Forever Together (An Ireland Forever short story) Read online

  "Harlow? Anything?"

  I shook my head. "He was last seen leaving the bar with a blonde. Declan, the bartender, said it was a journalist who'd been hanging around since the interviews."

  "Fucking fabulous." Janie snapped.

  "He was in a great mood. What happened to change that?" She looked directly at me when she said it and I realized that right now, I was seeing Janie the band promoter, not my friend.

  "He overheard me saying his dick needed bathing in bleach."

  Seamus snorted and earned a death glare from Janie.

  "Okay everyone, carry on rehearsing as normal. Tell me straightaway if you hear from him or see him. I'll get someone on his trail. He must have used a credit card for something. Meantime, I'll contact all the blonde journalists until I find the right one because no doubt I've got to offer a sweetener for the bitch not to blast some exclusive all over the tabloids."

  With that she strode out.

  I felt gutted. Truth was I'd failed my friend. Not on purpose, but because of what Fergus had overheard, my charge was now missing, no doubt in 'action' and his appearance at the concert was in jeopardy. Maybe it was time to look for an early flight back to New York and leave these people who knew what they were doing to it?

  My cell beeped.

  Janie: Sorry I had to bust your balls in public. Didn't mean it, sweetie. Can't have the boys thinking I'm going soft though now, can I? He'll turn up, he always does, and when he does, he'll wish his dick being bathed in bleach was all he had to worry about. The spa are expecting you. Go chill before the prodigal son returns, because he'll be a bear with a sore head and a sore cock and guess who'll be in the firing line? Don't take any shit from him. Mwah xo

  I didn't feel like going to the spa. I felt like climbing under my comforter and never coming out. But seeing as I didn't think I'd ever afford to enjoy a five-star luxury spa experience ever again, I went to get my swimsuit. Before I went in there, I sent Fergus a text.

  Harlow: I'm sorry. You weren't supposed to hear that. BUT, you know I take no shit. You fuck everything that moves and then you fuck them over. That's why I said it and that's why I was brought here in the first place. However, against my better judgment I do actually like you. A LOT. So stop feeling fucking sorry for yourself, get your dick out of whatever pussy it's in, drink copious amounts of coffee, and get back here because the band needs you.

  I left my cell in my locker while I went to decompress.

  Fergus

  I woke in a strange hotel room with a tongue that tasted like I'd licked the carpet. The first thing I noticed was I was alone. The blonde from the night before had gone. The second thing I noticed was an empty bottle of Jack. The third was I was completely naked.

  But more worryingly, I remembered nothing. Not coming to this room. Not drinking. Not fucking. I couldn't see a disused condom or two which was usual after a night of drunken debauchery.

  Dear fucking God, please don't let me have fucked the journo blonde bare. If I had then my dick really did need bleaching, and I could end up with a kid, with a fucking mother I didn't want.

  Then it hit my gut hard as I imagined Harlow with a heavily swelled stomach carrying my baby. What was going on? I'd only met the woman a few days before. I needed counselling. I reckoned I was having a breakdown.

  The first thing I needed to do was to find out where the fuck I was and then contact Janie to do damage control.

  Grabbing the pad from the side of the bed, I saw I was in The Westbury Hotel. I launched myself out of bed clutching my head and read the note scrawled on the pad as my eyes finally focused.

  Hey babe

  I would have loved to have experienced bedding a rock star, but you were neither capable, or it would appear… available.

  Thanks for the exclusive anyway.

  Gina.

  What had I done?

  I picked up my cell to contact Janie. Jesus Christ, it was half past ten! I saw I had a text.

  Harlow: I'm sorry. You weren't supposed to hear that. BUT, you know I take no shit. You fuck everything that moves and then you fuck them over. That's why I said it and that's why I was brought here in the first place. However, against my better judgment I do actually like you. A LOT. So stop feeling fucking sorry for yourself, get your dick out of whatever pussy it's in, drink copious amounts of coffee, and get back here because the band needs you.

  She liked me? A LOT? It was in capital letters. Did that mean as a person a lot; or as a guy, a potential boyfriend, a lot. WHAT DID 'A LOT' MEAN? Fuck, I was growing a vagina.

  I hit speed dial on Janie. I needed her help, and I needed it fast.

  Harlow

  The spa, once I eventually let it work it's magic on me, gave me hours of bliss. I felt all my worries melt away. What was I getting myself in a state about? I only met Fergus McDermott mere days ago and in another few days I'd be back in New York where he'd be a distant memory.

  I had the opportunity of a lifetime to be around a top rock band and be in the wings as they played their concert. I could chat with my heroes and crushes. All I had to do was put up with a diva rock star for a tiny bit longer.

  I could do it.

  It was worth it.

  Walking over to the reception in my bathrobe, I booked myself afternoon tea, followed by a mani-pedi, and then an appointment in the salon for a blow out, or as they called it here a 'wash and blow dry'.

  If my charge could go AWOL, so could I.

  Later that afternoon, I opened the door of my suite. The room was in darkness. The turn down staff had obviously been in and drawn the drapes. My hair looked amazing, but I was too tired and relaxed to do anything other than fall into my bed. Kicking my shoes off in the doorway, I walked over and flopped onto the comforter.

  "Ow."

  I jumped out of my skin and began to smack the shit out of my assailant.

  "Stop, oh my god, you're really hurting me. Stop!"

  My wrists were pinned above my head and then a lamp switched on.

  Fergus fucking McDermott.

  "What are you doing in my bed?" I screamed at him.

  "I came to apologize. I'd texted you and called you for hours and there was no reply, so I came looking for you. I thought you were just blanking me. Only I'd had a bit of a heavy night and so I kind of just well, crawled into your bed.

  "How did you get in my room?"

  "What can I say? The receptionist loves me and would do anything I asked."

  I realized my arms were still pinned above my head and I was mere millimeters away from Fergus' chin stubble. Oh God, he didn't have his shades on either.

  "Let go of me."

  "Only if you say I'm forgiven for my mardy moment."

  "Well, if I had any idea what one of those was."

  "Mardy. It means sulking."

  "Oh. Well, there's nothing to forgive. I did say your dick needed bathing in bleach."

  Said dick that was pressing against my stomach.

  He let go of my wrists and I rubbed them as I moved to the side of him.

  "For the record. It doesn't. I'm always suited and booted, and I have regular checks. I'm clean."

  "It's none of my business."

  "Isn't it?"

  Was it me or had the energy in the room just charged up?

  I moved a bit further away.

  "How can it have anything to do with me who you stick your penis in?"

  "Because since you arrived here, I haven't slept with anyone, because all I can think about is you. All I want to do is stick my penis in you."

  I shook my head and burst out laughing.

  Fergus actually blushed. "It sounded a lot more romantic in my head."

  "Oh, Fergus. Look, you've just come back from some blonde journalist's bedroom. Am I really supposed to believe that nothing happened?"

  "Yes. You are. Because nothing did happen."

  I caught the look on his face.

  "What aren't you telling me?"

  He sighed. "I was
upset, and on a mission to live up to my persona. It could have happened. I was just incapable. The journalist left me this note. Look." He passed me a crumpled up piece of paper from the hotel he'd stayed in.

  "So, what's her exclusive?"

  "I don't know, but I can hazard a guess."

  I swear my heart stopped.

  "And what would your guess be?"

  "That she worked out I'm fucking falling for you. That somehow the wild, bad boy of Blackthorn, is falling in love with his ball-busting personal assistant."

  "What did you just say?"

  "I'm falling in love with you. Is that clear enough because I do have enough money to have a helicopter fly past with a banner?"

  "I-, I-"

  "I know it’s a lot to comprehend, and I know you could just think this is one of my lines of seduction, but I'll prove it to you. I'm not going to look in another woman's direction unless I absolutely have to, and I do have to flirt with all the fans, babe. But my dick is going nowhere but staying in my pants. That's if you're willing to get to know me over the days we have remaining before the concert. Then it's up to you, whether you go back to New York, or travel around with me for a while longer. Only the position of PA can be extended… indefinitely.

  My mind was swimming with his words. But I needed time to think. To get to know him better. I made myself comfortable. "Order a pizza, will you? I'm starving. And tonight's film is Leap Year.

  He smiled at me, and it took me every single piece of control I had, to not leap on him there and then.

  The Irish Star

  **Exclusive**

  IS BLACKTHORN'S WILDEST, FERGUS MCDERMOTT, FINALLY TAMED?

  After being invited to interview Blackthorn just prior to their stadium performance at The Dublin Arena, it became apparent very quickly that something strange was afoot with guitarist and sometime vocalist Fergus McDermott. Fergus, 31, whose reputation as the bad boy of Blackthorn, usually resulted in walk-outs partway through interviews: either through taking offence at a question, saying he's bored, or having seduced one of the journalists, stayed throughout my questions.

  It was noticeable however that for most of the interview his eyes kept wandering toward his new Personal Assistant, Harlow, 28. Harlow is the best friend of Tour Promoter, Janie Locke, and I have it on good authority she had been brought in to keep Fergus in line for the week, having experience with surviving living with five elder brothers.

  At the interview, I believed that Fergus was no doubt just trying to entrance and seduce yet another PA, so when he met me in the bar of the hotel later and invited me for drinks, I wasn’t surprised.

  Of course, I couldn't turn down an opportunity for a one on one exclusive and so we settled at The Westbury Hotel with a bottle of scotch and I continued my interview…

  This is part of my transcription of that interview:

  "So, what's the story with your Personal Assistant? Is she another potential conquest in your long list of many?"

  "No, she's not. I'm becoming whipped, aren't I? I think I'm actually in bloody love."

  "Really?"

  "Yeah, my mam's gonna have a field day. She said one day it'd happen. I told her not to hold her breath. I'm never gonna live this down now. And she doesn't even want me, that's what's worse."

  For more of this interview turn to page five…

  Harlow

  I'd woken in bed to find I was alone. After the pizza and movie, I’d been tired and Fergus had said he needed to meet with Janie and the rest of the band members, to apologize for the millionth time and sort out his schedule for the next couple of days.

  He'd told me he'd text me when he needed me. I reached over for my cell, but there was no message. Well not from Fergus anyway.

  Janie: Click this link.

  I clicked through and found myself the subject of a public declaration of love from one insane Irishman.

  Harlow: OMG

  Janie: Do you feel the same way? I can get him another PA if you don't and pay for your flight home?

  Harlow: No. Don't do that.

  Janie: Ohhhh myyyyy goddddd.

  Harlow: Oh fuck off.

  Janie: He's in rehearsals until three pm and then I've ordered him back to his suite to rest…

  Harlow: Get me a keycard…

  Janie: It's on its way. I'll fuck off and you can fuck… bahahahaha.

  Smart ass!

  I hauled myself out of bed. My heart beating at what felt like a thousand beats per minute. My blow out still held with a bit of teasing. I placed the complimentary shower cap on my head and threw myself into the shower.

  Fergus

  Well hadn’t I had to endure hours upon hours of endless teasing from Janie and my bandmates. They were in their element ripping the shit out of me.

  I let it all ride good-naturedly—another first.

  All I could think about was Harlow.

  We'd had a great night, just chatting while we watched the movie. Well, she watched the movie. I watched her.

  I’d told Janie this morning she needed to call in the physicians, because I didn't want to fuck her best friend. Well, I did, but I also wanted to make love to her.

  Janie screamed with laughter and walked away, and I didn't even care.

  I made my way back to my suite. I’d given Harlow time off but I was going to see if she wanted to meet tonight and I'd take her out for dinner. There was a Michelin-starred restaurant here that I'd yet to try. I got through the door of my suite and stood for a moment while I sent a text.

  Fergus: Could I take you to dinner? I do love our pizza time, but I'd like to spoil you tonight.

  I pressed send and heard a 'ping' come from the direction of my bedroom.

  Huh?

  I walked through to the bedroom area where I was greeted by the sight of Harlow in my bed. All I could see were her naked shoulders, reminding me of when we’d first met.

  "Well, it was supposed to be a surprise, but then you texted me." She grumbled.

  I didn't know what to say. Why was she here? In my bed? Presumably naked if the clothes strewn at the foot of the bed were anything to go by. I thought we were getting to know each other and taking it slow?

  She typed something into her cell.

  Ping.

  Harlow: Are you going to stand there all day with that dumb expression on your face, or get in bed? Dinner sounds fabulous. I'm sure we'll have worked up an appetite. I'm guessing we don't need to book seeing as you're Mr. Hot Rock Star?

  "You think I'm hot?" I asked.

  "I'm naked in your bed, what do you think?"

  "I think you did that once before to torment me and I don't want to presume anything."

  She sent another text.

  Harlow: Get in bed and make love to me, Fergus.

  Oh my god.

  Well, she'd asked nicely…

  I dived under the covers and pulled Harlow's body toward mine. She was all soft curves against my hard planes and warm against my cool body.

  "Jesus, Fergus, you're freezing."

  I silenced her with a kiss. Her mouth fitted mine like it was made for me. I'd never felt this way before and I knew it was very early days, but I hoped I felt this way every day going forward. I wanted her to stay. I needed her to stay.

  So I showed her with my body. I kissed and caressed every inch of skin. Teasing, nibbling, licking, sucking. I placed my head between her thighs and I gently bit her clit while my fingers probed and played. I watched my girl come apart as she arched up off the bed, exploding over my mouth and screaming for God. Taking my time, I gave her a moment, kissing her for what felt like hours, stroking that soft skin, before I placed myself between her thighs.

  We needed a condom. I had to get out of bed and get my wallet.

  "Just a minute." Harlow said, reaching over to the side of the bed and holding up a brown paper bag. She emptied it onto the bed, condom after condom floating around.

  "Steady on, woman. How many times do you think we're doing it? I
don't want him breaking."

  "You said to make sure you had a drawer full of condoms. They haven't made it to the drawer yet, but I'm your PA. I did as asked."

  "Cheeky." I said, grabbing a condom and tearing the wrapper. I knocked the rest to the floor.

  "I suppose I have a tub full of bleach?"

  "Just a bottle of it on the side of the tub if needed."

  "I won't need it because the only person I ever intend to put my cock inside again is you."

  "Ever the romantic." She laughed and it lit up her face. I was struck then by how much she already meant to me.

  I captured her mouth once more to stop her talking and positioned myself between her thighs.

  Breaking the kiss, I checked, "Are you sure about this?"

  "Yes. I'm no virgin myself, Fergus, so don't feel guilty about your past."

  I pushed inside her and she groaned.

  "Can. You. Not. Mention. Other. Men. When. I'm. Making. Love. To. You." I thrust each word into her.

  She giggled beneath me.

  "You're mine." I growled. "We're going to be together forever."

  She was about to open her mouth once more, so I placed a finger on her clit and flicked as I thrust deeper inside her. She came harder over my cock, taking me with her. We collapsed together and I pulled her into my arms, our chests rising and falling with our heavy breaths.

  "Wow. That was just. Wow." I told her.

  "Right back at you." She winked.

  Our dinner reservations ended up being changed to room service once more…

  Harlow

  One year later…

  I waited in the VIP section for my husband to take to the stage. Blackthorn were headlining at Madison Square Garden.

  Janie was once again nowhere to be seen. I was here with other wives and girlfriends, family members, and my friends Jodi, Ella, Audrina, and Casey. I'd met Jodi and Ella briefly before I'd left for Dublin when I'd bought a dress at their boutique. Audrina and Casey owned the coffee shop next door to the boutique and so it wasn't long before we all became friends. Fergus and the band had been here in New York laying down a new album, and he'd proposed, not three months after the gig in Dublin. I'd asked Jodi and Ella to make my wedding dress. When Fergus was determined about something, it happened, and he was determined not to wait to get a ring on my finger.