Finally Finn (Los Rancheros #4) (10 page)

“WHAT’S WRONG?!” My eyes scan their bodies as
I yell over them, not seeing anything on their bodies, no blood,
bones, tears, and no predators in the room. My body sways and I
don’t know whether to jump over the couch or if I have time to run
around the stacks of folded clothes I haven’t put away yet.

“Oh my gosh, Aunt Sadie—”

“You’re on TV!”

“We saw you on the TV!”

“You were singing and so pretty—”

“Do you sing? Can you sing for us?”

They keep going, but I collapse behind the
sectional, in between the couch and dining room chair. Lying on my
back, one hand on my heart, I bring the phone to my ear with the
other.

“What the fuck? I’m coming home. Sadie?
Sadie? Are they—”

“They’re fine. They’re fine,” I mumble. It’s
silent for a moment before he explodes.

“What do you mean they’re fine? Is someone
bleeding? Are you being held at gunpoint?”

“No. They saw me on TV, babe.
Triple
Threat
promos have started.” The girls are still jumping up and
down on the other side of the couch.

“Are you . . . I . . . it’s a good thing I’m
in the fucking hospital. Jesus Christ.” I can hear that he was just
as scared as I was.

“I know. I almost passed out.”

“Where are you?”

“On the floor behind the couch.” He
laughs.

“Babe. Now that that’s out of the way, stop
with this putting yourself down shit. Do I need to remind you that
I’m a bouncer with no education? Who cares if I’m on the cover of a
magazine?” He clears his throat and I get the impression he’s
uncomfortable. “Listen, there’s a reason I didn’t like Popper. I’m
just a normal guy that helps out his brother—”

“With a highly successful, billion dollar
company,” I interrupt.

“It’s not billions, and he got lucky. He
didn’t know what he was doing, and I still don’t. We just hire good
people and work hard. But Popper was all about the material things,
and I’m a guy living in a thirty-year-old house.” I shift
uncomfortably.

“I’m not really like that.”

“I know, baby,” he says quietly.

“I did a lot of stuff, though, that can come
back up. I don’t want—”

“Stop it,” he interrupts me. “If you think I
have doubts about whatever it is we’re doing, then you don’t know
me at all. I’ve been thinking about this from the second I saw you
at the hospital. We may have started out as casual, and I have my
share of shit. You’ve heard it all and you’re still in my house,
taking care of my business when you didn’t have to.” He sighs. “You
mean more to me than I can say over the phone. It’s not the perfect
time for a relationship but we’ve been doing our version of one for
almost half a year. Just keep it steady until I get home and we can
hash things out.”

It’s more an order than request, his tone
suggesting I don’t have an option, and I really don’t want one. But
those doubts don’t just go away. “Alright, I’ll table it for
now.”

“Thanks, babe. I have to go.” I take a deep
breath and look around.

“Me, too. I’ll talk to you later.” I get up
and go make Finn’s kids dinner.

THURSDAY

“Are you sure this is the place?” I roll my
eyes.

“Yes, Jacque.” I push the doors open to the
pub. Immediately, I’m surrounded by bodies and music that vibrates
through my chest. I close my eyes and breathe in the stench of
sweat and cigarette smoke. As much as everything Popper was a bad
idea, I feel in my element.

Jacque points to a table in the back, and I
recognize some of the production crew. We’re here incognito so
everything will be shot with small handheld cameras that probably
cost a whack.

The crew insisted that I try to disguise my
features, so I’m wearing a slouchy beanie with all but my side
bangs inside, and a long sleeve shirt. I’m already sweating.

“Our boy goes on at ten. What’s his name
again?” the producer asks. Shouldn’t he know?

“Porter,” I yell. “He’s seventeen. I
think.”

“How the hell did he get in to play a place
like this? Is that even legal?” Jacque asks, and I smirk.

“It’s easy if you’re bringing in money for
the bar. I’m sure we’ve all done it.” At the blank looks, I add,
“Fandy and Danny, I mean.”

I get nods of acknowledgement as a waitress
brings us drinks. I take a sip. Ugh. Not even any Jack with my Coke
on my one night out. I think about the kids at home and sigh. It’s
a sad day when Sadie Dinah wishes she was at home with the fam
instead of in a place like this. I got a kiss and that’s it before
I had to get on a plane to this podunk town in . . .

“Where are we?” I ask the table.

“Boise, Idaho.”

Okay, so it’s not a podunk town, but still,
I’m here to find a star in Idaho. This kid better be good for me to
miss a guaranteed orgasm.

“Right. Cool.” I nod when Jacque elbows me in
the side. I guess they wanted a response? Dunno.

“So, Jacque, how’s work?” one of the girls
ask, getting closer to him. My eyebrows rise. What is this?

“Work’s good, Cara. How are you doing?” He
bends his head, man bun and all. My eyes flicker back and forth
between them. Jacque is cute, I guess. A little unwashed for my
taste, but they’ve risen considerably recently. My phone vibrates
in my pocket, so I pull it out and open the text.

Immediately I put the screen to my chest and
look around. Nope. Nobody saw the message with Finn’s HUGE dick.
What is he thinking?

I send random letters in several texts to get
the picture off the screen, then type.

Me: What in the hell are you doing? I’m
working.

Batty: Just making sure you know what’s
waiting for you. I can smell you on my pillow and it’s making me
hard.

Me: Are you in bed already?

Batty: I was working until I saw your panties
in the bathroom. I’m talking myself out of smelling them to get
off.

Me: That’s disgusting. Tell me more.

Batty: I miss you. I want to fuck you. You
had all the fun last time. Send me a picture.

Me: What kind of picture?

Batty: Come on, Sadie, be a dirty girl for
me.

“Who are you talking to?” the guy sitting
next to me asks casually. I put the phone back in my pocket as I
stand and my palms start to sweat.

“Nobody. I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Cara asks,
one hand on her purse. Why do girls always want to go together? I
never got that.

“Nah, I’m good. Be right back.” I move my way
through the crowd that is more crushing than when we got here a
little bit ago. This guy must be good to get this big of a showing
on a Thursday.

I push through to the bathrooms and wait, and
wait. The line isn’t moving. I wait five minutes more without the
door opening.

“What the hell is going on?” I ask the girl
next to me.

“Someone’s banging in the bathroom.” She
rolls her eyes and turns back around. I wait some more. Five more
minutes and I know I’ve been there for twenty. I’m done.

Moving to the head of the line, I ignore the
indignant remarks and push the door open. It pushes back at me at
first, but I keep going and look behind the door. Some dude is
banging a girl against the door.

Since that’s just inconsiderate with two
stalls empty, I keep walking until I’m in the room. When the door
closes behind me and the music is muted, I can hear their grunts
and moans.

“Hey.” I try to get their attention.
Nothing.

“Hey!” The guy unburies his head from an
impressive rack to look over his shoulder. “People are about to
piss their pants out there. Can you hurry this along?”

I get a chin lift, and immediately recognize
him as our YouTube find. “You want in, doll?”

I feel my lip curl. “Are you high? You’re
illegal, kid. Bust a nut or move to a stall so the rest of us can
use the room.”

“Illegal?” the girl asks, still moaning in
between thrusts that he hasn’t stopped.

“Don’t worry about that bitch. Give me your
mouth.”

Fucking. Disgusting. I debate leaving the
room, but shit, I’ve waited this long.

“I’m not kidding. Bitch. Move it to a stall.
Look, handicapped is open.” I swing the door open helpfully, and he
rolls his eyes, picking the girl up and shuffling with his jeans
down at his ankles to the stall, slamming the door behind him. It
starts to shake. What is it with him and doors?

Moving to the other stall, all thought of
getting myself off gone, I unbuckle my belt and take a selfie of
the below the waist variety and send it off.

I open the door the same time the kid is
reaching for the door handle to go back into the club.

“Wash your hands, dude.” He smirks and walks
out. If this kid gets picked, I hope he shits his pants when he
sees me.

The girl he just banged is wiping away
smeared lipstick in the mirror. I wash my hands just from being in
the same room as those two. Grabbing two paper towels, I reach for
the door handle and head out without a word.

The line cheers as I pass and I curtsy with a
smirk. When I get back to the table, Jacque says, “I think it’s
about time for our boy to play. I hope he’s up for this.”

I doubt it,” I mumble, taking a sip of my
drink.

Ten minutes later, the kid is front and
center, brown hair disheveled in a way that looks like he’s just
been fucked, but then he has. I’ll never be able to unsee it and
fantasize about all of the subtle innuendo I can sneak in as a
judge.

When he starts to sing, I watch the crowd
first. They go insane. Girls that shouldn’t be in the club, either
because they’re too old or too young, start screaming, jumping,
someone in the front throws a bra in the air. Then I tune in to his
voice.

What he was lacking in the YouTube video is
apparent in his performance. The crowd loves him, even the guys
sing along with his cover. Porter is playing with a band, which he
wasn’t in the video. It brings everything alive in a way otherwise
impossible.

I pull my cell phone out and bypass the
messages from Finn to record the performance. It comes to my
attention that several other people are doing the same thing, just
like at a concert. You may think people do that all the time, but
it’s not common if you suck. I start wishing we had just searched
the kid’s name than made the trip.

I send off a group text with the video to
Fandy and Danny and get a response minutes later.

Danny: He’s got it.

Fandy: Kid’s a magnet.

Me: Agreed, so in?

They agree in short order and I tell the
table. Everyone is visibly relieved to have the expense of the trip
pay off.

We do this two more times, at a coffee shop
in Minnesota of all places, and another one on a street corner in
Brooklyn.

It’s the girl busking on the street I’m most
excited about. Fandy goes to that one, but I got the recording.
She’s beautiful, her voice is magic and people actually were
stopping to watch her perform, one couple even danced. I’m putting
my money on her, even if, you know, I am supposed to be rooting for
just one. Stella for the win.

FRIDAY

I have popcorn and pizza, I have chips and
dip, I have wine. It’s a big night. A big, big night for everyone.
The first episode of
Triple Threat
is airing. It’s been two
weeks since I’ve seen Finn and he’s over talking with a group of
people. Why don’t I learn the people’s names that are on the set? I
don’t know, but he’s all I see. The kids are sitting beside me,
jumping in their seats, so excited they can’t keep still.

Someone decided we would have a viewing party
in honor of the first episode, so everyone is crowding my house
right now. I just want them all gone so that I can put the kids to
bed and get my man. At this point, I’m not above a quicky in the
pantry.

“It’s starting!” Bridgette shrieks. I would
be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. Half of the time, when we’re
together, I forgot the cameras are on. What if I look like an
idiot? Or what if my resting face was high as a kite? I don’t
know.

I start to bite my nails. I move from one
thumb to the other, before a much bigger hand covers mine, pulling
it away.

“You’re going to be great, baby,” Batty
rumbles in my ear and my whole body shivers. He’s behind the couch,
one hand covering mine and the other behind the back of the
girls.

“Why aren’t you nervous? You should be
nervous. This is huge, Finn.” I look behind me after I ramble.

“I’m not nervous because there’s nothing I
can do. It’s taped, it’s going to air, and you’re all good people.
It’s going to be fine.” I roll my eyes at his grin. What does he
know? Then I spin back around.

“Have you seen it already?” I demand.

“Of course. Didn’t you?” Asshole. He could
have told me.

“No,” I say slowly. He shrugs. I turn to
Fandy on my left. “Did you see this already?”

He shakes his head, dreads swinging, so I
turn and ask Danny on the right. He says he hasn’t seen it, either,
so I don’t feel so bad.

“I’ll make sure you get the next one.”

“I want to hear Aunt Sadie sing. Do you sing
in this one?” Hannah asks. I pull her toward me and tickle her just
to hear her laugh. It calms me down.

“Yeah, I sing a little bit. But . . .” I
trail off. I’ve never sang for millions of people before. That may
sound stupid for someone who’s recorded five albums, but I’ve only
yelled, screamed and growled. This is primetime TV. I may have a
heart attack before we hit the live shows.

The crowd yells and claps loudly when it
starts. Someone by the TV flashes a camera at us watching the
opening scenes. It’s quick clips of the YouTube videos, some we’ve
selected, all we’ve watched, as their voices jumble together and
turn into a mural of singing people. Then Fandy is at the set from
the first day.