Chapter 20

It was creamy; it was smooth; it was as good as the commercials promised. The aftertaste was more bitter than she expected, but it was just right.

“Ah, just like you,” she said, batting her eyelids at him, “light fluffy top and kind of dark underneath.” She centered the pint of Guinness in the camera’s view and then placed it dramatically on the coaster. Her fans would love this flirtatious little montage they were creating in Cork, and she was happy Cathal had suggested the city trip. It also gave them something to do rather than moping around trying not to jump each other's bones.

But if he continued being as sweet and sexy as he had been on the train here, she would be forced to get physical very soon anyway. After only one night she was already hopelessly addicted to the heated moment of transformation she'd witnessed when he let his disciplined demeanor slip and his powerful body express his true desires. She knew, from experience, that it was hormones talking—screeching madly in this case—and that she should be on her guard. Common sense told her it was just a holiday thing, something fleeting she should enjoy in the here and now, and share with her fans. But why then did her heart feel like it was being squeezed tighter with every passing hour she spent in this Irishman's company? Why did she long to shut away the world and just be alone with him?

He narrowed his eyes at her but kept the phone steady. She wondered what he was thinking.

She leaned in. “It seems a bit dead in here.”

Cathal nodded at the bar where five old men sat. “Here’s a secret about Ireland you won’t read in the online reviews. The best pints of stout are always poured in auld fella's pubs, where you can be sure no one would want to upset some cantankerous codger by serving him an inferior pint.”

“Well, you’re not drinking, so I won’t prolong the torture.” She grinned into the camera. “Next stop, the movies.”

Cathal clicked the video off and laid the phone on the table.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“Stopping the video.”

“Yes, I see that, but why?”

He reached out and slowly drew a line with his thumb across her upper lip. Then he sucked his thumb. “Foam.”

“Mmm,” she said. “Come do that again—with your lips this time.”

He leaned in and gave her a soul-warming kiss, one that brought back all the memories of being with him in bed last night. When he broke off, all the old boys at the bar were turning around on their seats, pretending they hadn’t been watching.

“Best entertainment they’ve had all year,” he said, rolling his eyes.

She’d been drinking fast and the pint glass was now empty. She stared at it in amazement. Her new greed and lust for life seemed to apply to alcoholic beverages too.

“Downed like a true Irishwoman,” he said.

“Hah. So, if I were Irish, what would my Irish name be?”

He considered a moment. “Aoife would probably be closest.”

“Oh, that’s pretty, like Eva just with an ‘f.’ Do I want to know how to spell that?

“You don’t. Come on, Aoife, there’s a showing at eight at the Savoy so we’ll get the trailers if we leave now.” He rose and draped her Rey jacket around her shoulders. She’d “dressed up” for coming to the city.

They trailed down the sidewalk toward the cinema, taking every opportunity to bump shoulders against each other. The atrium was livening up with revelers out to enjoy their night and their unbridled enthusiasm made her smile. The sophisticated theaters and clubs of LA had lost this sense of good-natured community. But at least it still survived in her niche groups and tribes at the cons.

“I once went to see a movie just for the previews,” she mused.

“Why would you do that?”

“A Bug’s Life was showing the trailer for The Phantom Menace beforehand. I left the cinema as soon as the credits rolled up for the main movie.”

“But A Bug’s Life was fantastic,” he protested.

“You’ve seen it?”

“Only joking.”

She pushed his arm.

“So impatient,” he said, laughing. “Can’t even wait until the end of a film. You’re one of a kind.”

“Not just me; there was a whole bunch of us. Star Wars fans do this sort of thing all the time.”

“Like I said, one of a kind. Was the trailer any good at least?”

“It totally rocked. The movie itself, not so much.”

He glanced at her curiously. “But you love Star Wars.”

“Not all the movies,” she corrected him. “We debate constantly whether Attack of the Clones or The Phantom Menace is worst, and that’s totally dismissing the fact that the unspeakable Holiday Special even exists. Where do I start…? All right, the fourth movie came out first, and then… No. No, just forget it. There’s no point. Aagh.”

He laughed. “You’re perfectly sane one moment, and then that film comes up and you start babbling nonsense. I can get used to it, of course.”

“What movies do you like then?”

He paused to think. “Well, I enjoyed Taxi Driver. And Mean Streets.”

“I haven’t seen those. I’ve heard they’re heavy. Quite the bloodbaths, aren’t they?”

“They are, I suppose, but that’s not the point of them. Anyway, I’m sure we’ll find something in-between,” he said. “There’s always good ones during the summer.”

When they got to the cinema, the first thing, the very first thing, that greeted her was a poster for the upcoming ninth Star Wars movie due in the spring. They hadn’t managed to finalize the poster in time before Star Wars Celebration in Orlando. This must be one of the first on display in Ireland. She nudged Cathal. “Look, it’s a sign!”

“A sign for what?” he murmured.

“I’m just going to go over there and take a pic for the fans.” She sped off, calling over her shoulder, “Back in a minute.”

She didn’t want to take too long, but as she hadn’t seen an actual official movie poster until now, she was overcome with excitement. She snapped it from several distances and uploaded to Facebook and Instagram. “The last Jedi appears in Ireland.”

All done, she turned, searching for Cathal’s blond head above the crowds.

“Nice, huh?” a voice said beside her. A guy with spiky brown hair grinned at her. Beside him, a thin girl with red-streaked hair clutched his hand. They were wearing matching Kylo Ren T-shirts under their denim jackets.

“Yeah, you could say that,” she laughed. “It’s what I expected.”

“Me too. But no Leia or Han, sadly.” He nodded at the poster. “We heard they were getting it in today so we had to come on down and take a look. We run the Cork Star Wars Meetup.”

“No way! I run a YouTube channel for fans.”

The guy did a double take. “Holy shit, I know who you are! You’re Avery Hudson. Look, Sinead.” He turned to the girl beside him. “It’s her. Skellig Michael girl!”

She slapped a hand to her mouth. “Ohmigod. You are, aren’t you? We’ve been following you. I’m Sinead. This is Brian. Nice jacket, by the way.”

Avery nodded in amusement.

“Did you make it to Skellig Michael this morning?” Sinead asked. “We missed your podcast.”

“Not yet.”

“How long are you in the country for?”

“Another three days.”

“Could you come to our meetup on Thursday? Please, oh please say you will.” Sinead clutched her hands in a prayer position. “The gang would love to meet you. We haven’t had a celebrity for ages. This is incredible. It’s in Jason Morgan’s coffee house.”

“It’s totally casual and cool,” Brian added. “We’re just a gang of about forty Star Wars freaks. All ages. We meet every Thursday and have discussions and then an arranged talk at the end. Oh yeah, and if you’d agree to it, there’s a slot open for an arranged speaker. You could get to promote anything you want.”

“I’d like that. It sounds amazing,” Avery said. If there was an Irish version of her tribe, this was it, and their enthusiasm was infectious. There was no way she could say no.

“Gordon will be there,” Sinead said. “It’ll be brilliant.”

“Yes,” Brian chimed in. “You have to come.” Both grinned, bouncing up and down in their Converse sneakers.

“I will. I will.”

“Fantastic. Here’s our card,” Brian thrust a small black card into her hands.

“Here’s mine.” Avery slid out one of the business cards she kept tucked in her phone case for situations like this, which rarely happened.

“Are you going somewhere now?” they asked.

“Yeah, I’m going into the movie. But I’ll be there.”

“Thanks,” they chorused. Avery watched them nudge each other and talk excitedly as they skittered away.

Never had she felt more like a celebrity. Grinning, she rounded the kiosk. It was then she realized that the business cards were her old Venuscode ones. Drat. I should have burned them. Jeremy’s cell number was on them. She sought the nearest bin and dumped the rest of the cards.

She searched for Cathal. Eventually she found him to the left of the ticket booth staring up at the board. “Judging Sylvia, a rom-com, or Commandant Featherworth, a spoof. Or a classic, A Separation?”

“A Separation,” they said together.

As they ambled toward the theater entrance she told him about her encounter with the Star Wars fans.

“I’m happy for you,” he said. “Your enthusiasm rubs off on people.”

“Hm, is my enthusiasm rubbing off on you, then?”

He clutched her tighter. “I love it when you talk dirty.”

“Plenty more where that came from, Farm Boy.”

“Remember where you are, Aoife. This isn’t one of your porn films.”

She laughed. Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure of the wisdom of entering a dark quiet auditorium with him where they’d have to be quiet and behave themselves.