Josephine
I eyed the building warily, as if it were an armed felon at the end of a long, dark alleyway. Or a teacher, who found out her prep period was taken away. Equally dangerous. My hands gripped the steering wheel at the eleven-fifty-five and twelve-oh-five positions as I ducked my head to look out the windshield.
It was a bar. Just a bar. A neighborhood bar where people came to drown their problems for a while. I studied it. The green awnings were somewhat inviting, though dirty. The parking lot was fairly neat. Average cars parked about. The campy leprechaun clicking his heels on the sign looked perfectly harmless.
But when I peered at it harder, I noticed a deranged evil lurking in his green, plastic eyes.
Come on, Jo. It’s gonna be a fun time. You remember what a fun time is, don’t you?
Actually, I didn’t. And that was why I was here.
With a sigh, I grasped the door handle and hesitated with my hand around the chrome. Why did I let that Mrs. Scofield talk me into this? It was like she could reach inside a person and seduce their naughty girl to come out.
Who was I kidding? I didn’t even have a naughty girl. With another exhale I tugged on the handle and cracked the door. I was filled with the same dread as when I stepped foot in the dentist’s parking lot for my second root canal. The first time was bad enough, with all that fear of the unknown. With the second procedure, I knew exactly what to expect. And it wasn’t good. I gritted my teeth.
People go to bars every day and survive the experience. You can do this. Just act like it’s no big deal. Like you do it all the time.
I focused on my blue pump as it hit the pavement, and I slid out from underneath the steering wheel. Squaring my shoulders, I closed the door, barring my exit, and moved forward without looking back. When I passed through the second glass door into the building, the light was as murky as the algae-ridden pond in my grandparents’ pasture. I blinked until I could make out my surroundings, swallowing the irrational panic clawing its way up my throat.
In front of me was a fairly wide open area, which probably served as a stage/dance floor when entertainment was available, which there didn’t seem to be at present. Heck, I was probably the entertainment at the moment, as it seemed all eyes were glued to me, although a couple pairs were roaming all over me, while others stayed fixed on my face. I shuffled forward. The bar was on my left, only a few feet from the door. I pasted on a smile and found a stool, although nearly toppling it. I put a hand out to steady it and took a second to draw in a breath, then exhale shakily. My purse suddenly weighed a hundred pounds, so I took it from my shoulder and plopped it on top of the bar. I dared another look around the room.
For the most part, people’s attention had returned to whatever was occupying them before my entrance. Except for the bartender, who was sauntering my way.
Oh, sweet Betty.
He was sinfully good-looking, with a head of unruly dark hair, long and sexily curly.
Where did that thought come from?
Then he opened his mouth, and I knew I was in love.
“Well, there. Good afternoon, missus. What can I get you on this fine fall day?”
The voice, with its melodic Irish accent, danced into my ears and warmed me as it slid down to my core. But it was the smile that really did me in. Genuine. It lifted his cheeks to set off a strong jaw and chiseled cheekbones all the more.
“I-I….” I glanced around at the other customers. Roughly seventy-eight percent were beer drinkers, and I had no clue what the other twenty-two percent had swirling around with their ice. “A Diet Coke?”
He lifted an eyebrow in this sexy way—was that twice I’d thought of sex while staring at him?—and I could swear his eyes swept over me, although I knew I was deceiving myself. “Rough day at the office, was it?”
“No, I—” The lie had become a ready one. “Things are going quite smoothly.”
“Aye.” He grinned, and I realized he was making fun of my order, which made me feel even more out of place.
“You do have Diet Coke, I presume?” I snapped.
He seemed unfazed by my irritation. “Will Diet Pepsi do?”
I nodded rapidly. “Sure. Sure.” Anything to get him away from me, which was strangely what I wanted.
He made a glass appear from out of nowhere, filled it with ice, set it on the bar, and drew out a soda dispensing hose like a six-shooter in a Western saloon. He seemed unconcerned about watching what he was doing, as he was looking at me.
“You been in here before?”
Was it that obvious? “No. I’m meeting colleagues.”
He nodded, as if this explained it all. He released the trigger of the dispenser. The soda trickled out for a bit longer before coming to a stop, the glass filled perfectly to right below the rim, despite the fact he’d never checked it. He set the glass in front of me and I tried to regain my composure, and manners.
“Thank you.” I said it as if dismissing him, but he didn’t leave.
“At your service.” That smile again. I breathed through my accelerated heartbeat. He extended a hand. “Killian Murphey.”
I couldn’t help but be won over by his charm. “Josephine. Josephine Compton.”
“A lovely name.”
I made a face. “Hardly. But I do like Killian. It’s unusual.” I stirred my drink with my straw.
“Not so much in Ireland. And you’d hit a Murphey if you threw a rock.”
I smiled. And that would be a shame.
“Killian.”
Some guy at the other end of the bar was waving his hand. Killian frowned. “Hold your horses, Frankie.” He turned back. “You’ll not be disappearing on me, now?”
Planting my elbows on the bar, I rested my chin on my fists. Not a chance. He hadn’t moved, waiting for my response. “Hmm…oh,” I cleared my throat. “No. I’m not going anywhere.” I stared after him dreamily as he made his way to the other end of the bar, fighting the goofy smile I could feel on my face. Tight ass in denims. My God. Could he be more perfect?
He was talking, and laughing with his customer, but he shot another look my way. Then two leggie blondes walked by. Coming from the restroom, I supposed. “Hi, Killian,” they chimed simultaneously.
He looked over and gave them a grin. “Ladies.”
The smile on my face wilted. I lifted my head and my arms dropped to the bar. What was I thinking? He was, like…a rock god. And I was…Josephine Compton. Plain Jane, stick-in-the-mud. He was simply a natural flirt. Probably couldn’t help himself. He’d be his charming self whether I was eight or eighty.
I lowered my eyes and caught the time on my watch. Four-thirty. I jumped. All the complaining parents would have left by now, and I needed to get some paperwork done. Was it immature to run to the neighborhood bar to avoid confrontation? Probably. But I’d needed a break, even if it was only for a day. And I was scouting the locale. I hoped to minimize my awkwardness when I returned later with the lunch ladies. I slid off my stool, sending it teetered again. I put my hand on it, which saved it from tipping over when I knocked it with my purse while retrieving it from the bar. Giving Killian one last look as he drew bottles from a low shelf and checked their labels, I retrieved a five from my wallet and laid it on the bar. At least I’d found someone new to fantasize about.
I bustled out the door. My day dreaming would have to be put on the back burner. For now.
Dani
We stared out Paddy’s Pub’s window.
“Wanna bet on when she’s finally going to come in?” Sam said dryly. “Loser gets the first round.”
“Sure.” I watched as she opened the car door for the third time then closed it again. I spun around. “I say it’s going to be a good ten minutes more.”
“Umm…” Sam stretched her neck, gazing over my shoulder. “I say she’ll be in within thirty seconds or less.”
I whirled back to see Josephine Compton hit the sidewalk running alongside the building.
“Hey! That’s cheating! Killian. Tell her that’s not fair.”
The bartender shied away. “Don’t be pulling me into your ructions, woman.” He smiled and tapped the bar in front of me. “This is your wager.”
I pouted. “Coward.”
Sam leaned in, rolling her eyes. “She’s still got her suit on.” As the subject at hand was within hearing distance, her voice changed pitch. “Hi. Glad you came. Saved you a stool.” We had all three of the stools on the short side of the bar, right within the door. She patted the spot next to her, where I had been sitting before we rose to greet her.
I moved over to the last stool. “Yep. Got it all warmed up for you.”
“Thank you.”
Sam had filled me in on her finding our new principal crying, along with her plan to, as she succinctly put it, “Get the poor gal laid.”
Josephine plopped a ginormous purse onto the bar, her eyes darting around the room. “Where’s Mrs. Devine?”
“Hmm?” Sam raised her head to look at me, her forehead creased.
“Tara,” I explained.
“Oh. She…something came up.”
The truth was, Tara had said she wasn’t feeling well, but we both agreed she’d bailed because her boss was coming. The object she’d zeroed her frustrations on of late.
I glanced over. Killian had started in our direction, but drew up short for a second. He was probably disconcerted to see a newcomer with us. He slowly approached and planted his hands on the bar, arms spread wide. “Well, now. What’ll you ladies be havin’ tonight?” His smile seemed kind of tight. Must have had a bad day.
I took the lead. “Tequila.”
He raised his eyebrows. “One of those nights, is it?”
“Aye, Killian,” Sam did an awful imitation of his beautiful Irish accent.
He slapped three shot glasses on the bar, and trickled tequila into one. While he poured, he looked at Josephine, who was gaping at him for some reason. He tilted his head. “Who’s your pretty friend?”
She stared at him, but seemed to be struck dumb. He put the tequila back then extended his hand. “Killian Murphey. He snapped his heels together. “At your service.”
Even in the dimmer light, I noted the blush rising along Josephine’s neck to her cheeks. She placed her hand in his. The handshake seemed to steady her. That she was used to. “Josephi—”
“Josie,” Sam interrupted. “It’s Josie.”
“No, it’s not,” she protested.
Sam leaned in. “Josephine sounds like the aunt at the Thanksgiving table who always has lipstick on her teeth.”
The Queen of Tact strikes again. Though trying to be subtle, I’m pretty sure I caught “Josie” running her tongue along her teeth. I stifled a giggle.
“Josephine is a lovely name,” Killian corrected as he took out a bottle of Jameson’s and filled a second shot glass.
“Watch out for this guy.” Sam jerked her thumb in his direction. “He’s a sweet talker.”
“Oh.” Our protégé nodded then glanced away.
Killian frowned at Sam. “Now don’t be blowin’ smoke up the lass’s skirt.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Sam returned angelically. “I don’t even have a cigarette.”
He chuckled, holding the Jameson’s suspended over the glass nearest to Sam.
She covered it with a hand. “No. Don’t give me that crap. How about a Redheaded Slut?”
He gave a slight shiver, but reached for the Jaeger. He added a fourth shot glass in front of Josephine. “And you, miss?”
“Oh, I don’t—”
Sam stuck her arm out in front of Josephine. “She’ll have…whatever you’re having.”
He hesitated, looking at Sam first, then at Josephine for confirmation.
She lowered her voice, speaking to Sam. “But I’m the principal. I should probab—”
“You aren’t tonight.” She pointed to the glass, watching Killian expectantly. He waited until Josephine nodded her head, then looked like he was going to say something, but closed his mouth and filled the glass.
We held our glasses up, and Josephine followed suit.
Killian leaned in, his green eyes twinkling. “As me Uncle Seamus was fond of sayin’, may you die in your bed at ninety-five, shot by a jealous spouse.”
This was our tradition. We’d start with a shot, and Killian would make a toast or tell a joke. He never failed to give us something new and delightfully Killian.
“Hear, hear.” Sam clinked glasses with him, and he, in turn, tapped mine, and Josephine’s. He held his glass against hers until she looked at him, then they simultaneously drank.
Josephine winced and swallowed. “Wow.” Her eyes were tearing. “Oh, wow. That tastes like something I’d use to clean my pipes.” She put a hand in the center of her chest and gave her head one hard shake. “Man. It burns. Uhh…could I please get a water?”
“No water.” Sam pointed to Josie’s empty glass. “Another.”
Killian frowned. “Oh, come now. Give the lass a break.” He filled a glass of water and slid it across to our victim. I mean, new friend.
“She needs—” Sam began, but someone down the bar signaled, and Killian headed that way. She scowled at his back, then returned her attention to Josie, turning on her stool to face her squarely. She set her hand on the bar in front of Josephine and seemed to be collecting her thoughts. We waited. “So, Josie. It appeared like you weren’t having the best day earlier when I was in the office.”
She flinched, but recovered quickly. “Oh, no. Everything was…great.”
“Great?” Sam raised her gaze to mine.
I shook my head. I didn’t have any ideas for her.
“Okay. Let’s take another tact.” She glanced over as Killian came in our direction, but he stopped a few feet away and began to wash glasses. “So, I’m new. And Dani here is relatively new. Let’s get to know one another.”
Josie’s head bobbed. “Sounds good.” Her speech was freer. In fact, her whole body seemed looser than before. Could she be tipsy already? From one shot?
“Okay.” The corners of Sam’s lips curled up, reminding me of the Grinch’s, right before he robbed all the Whos. “Dani and I both moved here from Bloomington, Illinois where we worked together in a lunchroom of a private school.”
Josie again nodded in an exaggerated fashion. “I remember that from your—” she put a fist to her chest with a pained expression. The Jameson’s must be kicking back again. “—excuse me—paperwork.”
Sam’s raised her eyebrows. “You do?”
She nodded.
“Oh. Okay. Cool.” She looked at me, smiled, and went on. “And you said you were from Wahoo. Small town. About what would you say the population is?”
“Four thousand-four hundred-forty-nine, at last count.”
Sam patted her hand. “How very…precise of you.” Her sarcasm went right over Josie’s head. She rubbed a finger along the grain of the bar wood. “Umm…I recently married, and Dani’s married to a roadie.”
Josephine turned to me, her mouth open and eyes wide.
“He’s a lawyer who occasionally works as a roadie.”
Without confirming this, Sam started in again. “How about you? Married? Boyfriend?” She was trying to act casual, but the way her eyes flicked immediately to Josie made it clear, at least to me, this was the question she was working up to all along.
A shadow fell on the bar, and I glanced over. Killian was a hint closer than before. He held a glass to the light as if examining it, shot a look our way, then put the glass back in the water. I guess it didn’t pass inspection.
Josie dropped her head a fraction and shook it. “Currently available.” She sighed, making my heart go out to her.
“Really?” Sam caught my eye and grinned.
“Yes.” She twisted her stool from side to side as she talked. “It’s hard, with the number of hours I work, to…you know, meet people.”
“Yes. I can understand that.” Sam’s mouth dropped open, and she took a deep breath. “You know what? I have a great idea. What if Dani and I offer you some dating suggestions? Maybe that could help.”
She stopped fidgeting. “You’d do that?”
“Well, yes. Of course. Friends do that kind of thing for each other. Right, Dani?”
I had zoned out for a second, watching Killian and his dishwashing. He’d washed the same glass four times. How dirty could it be?
“Right, Dani?” she snarled.
I jumped. “Oh, yes, right. Of course.”
Sam dug into the Michael Kors purse dangling from her chair and drew out some papers, unfolding them onto the bar and pressing them with her hand to keep them open. “I happened to be thinking about this the other day—my daughter Elise has reached the dating age—”
“Thirteen?”
She glared at me. “They start young these days, Dani. Anyways, I was thinking about what sort of dating advice I’d give her and wrote out a few things.”
I shifted my gaze. Killian was stretching his neck, drying a glass with a towel, and appeared to be trying to get a gander at Sam’s notes. Curious? I was a smidge surprised he hadn’t joined us. He usually spent the majority of the evening talking to us. Maybe he was uncomfortable in Josie’s presence.
“Okay. One—go out with a group of friends. It makes you seem more interesting.” She gestured to me, then to herself. “You’ve got that covered.”
Josie was rooting through her purse.
Sam looked at me and I shrugged. She turned back to Josie. “What are you doing?”
Josie froze. “I was…going to take notes. So I don’t forget.”
“Oh.” She grinned and patted her on the back. “Nice. But you don’t need to,” she added quickly. “You can have these.”
“But what about your daughter?”
Sam wrinkled her forehead. “My daughter?”
“Won’t she need them?”
“Oh. Yeah.”
Smooth.
“I can make another page of notes for her.” She scanned the paper. “Next. Umm…number two—dress sexy.”
“Does it really say that on there?” I made a swipe at the notes, but she tugged them away and shielded them with her body. “These are my suggestion, not yours, Dani.” She looked Josie over. “This will not do.”
She wriggled on her stool. “Oh, okay.”
I glared at Sam. We were supposed to be building Josephine up, not tearing her down. Be nice, I mouthed.
“Not that it’s not a nice suit. I mean…” she looked it over again. “It’s fine. Great. For the office. But not in here.”
Josephine ran her gaze over my outfit—jeans and a silky blue shirt—then checked out Sam’s jeans, impossibly high heels, and low-cut, tight, black T-shirt. With Sam, it wasn’t the clothes she wore, it was the way she wore them.
“I don’t have anything like you’re wearing, really. The majority of my closet is filled with suits, and I have two dresses to wear to weddings and special occasions.” She put a finger on her lip, looking as if she was mentally going through her clothes. “Oh. And a black dress.”
Sam brightened. “Black dress? That could be promising. Is it sexy black or funeral black?”
“Uhh….” She looked sheepish.
“Why’d I even ask?” Sam muttered, putting a hand on her forehead and shaking her head. I wished she were close enough to kick. She folded her arms, leaning them on the edge of the bar, slouching.
Josie hung her head a little, becoming even quieter than usual. I searched my brain for some way to salvage the evening. I was startled when Sam suddenly came back to life, pushing away from the bar and making Josie jump.
“Well, that’s it, then.” She shoved the papers back in her purse and began rooting around inside it. She plucked out her car keys and held them aloft. “We’re going shopping.”