Mick flashed her a million dollar smile, the kind that she could see making anybody a superstar. "If that's your polite way of saying you've never heard of me, don't feel bad. Most people haven't. But I am kind of a big deal. Mick the Mouse," he said with a wry sigh.
A laugh burst right out of Irina. "Really?"
"I'll introduce you to the lad who gave me the name," he said in that same wry tone. "My best mate. He's twenty centimeters shorter than me and weighs about sixty kilos. And he called me 'Mouse' on the first day of sixth class and now it's near twenty years later and Mouse I remain."
Irina blinked at him again, feeling slow and somewhat embarrassed. "I didn't understand any of that. I mean, I get that he's a lot littler than you, but…"
Mick blinked back at her, then gave a rumbling chuckle. "Best mate means my best friend. Twenty centimeters is…how tall are you?"
"Five four?"
"Right, so he's… I've no clue, either." Mick actually got out his phone and Irina leaned over, looking at the screen as he put numbers into a converter. "He's about four inches taller than you? And weighs about hundred and forty pounds?"
"And 'sixth class?'" Irina was smiling by now, no longer feeling quite so silly or slow. "I didn't know we were so separated by a common language!"
"Ah, like, sixth class is the last year of primary school. We'd be twelve or so?"
"Right. Sixth grade. I thought it might be, but I wasn't sure. Well, 'Mouse,' it's nice to meet you." Irina offered a hand, very formally. "I'm Irina."
"You're a star, Irina." Mick's huge hand enveloped her own. "Please never call me 'Mouse' again."
Irina laughed out loud again. "I swear I won't. It felt really weird and wrong. But it's kind of a great marketing tool."
Mick groaned, gently releasing her hand. "It is so, which is why I'll never escape it. Here we are now." The taxi pulled over as he spoke, and Mick did his best to scramble out of the car fast enough to open Irina's door for her. Since he had about three times her physical mass to move, it didn't work well, but she appreciated the effort.
There was more wind on the docks than there had been in town, even though Irina was almost sure they weren't meaningfully closer to the ocean. Maybe it was just that there were fewer buildings. Either way, she shivered.
For a second it looked like Mick was about to strip his sweater off and offer it to her. Instead he looked stricken again. "I wasn't thinking about the wind. You can hide on the leeward side of me." He opened his downwind arm and without thinking about it, Irina tucked right in against him. He curled his arm lightly around her shoulders, and warmth infused her whole body as they walked toward the venue.
"This was a mistake," she murmured. "I'm never going to leave right here. It's too cozy. You're going to have to DJ around me."
Mick's body trembled with a chuckle. "I'll do me best. I may have to put you on my shoulder, though."
Another body-wide shiver ran through Irina for entirely different reasons. A bit faintly, she said, "I bet you could," and triedveryhard not to imagine her knees over his shoulders. That was a whole different scenario. She was pretty sure it was, anyway.
Hastily, trying to distract herself, she said, "This isn't what I expected," with a nod toward the Marquee. She'd expected some kind of normal club, but the Marquee had big-top style tents in yellow and blue that soared upward over concrete walls, covering a considerable amount of real estate. It was already busy. She could hear music thundering from inside, and there were hundreds of people in and out, drinking and shouting cheerfully at one another.
"Yeah, it'd be a proper concert hall anywhere else, but we kind of like our mad little tent scheme," Mick said, sounding really pleased. "Look, Irina, I'm sorry that I can't keep you company all night, but I'm meant to be on in ten minutes, so I'll get you in the door and then I'll keep an eye out for you later?"
"That'll be perfect." Irina smiled up at the big man. Part of her didn't want him to ever leave her side, but the more sensiblepart said, "You've already made my evening, so thank you. I hope I do see you again later."
"You will," Mick promised, and then they were inside and he was gone.
CHAPTER 4
The venue manager,Adrian, an older guy with silvering hair and the look of a faded 80s music producer, tapped his watch as Mick approached the DJ booth set up in the middle of the Marquee's floor. "You're late."
"That's gas." In fact, Mick was on time, even a minute or two early. He'd found out the hard way that other countries were less casual about time than Ireland was, and had generally learned to show up at least half an hour before he was supposed to go on. But thiswasIreland, and his gig was meant to start at ten. The fact that he was there a couple of minutes before, instead of at twenty after, meant he was purely in the right. He swung up onto the stage and offered his hand to Adrian.
The manager sighed, shook it, and said, "I need you here earlier, lad."
"I'm guessing Ronnie there didn't start until half eight and has at least fifteen minutes left in his set," Mick said with a shrug. "I've loads of time to set up. And I had something important to do."
He doesn't need the details,his gorilla said.Humans are so nosy.
Mick didn't think he'd been going to offer details, but the gorilla had a point. And Adrian sighed again, suggesting Mick was pure right about Ronnie's set, too. He fistbumped the other DJ as he went to grab his headphones and check the playlist he'd pre-arranged. There were whole other lists to blend into, depending on how the vibe went tonight, but from what Ronnie had going, he thought he had a good set prepped.
Good,his gorilla said.That means we can watch our mate.
