When Irish Eyes Are Smiling Ch. 06

"Pretty?" I supplied scornfully.

"No—I mean, yeah, he was, but his attention was so flattering—"

"Your looks were the least part of you to me. You were everything to me, and you threw it away, threwmeaway, for a piece of ass that made you feel young. Well, you waited too long to come to your senses. It's too late and this is why..." I picked up Devlin's gift off the bench next to me and held it out. "Read the card."

I knew he'd be able to decipher the meaning of the Gaelic because I'd often said and written such things for him, so he'd learned enough to be able to read my little love notes. He looked up from the words, the hope that'd been in his eyes nearly dead. My heart constricted. I wished I didn't have to be so harsh with him. He'd never been treated like this before. All his life he'd been the Golden Boy, getting everything he wanted with a snap of his fingers, or a covetous glance from his long-lashed eyes. Even after what he'd done, it still wounded me to inflict such an injury on him. His spine suddenly stiffened, he squared his shoulders and lifted his head, gathering his bravado for one last sally.

"What does he have that I don't?"

"My heart."

*Devlin*

The jukebox at theLounge Lizardwas playing Elvis, thank heavens. No Patsy. Not tonight, please God.

I sat at the bar, staring at the twist of lemon peel the bartender had dropped into my half-price, happy-hour vodka, my fourth so far. I hadn't reached the "stumbling all over the place" phase, but I was well on my way. I couldn't stop thinking that Karma had just given me a big, nasty bite on the ass. I'd thought I possessed Joel, but he'd been the one to possess me. I'd given myself to him in ways I'd never given myself to anyone, piece by most vulnerable piece. Irony of ironies, he owned me and I, apparently, had nothing.

Payback for all the times I've done it to others, fucked 'em then left if they'd been guys, bleed their love dry if they'd been girls. What a piece of work I was. I couldn't even get mad at Joel. I'd been trying to for over an hour now and it just wasn't happening.

Eric, on the other hand, I could cheerfully kill. Coming into my life and fucking up the best relationship I ever had. Him, I could hate. I could also be pissed that I hadn't been given the chance to compete with him for Joel. I still might have lost, but I wish I could have fought that swish face to face. I would have mopped the floor with him.

I took a sip at the vodka and wiped furiously at my eyes. They kept threatening to spill over. I hated that.Come on, Devlin! Man up! So the ride's over, so what? Yeah, Joel's different. Yeah, the sex rocked your world. But it's only been four fuckin' weeks. Why go on about it? Did you really want happily-ever-after? You? The randy bi-sexual who'll fuck anything on two legs?

"You look a little blue." A woman's voice. She was perched two stools down, sipping a pink lady. Her silky, chestnut hair was pinned up into a chignon, giving emphasis to her long neck and large brown eyes.

"Shitty day," I muttered.

She glanced slyly at the empty square of wood near the jukebox that served as a dance floor. "Don't suppose you'd like to take a spin? Get your mind off things?"

Hold to another person, she meant. I was about to decline when Elvis finished singing about his blue suede shoes. The antique juke clicked and whirled and fetched out another single. "Crazy" started up. Wouldn't ya know it?

"Sure. Why not?" I said, slipping off my seat. She came down as well. She was wearing a little black dress that outlined every magnificent curve. Wonderful hips and ass. She had great legs, too, elegant in three-inch heels.

We moved to the dance floor, and I gathered her into an embrace, letting my hand drift down from back to hip as Patsy cooed. It was strange to once again have a woman's mascara-painted eyes gazing up at me. Her arm was soft and weighty, her hand on my shoulder light. Her manicured nails traced my neck, lifting up the hairs there.

"I'm Pam," she said.

"Devlin," I returned as she snuggled in closer. Her breasts pressed in against my chest and I could feel her warmth through the thin cotton of my shirt. Our feet moved and I leaned in closer, enjoying her perfume.

"You doing anything tonight?" she whispered in my ear.

I smiled bleakly at that. Besides getting falling down drunk, no, nothing. I heard a sound from the doorway then, and from the corner of my eye, caught sight of a familiar figure. Joel, fedora in hand, was staring at me. Patsy Cline came to an end.

Joel gave me an unfathomable look. Then, setting down a gift-wrapped package upon a small table, he turned and very calmly, very deliberately left.

Oh. Fuck me.

I darted for the door, none too steady, and threw it open. It was still light outside, the air warm from the heat of the day. People passed by, laughingly making their way to evening events. I looked in all directions; I couldn't find Joel anywhere.

I went back inside, pausing at the little table where Joel had left a slim, flat box about the size of notebook paper. It was very simply wrapped in silver with a black ribbon and a little black gift card.

Pam came up to my side. "Something wrong?" she asked delicately. Which made me feel really bad because she was obviously a nice enough lady.

"Yeah. Completely wrong. I'm sorry. I don't think...I don't think I'm going to be very good company tonight."

*Joel*

I tried calling Devlin, but all I got was his voice mail. "Shit! He must've turned his phone off," I said, hanging up and putting my phone back in its holster. Eric was still sitting next to me, still staring at me.

"Look...I don't know why you think you've lost anything just because you're starting to age finally. You're still a great looking man, and will probably leave behind a fantastic looking corpse some day."

He smiled feebly, tears cutting streaks into his foundation. I gave him my napkins, "What you have to do is stop relying on only your looks. You need to go out there, and find yourself a man who'll love you and who you love, but not because you look good in a bathing suit, or because he's twenty years younger than you are. You need to find someone who can be your partner instead of your boy-toy, arm candy. Some day you'll figure out that doing something for no more reason than because you know, or at least hope, that it'll make him smile is the definition of being in love. That the day you'll be ready to have the kind of relationship you pretended to want with me.

"Now, I have to go find Devlin, and try to explain this déan praiseach de."

"God, I am so sorry, Joel. This is all my fault...again. I just don't understand why you didn't get those messages."

"It's not entirely your fault. If I'd've replied to even one of your messages, telling you that I had someone, this wouldn't have happened.

"Unfortunately, I felt like my life was finally getting back on track, and I didn't want to deal with you suddenly coming back, so I tried to ignore it. It was cowardly, and just plain wrong. It's through now though, and I have to go." I stood up, dropped the rest of my mostly uneaten muffin into the can next to the bench, and looked back at Eric for a second.

"I'm sorry about how things have turned out for you, and I honestly hope things work out for you. Sometimes, Eric...sometimes you've got to stop chasing the rainbow to get the pot of gold."

I set off down the sidewalk, hoping like Hell that Devlin would believe me when I found him. He'd initially gone in the direction ofThe Lounge Lizard, so I was going to check there first. I figured I'd try his apartment next and if he weren't there either, I'd try at Deb and Brian's. If he wasn't at any of those places—well, I'd cross that bridge when I came to it.

I paused as I stepped through the door, glancing around while I waited for my eyes to adjust to the much darker interior of the bar. Patsy's sweet contralto filled the room as I scanned the mostly empty barstools for Devlin's outline. I spotted him over by the jukebox. My heart faltered, plummeting into my stomach when I realized that he was dancing with some woman. Not just dancing with her, he was all over her, his hands groping her backside, while she giggled and snuggled up against him. He turned his head and saw me standing there watching him just as the song ended, plunging the room into a nearly oppressive silence. He had this look on his face, as if he couldn't understand why I was there. My heart started beating again, every pulse pure agony. My chest and throat were so tight I had to struggle to breathe.

Well, this is it,I heard myself think,at the least sign of trouble the first thing he does is run into the arms of some bimbo. He's made his decision, and apparently, I'm not what he wants.Knowing I could never compete with a woman, I took the two steps needed to reach the nearest table. Gently, I set his gift down. The knot in my throat hardened, the silver wrapping paper blurred, and I knew I had to get out of there before I disgraced myself in public a second time that day.

I kept my composure the full thousand miles to the door, but bolted as soon as my sneakers hit the sidewalk. I ran full out, the world a watercolor wash in front of my eyes. I tried to avoid the other pedestrians, but some of them dodged the wrong way, causing us to collide. I just kept going, moving as fast as I could. I had to get home, to be alone, away from questioning glances and possible words of concern. I ran as if the Huntmaster's Hounds were snapping at my heels.

*Devlin*

I picked up the gift, went back to the bar, and paid my tab. I had turned off my cell phone; I powered it back up long enough to call a cab, not trusting myself behind the wheel. Thirty minutes later, I was at Deb and Brian's door, the gift Joel had left still in my arms. The vodka had hit on the way there and the world, while not on its side, was tilting alarmingly. It took me two tries to ring the doorbell.

"What on Earth—?" It was Deb who answered.

"Can I come in?"

She took my arm and got me into the living room. Brian shut off the television as I stepped forward and got to his feet, alarmed.

"Dev? What's happened? What's going on?"

"Joel left me."

"Oh shit."

They both sank down into chairs, giving me the couch. "What did you do?" Deb asked.

"Deb!" Brian said, but I laughed bitterly and hugged Joel's unopened gift to my chest.

"No...no, if she were me and me were me, I'd ask myself the same thing!"

Brian frowned at that. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Not enough. But Deb knows me. She knows me. I haven't got it. I'm some kind of emotional dyslexic. I hold on when I should let go and let go when I should hold on. I'm always the one who fucks it up."

My long-suffering friend glanced over at his wife. "I'm guessing three vodkas."

"At least," she agreed.

"With a twist of lemon," I confirmed, then plowed on. "I blew it. I mean, either he saw me dancing with a woman and thought the worst, or he came to tell me it was all over, and saw me with a woman, and decided I didn't deserve an explanation, because he had no idea why I was with that woman. The gift—" I pointed to it, there on my chest like a shield. "This gift should tell me which, but I'm afraid to open it. It could be a break-up gift. Have you ever done that? I did that once. You hand someone a gift to let them know how wonderful they've been, but the relationship's over. Bye-bye. Can you believe I did that to someone? God, what a shit I am! Joel was so right to dump me. What was I saying?"

"He gave you a gift?" Deb prompted.

"Yes! How could I do something like that on a day that he got me a present? And I know what you're gonna say. There were all those phone calls—did I mention the phone calls?"

"No," Brian sighed, "What phone calls?" he asked, but I was too busy talking to myself by now.

"Maybe he's been seeing Eric for a while, so maybe this was some kind of guilt gift. Know what I say?So what?He and I were good. Fuckin'-A. What does it matter if he was seein' another guy. I shouldn't have freaked. Can I use your bathroom? I think I'm going to throw up."

Brian held my head while I barfed up my stomach. Afterwards, Deb got me on the couch and forced me to drink plenty of water. None of us had had dinner yet, so Brian ordered up a pizza, the ancient cure for alcohol poisoning. I told them the story while taking down as much as I could manage of a plain double cheese slice, ordered in kindness to my tummy.

"This is stupid," was Deb's opinion. "There's been a misunderstanding, crossed-wires or something. I don't even know what you're doing here. Go talk to him!"

Brian, however, understood. "He can't. Not yet. Not when he can't even think straight." He put his arm around me.

They let me crash in the guest bedroom, and I did crash for a while. Somewhere in the middle of the night, though, I woke and couldn't get back to sleep. That's when I finally got up the courage to open the present. I lifted up the flap of the giftcard, first. On the white interior was a single line in Joel's handwriting:A halainn stór, tá grá agam duit~Joel.

I hadn't the foggiest what it meant. Him and his damn Gaelic. I removed the silver wrapping paper, revealing a white cardboard box. Something shifted inside. Breaking the tape at the sides, I lifted the lid.

It was a black and white photo of Joel on his Harley, color accents here and there to make it pop. Its artistry made me suspect Katie had been behind the lens. It was set....My stomach flipped. The picture had been taken at the glade we'd hiked to that first Sunday together. The one where I'd made love to him in the grass. Katie had put it a little out of focus, but I recognized it. I could almost smell the wildflowers; hear the tree branches rustling.

Joel, in jeans and a leather vest, was resting back on the seat of his bike, a bottle of whisky in hand. His fedora was hung on one of the handlebars, leaving his head bare, his dark hair ready to be mussed. His right leg dangled while the left was up and across the seat, giving me a view of one bare foot. Had he forgotten his Birkenstocks again? I wondered with a smile.

The pose wasn't explicitly erotic, but it certainly invited me to fantasize. The vest was open, displaying his thick chest hair, that wonderful pelt that a man could run his fingers through. Down below were those jeans, the ones almost blown out at the knees. The top button was undone, just enough to tantalize, to make me want to reach in and undo the rest of those buttons. The Glenlevit rested near, the cap off, and I could imagine that he'd just set it down after taking a swig. If I kissed him, the scotch on his tongue would set fire to mine.

The whiskey was one of the color accents, its rich hue matching the gold flakes on the Harley's fender. It drew the eye to that area, to Joel's hidden cock. I slipped my hand under the waistband of my shorts. My dick wasn't interested in arousal, but it wanted to be touched. I jacked it gently, unable to take my eyes off the photograph.

I'd thought the vest was black, but I could see now that it was green, like the eyes. Joel's eyes, there above that whimsical smile. They were the last item in color, Shamrock green and with that twinkle. A softie at heart who could raise a little hell as well. Those eyes were looking right at the camera, right at me.

I swallowed past the knot in my throat, and pulled at my cock, which had thickened, but refused to get hard. It wanted Joel's Scotch-flavored kisses, wanted me to run my fingers through his chest hair, lower those jeans and take his velvet smooth cock in my mouth. And I wanted the same. I wanted to smell Joel and have him. I wanted to show him how much I was willing to change for him. Most of all, I wanted his eyes gazing at me again. His eyes admiring me as they had at the coffeehouse, at the gym, while making love.

When Joel's eyes were on me, I became something more. Without them, I wasn't anything at all.

It was just a stupid misunderstanding, what had happened between us. Like Deb said. It had to be. But inside, I still quailed.

"Jesus, Joel," I couldn't help whispering, "please, tell me this photo wasn't a farewell gift."