![]() “No, thank you,” I said, still staring at her. She pulled out a bag of ginger candies and offered me one. January rummaged through her purse as the boy pulled out of the airport and onto the M1. “No problems, miss.” He smiled at her and I stifled the urge to knock his block off. “Thank you,” she said, settling in beside him. January floored me when she grabbed her bag and left me in the backseat on my own. The boy looked at me briefly but his eyes lit up when they hit January’s hopeful glance. “Can I-Could I sit up there with you then?” “Oh, okay,” she said, wringing her hands. I’d guess we’d arrive closer to half past, miss.” But there’s likely traffic on the M50 ’bout this time ‘a day. “Right ’bout twenty minutes usually, Miss. I almost laughed as I turned my body slightly toward hers and took in her awkward body language. “I’ve been told to take you to Dublin HQ. “Uh, about how long to our hotel?” she asked the driver. The driver got in on the right side of the vehicle throwing me off for a moment. “Yeah,” she said, her face contorting oddly as she forced a smile. ![]() I slid in beside her as the driver placed our bags in the backseat. ![]() She slid in and placed her hand on the back of the front seat ahead of her, her grip nervous. I didn’t have the heart to tell January that this was the last decent piece of transportation she was going to see on our entire scouting adventure. The boy-driver opened the back door to a black Mercedes. “Yeah, that’s why he’s being so nice,” I said, but she didn’t catch the sarcasm. “They’re so nice here,” she said to me under her breath as the boy led us to the car. Here, let me,” he said, dropping her hand and grabbing her bag. The boy’s face turned from surprised to exceedingly pleased as he drank her body in. ![]() She stuck her hand out, surprising the boy. “Hi!” January exclaimed jauntily, reminding me she was definitely from Texas. “Mister Eriksson?” A boy probably not much older than January dressed in a black suit asked in the thickest Irish brogue I’d ever heard. There was no one else around, but the guy held the sign up as we approached him like his job depended on it. The label had a car waiting for us courtesy of a driver carrying one of those absurd signs with our names on it. “That one,” she said, pointing to another canvas duffel almost identical to mine but in a paler shade of green.Īn unguarded smile spread across her beautiful face and my hand slid slowly to my chest as a crackling feeling set deep within began to pop and shiver, another icy layer melting away. My duffel came into view and I reached to grab it, tossing it near our feet. “Let me know which one’s yours,” I gently commanded. The revolving carousel was now full of suitcases but we hadn’t been paying attention. She made me smile but I turned away so she couldn’t see. “I made it my job to know good music, Tom. “How did you even know about us?” I asked in disbelief.Ī smile turned up at the corner of her mouth before she looked away then at the ground. I was so disappointed when I heard you disbanded.” “I seriously loved the hell out of your music. “Really,” she said, turning my way and looking me dead in the face. She gently stamped her foot in frustration at the giveaway. “You guys were, uh,” she swallowed, her face burning even brighter. I tried not to do a little dance at that new development. She cleared her throat and her face burnt a bright red. “Shut the hell up! You were not part of The Ivories.”
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