2
Eyes in the mirror
[Hank]
“What the fuck did you do?” The sharp Southern drawl of my old friend catches me as I stumble from the bathroom and into the hallway. “Did you just get it on in my bathroom?”
Almost nearly escapes my mouth, but instead, I say, “I didn’t do anything.” Watching a woman exit the hallway behind me, Tommy Carrigan’s brow rises. He doesn’t seem to recognize the lady.
“Man, I see some things never change,” he mutters. I sense a chuckle in his tease, but there’s also a sadness. He doesn’t know I’ve changed. Old memories haunt us both, and he’s correct. It would be sad if I had taken a girl in a bathroom at a party, only I didn’t take that girl. The one I wanted ran away from me.
“Some things completely change,” I defend, not offering any other information. I search the room but don’t find her. Midge. There was something in her eyes. I can’t place it but I want to know more about her.
“Oh, man.” He pauses, scanning the room after me. “I recognize the expression on your face. You’re a goner.” Tommy snorts.
“Nope, she is,” I mutter. I don’t see Midge anywhere, and I sigh in defeat. Coming to this party was a mistake. When the invitation found me, I couldn’t believe it because I hadn’t seen Tommy in years—almost nine actually. The death of his sister was the end of everything. An even greater shock was finding out Tommy got married.
“So, you’re hitched?” I muse, hoping to deflect the conversation.
“Proudly,” he states, standing taller, his barrel chest rising.
“She’s a pretty thing,” I admit. His wife is our age, in her forties, and she’s adorable with short styled hair and bright blue eyes.
“She’s all mine,” Tommy clarifies, and I huff at the hint.
“I don’t doubt it.” Tommy’s not really a domineering man, but he’s loyal and protective of those closest to him. No one understands this better than I do. Friends for nearly twenty years, I was around the Carrigan siblings for a long time before everything fell apart. The thought brings a peek of memories long since told to disappear.
“Want to explain why my wife’s new friend just rushed out of here?”
“Nope.” I can’t because I don’t understand what happened. One minute, I was trying to get away from the old groupie, and the next, I’m outlining the curves of a little body in the darkness of the bathroom. Her eyes pinned me in place the second she looked up at me. Mesmerized by the swirling combination of gold and rich dirt with a hint of sorrow mixed in, I couldn’t let her leave. Thank goodness my bulk accidentally trapped her against the sink. The space was compact but not so tight she couldn’t escape, had I let her. Then the way she responded to me, to just my voice. I never had the power to sing, but I would have sung songs for her just to watch those eyes flutter with pleasure, and she was almost there. Damn groupie. “How’d Stephie get in here?”
“Stephie’s here?” Tommy whistles, looking around me as if he hadn’t seen her. The woman hadn’t given up after all these years, still hoping to latch onto a rock star although most of us are has-beens at this point. Tommy smiles a second, and then his face drops at the reality. “Fuck, Stephie’s here. I gotta get her out of here.”
“You doing something you shouldn’t be?” I bark. I instantly liked Tommy’s wife, so the fact Tommy might be stepping out on her has me all kinds of bristly.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Did you see my wife? My wife,” he emphasizes. “I wouldn’t let her go for anything.” For a man who avoided marriage most of his life, I’m shocked at the instant loyalty he has to one lady. Then I remember his sister. They had a rare closeness. Best of friends. He knew how to protect a woman.
“Good to hear,” I confirm, thankful he has priorities. On that note, his wife enters the hallway.
“What happened?” she asks her husband.
“Whatcha mean, darlin’?”
“One minute, she’s drinking wine and enjoying herself, and the next, she can’t wait to leave. I don’t understand.” Edie looks crushed at the disappearance of her friend, and a touch of guilt pinches me.
“Your friend? What was her name?” I snap my fingers like I’m trying to remember.
“Midge Everette. I just met her, but we are like insta-friends. I don’t know what upset her.” Her brows pinch with concern and I nod in agreement as if I understand what she means by insta-friends. Women, huh? “And you know her how?”
I’m hoping she throws me a bone because I’m thinking I need to see Midge again. If nothing else, I need to apologize, and I never say I’m sorry. At one time, all I did was apologize, but it never got me anywhere.
“She’s working the 5K fundraiser for the music school.” I have no idea what this means, and I’m tapping my chin, working up to another question when Tommy’s eyes narrow on me.
“Some things never change,” he repeats, muttering as he rubs a hand up his wife’s back. Little does he know, everything has changed for me.