Chapter 10: Give Me A Sign
"Ye think ye could spare a couple more a' those Blacks, Red?" Connor asked as soon as he and Murphy were safely on the fire escape.
"You two can split this pack." Torrey mumbled around her own cigarette, firmly clamped between her lips, as she fished around in the left-breast pocket of her leather jacket.
Torrey came away with an unopened pack of the sweet mini-cigars, but instead of handing it to Connor she turned and offered it to Murphy. Her smile was tight-lipped, due to the cigarette still in her mouth, but it was genuine, and Murphy instantly seemed flustered.
Connor smirked, biting back a chuckle as Murphy tentatively took the pack from Torrey's outstretched hand with a quiet "thank ye." He caught Torrey's eye, giving her a playful wink, to which she responded with a roll of her eyes.
"Hurry up and open the fuckin' pack, Murph." Connor smacked his brother lightly on the arm with the back of his hand, turning to lean against the railing.
Murphy fumbled with the wrappings, his fingers damn near turning to rubber over the way Torrey had smiled at him. Sure, he liked her, and he wanted her to show him some attention, but he didn't think he'd be such a mess because of it. He hadn't felt nervous around her when they first met, or when she was sleeping only about a foot away from him and Connor on the other bed in that hotel room. The only time he'd felt a twinge of butterflies was when he'd make that angel remark in her apartment, and that had only been due to wondering how she'd react.
So why was he such a tangled bundle of nerves now? Was it because Connor had fucked her first, and they already had a certain repertoire going together? Was it because he knew she was willing to fuck him, too, regardless of what she'd done with Connor? Either way, his stomach was in knots and as much as he wanted to look into her emerald eyes, thank her properly, and be confident, he kept his eyes on his fingers as they methodically opened the pack and pulled out two cigarettes. She had turned away from him, anyway, facing the street once more, leaning over the railing just like Connor was, with her elbows out on the metal rail; her only movement was the lazy rise and fall of her arm as she pulled the cigarette out of her mouth to exhale smoke, and then place it between her lips once more.
Torrey and Connor were standing next to each other, huddling close together to ward of the morning's chill, and there was plenty of room for Murphy to stand on either side of the two other adults. Usually he would have stood next to Connor, but then usually there wasn't a pretty girl with them.
After a moment's debate, about the time it took to actually light his cigarette, Murphy decided today he would stand on Torrey's side. He stepped forward, standing at a slightly greater distance away from her than Connor was, but no less there beside her. And while his act went unmentioned, and seemingly unnoticed, there was a change in the air that all three of them could feel.
"I really don't mind riding in the backseat with Connor." Torrey said, shaking her head for emphasis.
Noah was already comfortably behind the wheel of the car, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel with a long sigh. He would let the trio argue for a few minutes longer before he intervened.
"I insist, lass. Only fitting fer a lady to take the passenger seat an' not be reduced t' sittin' in the back wit a hooligan such as me brother." Murphy pressed.
Connor rolled his eyes. "Murph, yer bein' all gentlemanly now, but ye know sittin' in the back makes ye sick. So after 'bout an hour ye'll start complainin' 'bout how ye shoulda just sat in the front like we all wanted ye to in the first place. The lady said she doesn't mind sittin' back there wit me, so ye should just leave it be."
"I don't get fuckin' sick in the backseat, Connor." Murphy fumed, his face turning a bright crimson.
"Oh really? Then how come ye always have yer ass parked in the passenger seat when I drove you an' Rocco, or Da somewhere? How come ye always sat upfront when Rocco drove us somewhere?"
"'Cause I always called shotgun first." Murphy stated matter-of-factly.
"Ah, that's such a crock of shit, Murph!" Connor shouted, stepped forward with one arm raised as if to give his brother a shove.
Torrey stepped in front of Murphy before Connor could make contact; a fight would set them back even longer, and they didn't have all that much time to waste in the first place.
"Calm the fuck down, you two; we're running late as it is. I don't need either of you treating me like I'm some dainty little princess, because I'm not. You forget that I'm as much a killer as both of you are, I just happened to be wrapped up in a prettier packaging. But I don't want, or need, any special treatment just because of that packaging.
"So Murphy, if you want to sit in the front, you're welcome to. I'd probably just be napping, anyway, so at least you'd be making good use of the passenger seat view. And if you're still so hung up on making a point about not getting sick in the back, then you can scoot into the backseat with me. But either way, I'm sitting in the back, and that's final." And with that Torrey slid into the seat behind the passenger and buckled her seatbelt with an air of resolution that hit both boys in the face.
In the rearview mirror Noah was smiling at Torrey.
"Is that what ye want, Murph, t' sit in the back with the lass?" Connor asked, blowing out a sigh of annoyance.
Murphy bit his lip, glancing between Torrey, who looked stoically ahead and paid neither man any real attention, and Connor, who was giving him the classic "are you alright?" look. On the one hand he wanted very much to sit beside Torrey, even if she would just be sleeping, just because that meant that Connor wouldn't be sitting next to her; he knew that was childish and petty, but he didn't want Connor to get all of her attention. On the other hand he really did get sick if he sat in the backseat for long periods of time; only sitting in the passenger seat up front kept his stomach from roiling like a stormy sea, and he had no idea why that was.
With a pout Murphy slunk into the passenger seat and slammed the door behind him, angrily staring out the window as he continued to chew on his bottom lip.
As Connor made his way around to the other side of the car, Torrey reached up and laid a hand on Murphy's shoulder, squeezing gently. Her touch was warm and caring, and he reveled in it. She wasn't angry with him for sitting in the passenger seat, nor passing judgment upon him for getting carsick in the backseat; she was simply happy that he had finally made a decision, and that they four of them were all along for this crazy journey together with one less fight in the way.
Roughly an hour of driving had indeed lulled Torrey to sleep. Her head at first rested against Connor's shoulder, and then fell more onto his chest.
Connor wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her close, while Murphy's hands clenched into fists and he turned his head to once more stare out the window.