The Hooker and the Hermit

Lucy sucked in a deep breath, and her words came out in a hurried, whispered tumble. “You know, I couldn’t say anything in front of Ma at the restaurant earlier, but I don’t think Annie’s rushing off had anything to do with her feelings for you. It wasn’t your fault. Ma was an absolute cow to her. She first insinuated that Annie was with you for the money, and then she…well, she made it sound like you’re not....”

I held my breath; I didn’t even blink. When Lucy didn’t continue, I pressed, “Like I’m not what?”

Lucy huffed, “Like you have ‘commitment issues,’ like you don’t believe in monogamy.”

I got up abruptly from my chair, jaw clenching, temper rising.

“She did what?” I asked, my voice low in disbelief.

“I’m sorry, but it’s what she said. You’re always away, whether you’re travelling with the team or coming to New York for a break. You don’t spend time with Ma the way that I do. You get her in small, palatable doses.” Her voice grew sad as she looked down at her hands in her lap. “Besides, you’re, like, her favorite person, so obviously she’s going to be nice to you. You don’t see the side of her that the rest of us see.”

Frowning, I walked toward her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Has she been giving you trouble?”

Lucy scoffed, but it seemed forced. “Hardly. Her remarks have just gotten worse the last few years. Before then, you were always around to temper her moods.”

“That’s not on. I’m going to have a word with her.”

“No, don’t….”

Lucy grabbed my wrist to try to pull me back, but I was already marching from the room. I found Ma in the lounge going through a bunch of shopping bags she’d just brought back. She and Lucy had spent the day enjoying some retail therapy. When they’d arrived the other night, Ma had said she was desperately worried about me over the whole Brona thing, and that’s why she’d dropped everything to come see me. Now I was beginning to wonder if she’d just wanted to enjoy the shopping opportunities New York provided and stick her nose in my business with Annie.

“What do you think you’re playing at, talking to Annie like that?”

She didn’t look up from her treasures as she asked, “Has Lucy been telling tales?”

“What exactly did you say to her?”

When she did glance up, she gave me a placid look like I was being overdramatic and took her time setting the Louis Vuitton bag aside before answering me. “Oh, Ronan, come sit down. I only have your best interests at heart.”

“No, you obviously don’t. If you did, you’d be treating Annie like a queen rather than sniping at her behind my back. That girl is everything to me, so you’re going to have to accept her. Jesus, the shit she’s been through, and you go and pull a stunt like this.” I was wracked with worry, furiously running my hand through my hair, trying to figure out a way to apologize to Annie.

Ma scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Please, I’m sure whatever she’s told you is a web of lies concocted to solicit your sympathy. Girls like Annie see men like you coming from a mile away. Believe me, I know.”

“Girls like Annie?”

“You know, the ones that rely on their looks and their horizontal talents.”

Something in me snapped. “God give me patience, you haven’t a clue. So in future, you can keep your mouth shut and your nose out of it. I’m going out. If you want dinner, you can order something in.”

I grabbed my shoes from where I’d left them by the door to the room and pulled them on, giving her my back.

I heard her sniff then take a shaky breath.

I ignored her dramatics and continued, “Oh, yeah, and take it easy on Lucy, would you? She’s your daughter and the only female friend you have, so quit giving her shit all the time. She’s a great girl.”

I made the mistake of glancing toward her. My mother’s eyes were watering, and she looked at me like I’d struck her, like I’d betrayed her.

Just. Fucking. Fantastic.

I didn’t want to apologize. Hell, I had no reason to apologize. So I turned from her watery gaze and marched to the door. I was just about to leave when she spoke up, and I could hear the falling tears in her voice. “I’m sorry—I’ve been missing you, that’s all,” she called after me, her words ending on a sob.

I loved my mother to pieces; but she was a master manipulator, and I knew the crying jag was her way of getting me to feel sorry for her. No matter how angry I was, I couldn’t walk away from her when she crying; I just didn’t have it in me.

“Fuck,” I swore and walked back to her, flopping down beside her and pulling her in for a hug. “The next time you’re around Annie just be nice to her, okay? She’s an amazing woman, and I really think you’ll like her once you give her a chance.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again, and I patted her on the back before standing up. “I really don’t know what I could have said that upset her so much.”

I ignored this statement because it sounded false. “I really need to get out for a while. I’m going stir-crazy sitting in this place all day.”

She nodded, and I gave her once last reassuring look before I left. I’d hardly made it to the street before my phone started ringing. I pulled it out immediately, hoping it was Annie. Disappointment struck when I saw it wasn’t a number I recognized. I answered, and Joan began talking down the line immediately.

“Okay, so I’ve just been in a video conference with your people back in Ireland. As you’re probably aware, the Sportsperson of the Year Awards are taking place in Dublin next weekend, and the organizers would like you to go and present an award. As well, we’ve arranged several additional public appearances. You’ll be there for three weeks at least. Apparently, they’re on your side in relation to the bad press surrounding your ex. Rachel and Ian have been working around the clock finding ways to discredit her. We have quite a laundry list compiled. No need to thank them—Brona has made it quite easy. Also, the ceremony will be a great way for you to initiate your return to the team, get your picture in the magazines and such. I’m going to arrange for Annie to accompany you. You’ll leave on Thursday morning and fly back to New York on Sunday. That gives you a couple of days to prepare. Sound good?”

I laughed. “Did you even breathe during all that, Joan?”

“I’m a busy woman,” she replied, a smile in her voice. “Now, are you on board for this or not?”

“Yeah, I’m on board,” I answered. I didn’t relish the idea of going home so soon, but several weeks alone with Annie all to myself was too good an opportunity to pass up. She clearly didn’t want to be around me right now, but I didn’t think she’d say no to Joan. After she passed on a few more details, I hung up and typed out a message to Annie.

Ronan: Lucy told me what Ma said to you. I’m so sorry. She was way out of line. We need to talk. I’m going to call you in a minute, so please pick up.

I crossed the street and walked inside the park, finding a bench and sitting down. Then I dialed Annie’s number. No answer. I tried again twice, but there was still no answer, so I sent another text.

Ronan: Please tell me you were lying about Kurt. I’m going crazy here. I can’t stand the thought of you with him. With anyone. Please pick up. I never beg, but I’ll beg for you, Annie.

After several more attempts to call her, I hung up. She was shutting me out.

I ended up taking a cab to Tom’s. The place was crowded and busy, but he made time to sit with me and listen to my woes. For the second day in a row, I found myself drinking; and it’s embarrassing to admit because I certainly didn’t look like a lightweight, but I was tipsy by the time I got to my second beer. I’d been living so clean, putting my health and fitness first, that my body wasn’t used to alcohol. Tom had to take my phone off me when I tried to drunk-dial Annie.

It wasn’t like she was going to pick up anyway.

Later on he brought me back to the penthouse, and Ma looked horrified to see I’d been drinking. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t take a small amount of pleasure in that. She’d screwed things up for me with Annie, so I wasn’t feeling so warm toward her right then.

The next morning I woke up with a thumping headache. It was safe to say this was the first time I’d experienced a hangover in a long while. Even after all the drama of my breakup with Brona, I never hit the bottle. I was being ridiculous. After some exercise and a nourishing breakfast, I decided to try a different tack and emailed The Socialmedialite.

March 23

10:07 a.m.

Dear SML,

Here lies the message of a desperate man.

I need your advice. It saddens me to admit that I’m having woman troubles. I’m crazy about Annie, but she’s not taking my calls. We were getting along great, but then my mother showed up for an impromptu visit and said some harsh stuff to her, all of which was complete bullshit. My mother can be possessive and overprotective, but that doesn’t excuse her behavior. In a nutshell, Annie’s feelings were hurt, and she ended things. I need to make this right, but I have no idea what to do. You’re a woman—tell me how women think, what they need.