told him.

“These are for you. Have a great day.”

She handed him the five-dollar bill she had intended to spend on chocolate and accepted the oversized vase of flowers.

They were spectacular and heavy. She set them down on the large round table in the foyer so she could get a better look. The huge glass hurricane vase was loaded with dark pink tulips, alstroemeria that graduated from soft pink at the edges to a dark pink in the center, and huge white gardenias. To fill out the bouquet they had added springs of green ivy and moluccela (also known as Bells of Ireland). In the center of the arrangement was a stuffed grey owl holding a card.

She reached for the card with a huge lump in her throat. Why did she feel like she wanted to cry? It was a sweet gesture. He sent her flowers. The envelope was made of a heavy linen, very pricey and personal. Her name was written in a clear angular script on the front in soft black ink, distinctively male. Did he write it himself? The note held the scent of the gardenias when she lifted the flap.

 

"But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires."

 

She recognized the quote from James Joyce, one of her favorite Irish authors. Damn, he is good, she thought. This man was sexy as hell. He was seducing her mind with literary quotes and her body with allusion. Now all she could think about was running her fingers all over him. A shudder raced up and down her spine.

She snapped a picture with her phone so she could show them to Fred.

But before she texted Fred, she dialed Finn’s number.

“Good afternoon,” he answered on the first ring.

“Thank you for these beautiful flowers,” she told him.

“Sure, and you’re welcome. I’m glad you like them,” he said.

“And I love this little owl! I have already named her Callie, short for Cailleach.”

“Ah, the Gaelic goddess of wisdom and mystery,” he acknowledged. “She reminded me of the keeper of your secrets, she did.”

“Yes, she does have the same coloring…”

“And is there anything special you would like to do on our date Friday?”

He is making sure that I know it is a real ‘date’, not just a friendly coffee, Marissa noted. “Well,” she paused for effect, “If you’re interested, there is a local theatre troupe called Actors-on-the-Marsh, and Friday is the opening of Twelfth Night. I have some connections, I could get us tickets.”

“I could do with some Shakespeare,” he agreed. “Is seven o’clock still a good time?”

“Yes, seven is perfect.”

“Good. I can’t wait to see you then.”

* * *

“Isn’t that James Joyce?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Wow! Mars, your man’s got game!” Fred was dutifully impressed by the flowers and the card. “That is some serious romantic shit!” His voice echoed through the phone.

Marissa laughed.

“So when will you see him again?” Fred asked.

“We are going to Twelfth Night on Friday.”

“Really? Tell everyone I said hello,” he said.

“I will.”

* * *

Friday night finally arrived, and she saw headlights in the driveway at six-fifty-five p.m. She purposefully didn’t tell anyone that Finn was picking her up, lest her mother and aunt find a reason to be at her house, and it was way too early to subject him to the chaos of that motley crew. Her grandmother always retired to her room before sunset, so when the doorbell rang, she calmly answered the door.

He took her breath away. There was no leather jacket or boots. The five o’clock shadow had been replaced by smooth, dewy-soft skin. He was the epitome of European casual elegance. His black leather oxford shoes looked hand tooled and soft as butter, black dress pants that looked as if they were cut specially for him, leather belt with small silver buckle, a dark blue tonal jacquard dress shirt (no tie - first two buttons open to show his gorgeous throat), and a dark charcoal Armani blazer. She made a quick check to make sure he still wore the earrings, which he did. She would have been disappointed if they were missing.

“Hello,” she said. She didn’t have the breath to say anything more.

“Hi,” he responded. “You look amazing. And we match!”

She blushed. Her long dark blue dress had a slight jacquard design that matched his shirt. The dress had cut-out shoulders, so she had grabbed a dark gray silk shawl in case it was too cool in the theatre (which it always was). To complete her ensemble, she wore her favorite strappy black leather heels.

“Thanks. You look good, too.” Well, that sounded dumb and insincere, she scolded herself. “Would you like to come in? I just need to grab my purse.”

“Sure, and thank you.”

Marissa ran to the den to grab her small purse. When she returned to the foyer, he was admiring the flowers he had sent her.

“They are truly very beautiful,” she smiled.

He bent down to smell a gardenia, “I had to bring the gardenias from my grandfather’s garden. The florist said they would only deliver gardenias as a planted shrub.”

He had gone to so much trouble to give her her favorite flowers. “I am amazed at how fresh they still look. It’s been four days, and they look as though they were just picked this morning.”

“Ah…well, that is a McKenna family secret. Maybe one day I’ll share it with you,” he winked at her.

She raised an eyebrow. “Well, I set them here, on this table so they can be seen through the bay window. I wanted everyone walking past to admire them.”

“Well, they look almost as lovely as you do,” he told her.

* * *

The Actors-on-the-Marsh was an established community theatre troupe in River City. They had been delighting their audience for over sixty years with season after season of great performances. Many of the actors themselves graduated on to Broadway and off-Broadway shows. From her time with the high school of performing arts, Marissa had worked and studied with many of the veterans of the stage, including the back-stage crew, and had kept in touch with most of them.

The theatre itself was called the Platinum House and was a designated historical landmark. It was built in the late nineteen-twenties in a classic art deco motif, which was carried throughout the interior.

“Well and this is a beautiful place,” Finn remarked as they handed their tickets to the usher and entered the front-of-house.

“It really is. The building is almost one hundred years old-”

Marissa was cut off when she heard her name being called from across the lobby.

“Marissa!” a man dressed (or not dressed would be more accurate) in a silk bathrobe and slippers came running towards her with a wine glass in his hand. “Oh my darling I am so happy to see you!” He grabbed her up in a huge hug and gave air kisses to each cheek, then held her back at arm’s length so he could see her fully. “You look so amazing, my dear. As always. And who is this marvelous man-candy on your arm?” He looked Finn up and down with obvious appreciation.

Marissa laughed openly. “This is Finn McKenna. Finn, allow me to introduce you to Zachary Baldwin. Zach and I are friends from way back.”

“Not too far back, now. Don’t be giving too much away, Marissa darling,” Zach held out his hand to either shake Finn’s or to be kissed by Finn, one couldn’t be too sure.

Finn opted for the handshake. “It’s lovely to meet you, Zachary. I’m always happy to meet a friend of Marissa.”

“Oh I am very pleased to make your acquaintance,” Zach was obviously charmed by Finn’s accent. “Why you do cut a nice swath, Finn, my dear.”

“And you pull off a pretty nice entrance,” Finn replied straight-faced.

Zach burst out laughing. “Oh, I like him, Marissa. I really, really do.”

Marissa was laughing at the pair of them. “Zach, why aren’t you dressed? Curtain goes up in twenty minutes.”

“Don’t you know I am playing the Priest tonight? I don’t even hit the stage until the fifth act.” Zach looked aggravated by that fact.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Zach.”

“Well, you know what they say. There are no small parts, only small directors with chips on their shoulders….”

“We have Zach to thank for the tickets tonight,” Marissa announced, trying to change the subject.

“Oh, is that right? Well, thank you. I am very excited to see the performance! I hear Act Five is a showstopper,” Finn smiled.

“Oh, I do just love this man,” Zach gave Finn a big theatrical hug, “Be careful, Marissa, I am liking him more and more every moment.”

Finn laughed. “Well, alas, I am a one-woman-man,” he said.

Zach pretended to be crushed. “Speaking of your stable of deliciousness, how is our Fred? Is he still throwing his life away in public education?”

“I’m afraid so,” Marissa sighed dramatically, “But he did ask me to send his love tonight.”

“Oh, I miss him. He would have made the perfect director.”

The lobby was filling up quickly with River City’s theatre crowd, and camera flashes were everywhere.

“Oh, I better get backstage,” Zach said.

“Well, break a leg,” Marissa gave him one last hug.

As Zach hurried away, Finn looked at Marissa with a cocked eyebrow that made her laugh.

“I know!” she said. “He is dramatically flamboyant. We studied theatre together in high school.”

“Oh, no. I liked him a lot. I love theatre people. Any kind of artists, as a matter of fact.”

Marissa appreciated the fact that Finn seemed to fit in wherever he found himself. She had never seen him uncomfortable.

They made their way to their seats in the center of the house, with several hellos to old friends and acquaintances of Marissa’s. The auditorium had been recently renovated with wider aisles and plush seats. The ceiling and top few feet of the walls were painted to look like a star-filled sky, with a huge chandelier that mimicked a full moon with dangling stars. Art-Deco columns graced the walls every fifteen feet, with speakers concealed in the sunburst patterns in the capitals. The house seated one thousand people, and Marissa didn’t see any empty seats.

The lights blinked to indicate a five-minute warning before curtain rise.

“So you have a history with most of these people?” he asked.

“Yes, I know most of the theatre crowd from high school, and from Fred’s acting career.” She leaned in close to him, so she could point out names from her program. “This guy here,” she pointed at a name, “we used to meet in the boy’s bathroom to smoke cigarettes in the eleventh grade. And this girl--she once got in a fight in the lunchroom and knocked this girl’s two front teeth out!”

Finn laughed conspiratorially and put his arm around her shoulders while they whispered, gossiping about transgressions long past.

Finally, the curtain went up as the lights went down and the lead actor, playing Orsino, strolled on stage.

* * *

By the time the lights came up for intermission at the end of Act Two, Marissa was snuggled contentedly in the crook of Finn’s arm, while his fingers played lightly over her bare shoulder. She felt as if she were waking from a dream. The darkness of the room with the artificial crystal moon glowing above them and the bright lights of the stage created a fantasy atmosphere. Finn smelled of sandalwood and powdery musk and vetiver. She had no idea what kind of cologne he wore, but she loved it. It was understated but distinctive and intoxicating. It was like a guarded secret, one had to be very close to him to smell his cologne. It suggested an intimacy between the wearer and the one lucky enough to experience the scent. She wanted the lights to go back down, so she didn’t have to move.

He squeezed her shoulder. “Shall we stretch our legs a bit and get something to drink?”

Reluctantly, she moved away from him to sit up straight.

“Yes, I am a bit thirsty,” she said.

They made their way back out to the lobby amidst hundreds of other patrons.

The house staff had been busy during the first half of the show. The lobby, once bare, now held tables laden with pastries, canapés, petit fours, and glasses of wine, champagne, and soft drinks.

“Well, this is quite a do,” Finn looked around at the opulent display.

“They always go all out on opening night,” she explained. “Tomorrow there will only be popcorn and sodas offered.”

“Well, I’m glad we came here tonight then,” he laughed, offering her a glass of champagne and a small profiterole stuffed with roast beef and béarnaise sauce.

“Marissa? I thought that was you! Hello dear!” They were interrupted by an older woman.

“Mrs. Montgomery? Hi! Wow, it is so nice to run into you!” She looked at Finn, “Finn, this is Deborah Montgomery, she was my English teacher in the eleventh grade. Mrs. Montgomery, this is Finn McKenna…”

The rest of intermission went on this way, as she kept running into people she knew and hadn’t seen in quite some time. She felt like she introduced Finn a hundred times or more. He was always gracious and charming, and she realized that she was enjoying showing him off. Without a doubt, he was the best looking and most interesting person in the room, and he was on her arm.

“Well, Marissa Byrne. It’s great to see you out in town. Are you enjoying the performance?”

Marissa turned to the sound of her name, to see Devina Uppington, head of the mean girls’ clique in high school. Devina had come from old money, and never let anyone forget it. She had always been a snob. Marissa had heard that after graduation she had married a man almost as old as her family’s money.

Marissa plastered on a fake smile. That was twenty-eight years ago, and she was prepared to accept Devina on equal terms. “Hi, Devina. You are looking well. I love your dress.”

“Oh, thank you. William had it made for me, he is such a sweetie.”

“Tara, Violet, hello,” Marissa gave a nod to Devina’s handmaidens, still following one step behind Devina after all of these years. Tara’s sister, Candace, was the playing the lead role in tonights play. “Oh, Tara, please tell your sister for me that her performance tonight is inspired! She is doing such a great job in the role.” She smiled at Tara.

“Thank you, Marissa, I will tell her,” Tara said meekly.

Marissa saw the moment that Devina’s gaze latched on to Finn. “Oh, hello there,” she took a step towards him. “You must be Marissa’s brother. I remember hearing that she had a brother about ten or fifteen years younger than her. It is so nice to finally meet you.”

Finn stiffened imperceptibly, realizing there were forces at work that he was unaware of.

Marissa took a step closer to Finn. “Well, Devina, I see you haven’t changed a bit. Too bad we are not still in high school.”

Devina straightened her back, ready to give return fire.

Finn stopped her. “Um, I believe your grandfather is trying to get your attention.”

A hush fell over the immediate vicinity, and Marissa was sure she heard more than one stifled gasp. Everyone within earshot looked toward the direction that Finn nodded, and saw William Uppington-Smythe motioning for his wife to join him. A subdued titter spread across the room. The Uppington-Smythe wedding had been the talk of the town for many years when eighteen-year-old Devina Uppington had married fifty-four-year-old William Smythe. The upper crust all agreed she was a gold-digger, but no one had ever pointed out the age difference quite so eloquently.

If it were possible, Finn became even more popular with the crowd. As they made their way back to their seats for the second half of the play, he received many smiles and nods from both strangers and friends. In just one sentence, Finn had become the toast of River City society.

He never said another word about it. He didn’t ask any questions, he simply held Marissa’s hand as he escorted her to her seat.

As the lights went back down for the beginning of Act Three, Marissa settled back in her seat. Finn’s hand rested over hers on the arm between their two chairs. She looked at his profile. He was a truly good-looking man. He was clever, charming, and generous. He had defended her swiftly on more than one occasion.

Why did he have to be so much younger than she? A year or two, she could have handled. But— (probably) more than fifteen? It was too much.

Just as in high school, Devina had zeroed in on her most sensitive vulnerability. How did she know? And if Devina saw it, it was safe to assume that all the others were whispering the same thing behind their programs. Devina just happened to be tactless enough to say it out loud.

Marissa’s younger brother (and how had Devina even known she had one?) was thirty-nine years old. Finn was even younger than her little brother. That reality had never occurred to her.

“Don’t go getting all gloom and doom,” she could hear Fred’s voice in her head. Maybe she could continue to date Finn, just not go out in public with him? That idea was ludicrous.

She glanced again at Finn and found him watching her. She gave a quick smile, as if everything were okay. He returned the smile and leaned over and kissed her on the temple, just behind her eye, then he put his arm around her and drew her closer to him, the way they had been sitting before the debacle.

Oh God, how can I ever give this up? she wondered, inhaling the scent of Finn.