She lifted her chin. “Am—”
Abruptly, I jerked my head to the movie poster. “Have you seen that movie?”
Her eyes darted to the poster, to me, then to my stomach. “Yeah. Own it.”
“An old movie for you to be into,” I prodded.
“Yeah, well, my brother wants to be a fighter pilot because of an even older movie,” she pointed out accurately. “We’re a movie family.”
This could not be denied.
“Something in that movie that speaks to you like Tom Cruise speaks to your brother?” I pushed, but did it on a smile, hoping that would work to get her to open up to me, but doing that not thinking it was a probability.
I was correct.
Her gaze came to mine. “Well, yeah. Obviously.”
It was far from obvious to me.
She said no more.
This was not good.
“What, honey?” I queried. “What does that movie say to a girl like you?”
She looked away.
My phone in my hand chimed.
I looked down at it and saw Mickey’s return text, Got it. See you soon.
I looked back to Ash. “Ash—”
“Here it is! Better?” Cillian asked from behind me.
I twisted and watched as he leaped into the room, landed right on clothes (and didn’t care) and threw his arms out.
His hair was now slicked back like an Italian movie gangster.
“Much better,” I lied.
He looked to his sister. “Right. Let’s go.”
“Not goin’, Cill,” she replied.
He stared at her. “You are.”
“I’m staying,” she told him.
“You’re goin’,” he told her.
“No, I’m not,” she returned.
“Yes, you are,” he shot back then snapped, “This is a big thing for Dad.”
“I’m—” she began.
But I cut her off. “Going. Up, Ash. Now, blossom. We shouldn’t keep your father waiting.”
“But I—”
“Please, honey,” I whispered. “He trusted me to get his kids there and now I’m asking you to please help me do what he asked of me.”
It was a complete gambit, me playing the new-girlfriend-being-tested card. Mickey would never do that to me.
But I was hoping she cared enough about me, me with Mickey, and her dad to think that it was me who wanted to make sure I gave her dad what he wanted and she’d go along.
“All right, whatever,” she mumbled, pushing away from her headboard.
I hid my sigh of relief.
“I get shotgun in the Rover!” Cillian cried and raced out the door.
She trudged toward me and I watched her do it, wondering what was crushing Mickey’s pretty girl.
I wouldn’t find out that night but I had to do something.
So I caught her hand and held it firm so she stopped trudging and looked up at me.
“Something’s up with you and I don’t want to make something that’s obviously bad any worse, but I do want you to know it’s worrying your dad. It’s worrying me. He wants to help you get beyond that something and I want the same thing. I told you once you can talk to me about anything. I’ll say it again. Anytime, Aisling. Anything. You need me, I’m there.”
“Okay, Amy,” she replied and I knew she did it just so I’d shut up.
I still nodded like we had an understanding and gave her a small smile.
“Let’s get going.”
“Guys! Hurry!” Cill shouted from the front of the house.
“Coming!” I shouted back, walking out of Aisling’s room, feeling Mickey’s girl following me.
* * * * *
We hit the Town Hall late, so at a bad time. Most everyone had taken a seat and it was clear the meeting was about to begin.
Mickey hadn’t taken a seat. When we walked in, he was standing off to the side at the back talking with a tall, very handsome man wearing a sheriff shirt complete with badge, this paired with jeans.
Like he could sense our presence, we’d barely entered before Mickey looked to us.
He lifted his chin. I smiled and he looked back to the man he was with. They spoke a few words, clapped each other on the arm in a way I knew, if either of them had done that to me, I’d have a bruise, then Mickey broke off and sauntered our way.
He looked amongst us but his gaze stopped on his son.
Then when he arrived at us, he asked, “You got an offer I can’t refuse?”
“What?” Cillian asked back.
Mickey gave his boy an easy grin, curled a hand on the side of his neck, tugged him side to side and answered, “Nothin’.” He let Cill go and looked to Ash. “Hey, baby.”
She looked to him then to his arm. “Hey, Dad.”
He looked to me.
I gave him big eyes.
He took them in, bent and touched his mouth to mine.
“Hey,” he said when he’d moved away.
“Hey back,” I replied.
“Does my son have a tommy gun in the Rover?” he asked and I smiled.
“This hairdo is better than the first, trust me,” I replied.
His eyes started dancing.
“If we can all take seats, we’ll begin,” someone said over a microphone.
“Let’s move,” Mickey ordered, shifting out of the way for us to precede him then following us.
As a pack, we moved down the center aisle of the angled bench seating that looked like a church but was much smaller and had zero decoration except a couple bulletin boards covered in fliers informing Magdalene residents of various happenings.
We shifted into a bench, Ash then Cill, me then Mickey.
We sat down and the minute we did, an older man who sat in the bench in front of us and had been watching our progress turned fully to Mickey. He had short cropped, metal-gray hair that was thinning on the top and red cheeks like Santa Claus.
“Mick,” he greeted.
“Bobby,” Mickey greeted back, lifting an arm and stretching it along the seat behind me. “You haven’t met Amy.”
Bobby turned smiling brown eyes my way and said, “Nope, but I licked the crumbs outta one of those plastic things, which gave me a hint of what has now become legendary brownies to the MFD.”
I loved that and showed him by smiling brightly and promising, “I’ll make more for Mickey to bring in when you’re around.” I lifted my hand to him. “It’s good to meet you, chief.”
He reached over the back of the bench and squeezed my hand, replying, “Likewise.” He let me go and his focus went to Mickey. “Quick question, son. You into somethin’ with Boston Stone?”