A/N: I'll start with the most important notice: I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER TO UPDATE!!!!! I swear final exams are at fault, I was out of commission for like... a month, studying and whatnot. But I'm back on track now, and hopefully I can actually get some work done on my stories. So anyway, this one in particular is a little open ended, so if you have suggestions or ideas, send them my way! Also, little disclaimer: I have never been to Dublin, so if my impression of the city is wrong, please forgive me, I'm just writing this for fun, I'm sorry if it's incorrect. It's all just for fun, I'm not trying to make any kind of statement, nothing here is fact, except the time difference and one other thing I'll put at the end. Oh, and I also mentioned something I call the "crazy American look" which I have personally recieved many times in my travels (mostly in France). That is not made up or an exaggeration, just personal experience. I love France! I'm not being discriminatory!
Okay, I'm done now. Sorry again, hope this is up to usual standards. Please review!
Chapter 4: Happiness By The Bottle
After a long flight, some serious napping, and a couple airplane meals that I wouldn't write home about, we were landing in Dublin. My thoughts about Mike were pushed to the side as I bounced in my seat with anticipation. I kept staring out the window at the city lights. It was about 11 PM in Dublin, according to the air hostess on the loudspeaker, but to me it felt like six at night. I was ready to get out, to see the city-
What the heck? I was standing outside on the curb of the airport, and there were no cars. No buses full of people heading to the clubs, no taxis to pick up wandering jet setters… what kind of city was this? There wasn't even the massive lights that would suggest a city. Where were the legendary discotheques of Europe? I mean, Ireland was part of Europe, right?
I saw a younger looking man waiting a little ways down the curb and decided to figure out exactly what was going on.
"Excuse me?" I asked hesitantly, my voice shrill from nerves. "Uh, sir?
The man turned around to face me with curious blue eyes. Figured, first man I met in Ireland had bright red hair, blue eyes and freckles.
"Yes?" He answered with a thick Irish accent.
"Uh," I said awkwardly, trying to figure out what exactly I was asking. "Do you know where everybody is?" He looked at me like I was slightly crazy, so I elaborated. "I mean, the taxis, or buses. Where can I find a ride?"
This time he actually laughed at me. "You're not likely to get a ride at this time of night, lassie, all the cabs are likely to be at the pubs. Everyone's at the pubs!"
"Oh!" I said, surprised, "So there are clubs around here?"
He laughed even harder. "No, not clubs, pubs. Not exactly what you're thinking of."
I shrugged. "Doesn't matter much to me, I just want to go out and have some fun, it's still early for me."
"Well, you're welcome to share my lift when it gets here. My brother is picking me up and we're going to grab a drink before we turn in."
"That sounds great," I said, moving closer to my new friend. "I'm Carly, by the way."
"Thomas," he said, offering me his hand in greeting.
After a few more minutes of staggered conversation it was pretty obvious that Thomas and I weren't going to be the closest of friends. He worked in a law firm in New York but was visiting his brother for the holidays. He didn't listen to a lot of music, he wasn't interested in art, and the most interesting book he'd read in the past five years was The Brothers Karamazov.
Not my first choice of company, but he was my only ride out of the airport, so I waited patiently, clutching my pepper spray with a death grip, just in case - You never know who could turn out to be a creep; he and his brother could be heading to Amsterdam on Christmas Eve to hire legalized hookers for all I knew.
Thomas's brother, Lyon, arrived within half an hour and he was kind enough to give me a lift to the closest pub. Lyon was basically identical to Thomas, excepting that he was slightly more muscular. Thomas told me that Lyon worked as a farm hand for most of the year, doing odd jobs. Fortunately those odd jobs put some tone to those attractive forearms…
WHOA! What was I doing? Was I checking out other guys? Wow, Mike dumped me less than a week ago and I was already checking out Irish strangers. Forget getting back together, I wasn't worthy. Damn Tessa and her vicarious-living thing that she claimed was my idea to begin with… I definitely was not going to jump the bones of some Irish stranger, no matter how sexy he was. Even if he did play the guitar, or something else completely erroneous.
Thomas was right about one thing: At eleven o' clock in Dublin the only places open were the pubs, and that's where everyone was. As soon as I walked through the classic swinging wooden door I was hit with the sights, sounds, and smells of Ireland. People everywhere, cheering and jumping around as a band played a kind of bouncy rock 'n' roll that I had only heard before at Red Sox games, but recognized as typical drinking music. Glass mugs were being passed around everywhere, beer poured out by the barrel, and I could smell the alcohol that made the air heavy and the people that much more loud and outgoing.
I was tugged out of my daze by a warm, smooth voice like honey.
"So, what do ya think, eh? Can I buy you a drink?" Lyon's smile was inviting and his sparkling blue eyes entranced me.
"Sure, I suppose," I said meekly, trying to hide any intimidation. "Nothing too strong though, I still have to make it home tonight."
"Don't worry," Lyon laughed, throwing his brother a secretive smile. "We'll make sure you get home alright."
Immediately I was apprehensive. My natural instincts from being in a relationship for so long set me on guard, urging me to shove off any and all advances from other men. I had to nearly slap myself to keep from running away screaming that I was a lesbian (my usual method of defense against unwanted attentions from men). I figured I would be more relaxed after a drink.
Lyon handed me a glass mug and I took a sip, nearly choking on its contents. I tried to cover myself by coughing loudly. Lyon eyed me with a funny look on his face.
"Everything alright Miss Carly?"
"Ah, yeah," I coughed. "What exactly is this?" I asked, pointing at my mug while attempting to take another sip without making it entirely obvious that I thought the beverage tasted disgusting.
"It's just beer!" Lyon laughed, looking at me with that all-too familiar expression. You know the look, the crazy-American-who-can't-even-take-a-sip-of-beer-she's-so-uncultured look. It's also known as the stupid-American-what-are-you-doing-with-that-baguette look, as well as the bloody-American-who-doesn't-know-how-to-drive look. Even through my limited travels I had become accustomed to receiving this signature look, pretty much whenever I did anything wrong in a foreign country. I was used to it.
"I guess I'm not really used to the flavor…" I mumbled, setting my mug on the wooden bar while Lyon kept appraising me with growing humor in his eyes.
"That's perfectly fine, baby, you need to keep you mind about you anyways." His eyes twinkled under the lights above the bar, and I thought for a second that I was hallucinating a cloak of sparkles surrounding him. Was my mind playing tricks on me, or was I actually attracted to this guy? I mean, yeah, he was alright… probably more than alright after at least one drink. Despite my inner monologue, I was somehow towed onto the dance floor, up against Lyon's strong body, jumping and bouncing along with everyone else, rocking away to the music.
I was vaguely aware of a flash that caught my attention, and thought I could see Thomas waving at us, my camera in his hands.
Before the night was out, I had managed to down the whole mug of disgusting liquid they called beer, which didn't taste so bad by the time I reached the bottom of the glass, and I had spent a few more dances with Lyon, and even one with Thomas, though he would not be trying out for Dancing With The Stars anytime soon.
Hurrah! I had managed to drink another glass of beer! Who's the wimpy American now? A few more dances, but I still wasn't tired! Hey, it was only eight o'clock in Boston, I still had tons of energy!
Another beer down! God, Lyon was so good looking… How lucky was I to meet his dorky brother at the airport and then get to dance with him all night long? All night long…
Wait, did I empty that fourth glass? Or was that someone else…?
BAM. My eyes flew open and I was looking at the ceiling of an unfamiliar room, a faint glow of sunlight coming through wide picture windows. Ouch… I groaned as I shifted my position, which conveniently, or inconveniently in most opinions, was on the bottom step of a staircase.
Okay, step one: Try to remember where I was. I was in Ireland, in Dublin. I was in a house apparently. Surely I had to have come here on purpose?
Step two: Remember how I got here. I recalled Lyon leading me outside of the pub, catching the attention of one of the snoozing taxi drivers parked along the street, giving him the address of the house Alice had arranged for me to stay at. I remembered the cabby catching my attention when I tried to fall asleep in his backseat, asking "Is this the place, miss?" once we were outside a cute little house just on the outskirts of the city. It was exactly the kind of house you picture when you think out Christmas in the country, almost identical to the house in the movie my mother always made me watch at Christmas, The Holiday. I tossed the cabby a couple euros and stumbled outside. I remembered a light in the window. I remembered being very tired and falling asleep in the first place that looked even slightly comfortable…
…Which apparently was the bottom step of the staircase, just inside the house. I stood up, my limbs aching and my head pounding, and walked to the door, stepping outside onto the front step.
The sun was just past the technical "sunrise," but the fog across the acres of country was tinted pink and orange in the early morning light. I checked the house behind me, shuffling in my bag for the photo Alice had given me, comparing the two with a scrutinizing eye. Thank God, it was the right house. Taped to the front of the door there was an envelope with my name on it. I tugged it off, but there was no note inside, just a small bronze key which under further investigation unlocked the front door.
I walked back inside, closing the door behind me, shivering slightly in the cool air. I took my first real look of the house. It was an old, classic country house, just like you'd imagine, with wooden ceilings and walls that seemed to be held together by the ugly wall paper that must be circa 1920's. The to the right of the main foyer was the staircase that led to the second floor of bedrooms, and a hallway that connected to a cozy kitchen, complete with fireplace. There was a small parlor to the left of the foyer that was tripped out to be a high-tech office, courtesy of the Cullen finances. Looking around, I noticed one thing of high importance that I naturally wouldn't have noticed during my hours of inebriation: My bags were not present. All my stuff was missing.
In fact, the only personal item I had on me was my purse, and its contents were not very helpful.
I had my camera that was registering several pictures from the night before that I did not remember taking. I had my cell-phone that reminded me I had forgotten to call Tessa as promised, and had three waiting voicemails, no doubt from her. I had a napkin from the pub that had a messy phone number on it, the owner of which I could not identify. And finally I had my wallet.
Damnit, that was the last time I'd ever let an Irish man buy me a drink, that's for sure.
I whipped out my cell-phone, hurriedly dialing Tessa's phone number. It didn't even occur to me to look at the clock first.
"Hello?" a groggy voice that I assumed belonged to Tessa answered.
"Tess? It's me, Carly!" I said quickly.
"Carly?" She asked, like the name was unfamiliar.
"Yes, Tess, Carly! You're best friend? The one who just flew to Ireland? Listen, I kinda had a crazy night-"
"Carly! What the hell?" She suddenly yelled, forcing me to throwing the phone away from my ear for a second. "It's freaking 2 AM! I just got to sleep after having to listen to the girl next door who plays her radio until the flippin' sun rises, and then Jacob snores when he's sleeping, and I have rehearsal in the morning-"
"Oh my God, I'm sorry!" I yelped. "I totally forgot about the time! I'm so sorry!"
The line was already dead. I didn't take it personally at all, Tessa was the kind of person who would answer the phone in her sleep and not even remember then next day. Odds were she was already back in dreamland, accidentally dropping her phone along with her consciousness.
Right, so I had no idea what to do now, unless I felt like calling one of my vampire friends. I reached into my wallet to pull out the card Alice had given me with her phone number. Of course, she answered on the first ring.
"Honestly, Carly," she said immediately, not even waiting for an introduction or a hello, "I thought you would have at least had the smarts to call me or Lisa before you made the mistake of calling Tessa in the middle of the night, but then again, I guess I'm not surprised."
"How could you be?" I asked somewhat bitterly. My head was pounding, all I wanted was to go back in time and undo the previous night…
"Oh calm down!" Alice chirped back with a similarly harsh tone. "Your luggage will arrive later today and you should dress nicely for when they arrive. There are clothes in the upstairs closets that you can wear, and shoes are in boxes under the bed. Don't answer your voicemail yet, and Jasper wants to talk to you."
I was speechless after the torrent of words from the pixie on the other end, but was immediately calmed when I heard Jasper's soothing bass.
"Good morning, Carly. I hope your travels went well?"
"Oh, just super," I said sarcastically, rubbing my temples. "I suppose Alice has already told you what happened?"
"You mean about the evening at the pub and the lost luggage? Yes, she was kind enough to share that information."
"You forgot the hangover from hell," I groaned while Jasper chuckled.
"I suggest some sleep for now, and coffee later," he advised. It sounded as good as anything.
"Thanks, note taken."
"Oh, and Carly?" he said quickly before I pressed the end button. "Be sure to take care of yourself. Just because you're out of New England doesn't mean you're out of the woods. Keep your eyes peeled, and don't trust everyone." His voice was wary and concerned, so I took it to heart.
"Thanks Jasper, I know you two are looking out for me."
I was returning the card with Alice's phone number to my wallet when I noticed something else to send me worries. First of all, my ID was missing. Or, I shouldn't say missing, but rather replaced. I hadn't noticed before when I was boarding the plane and I handed my passport to the flight attendant, but my passport was different, as was my drivers license; both of them no longer said CARLY SIMSHAUSER, but CARLY CULLEN. The picture was the same, as was all my information, except the name. I had no idea why she would give me a fake ID, until I noticed something else that was missing from my wallet.
All my credit cards were gone, replaced by one single shiny black card. I checked the name on it; Yes, it said Carly Cullen.
Wow, Alice really seemed to have some kind of fairy godmother complex. Was I going to be responsible for any part of my trip? Because thus far, it certainly didn't seem like it, unless you counted me responsible for the throbbing headache that was torturing me presently, which I didn't really want to.
I dragged myself into the kitchen and started up a pot of coffee, meandering through the house until I found my room upstairs, tucked in the back corner of the twisted hallway. A large double bed with brass fixtures and a handmade quilt was in the middle of the rose colored room. I would have made the hasty assumption that the room was unusually small had I not taken a look inside the closet, realizing that the room's size had been adjusted to make room for the massive walk-in closet, lined with designer clothes that I had never seen before. All my size, of course.
I debated between getting more sleep and getting up for the day, deciding that I should adjust to the time change sooner rather than later. I grabbed the first dress I found in the closet and sat down on the bed.
Next thing I knew, my eyes were inching open to a bright morning and pounding sound was coming from the first floor. Of course, I had fallen back asleep.
I looked around me, experiencing once again that wonderful thrill of not knowing where I was. Not.
I tossed the dress over my head and pulled my mess of hair behind my neck as quickly as possible, skipping down the stairs to the front door from which the thundering sound was emanating.
"Hold on just a second!" I said in my cheeriest voice, swinging the door open with a forced smile plastered to my face. A smile that promptly disappeared when I saw who was standing on my door step.
"You!" I gasped as my eyes gazed over Lyon, looking clean, well rested, and handsome as I had ever seen him, rare as those occurrences had been. He certainly didn't look like he was suffering for with worst hangover of his lifetime, if that said anything. In fact, he looked about as happy to see me as I wasn't happy to see him. Which was very. His eyes grew wide at my accusatory tone, and he took a surprised step back.
"Uh, hey, Carly? Right? It's Lyon, from last night…?"
"Okay," I said sharply, putting a defensive hand in front of me. "Before we get ahead of ourselves, I just have to say that I was very drunk last night, and I don't remember anything, so if you're here to tell me that we made some sort of plans for today, I don't have any recollection of them and no intentions whatsoever of going anywhere with you. In fact, I blame you entirely for what happened! Why the hell didn't you stop me? Who do you think you are? Taking advantage of and young girl like me, stranded in a foreign country-"
"Now hold on a moment!" Lyon yelled forcefully, "Seeing as you don't remember anything, allow me to clarify for you! You were raving mad last night! I took your fifth beer away from you and put you in a cab to get you straight home so you wouldn't do something you'd regret later. And this is the thanks I get?" He huffed in disgust and turned to walk back to his car.
"Oh! So you came here to get a thank you? That's real classy!" I retorted as his retreating back, ready to slam the door.
"No!" He called. "I came to drop off your luggage which you left in my car! Here you go, and you're welcome!" He cursed bitterly as he threw my two suitcases onto the front lawn and drove away, mumbling about "crazy Americans."
I waited stubbornly in my doorway with arms crossed until his car was completely out of sight, when I rushed down and grabbed my suitcases, expelling gasps of relief and hugging the luggage like a lost sibling. No, at the time, this did not strike me as odd in any way.
Since I was up and awake (finally) I poured a cup of now luke-warm coffee and sat down in the office on a red, velvet sofa that faced the picture window over the desk, settling into the beautiful view of Irish countryside. I was going to have to explore that later, but for now I had some housekeeping to take care of, starting with my voicemails that Alice had warned me not to listen to. I had hastily assumed they were from Tessa, so I didn't exactly prepare myself for Mike's voice when the messages began.
Actually, I screamed and threw the cell-phone across the room, immediately jumping after it and clutching it to my ear like one of those pathetic girls who fall apart when their boyfriends leave them.
Which I was.
"Hey Carly, it's, uh, Mike. I'm just calling cause I stopped by the apartment and some dude let me in to get my stuff, and I didn't see you there… You aren't seeing someone new, are you? I mean, I guess we didn't say we couldn't see other people, but I just wasn't expecting you to go out and… uh… anyway, um, I have my things, and just give me a call when you can, I'd like to hear from you. …Unless you're pissed at me, which I'd totally understand, that's fine… hey, but you're the one who's already got some guy sleeping over! So I should be mad at you! Yeah! …No, I guess not, that's not really fair… yeah, okay, I'm gonna go now. Bye."
My eyes were welling up with tears, but the messages were still rolling.
"Hi Carly, it's me again. Mike, I mean. So I talked to Tessa, and she told me you're in Ireland? Look, I know you're probably wicked pissed at me, and I understand that, but honestly, telling your best friend to lie and say you left the country? That's a little immature. You did the exact same thing for Tess when she broke up with that other guy she was seeing back in high school, I know your tricks! So could you please stop with the jokes and call me? We need to talk about this."
I laughed at the memory of the time we convinced Tess's creepy ex-boyfriend that she moved to Alaska to attend some fancy boarding school. Of course Mike would assume that I was trying to avoid him, which technically I was. I just wasn't lying in the process.
The final message was playing, and my heart panged at the sound of his voice.
"Carly, this is a little ridiculous. Why haven't you called me back? You never leave your phone off, this isn't like you. Who is the weirdo guy in your apartment? I tried to go back to find you and he called security on me! Where are you? I want to talk to you, Carly! I- I'm sorry. Could you please just call me back? Please, I… I want to talk things over."
I was alarmed at myself. The tears that I had felt coming never came. Instead, my chest heaved with anger. Mike was right, I was pissed. How could he do this to me? He accused me of sleeping with other guys, and lying to avoid him, yet he was the one who left! He left me! Who did he think he was, anyway?
I glanced at the clock on the wall which told me it was 10:34 AM Dublin time. That meant it was 5:34 AM in New England. That was late enough to call him, right?
The phone rang and Mike's groggy voice answered.
"Hello?" he croaked.
"Alright, listen jerk, here's the deal," I said quickly enough to catch his attention and convey that I was not happy at the same time. "First off, I am in Ireland, I'm not lying, and I'm not trying to avoid you, and I'm certainly not being immature. Second, leave Tessa alone, she has better things to concern herself with than you. Third, you are not to go to my apartment again. You left it, thus it is mine, and it's my business who I allow to stay there, not yours. And finally, if you call me again, I will not listen to a word you say. I will hang up, and register for a new phone the very next day. I hope I've made myself clear. Goodbye."
I hung up the phone before he even had a chance to respond, grabbed my purse, and headed out the door.
Okay, so the other "fact" in here was the part about lying to an ex-boyfriend that you moved away. I'm ashamed to say that I really did convince my ex that I moved to Alaska to attend a boarding school. It's a little immature, I'm aware, but he was a creep and deserved it. So there!
PLEASE REVIEW!!!!! At the very least just give me a note telling me to never abandon you guys again, I swear I'm reformed now!