Fourteen

Dublin, New Year’s Eve

Walking into Mark’s Dublin hotel suite, Alex gave her boyfriend a flirty smile over her shoulder. “Wow, this room’s gorgeous! Happy anniversary, babe.”

He grinned and walked past, wheeling her small carry-on along the carpet. “Not splitting hairs, Lex, but our anniversary is actually tomorrow…” He turned around and started to unbutton his coat.

“I know, but it doesn’t mean we can’t start celebrating early!” She removed her parka and hung it up in the closet.

Mark’s eyes drifted. “If I’m honest, I’ve never liked New Year’s Eve. It’s so overrated.” He took off his scarf and coat, tossing them onto a clothes-covered chair. “You don’t fancy staying in, do ya? We could order room service, watch a film, toast the new year in, just the two of us?”

Alex quickly set her purse down on the edge of the desk. “Babe, you feeling okay?” She narrowed her eyes. He seemed distracted. “It’s not like you to bail on a party. I mean, I’d love to stay in, but we’re in Dublin and…aren’t your castmates expecting you?”

“Yeah, but…” He fiddled with his wristwatch.

“It would be kinda rude to bail on them now…don’t you think?” She clasped his hand. “Why don’t we just go for a bit, have a dance…leave right after midnight…?”

He looked up. “I’m just not feeling in party mode today…”

“Well, I know what might help!” Alex clutched fistfuls of Mark’s shirt, tugging him into her chest. She returned to his lips, picking up where they had left off when he’d scooped her up at the airport forty minutes earlier.

Mark tripped over her wheelie carry-on, sending his lips skidding off her mouth and down her chin. “Shit. Cary Grant, I ain’t. Almost went arse over tit there.” He winked lazily and rolled her luggage to the far side of the room, away from distracted feet.

Alex giggled and turned back to her purse on the desk.

Intermingling on its surface with opened packages of Jaffa Cakes and the latest novel he was reading, Mark had a collection of framed photos, a portable shrine in his room dedicated to their relationship: beloved shots of Alex with his red Vespa during their first date, Mark laughing at Alex wearing a Venetian mask on their one-year anniversary trip to Venice a year before, and the pair cuddled together for warmth in a soggy Glastonbury Festival tent.

Alex’s eyes did a second loop, revisiting each photo as Mark opened the minibar and removed two miniature bottles of gin. He cracked one open, then the other, downing both without taking a breath.

“Whoa, steady tiger—it’s not even four o’clock yet! It’s early…even for a Dubliner!” Alex chuckled. She glanced down at one special memory holding pride of place in a heavy wood frame. She picked it up.

Wrapped in each other’s arms in front of the Royal Court Theatre, Mark beamed at Alex as THIRTEEN BY ALEXANDRA SINCLAIR sizzled above their heads in red neon. She stared at the image. Mark had chosen to showcase her greatest accomplishment instead of one of his own. “You carted all this stuff over here?”

He slipped an arm around her waist and grabbed the photo out of her hand, returning it to the desk. “Yeah, I always want you with me…”

“That can be arranged.” The words barely out of her mouth, Alex met Mark’s lips urgently, the gin still potent as she kissed him hard and fast. Her hands dove into his hair, pulling him closer, his kiss deeper. She had to taste him, own him.

Mark didn’t back down. Gripping her ass so hard she cried out, he pressed against her with feral intent, blurring the lines of where he ended and she began. His tongue was frantic, devouring her. It had only been two minutes since their last kiss, but to Alex, this one felt different. It was fierce and wild, like Mark’s lips were trying to soothe an insatiable need only her mouth could possibly fulfill.

Their second anniversary was the next day, but the desire to show their commitment to each other right then was too powerful to resist.

Mark broke free, breathless. “I want you—so badly.”

Heart racing, she flung off her sweater and tugged his long-sleeved Henley. “Off, now.”

Mark obliged and yanked it over his head, chucking it out of the way. His impatient hands skimmed down her back and unhooked her bra. Normally, Alex would taunt him a little longer, make him wait, but she had left her patience back in London. She let her bra slip to the floor and pulled him close again, craving bare skin-on-skin contact.

He kissed and sucked her neck, his mouth and tongue only pausing to release ravenous moans from his lips as his thumb teased her hardening nipple.

She felt the button undo on her jeans and Mark’s fingers slipping into her cotton panties. Gasps left her lips in quick succession. “Keep…going.” She gripped the back of his neck, her sighs fueling his hunger.

“Christ, Lex.” He groaned between breaths. “You feel so good.”

She stared at his lips and lunged, desperate to taste him again. Their kisses grew more eager, more frantic as if their time together was running out and their mouths demanded to profess everything they needed to say before the clock struck midnight.

Alex left his lips to catch her breath. One hand slipped downwards, stroking the prominent bulge inside his jeans. “Mark…”

He moaned and removed his hand from her underwear, yanking her jeans to the floor. With a naughty smile, he pressed his lips against her ear. “Hey, sexy playwright lady, this actor needs some direction.”

“So eager to please.” Alex pushed him onto the bed and climbed on the duvet, unfastening his jeans. Scooting out of them completely, Mark yanked off his socks and grabbed Alex by the waist, flipping her onto her back.

She smirked. “I thought you needed direction.”

“Plot twist…” His tongue fiercely returned to her mouth, dominating, demanding, as his crotch pressed hard against her.

Alex gasped. “Hello stranger!” She cocked an eyebrow and hooked her fingers into his boxer briefs, pulling them down.

• • •

“Is it obvious?” Alex clasped Mark’s hand and blushed as she dodged between smokers cluttering the sidewalk.

“Obvious that we had mind-blowing sex or that you’re not wearing any knickers?”

“Both?”

“Yep, your cheeky smile gives it all away.” Mark chuckled as he held open the door to the Stag’s Head, a Victorian pub in the centre of Dublin.

She stopped in the doorway.

“I’m kidding. Only I know your secrets, and I’m not telling.” Mark waved her through the entrance. “Take off your parka, Lex. You look gorgeous.”

Alex unzipped her coat and tugged down the creeping hem of her short red dress, her other Christmas gift from Mark. The outfit was a showstopper and unlike anything she had ever worn. The sleeveless dress’s scooped neck, low back, and body-hugging seams guaranteed plenty of male attention, whether Alex wanted it or not. Her eyes flitted through the rowdy crowd of anonymous faces, taking in the pub’s picturesque stained glass windows, carved wood, and wrought-iron chandeliers. Rosy-cheeked males, toting pints and lecherous smirks, stared. She dipped her chin as she pulled the coat closed. “Mark?”

He held her hand through the dense forest of drinkers. “Don’t be nervous. You’ll be fine.”

A huge wall of a guy in a button-down shirt, his thick tree trunk neck straining to break free of the tie-less collar, shoved in front of the couple, halting their progress. “Mark, you eejit, you’re late—I had to start without you!” His loud bark of an American accent—California, possibly—grabbed the attention of nearby revellers. He punched the air with two large pint glasses, the creamy foam of Guinness breaching their rims.

“Christ, they let you in, then?!” Mark fiddled with the collar of his pink dress shirt. “Alex, meet my agent, Coen Winkler. Coen, meet Alex Sinclair, my girlfriend.”

“Take one of these, buddy.” He stuffed a sloppy pint into Mark’s palm. “Don’t listen to him. Please, call me Wink.” His gaze went to the Vespa charm hanging from Alex’s neck. A hand the size of an extra-large baseball glove then shot towards her to shake.

“Nice to meet you…Wink.”

His vice-like grip crushed her hand. She caught her breath, grimacing through the discomfort until his sticky paw released her from its bone-rattling shake. Her elbow actually ached. She glanced at Mark, but his attention jerked elsewhere, hijacked by a chatty young couple and their phone’s camera.

“I’ve been working with Mark since what…April? It’s about time we met, Sincy.”

Sincy? Alex hated abbreviating her surname.

A camera flash and a good-bye nod released Mark back to her side. “Sorry, babe.” He handed back the pint glass. “Wink, how many times have I told you, Guinness isn’t my thing.”

“Poor excuse for an Irishman, you are.”

A chuckle left Mark’s lips as he tugged Alex’s parka from her shoulders.

“Hey, did he tell you why he signed with me? What we have in common?” Wink didn’t wait for Alex to answer. “I’m Irish, too!”

“You and half of America, mate.” Mark rolled his eyes, folding Alex’s coat over his arm.

Alex fidgeted with one of the slim straps of her dress while giving Wink a double take. “Your name doesn’t sound Irish.”

“No, it’s German, but my great-great-great-grandmother on my mother’s side was from Dingle, so I’m part Irish…I’ll leave you to figure out which part!” His booming laugh assaulted Alex’s eardrums. Once he finished laughing at his own joke, he leapt into a jerky knee-raising stomp, slopping waves of murky Guinness onto the mosaic-tiled floor and his designer jeans. Was that supposed to be the Riverdance? Oh, God. It didn’t help that Mark encouraged him by laughing. Did he feel that he had to? Easily six foot four, Wink seemed like the kind of larger-than-life, type-A personality who could make people do whatever they wanted.

Wink’s Riverdance dried up quickly then Mark slid an arm around Alex’s waist and directed her towards the bar. “Come on, love. Let’s get a bevvy, stash your coat. Then you can meet everyone. I promise, they’re not all mad like this one!”

“Crazy like a fox, brother.” Wink pivoted to Alex. “Seriously, though, Sincy, I always have his best interests at heart.” He glugged half of the Guinness in his left hand and followed, swaying behind them. Alex wondered how many he’d had already.

“Vodka and orange, and a Pale Ale, please.” Mark nodded at the bartender and adjusted his black tie. He leaned on the wooden bar and smiled at Alex, but her attention drifted, settling on the majestic stag’s head overlooking the pub. Its glassy eyes gave her the creeps. Two guys on the other side of Mark recognized him and started up a conversation.

Wink’s massive elbow jabbed Alex’s shoulder.

“Have you ever seen Mark so happy? He’s in this movie because of me, you know.”

Alex looked to Mark for confirmation, but he was busy sharing a joke. She turned back to Wink. What the—? His face was now just a few inches away from hers, leaning in conspiratorially. Bleurgh. Sweat mixed with booze and musky cologne oozed from his pores.

“Mark talks about you all the time.”

Alex blushed. Aw.

“At first I thought you were his UK PR rep, his personal manager or something. It was ‘let me check with Alex’ this, or ‘I have to phone Alex’ that!” Wink laughed, releasing Guinness breath. “Then he said you were his girlfriend! I was pretty relieved, let me tell ya! Well, it’s finally nice to put a pretty face to the name. Here’s lookin’ at you, kid!” He raised his glass and supped the creamy head of the black beverage.

Mark handed Alex her glass. “One vodka and orange for my girl.” He raised his pint to clink against his girlfriend’s drink.

“Cheers.” She smiled and took a dainty sip.

Mark took a large mouthful. “Let’s find the gang.”

As they climbed the stairs to the upstairs lounge, the final gasp of Britney Spears’ “Oops, I Did It Again” gave way to the strumming guitar of Ricky Martin’s “She Bangs”. Alex smirked. Old school. These songs used to be played to death on the radio when she was a kid. The other guests didn’t seem to care about the trip down memory lane; they were too busy pounding back pints, shouting over each other or staring at her passing ass. Mark, Alex, and Wink had to squeeze through a tight maze of locals in the narrow room until they found the boisterous cast and crew of A Promise Unspoken at the back. Stashing Alex’s parka in the corner booth, Mark held her tight and joined the party.

A woman, a year or two older than Alex, wearing a makeup counter’s worth of shimmery cosmetics, slipped through the crush towards them, her curvy five-foot-eight figure swathed in a clingy crimson cocktail dress. Its high neck and sleeveless silhouette gave way in the back to a deep V that stopped a half-inch above her bum. Her charisma screamed look at me, and most of the men in the room obeyed: approving stares followed every shift of the precarious V, their eyes leaving her bare skin only to check out the dark-haired guy holding her hand. Alex overheard the words ‘Leinster’ and ‘rugby’ excitedly expressed from a nearby table as the young couple approached. Many of the women did a double take behind their cocktail umbrellas. Where to look, her plunging dress or his muscular physique? Their starstruck reactions didn’t register; the woman’s crooked yet confident smile and large brown eyes sought out one person.

“Hello gorgeous! You must be Lex. Mark’s told me all about you.” She extended a soft hand and a welcoming grin. “I’m Fallon Delaney, his co-star.” She nodded at the rugby hunk glued to her side. “This is Duff.”

Alex perked up, relieved to hand over the title of ‘most naked woman in the pub’. She met Fallon’s greeting halfway. “Nice to meet you.”

Duff placed a hand on Fallon’s butt. Alex wasn’t keen on guys with over-the-top muscles, but even she stared at his pecs straining underneath his skin-tight white shirt, its buttons ready to pop.

Duff kissed his date’s temple. “Drink, Fal?”

Wink raised his pints of Guinness. “Like he has to ask.”

Fallon clocked Wink’s full hands. “You’re one to talk. Nice Irish handcuffs, ya got there!”

Mark and Wink laughed. Duff lumbered off to the bar, leaving a waft of spicy cologne behind. He stopped twice to fist bump and take selfies with several rugby fans. Mark clearly wasn’t the only celebrity in attendance.

Fallon fluttered her thick eyelashes in Wink’s direction. “Be nice, or I’ll trigger that escape clause in my contract. Remember, I’m doing you a favour.”

She leaned into Alex’s ear, Duff’s spicy fragrance accompanying her. “I saved his bacon before the Christmas break, taking this role. I even cancelled my holibobs with Duff. Mind you, that bloody read, I swear that’s the only ‘chemistry test’ I’ve ever passed.” A throaty laugh, defying her young age and worthy of a pack a day, flew from her pale lips.

Her easy charm and playful dig at Wink put Alex at ease. She jumped in, sharing the actress’s chemistry joke. “Ugh, I barely passed my sciences except biology. Thank goodness for the arts, huh?”

“I know, right?” Fallon’s Irish accent was slightly different from Mark’s, but Alex didn’t know enough about Ireland to place it. “I’d be asking people, Do you want fries with that? if it wasn’t for acting! Ooh, I love your dress, by the way.”

“Thanks! Your guy seems nice.”

“Yeah.” Fallon looked towards Duff, surrounded by admirers near the bar. “We’ve been dating three weeks. He’s fun—and insatiable.” She laughed and smoothed her pin-straight dark blonde hair away from her eyes. A small tattoo stretched over her inner wrist, a pair of crossed field hockey sticks. “What are you drinking? Vodka and orange?”

Alex nodded.

“That’s no way to ring in the New Year.”

“And our second anniversary.” Alex smiled widely, glancing up at Mark, who hugged her close. “It’s tomorrow.”

“Really? Well, an anniversary that falls over New Year’s calls for celebratory drinks. Mark, I’m disappointed in you.” She yanked Alex away, dragging her through the tight throng.

“Wait—” Concern clouded Mark’s eyes.

Alex glanced over her shoulder, grinning.

“Ahh, leave them to it.” Wink smirked. “Besides, it’s almost ten o’clock, and you’re not even buzzed, man. You’ve got some serious catching up to do.”

Mark craned his neck, trying to spot his girlfriend. “But she’s not really a big party girl—”

“Stop being so protective.” Wink elbowed him in the back. “She’s an adult. Let her go. She’s made a new friend, and yours are waiting. It’s all good, bro.” He steered Mark to a crew of raucous males shouting at each other over a table clogged with pints and an ignored platter of deep-fried finger foods.

• • •

By quarter past eleven, the Stag’s Head was rocking with plenty of good old-fashioned Irish hospitality, unlimited booze, and a standing-room only crowd. Glittery party hats had been handed out along with noisemakers and confetti. Clusters of drinkers hollered and prematurely blew their celebratory horns from the curved red leather booths that lined the narrow space.

“Lexy, darling, get over here!” Fallon unleashed her body-shaking laugh and waved a crimson cocktail that matched her dress.

Alex clung to the edge of the tiny parlour bar. Her heavy eyelids blinked lazily, a cocktail umbrella and wedge of pineapple beside her white knuckles. “No…come here!”

An impatient suit with a stained tie and lipstick on his cheek stuffed himself into the sliver of space between Alex and the wall, weakening her grip. Her blood-starved fingers let go. She fell backwards, crashing into the plaid-covered chest of a tall beardy redhead supping his pint. With nowhere to go but down, she crumpled awkwardly on her hip and his scuffed leather boots. “He’s a lumberjack and…ow! Not okay…” Her tipsy sing-a-long dissolved into uncontrollable giggling.

Wink ducked through the swarm, careful not to spill his latest Guinness. He snatched Alex’s arm, tugging her up onto rubbery legs. “Careful there, little lady.” He grinned sheepishly at Alex’s lumberjack, who shrugged away the nuisance. “Sorry, buddy.”

Alex shoved Wink’s hand away and dropped her clutch. “Don’t tell me what to do. I’m not Mark.” She weaved on the spot, her right ankle buckling sideways in her heel, causing her to lurch into a lopsided slump.

“Ooh, the mouse that roared.” Wink bent down to pick up Alex’s clutch and handed it to Fallon. “One of the film assistants is fetching Mark. What the hell happened?”

“We were having drinks, chatting with some blokes from set…” She pointed to two thirty-something guys with Duff near the room’s front window. Twinkly fairy lights glowed against its fogged-up glass. “It was great craic.”

“How much has she had?”

“Two—three at most!”

Wink blew out his cheeks. “Lightweight.”

Fallon held Alex’s shoulder, keeping her from crashing to the floor again. “She had strawberry mojitos. She wasn’t going to have another, but—”

“She told me…” Alex’s head wobbled as she pointed at Fallon.

“What’s she on about?” Wink downed the dregs of his pint and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I told her about the sex scene—with Mark. She seemed pretty put out by it. He’s done kissing scenes before, but nothing full on like what we shot yesterday.” Fallon chewed her bottom lip. “Once she heard about the nudity, she wanted another drink. Downed it in one.”

Alex rested her head on Fallon’s breast and began to hiccup. “Why…hic…didn’t he tell me…hic…tell me…?” She sounded like a stuttering CD.

“See? That’s the problem with girlfriends not in the biz,” Wink whispered. “They get jealous…dating outside the industry never works out.”

“I thought she’d understand. Isn’t she a playwright?” Fallon backed up. “Lexy, hon—you okay? Here, let’s get this back on ya.” She slipped the wrist strap of Alex’s clutch over her hand.

“Lex!” Mark pushed through the throng, a female production assistant by his side. “What happened?”

Fallon handed Alex over to Mark with concern in her eyes.

“Babe…you wanna play, right?” Alex melted into his arms and hoisted the hem of her dress.

Mark batted her hand, dropping the flirty fabric back down to her mid-thigh. He looked at Fallon. “What’s she been drinking?”

Fallon toyed with the silver coin bracelet on her wrist. “Mojitos.”

“Where did you come from?” Alex touched Mark’s cheek. “Your face, it’s wet…”

“I was in the loo.”

“That loo sees you more than I do…hic.”

Mark held Alex tightly and turned to Fallon, Wink, and the production assistant. “Alcohol affects her really quickly.”

“Fruity drinksssssss.” Alex giggled and pressed her face into the collar of his shirt.

“Yeah, well, I’m cutting you off…we’re leaving.” Mark looked towards the stairwell.

“But, it’s our anal—verrrsss”—she latched onto his tie as her legs began to slide apart. Mark pulled her up quickly, saving Alex from flashing the bar—“sorry.”

Mark cringed, glancing at Wink and Fallon. “She means anniversary.” He hugged her close. “It’s tomorrow, Lex. C’mon. Back to the hotel, let’s get you to bed.”

She fumbled for his belt. “Ooh, fireworks…”

The production assistant looked away. Fallon bit her lip. Wink laughed. This time, Mark didn’t join him.

“Lex.” He grabbed her hand and whispered in her ear, “No fireworks, just sleep.”

Her right arm curled around his shoulders. “I know what might help.” She kissed his neck while the hand hovering near his belt fought for freedom.

“Lex, no…listen…”

A few revellers stared and gestured at the free, impromptu performance by Mark Keegan and company.

“Mark, camera phones, buddy,” Wink mumbled out of the corner of his mouth. “We don’t want this on YouTube…” He quickly ran interference like an NFL pro, blocking the strangers’ view and striking up a loud conversation to distract them. Fallon and Duff shifted back through the crowd, granting the couple privacy.

“Lex, come on.” Mark captured her roaming hand and stared into her eyes. “You wanna enjoy tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Her scrunched-up eyes popped open with each hiccup. “Okay…hic…but promise me?”

Mark squeezed her hand and nodded, anything to get Alex to focus and give up the fight. “Sure, I promise.”

She stabbed a wobbly index finger into his chest. “You stay.”

“Come. We’re goin—”

The production assistant leaned into Mark’s ear. “I can take her. It’s no problem.”

“I don’t like leaving her.”

“No, it’s my turn. I’m leaving you—to your party.” Alex giggled and ran her hand down Mark’s shirt. She poked her fingers through a gap between buttons, her levity slipping into a protest tinged with tears. “I don’t want to ruin the party. Promise me I haven’t ruined it, Mark?”

“No, Lex.” Mark tucked her head protectively under his chin, hugging her close and away from curious onlookers. “You haven’t ruined the party.”

Wink slapped him on the back. “Listen to your girl, she talks sense. Now, there’s someone from LA I want you to meet…”

Mark nodded. “Lex, I’ll stay for another hour, two tops.” He kissed the top of her head and turned to the P.A., mouthing, “Are you sure?”

The P.A. gave him a reassuring smile. “I won’t make it to midnight anyway. I’ll make sure she gets to your room.”