Sad_Girl
Blue Crack Supplier
*Disclaimer: 100% Bologna. Horse Manure. All Crap.
The promises we make pt 4 - B
“So, what else haven’t you told me?” Bono asked as soon as he had steered the car out of the driveway and onto the main road. Angel smiled to herself in the darkness of the car’s interior.
“Like I said, lots of stuff.” She teased.
“Like…” He urged, and in the soft glow of the dashboard lights she watched him as he shifted gears, bringing the maserati up to nearly break neck speeds. She really did admire the way his legs tensed, thigh muscles bulging as he pressed down on the clutch. The anticipation of what this night could bring had already been torturing her. Now, in the intimate glow of the dash, with soft music drifting out of the stereo, her thoughts were not on her past. No, her thoughts were most definitely on the present and the possibilities of the very near future.
“I don’t know. There’s plenty I don’t know about you, either.” She replied, reaching out to run her fingers through his soft hair. He smiled a sideways smile at her, knowing she was wondering where the night would be taking them. He’d been dropping little hints in her ear all evening, alluding to the fact that she didn’t have to go back to the hotel room where she had, so far, insisted on staying.
“Bollix. I’m an open book.” He replied.
“Literally. I saw several books about you last time I went to the book store.” She laughed.
“Ok, so tell me about the last man you were dating. Before me.” He suggested, guiding the direction of her revelations.
“That was Greg. I believe my old partner told you all about him.” She told him on a sigh, her hand falling away from stroking his hair.
“Your fiancée’? Wasn’t that more than two years ago?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry, I just assumed you had seen someone else between…” He told her, suddenly beginning to fathom the depth of emotion which she had felt for the man. “What was he like?” He asked, hoping to understand her better.
“Why do you want to know?” She asked.
“Because I just realized I really don’t know anything about your past. I know everything I’ve seen. I mean, I know how you take your coffee and that your nose wrinkles when you get irritable.” He told her, smirking a bit and pointing at her. “Yeah, just like that.” He teased, and she realized he was right. She chuckled and turned her head to look out the window into the night.
“But I don’t know anything about your past. I didn’t realize you had grown up on a reservation, for example. You have told me all about being a cop, but I don’t even know how you feel about God and religion.” He told her.
“Well, my parents named me Angel. That might give you some clue about my religious upbringing.” She told him playfully. “I’m what you might call a lapsed Catholic.”
“How many languages do you speak?” He asked as he steered the car into the drive and through the massive front gates to his home.
“Three, if you count English.” She told him. “And I see we decided I’m staying here tonight?”
“I thought you might like to come in for awhile and talk.” He told her with a roguish grin.
“Mmm-hmm. We could talk in the car. Or the hotel.” She told him, leaning in closer to him, her dark eyes heavy lidded and revealing the desire she had stopped trying to hide. He obviously knew how she felt anyway.
“Or here.” He added, leaning across the gear shifter to brush a whispery kiss over her lips. “Do you speak Spanish?” He asked in an intimate whisper.
“Yeah, not as well as you might think, but I can get by in Spanish. Why?” She asked suspiciously. He licked his lips and smiled at her.
“I think a woman speaking Spanish is very sexy.” He informed her, his eyes watching her lips.
“Do you speak Spanish?” She asked, laughing at him.
“A little.” He replied.
“Right. Uno, Dos, tres, catorce.” Angel teased.
“I also know Taco, burrito, enchilada…” he joked and she shook her head at him.
“Usted es muy atractivo. Voluntad usted me ama?” She said on a whisper, making his blue eyes sparkle.
“What did you say?” He asked.
“I told you an Irishman should never try to speak Spanish.” She told him playfully.
“No, you didn’t.” He argued, rubbing his nose against hers.
“Mmm… I guess that’s for me to know and you to find out, amante.” She told him, slipping out of her seat belt and then out of the car, making her way slowly to the door. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked away and so put a little extra sway into her step.
She heard the car door slam behind him, the garage door closing automatically at the push of a button. She had just entered the security code and opened the door when he rushed up behind her, grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her to face him.
“What are you…” She started to ask, but found herself breathless as his mouth covered hers, hot and wet and aggressive. She was nearly knocked off balance, wrapping her arms around him, tilting her head so she could return his kiss. She shivered as one of his big hands slid up her back to wrap itself up in her hair. Her eyes were closed as he guided her backwards into the house.
He kissed her completely breathless, continuing to lead her through the house, his hands caught up in her hair. When they hit the stairs, they stumbled up the first two and gave up, sinking to sit on the carpeted steps rather than trying to climb them while so distracted. Angel didn’t really pay any attention to the fact that they were in the stairwell, they could’ve still been in the garage for all she cared.
The world around them ceased to have any meaning whatsoever. All she knew was the heat from his mouth; the intensity of his slow, deep kisses, and they way they brought every nerve in her body to a heightened state of awareness. One thick hand slid out of her silky hair to trace her lips as he stared down into her face for a moment. The tickle of his finger against her lips made her shiver.
Recovering quickly, she licked her lip to get rid of the tickle, bending and catching his finger in her mouth. She curled her tongue around his finger, framing it as she slid it slowly out of her mouth, leaning back to expose the curve of her neck as she gathered a deep breath. Bono’s mouth found her warm flesh there, sucking gently to elicit a moan from her.
She slid her hands under his leather jacket and slipped it quickly from his shoulders, leaving it forgotten where it fell. Her hands worked the buttons of his shirt quickly and did the same with it, splaying out across his broad chest and through the dark, course hair. His skin was hot to the touch, and *Oh, God!* did he smell good as she breathed his scent in deeply.
Edited her for content. To summarize, Angel and Bono deepen the intamacy of their relationship
(Yes, I have the original for thoseof you interested in the full version; those who are not offended by love scenes. I respect the reason for not posting them openly, but I also understand they are some people's favorite parts of the story)
Bono smiled crookedly at her, following her up the stairs. He stared in fascination at the tattoo on the small of her back. He reached out and traced it with one finger.
“Never figured you for a tattoo girl.” He told her honestly. She smiled at him as she entered his bedroom, then stretched out face down on the bed.
“Does that mean you don’t like it?” She asked, peeking out from above her folded arms, upon which she rested her head. Bono lay beside her, idly stroking the length of her smooth back with the tips of his fingers.
“I didn’t say that.” He replied, he could be just as coy as she could, since she was obviously feeling playful. He watched as her eyes drifted shut, and she ‘hmm’ed softly.
“You’re putting me to sleep, rubbing my back like that.” She informed him.
“That’s ok. I’ll still be here when you wake up.” He replied, covering them over with the blankets and pulling her in tight against his body. She rested her cheek against his chest, wrapping an arm around his waist. The rhythm of his heartbeat lulling her quickly into a sound sleep, and the soft warmth of her body wrapped around his did the same for him.
***************************************************
Trine couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t really a surprise, she had always been a night person. Tonight, she couldn’t stop thinking about some of the clubs she had seen when they were in Dublin, and imagining how much fun she would have if she could just go. As much fun as she had with the bands, they were still not only considerably older than her, but being the child of one of them made them all act as if they were parents.
She wanted to be treated like an adult. A cool adult. A sexy adult. She had to admit, she was jealous of the way the men treated the older women. It would be nice, she thought, to have a man look at her the way Bono had looked at Angel earlier. To flirt with her the way Edge had with Tessa.
She had already pilfered some of Cat’s clothes, earlier in the day. At the time she was just sort of playing around, but now, she thought, maybe with those clothes and a little luck she could pass for old enough. Old enough to go to the clubs. Old enough to be out in the city alone. Old enough for anything which came her way.
She hurriedly slid into the pair of leather pants which she had purchased in Vegas and never believed she would actually wear. Then she pulled on the white lace shirt she had ‘borrowed’ from Cat, and a maroon velvet choker added to her still semi-gothic look. She pulled her hair back out of her face with a couple of barrettes and applied just a little eye shadow and some dark red lipstick.
She stared at herself in the mirror, surprised at what she saw. She was *almost* pretty. She slid her finger under her lower lip to remove the piercing there and then stared into the mirror some more. With a little powder, she couldn’t even see the hole. She slid several of the earrings she wore out, until she had only two in each ear. She still liked the way the nose stud looked; sort of like a semi-precious pimple, she thought with a giggle.
She decided she could always put the piercings back in later, and she looked more grown up without quite so many. She wasn’t ready to get rid of the one in her tongue, though; she wasn’t about to go through that whole process again on a whim.
She snuck out of her room, down the hallway and out toward the main common area of the house. She paused in the hallway, her heart stopping when she thought she heard someone moving. Maybe coming out, where they would catch her and ask her just what she was up to. She held her breath and listened carefully. Nothing. She hurried on into the foyer where she searched through coat pockets until she found a set of keys.
She smiled triumphantly and soon she was behind the wheel and on her way into the city. She had to constantly keep reminding herself to keep the car on the left side of the road, especially during the stretches of road which were empty of other vehicles.
By the time she got into the city her heart was racing. She parked the car and wiped her sweaty palms on the sides of her pants, tidying her shirt up, undoing another button for good measure, and she tried to look cool and confident as she strolled into the first nightclub.
The man at the door gave her pause at first, but then she realized, after watching a couple of others, he wanted the cover charge more than any ID. She smiled at him sweetly, imitating the way she’d seen Cat do with countless men, and paid the cover. She was almost visibly shocked when he simply accepted the cash and nodded her in.
As soon as she was inside, though, with the loud dance music pumping all around and running through her like the blood in her veins, she forgot everything else. She hit the dance floor and lost herself in the music and the crowd. Several men offered to buy her a drink, but she always declined politely. She was savvy to the mentality in this sort of environment; she didn’t need someone all over her because she let them buy her a drink. Or worse, to get slipped some GhB or other such drug.
She was flushed with exertion, hair clinging to damp skin around her face and neck. She made her way to the bar, her confidence bolstered now, and decided to try her luck. The bartender didn’t even blink when she ordered an American beer, simply popped the top off the bottle and took her money with hardly a word. She smiled brightly, rather proud of herself and fond of the environment. She turned and leaned against the bar, watching the crowd of dancers.
“An American, are ya?” She heard a whiskey rubbed voice ask her from the left. She turned to tell whoever it was she wasn’t interested; she was just there to dance, but the words caught in her throat. Her blue eyes must’ve gone wide in surprise because he smiled at her knowingly.
“I’m Colin.” He told her, offering her a rough hand. She shook his hand, coming out of her initial shock and smiling like an idiot at him. She could hardly believe the luck, simply running into one of the biggest names in Hollywood while she was out in Dublin. Of course, he was originally from Dublin, and had been well known to frequent the nightclub scene when he was back. So that did bring the odds up a bit. Still, she felt like pinching herself to see if she were dreaming.
“Trine.” She told him, and he leaned in closer to hear her, so she repeated herself.
“Trine? That’s an interestin’ name.” He told her, and she shrugged. Her mother had named her after the place where she was conceived. Or at least that was one version she had been told. Trinidad seemed too masculine, she said, so when she’d been born a girl, her mother had decided on Trine.
“On Holiday?” Colin asked, peering out at her from his mess of shaggy brown hair, his eyes glazed over and more than a little bloodshot. He’d been partying hard.
“No, work.” She told him. “I’m recording a CD. Well, my band is.”
“Really? Here in Dublin? Why’s that, may I ask?”
“The producers are based out of Dublin.” She explained, decided she sounded very mature, talking about work and albums and producers.
“What kind of music?”
“Rock.” She answered quickly. She was a rock and roll girl, and would always be.
“I can’t wait to hear it.” He told her with a crooked smile that made Trine’s insides begin to boil. “What do you do? In your band?”
“I play guitar. And Bass. Mostly bass right now.” She told him. “I also write some of the songs.”
“So, Trine, is your boyfriend in the band?” He asked, one arm resting across the bar behind her as he leaned in toward her casually.
“No. No boyfriend.” She told him, her heart skipping a beat as he leaned in close enough for her to feel his breath against her cheek.
“I can’t believe that.” He flirted, and she turned to meet his drunken brown eyes, her good sense telling her this was not a good idea. Her good sense was a tiny little voice in the back of her head, though; and the temptation was a devil shouting in her ear. She drew in a sharp breath as he kissed her on the lips; a loose, sloppy kiss but very intimate right off. She realized that her hands were shaking, but reached out anyway to touch his hair, stroke the back of his neck.
“So why’d you come here tonight, Trine? Looking for a party?” He asked, his eyes downturned, examining the part in her shirt openly and without apology. When one of his hands slid across her belly to hook around her hip and turn her in toward him, she smiled at him despite the anxious tremors which his touch inspired.
“I think I found one.” She told him smartly, and he smiled before kissing her again.
“I was thinking something a little quieter.” He told her. “Maybe just us.”
*************************************************************
**Ring** Cat groaned and rolled over, slapping Adam in the face as she reached blindly for the phone. **Ring**
“Wha…” Adam muttered, pushing her hand away with a scowl, not even opening his eyes.
**Ring**
**Ring**
Finally Cat woke up enough to remember where she was, rolling over and reaching to grab the phone, the handset clattering loudly as she fumbled with it.
“Hello?” she asked, her voice tired and grouchy to make sure whoever was calling knew they’d disturbed her sleep.
“Mrs. Clayton?” An authoritative voice asked, making Cat sit up and blink her tired eyes in concern. The middle of the night phone call from a rather stern sounding man finally penetrated her sleepy mind and the severity of it’s implications occurred to her.
“This is Cat Clayton. What’s wrong?” She replied, and now Adam sat up beside her, sensing from her tone that there was trouble.
“This is Officer Justin O’Niell, Ma’am. I’m calling about your step-daughter, Trine.” He informed her politely.
“Trine? She’s here, in bed…” Cat told him.
“No, I’m afraid she isn’t. She’s at the department with me, being held until we reach you or her father in order to release her into your custody.” He informed her.
“What? Why? I mean, what?” She asked, her mind still foggy and disbelieving. Adam snatched the phone from her hand and spoke to the officer quickly and quietly before climbing out of bed.
“Is she ok?” Cat asked, following his lead and rising from bed to get dressed quickly.
“Right now.” He replied shortly. “I can’t say she will be for long.”
“What did she do?” She asked, following him out into the foyer where a quick search for his keys left him red in the face. He found the keys to one of the other cars in the garage as he told Cat that Trine had not only snuck into the city, stealing his car and driving without a license, but she had gone out clubbing and drinking and gotten into a fight.
“She got into a fight?” Cat asked, slipping into the passenger seat beside him.
“Apparently.” He told her dryly, obviously less than thrilled with the situation.
“Holy hell.” Cat mumbled as they drove up to the police station and saw the crowd of photographers gathering in the parking lot. “How do they know this stuff so quick?” She wondered.
“It doesn’t hurt that the person she assaulted was Colin Farrell.” Adam told her, and Cat’s jaw dropped, her mouth agape in shock.
“You’re kidding me.”
“I wish I was, Cat.” He replied, climbing out of the car and frowning as the photographers snapped pictures wildly, their flashes blinding in the dark, foggy night. Cat caught up to Adam, despite his long legged stride, grabbing his hand in her own as they entered the station. She wished she knew how to take care of the situation for him, but she had as little experience with children as he did. She had been treating Trine almost the same as an adult, which, clearly, had not been what she needed.
The promises we make pt 4 - B
“So, what else haven’t you told me?” Bono asked as soon as he had steered the car out of the driveway and onto the main road. Angel smiled to herself in the darkness of the car’s interior.
“Like I said, lots of stuff.” She teased.
“Like…” He urged, and in the soft glow of the dashboard lights she watched him as he shifted gears, bringing the maserati up to nearly break neck speeds. She really did admire the way his legs tensed, thigh muscles bulging as he pressed down on the clutch. The anticipation of what this night could bring had already been torturing her. Now, in the intimate glow of the dash, with soft music drifting out of the stereo, her thoughts were not on her past. No, her thoughts were most definitely on the present and the possibilities of the very near future.
“I don’t know. There’s plenty I don’t know about you, either.” She replied, reaching out to run her fingers through his soft hair. He smiled a sideways smile at her, knowing she was wondering where the night would be taking them. He’d been dropping little hints in her ear all evening, alluding to the fact that she didn’t have to go back to the hotel room where she had, so far, insisted on staying.
“Bollix. I’m an open book.” He replied.
“Literally. I saw several books about you last time I went to the book store.” She laughed.
“Ok, so tell me about the last man you were dating. Before me.” He suggested, guiding the direction of her revelations.
“That was Greg. I believe my old partner told you all about him.” She told him on a sigh, her hand falling away from stroking his hair.
“Your fiancée’? Wasn’t that more than two years ago?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry, I just assumed you had seen someone else between…” He told her, suddenly beginning to fathom the depth of emotion which she had felt for the man. “What was he like?” He asked, hoping to understand her better.
“Why do you want to know?” She asked.
“Because I just realized I really don’t know anything about your past. I know everything I’ve seen. I mean, I know how you take your coffee and that your nose wrinkles when you get irritable.” He told her, smirking a bit and pointing at her. “Yeah, just like that.” He teased, and she realized he was right. She chuckled and turned her head to look out the window into the night.
“But I don’t know anything about your past. I didn’t realize you had grown up on a reservation, for example. You have told me all about being a cop, but I don’t even know how you feel about God and religion.” He told her.
“Well, my parents named me Angel. That might give you some clue about my religious upbringing.” She told him playfully. “I’m what you might call a lapsed Catholic.”
“How many languages do you speak?” He asked as he steered the car into the drive and through the massive front gates to his home.
“Three, if you count English.” She told him. “And I see we decided I’m staying here tonight?”
“I thought you might like to come in for awhile and talk.” He told her with a roguish grin.
“Mmm-hmm. We could talk in the car. Or the hotel.” She told him, leaning in closer to him, her dark eyes heavy lidded and revealing the desire she had stopped trying to hide. He obviously knew how she felt anyway.
“Or here.” He added, leaning across the gear shifter to brush a whispery kiss over her lips. “Do you speak Spanish?” He asked in an intimate whisper.
“Yeah, not as well as you might think, but I can get by in Spanish. Why?” She asked suspiciously. He licked his lips and smiled at her.
“I think a woman speaking Spanish is very sexy.” He informed her, his eyes watching her lips.
“Do you speak Spanish?” She asked, laughing at him.
“A little.” He replied.
“Right. Uno, Dos, tres, catorce.” Angel teased.
“I also know Taco, burrito, enchilada…” he joked and she shook her head at him.
“Usted es muy atractivo. Voluntad usted me ama?” She said on a whisper, making his blue eyes sparkle.
“What did you say?” He asked.
“I told you an Irishman should never try to speak Spanish.” She told him playfully.
“No, you didn’t.” He argued, rubbing his nose against hers.
“Mmm… I guess that’s for me to know and you to find out, amante.” She told him, slipping out of her seat belt and then out of the car, making her way slowly to the door. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked away and so put a little extra sway into her step.
She heard the car door slam behind him, the garage door closing automatically at the push of a button. She had just entered the security code and opened the door when he rushed up behind her, grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her to face him.
“What are you…” She started to ask, but found herself breathless as his mouth covered hers, hot and wet and aggressive. She was nearly knocked off balance, wrapping her arms around him, tilting her head so she could return his kiss. She shivered as one of his big hands slid up her back to wrap itself up in her hair. Her eyes were closed as he guided her backwards into the house.
He kissed her completely breathless, continuing to lead her through the house, his hands caught up in her hair. When they hit the stairs, they stumbled up the first two and gave up, sinking to sit on the carpeted steps rather than trying to climb them while so distracted. Angel didn’t really pay any attention to the fact that they were in the stairwell, they could’ve still been in the garage for all she cared.
The world around them ceased to have any meaning whatsoever. All she knew was the heat from his mouth; the intensity of his slow, deep kisses, and they way they brought every nerve in her body to a heightened state of awareness. One thick hand slid out of her silky hair to trace her lips as he stared down into her face for a moment. The tickle of his finger against her lips made her shiver.
Recovering quickly, she licked her lip to get rid of the tickle, bending and catching his finger in her mouth. She curled her tongue around his finger, framing it as she slid it slowly out of her mouth, leaning back to expose the curve of her neck as she gathered a deep breath. Bono’s mouth found her warm flesh there, sucking gently to elicit a moan from her.
She slid her hands under his leather jacket and slipped it quickly from his shoulders, leaving it forgotten where it fell. Her hands worked the buttons of his shirt quickly and did the same with it, splaying out across his broad chest and through the dark, course hair. His skin was hot to the touch, and *Oh, God!* did he smell good as she breathed his scent in deeply.
Edited her for content. To summarize, Angel and Bono deepen the intamacy of their relationship
(Yes, I have the original for thoseof you interested in the full version; those who are not offended by love scenes. I respect the reason for not posting them openly, but I also understand they are some people's favorite parts of the story)
Bono smiled crookedly at her, following her up the stairs. He stared in fascination at the tattoo on the small of her back. He reached out and traced it with one finger.
“Never figured you for a tattoo girl.” He told her honestly. She smiled at him as she entered his bedroom, then stretched out face down on the bed.
“Does that mean you don’t like it?” She asked, peeking out from above her folded arms, upon which she rested her head. Bono lay beside her, idly stroking the length of her smooth back with the tips of his fingers.
“I didn’t say that.” He replied, he could be just as coy as she could, since she was obviously feeling playful. He watched as her eyes drifted shut, and she ‘hmm’ed softly.
“You’re putting me to sleep, rubbing my back like that.” She informed him.
“That’s ok. I’ll still be here when you wake up.” He replied, covering them over with the blankets and pulling her in tight against his body. She rested her cheek against his chest, wrapping an arm around his waist. The rhythm of his heartbeat lulling her quickly into a sound sleep, and the soft warmth of her body wrapped around his did the same for him.
***************************************************
Trine couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t really a surprise, she had always been a night person. Tonight, she couldn’t stop thinking about some of the clubs she had seen when they were in Dublin, and imagining how much fun she would have if she could just go. As much fun as she had with the bands, they were still not only considerably older than her, but being the child of one of them made them all act as if they were parents.
She wanted to be treated like an adult. A cool adult. A sexy adult. She had to admit, she was jealous of the way the men treated the older women. It would be nice, she thought, to have a man look at her the way Bono had looked at Angel earlier. To flirt with her the way Edge had with Tessa.
She had already pilfered some of Cat’s clothes, earlier in the day. At the time she was just sort of playing around, but now, she thought, maybe with those clothes and a little luck she could pass for old enough. Old enough to go to the clubs. Old enough to be out in the city alone. Old enough for anything which came her way.
She hurriedly slid into the pair of leather pants which she had purchased in Vegas and never believed she would actually wear. Then she pulled on the white lace shirt she had ‘borrowed’ from Cat, and a maroon velvet choker added to her still semi-gothic look. She pulled her hair back out of her face with a couple of barrettes and applied just a little eye shadow and some dark red lipstick.
She stared at herself in the mirror, surprised at what she saw. She was *almost* pretty. She slid her finger under her lower lip to remove the piercing there and then stared into the mirror some more. With a little powder, she couldn’t even see the hole. She slid several of the earrings she wore out, until she had only two in each ear. She still liked the way the nose stud looked; sort of like a semi-precious pimple, she thought with a giggle.
She decided she could always put the piercings back in later, and she looked more grown up without quite so many. She wasn’t ready to get rid of the one in her tongue, though; she wasn’t about to go through that whole process again on a whim.
She snuck out of her room, down the hallway and out toward the main common area of the house. She paused in the hallway, her heart stopping when she thought she heard someone moving. Maybe coming out, where they would catch her and ask her just what she was up to. She held her breath and listened carefully. Nothing. She hurried on into the foyer where she searched through coat pockets until she found a set of keys.
She smiled triumphantly and soon she was behind the wheel and on her way into the city. She had to constantly keep reminding herself to keep the car on the left side of the road, especially during the stretches of road which were empty of other vehicles.
By the time she got into the city her heart was racing. She parked the car and wiped her sweaty palms on the sides of her pants, tidying her shirt up, undoing another button for good measure, and she tried to look cool and confident as she strolled into the first nightclub.
The man at the door gave her pause at first, but then she realized, after watching a couple of others, he wanted the cover charge more than any ID. She smiled at him sweetly, imitating the way she’d seen Cat do with countless men, and paid the cover. She was almost visibly shocked when he simply accepted the cash and nodded her in.
As soon as she was inside, though, with the loud dance music pumping all around and running through her like the blood in her veins, she forgot everything else. She hit the dance floor and lost herself in the music and the crowd. Several men offered to buy her a drink, but she always declined politely. She was savvy to the mentality in this sort of environment; she didn’t need someone all over her because she let them buy her a drink. Or worse, to get slipped some GhB or other such drug.
She was flushed with exertion, hair clinging to damp skin around her face and neck. She made her way to the bar, her confidence bolstered now, and decided to try her luck. The bartender didn’t even blink when she ordered an American beer, simply popped the top off the bottle and took her money with hardly a word. She smiled brightly, rather proud of herself and fond of the environment. She turned and leaned against the bar, watching the crowd of dancers.
“An American, are ya?” She heard a whiskey rubbed voice ask her from the left. She turned to tell whoever it was she wasn’t interested; she was just there to dance, but the words caught in her throat. Her blue eyes must’ve gone wide in surprise because he smiled at her knowingly.
“I’m Colin.” He told her, offering her a rough hand. She shook his hand, coming out of her initial shock and smiling like an idiot at him. She could hardly believe the luck, simply running into one of the biggest names in Hollywood while she was out in Dublin. Of course, he was originally from Dublin, and had been well known to frequent the nightclub scene when he was back. So that did bring the odds up a bit. Still, she felt like pinching herself to see if she were dreaming.
“Trine.” She told him, and he leaned in closer to hear her, so she repeated herself.
“Trine? That’s an interestin’ name.” He told her, and she shrugged. Her mother had named her after the place where she was conceived. Or at least that was one version she had been told. Trinidad seemed too masculine, she said, so when she’d been born a girl, her mother had decided on Trine.
“On Holiday?” Colin asked, peering out at her from his mess of shaggy brown hair, his eyes glazed over and more than a little bloodshot. He’d been partying hard.
“No, work.” She told him. “I’m recording a CD. Well, my band is.”
“Really? Here in Dublin? Why’s that, may I ask?”
“The producers are based out of Dublin.” She explained, decided she sounded very mature, talking about work and albums and producers.
“What kind of music?”
“Rock.” She answered quickly. She was a rock and roll girl, and would always be.
“I can’t wait to hear it.” He told her with a crooked smile that made Trine’s insides begin to boil. “What do you do? In your band?”
“I play guitar. And Bass. Mostly bass right now.” She told him. “I also write some of the songs.”
“So, Trine, is your boyfriend in the band?” He asked, one arm resting across the bar behind her as he leaned in toward her casually.
“No. No boyfriend.” She told him, her heart skipping a beat as he leaned in close enough for her to feel his breath against her cheek.
“I can’t believe that.” He flirted, and she turned to meet his drunken brown eyes, her good sense telling her this was not a good idea. Her good sense was a tiny little voice in the back of her head, though; and the temptation was a devil shouting in her ear. She drew in a sharp breath as he kissed her on the lips; a loose, sloppy kiss but very intimate right off. She realized that her hands were shaking, but reached out anyway to touch his hair, stroke the back of his neck.
“So why’d you come here tonight, Trine? Looking for a party?” He asked, his eyes downturned, examining the part in her shirt openly and without apology. When one of his hands slid across her belly to hook around her hip and turn her in toward him, she smiled at him despite the anxious tremors which his touch inspired.
“I think I found one.” She told him smartly, and he smiled before kissing her again.
“I was thinking something a little quieter.” He told her. “Maybe just us.”
*************************************************************
**Ring** Cat groaned and rolled over, slapping Adam in the face as she reached blindly for the phone. **Ring**
“Wha…” Adam muttered, pushing her hand away with a scowl, not even opening his eyes.
**Ring**
**Ring**
Finally Cat woke up enough to remember where she was, rolling over and reaching to grab the phone, the handset clattering loudly as she fumbled with it.
“Hello?” she asked, her voice tired and grouchy to make sure whoever was calling knew they’d disturbed her sleep.
“Mrs. Clayton?” An authoritative voice asked, making Cat sit up and blink her tired eyes in concern. The middle of the night phone call from a rather stern sounding man finally penetrated her sleepy mind and the severity of it’s implications occurred to her.
“This is Cat Clayton. What’s wrong?” She replied, and now Adam sat up beside her, sensing from her tone that there was trouble.
“This is Officer Justin O’Niell, Ma’am. I’m calling about your step-daughter, Trine.” He informed her politely.
“Trine? She’s here, in bed…” Cat told him.
“No, I’m afraid she isn’t. She’s at the department with me, being held until we reach you or her father in order to release her into your custody.” He informed her.
“What? Why? I mean, what?” She asked, her mind still foggy and disbelieving. Adam snatched the phone from her hand and spoke to the officer quickly and quietly before climbing out of bed.
“Is she ok?” Cat asked, following his lead and rising from bed to get dressed quickly.
“Right now.” He replied shortly. “I can’t say she will be for long.”
“What did she do?” She asked, following him out into the foyer where a quick search for his keys left him red in the face. He found the keys to one of the other cars in the garage as he told Cat that Trine had not only snuck into the city, stealing his car and driving without a license, but she had gone out clubbing and drinking and gotten into a fight.
“She got into a fight?” Cat asked, slipping into the passenger seat beside him.
“Apparently.” He told her dryly, obviously less than thrilled with the situation.
“Holy hell.” Cat mumbled as they drove up to the police station and saw the crowd of photographers gathering in the parking lot. “How do they know this stuff so quick?” She wondered.
“It doesn’t hurt that the person she assaulted was Colin Farrell.” Adam told her, and Cat’s jaw dropped, her mouth agape in shock.
“You’re kidding me.”
“I wish I was, Cat.” He replied, climbing out of the car and frowning as the photographers snapped pictures wildly, their flashes blinding in the dark, foggy night. Cat caught up to Adam, despite his long legged stride, grabbing his hand in her own as they entered the station. She wished she knew how to take care of the situation for him, but she had as little experience with children as he did. She had been treating Trine almost the same as an adult, which, clearly, had not been what she needed.
