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“Holy shit,” I whispered to Bonnie. “Someone killed a priest?” I mean It wasn't like all priests were like Father Eric, kind and gentle and sweet, and not at all creepy, but to kill a man of the cloth? “He must have really pissed someone off.”
Bonnie glared at me and pinched my arm. “Maisie! House of God,” she said and pointed around at the stained glass windows, pews and statues.
“My bad.” I shrugged and turned back to Father Eric, who led us all in a quick prayer for Father Hargrave.
As Father Eric talked about kindness to our fellow man and the importance of forgiveness, I thought about the events of last night.
Well, I hadn’t stopped thinking about them since I woke up in a strange bed, inside a strange mansion with a really hot savior.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t put together the pieces of the night beyond dancing with Bonnie and waking up, which was really annoying, not to mention a little scary.
Anything could have happened to me before Virgil found me. Hell, Virgil could have done this to me—an uncharitable thought that had come to me while I tossed and turned, trying to sleep. It wasn’t one I could discount, no matter how hot he was. No matter how gorgeous. No matter how many times my mind flashed images of us together, naked and doing unspeakable things to one another.
“Pay attention,” Bonnie whispered to go along with her pointy elbow. “Father Eric is watching.”
I looked up and sure enough, the admonishing look in his eyes landed on mine. “Oops. Sorry,” I mouthed and tried my best to think about Jesus and not Virgil for the rest of the hour.
By the time mass was over, I was ready for food and some fun with my girl, except her uptight but sweet parents would be there. “Are you sure nothing happened last night?” Bonnie put her hands on my shoulders and forced me to look at her. “You’ve been acting strange all morning. Talk to me Maze.”
“I will,” I promised her. “But not here. After lunch.”
She shook her red hair, her expression one that said, don’t fuck with me but in church-appropriate language. “No, during lunch. Mom and Dad are visiting some of the elderly church members who can’t get out easily, taking them some meals.”
See what I meant about uptight but sweet? Bonnie’s folks were the kind of people who would judge you for being poor but happily feed you while they did it. “Then it’s just us?”
“Yep, which means you spill while I buy. Birthday girl.”
“Fine. Where are we going?”
“Midnight Mass. They have the best shepherd’s pie in town.” She flashed a smile and made her way to the cute little blue sedan her parents bought as an early graduation gift.
I frowned, unfamiliar with the place. “Uhm, no offense Bon, but I just been in one full mass, and I’m not keen to kick it at another mass, even if the food is the bomb.”
She rolled her hazel eyes with a laugh. “It’s a pub, Maisie. With authentic Irish beers and everything.”
I flashed a wide smile. “A pub? Called Midnight Mass? You really are the best kid sister a girl could have.”
“I’m two months older than you, Maze. Stop it.” She flashed that grin she always wore when I was being what she called incorrigible. “I’ll see you there, kiddo?”
I glared at her and nodded. “I’ll be there, probably before you. Grandma.”
Midnight Mass Pub looked exactly like what I expected for an Irish pub with a Kelly-green Irish motif, featuring four leaf clovers, leprechaun hats and dark wooden booths and tables. The walls featured black and white photos of Irish immigrants. Some had become business owners and some had become gangsters, both represented equally in the pub’s history.
“Cute place,” I told Bonnie when I took the seat across from her. “A little on the nose, but I’m sure there’s something dark on tap.”
“We’re not here for the décor, we’re here for the shepherd’s pie and conversation.” A strawberry blonde waitress brought us menus and water. She took our drink orders and left us in peace.
Bonnie folded her arms on the table and pierced me with one of her looks. “So, what happened to you last night?”
Frankly, I was dying to spill. “Someone spiked my drink last night and I blacked out, but this guy Virgil helped me. Remember that really hot guy I was looking at on the dance floor?” The way his eyes heated up as they raked over my body was seared into my memory.
“Yes, I remember,” she said, rolling her eyes. “What do you mean he helped you? I was looking all over for you. I thought you’d left me. I was about to call the cops. I probably should have.”
“Bonnie, relax. I’m okay.” I shrugged, suddenly feeling defensive. “I mean he got me away from whoever drugged my drink and took me home. Well, to his mom’s house, I think. Anyway, that’s what happened to me.”
