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Cooper was silent for a few moments, and then he shrugged. “When they think you’re a dick, they usually assume you’re shallow as well. Dick and shallow kind of go hand in hand. That’s a lot of layers of bullshit for someone to peel back, and most people don’t have the time.”
“Would that be so wrong, Cooper? To let someone in?”
Cooper looked irritated, but for whatever reason, Abby wasn’t giving this up. “I mean it Cooper. What are you afraid of?”
He shrugged but said nothing.
Abby gave him a hug and whispered. “One day some woman is going to peel back those layers of bullshit and—“
“And what?”
“And you’re going let her.”
“That’s pretty damn optimistic,” Cooper said.
“I think it’s inevitable.”
“You know what I think is inevitable? Our date. You going to take me to this famous Black Dog pub or what?”
Abby glanced around the empty apartment. Everywhere she looked, she saw Tucker. And as much as that made her feel closer to him, it also was driving her bat shit crazy.
“Okay,” she conceded. “Let’s go.”
Ten minutes later, they hopped in a taxi, both of them avoiding the paparazzi waiting outside of The Essex House.
“How are you doing, Miss?”
Surprised, Abby glanced up at the taxi driver, smiling wanly when she recognized him. His name was John and he’d taken her and Tucker out several times in the past.
Of course he knew who she was. Who Tucker was. And by now, he sure as hell knew who Marley was.
His eyes were kind and his concern genuine.
“I’m fine, thank you.”
Less than twenty minutes later, they pulled up outside of The Black Dog. “Shit,” Cooper murmured, reaching into his jacket for the fare.
“What’s going on?”
“There are some photographers outside the bar. Are you sure you want to go inside? I mean, it might get crazy if word gets out that you’re here.”
Something fired off inside Abby. Something hot and pissed off and fed up. “Let them get crazy. I don’t care. They haven’t met my brother Mick and I can guarantee he’s looking for an excuse to let off some steam.”
Cooper chuckled. “Okay then.”
They pushed past the crowd outside the bar and when one of the photographers tried to follow them inside, Cooper, shoved him back. While Abby wasn’t exactly sure what Cooper said to the guy, she knew it wasn’t polite and it sure as hell wasn’t nice. The photographer backed off, and the rest milled around but none of them tried to follow them inside the Black Dog.
The first face she saw when her eyes adjusted to the lighting was Old Joe. His wrinkled, leathery face opened into a wide grin, and she walked up to him, accepting his hug and the kiss on her cheek.
“There’s my girl,” Old Joe said.
“Hey,” she murmured. “Are these guys looking after you?”
“They’re not as pretty to look at, but they keep my mug full.”
“You’re not on the schedule,” Mick said, resting his hip against the bar.
“What can I say?” she replied. “I miss the place.”
