Strong Hearts- Chapter 4

*Author's Note: Gaelic phrases & meanings from this chapter... a bhitseach: b***h (pronounce it like ah vit-shokh)

Chapter 4

“So, those lights going off at the last second was very inconvenient, Shay.” Kate took a sip from her pink-colored cocktail and rolled her eyes in mock annoyance at Seamus, who had rejoined the group at their table after changing back into decent clothes.

He just shrugged his shoulders, replying simply, “Strippers can be so cruel sometimes.”

About that time Benji trotted over with a huge grin on his face. Stopping directly in front of the men, the handsome bartender pointed at them, “You’re hired!”

Looks of bewilderment passed around the group, all except for Gabriel, who turned a nice pale shade; he was quite certain Hell had frozen over in those few moments. Never did he think their little show would evoke a job opening.

“Excuse me?” He squeaked.

“I want to hire all of you men to put on performances every Friday night. I think that once word got around that we have an all male strip show it would bring in more money… and women.”

Gabriel glanced around at the others to judge their reactions to the proposition; Casey and Riley were clearly considering it while Rob and Sean were a little more skeptical. Seamus appeared as if he had swallowed something bitter-tasting. How would Kate tolerate other women wanting us? “I don’t know".” He was nearly strangled when Kate suddenly grabbed him by the shirt collar and pressed her cheek against his, offering a toothy smile to Benji. Her appearance was almost psychotic.

“He’d love to take it!” Upon noticing the startled expression plastered on Gabriel’s face she continued, “Seeing as how you don’t have a job, Gabriel, you and the other guys should think very seriously about taking up Benji’s offer. I hear it pays quite well… if you’re good.”

“There’s no thinking about it, is there? You and the other ladies are going to make us do this, aren’t you?”

Kate crossed her arms over her chest in amusement, “You bet your sweet a*s.”

“Damnú air.” Women are evil creatures. Gabriel slumped back into his chair in need of another drink. At the rate the night was going he was going to have a massive hangover by the next morning. He never once imagined himself ripping off his clothes in front of a bunch of screaming women just to make a little extra cash, which they didn’t need. Perhaps she’s doing this to satisfy a secret fantasy of hers? The thought was entirely possible.

The silence in their area was disturbed when Casey snapped his fingers to get everyone’s attention, “All of you shall now refer to me as Your Royal Sexiness.” He leaned over close to an unsuspecting Ellen, growling seductively when she noticed him, “Hey Ellen, I bet you would love to admire me Crown Jewels packed in another one of those thongs.”

“Don’t make me send you to the ER tonight.” Not a hint of emotion crossed her face as she stared right at him, her hand forming into a fist underneath the table just in case she needed to get her point across.

Benji chose that moment to speak, “Great! I’ll just go get all of you some more drinks to celebrate. I’m thinking my new mixture. Got a bit of a kick to it.” As he was walking away back to the bar, Seamus grabbed him by the shirt sleeve to get his attention.

“I’m gonna need you to bring me an entire bottle of the s**t. It’s going to be needed knowing I have to teach my testosterone-overloaded cousin the etiquette of stripping.”

 

Gone. That was the perfect term to describe Ellen after her third glass of the Fireball whisky concoction Benji had given them after hustling all of them over to the bar. Her forehead was plastered to the bar counter top, unmoving, making it seem as if she were dead. A few of them contemplated poking her to make sure she was still breathing; however, they weren’t too keen on facing the beast if she came up throwing punches. Then again, someone would have to do the dirty work eventually, so it might as well be someone they didn’t care got massacred if, indeed, Ellen was still alive.

“Hey, Tweedle Dum,” Seamus directed his attention toward Casey on the other side of him, running his tongue down deep in the glass he held in his hand to get every last drop of the potent drink. He was already beginning to feel the effects of it plus the numerous beers he had consumed earlier that night, “Check Ellie for a pulse so I don’t end up feeling bad for not stopping her sooner. The carotid is the best place to check for it.”

The younger man looked up, suddenly aware of the danger Seamus was all too willing to put him in. He wobbled around a little on his bar stool until he managed to stop his head from spinning. When he spoke his words were a bit slurred from the alcohol, “Do I’z look that zztupid?!”

“Casey…”

Grumbling and cursing under his breath, Casey hesitantly jabbed the scarlet-colored woman between the shoulder blades and quickly withdrew his hand in case she decided to hit him, “Give me zzome zzign that you’z alive.”

They watched as Ellen’s hand slowly formed into a fist until at the last second her middle finger flipped out, accompanied by an audible “F**k you.”

Casey sighed, ignoring the message that was clearly meant for him, “Well, Zzhay… your zzhe-devil of a wife izzn’t dead.”

“No, I’m not dead you moron.” Ellen fumbled around for her phone to call one of her good friends to pick them up and give them a ride back to Jefferson considering none of them were able to drive what with them being drunk or close to it. She blinked her eyes to clear her vision while stabbing around on the screen for the right number. Afterwards, she put the device up to her ear. “Tobi! What’s up freak… We need a… hic… ride home from the club… hic… Yeah, I’m drunk…See ya… hic… in a bit.”

Faye stared suspiciously at the dark screen on the phone before taking it away from her best friend. What she saw made her shake her head in exasperation, “Ellen, you idiot! You didn’t even hit ‘call’!”

As Faye set about calling their gay friend for real, Kate rolled her eyes at Ellen, who was giggling at her own mistake, “Phone conversation with yourself… That’s a new level of hammered.”

While the Dawson’s and Sean waited for their ride to arrive some of them took to scrolling through their phones or just engaged in drunken conversations with each other. Gabriel was in the middle of a quite slurred debate about the best way to get women in the mood when his phone chirped, signifying a text in his inbox. As soon as he opened the message his face " despite how drunk he was " turned bright red out of embarrassment.

“Uhhh… Nize rack, Ellen, but why did you zzend me that picture?” He questioned.

The woman in question looked up from where she had been throwing winks in Seamus’s direction, thinking she had sent the message to him, “I… hic… didn’t. I sent you… hic… the one… hic… of my hoo-ha.”

Upon hearing what his wife had said, Seamus choked on his drink for a second time that night, hacking and gagging in an attempt to clear his airway. He was completely baffled that Ellen would even think about sending naughty photos to anyone but him. Dear God.

Everyone watched Gabriel, waiting for a reaction, but instead of him saying anything another phone beeped from Casey’s location. A crooked grin crossed his face as he checked his inbox. There was a look of exultation about the man the moment he opened the picture.

“No, you didn’t. ‘Cauzze I got it!” Casey did a fist pump, “Hell yezzz!”

Seamus lunged for his cousin’s phone, nearly falling to the floor in the process, “You’re gonna delete that!”

The light green male stuck his tongue out in a mocking fashion, and then took off from the bar at a stumbling gait with Seamus chasing after him as best he could since both of them were quite inebriated. For a good five minutes the two of them circled around the club, occasionally running into someone in their path. Eventually, Seamus stuck his foot out in front of his cousin, causing Casey to trip. His phone went flying until Seamus caught it and erased the revealing photo before Casey realized what had happened.

“D****t,  Zzhay. Any other time zzhe wants to kill me.” Casey pouted.

“I’m the only one that gets to enjoy her pretty little goods. Besides, I don’t think you are capable of making her smile like I can.”

It was a good thing Faye and Ellen’s friend, Tobi showed up right then before the men got into a punching match. The skinny man sported dark spiked hair, the tips a bright purple color. He wore tight black jeans that clung to his small derriere and a black and gray striped tank top. Instead of his usual Converse sneakers he wore biker boots. Behind the gay man was a shorter man, who was dressed in a more sophisticated style complete with a button up shirt and pressed jeans. He was a little shy, staying behind Tobi at all times. A piece of hair fell into his eyes where he brushed it away. The two of them stopped in front of the Dawson’s, their eyebrows raised at the sight of Seamus sitting on top of Casey’s lap with the younger male reaching for his phone, which Seamus held just out of his reach.

“Get offa me before I get a boner!” It was too late by the time Casey realized his mistake.

Seamus found joy in Casey’s comment, and he leaned over close to his cousin’s face while grinding his hips into Casey’s, “Do I turn you on that much?”

“No!”

Tobi finally spoke to announce he and his partner had arrived, “Um, are you guys ready? Jamie and I were kinda in the middle of a movie.”

Allowing Casey to squirm out from underneath Seamus, the dark green male started for his wife to help her outside. He kept an arm hooked underneath her armpit just in case she fell what with her being intoxicated. All of them made their way outside, where they stuffed themselves into the small, black Chevy Cruze parked on the side of the club. Some of the women ended up sitting on top of their husband’s laps, except for Moira, who sat in the floorboard along with Sean. For what seemed like ten minutes or longer the car stayed relatively quiet save for the radio playing faintly in the background. It was some kind of classical piano music, an odd selection for the type of person Tobi was known to be; the music had to be Jamie’s choice. After some time Ava decided to break the awkward silence, turning around to see Seamus from where she sat in the front of the vehicle. She could no longer hold in the question that had been burning inside her for most of the evening.

“Where did you learn how to dance like that?” Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, “I never thought you to be the type to get out there in public and shake your whoo-hoo around like that.”

The Cruze was filled with laughter from the woman’s comment; even Seamus had tears forming at the corners of his eyes from laughing so hard. The only two remaining silent were Tobi and Jamie since they weren’t at the club to witness the men’s performance and didn’t have a clue what the others were talking about.

“Does someone want to explain to Tobi what this chica means?” The purple-haired man asked, his curiosity suddenly aroused, as well.

Kate was the one to offer an answer, “The guys gave all of us ladies and the rest of the club a surprise strip show, and sweet baby Jesus, were they yummy.”

Jamie turned toward his partner, narrowing his eyes at the man, “And you wanted to watch a movie…”

“How was I supposed to know?!” Tobi shot back.

Ignoring Tobi and Jamie’s bickering, Mae, who had been relatively silent for most of the night, turned to her son. She had her arms folded over her chest, an eyebrow raised in questioning, “Yes, son. Please tell all of us how you came to be so talented in something such as stripping. No one just hops up onto a stage and starts doing what you did back there.”

Bollocks! Seamus knew there was no way he was getting out of telling how he had come to be a stripper. Sighing heavily, he began his tale, “It’s interesting to think that women in Dublin are practically obsessed with men such as the ones in this car…”

 

Dublin, Ireland - 2 Years Earlier

Hundreds of women of all ages between eighteen and seventy-ish packed the auditorium in the heart of downtown, screaming his name just as they did every weekend. The thought that the women craved him sent a warm feeling raging through his body, helping to pump him up for the night’s show. With every passing second the din in the auditorium grew louder as the women cried out his name. They were there to see him. But why? What made him so irresistible to them? He didn’t have to look outside to know it was a full house he and his fellow dancers were about to walk out into.

Feeling a hand slap him on the back, Seamus turned around to see a dancer named Emmanuel walk past him on his way out to the stage, “Ready to have some woman start stalking you after tonight? You know it happens every time.” He shoved the waistband of his jeans down a little to show off his hipbones, “I would start carrying a taser if I were you. I mean, a cattle prod works better, but that’s just me.”

“Whatever you do please don’t pull another fluffy from the crowd like you did last week.” Seamus followed behind his friend, waiting for their turn to enter the stage, “My shoulder is still messed up from hanging on to her.”

“Sorry dude. They need love, too.”

“My shoulder wasn’t feeling the love.”

The two of them heard their cue, and they stepped out into the bright lights to a roar of applause and screaming. There wasn’t much thinking about what they were doing; it was the same routine they performed every opening, so it had become engrained within every one of the dancers. One at a time each one of them took their turn strutting around the large stage set up in the middle of the auditorium with the audience surrounding it on all sides.  Each of them showed off what made them most notable amongst the others as their names flashed across the screens attached to the walls around the auditorium. When it was Seamus’s turn, he stepped up to one of the edges of the stage and whipped his head about so that his beautiful long locks landed over one of his shoulders. He finished off his intro by turning away from the audience and flexing the muscles of his backside, sending the women into roars of screaming. Despite the men having jeans covering their best features, the women still got a taste of what lay hidden beneath in the form of toned muscles perfectly sculpted.

The men moved fluidly with every beat of the music, posing in ways to show off the muscles of their arms. At one point they dropped down to the stage, leaning backwards while balancing on their hands and feet before popping their hips upward to mimic a provocative bedroom move. The women went nuts. As the end of the song neared the men jumped off the stage into the audience to mingle amongst the women. Seamus took the opportunity to dance with a few women who appeared to be in their early twenties; it was really the only chance for them to get up close and personal with the men unless they were one of the lucky few to get pulled on stage. Eventually, the final notes of the song faded into the distance, followed by each of the dancers disappearing from view. And yet, the night was only beginning.

With only a few minutes in between numbers Seamus hurried through dressing in the wardrobe that most women in Dublin knew him for. He fastened the button on the front of the low-rise black leather pants that clung to his well-defined muscular thighs. If they had been any tighter he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to squeeze his best assets into them. No bending over for me tonight. And that was when he remembered he had forgotten to put his boots on before buttoning the pants. S**t. In what resembled an awkward volleyball stance, Seamus carefully leaned over, his legs spread far apart to keep from splitting the pants as he tied the laces of the black boots he had just stepped into.

“You know, Seamus I would considering having Cleo get you a bigger pants size so your goods aren’t begging for mercy every time you put them on,” Emmanuel joked, referring to the show’s owner and manager. He had also started to change into clothes similar to Seamus’s.

With only minutes remaining before the next routine, the two men headed off to separate parts of the building, Seamus tugging on a black tank as he went. Tucked securely in the belt loops of his pants were several throwing hatchets, but they were still easily accessible. After entering the dark auditorium he quickly scaled the stairs to the catwalk above where an elaborate wrought iron chandelier awaited him. Inspecting the chain that held the fixture, Seamus silently prayed it would be another night where everything worked properly and he didn’t have to worry about plunging to his death.

Wouldn’t that just upset Cleo. He scoffed at the thought of the manager as he secured the harness around his pelvis before attaching it to the bungee cord affixed to the chandelier. It was a long cord, allowing him to traverse the catwalk to the perfect spot for the first part of the routine. The only reason he was the one that performed the stunt with the chandelier was for the simple fact that the other dancers were terrified of heights, all of them except for he and Emmanuel… and that he was damn good at throwing sharp objects and hitting his mark every time.

Down below, picking his way through the hordes of screaming women, Emmanuel was searching for one to bring up onto the stage for the routine. He picked a younger woman who appeared to be in her mid-twenties. She gave a small flip of her hair and threw a look back at her friends as she followed Emmanuel to the stage where a strange contraption was set up. It was two steel poles standing on either side of what appeared to be plywood bearing nicks resembling those of a knife or some other bladed object.

Emmanuel set about taking the pieces of thin rope attached to the poles and tied them around the woman’s wrists before doing the same to her ankles. When he was finished, her arms were spread out to either side of her body with her legs affixed to the board, also spread slightly, the rope running in between them. She was completely at the men’s mercy.

“Looks like you need a hero,” Emmanuel ran his fingers along her jaw line before disappearing into the darkness.

Shortly afterwards music drummed up throughout the auditorium, sending the women into another frenzy. The woman tied up on the stage glanced around in anticipation of what was to happen. Suddenly, an object flew at her from an unknown location until it stuck in the plywood with an audible thunk. Her eyes moved to the side to find a hatchet only inches away from her wrist, its blade buried deep in the wood. The next thing her mind registered was that the rope had been sliced clean through. Seconds later there was another thunk on the opposite side of her body. Another hatchet. Once again, the woman’s wrist was freed from its confinement, allowing her to move her upper body. A final hatchet sliced through the rope between her legs and found its mark in the board. She could have just ran away right then, but something told her to stay.

A roar of screams erupted around the auditorium a minute or so later when the chandelier that had been situated overhead suddenly dropped down toward the audience, and then swung forward. Hanging upside down with his knees and ankles entwined in one of the chandelier arms was Seamus. In the blink of an eye the chandelier swung low and close enough for him to snatch up the woman. Using the strength of his arms Seamus was able to swing the woman up toward him until she had her arms around his torso. She clung to him for dear life, afraid to look down. When the chandelier started to slow, a crank shaft up top reeling the chain back in so that the chandelier was lifted close to its starting position, Seamus was able to swing both of them up to a sitting position on the arms. The woman shook with a mixture of fear and nervousness; they were a good fifty feet or more in the air with no apparent safety net beneath them, only the audience of mystified women.

After the chandelier was relatively still Seamus helped the woman stand while securing a safety harness around her, as well,  having to constantly lift the delicate arms clinging to him just so he could fasten the harness.

If she’s scared now she won’t sleep for a month after what I’m about to do. Seamus lifted her chin so that she was nose to nose with him, “Are you ready?”

“Ready? Ready for w-what?” Her voice shook when she finally found it.

Without another word a sinister grin spread across his face. That was when he jumped backwards with the woman attached to him by a fastener on hr harness. The two of them hurtled downward, the woman’s screams filling the auditorium as she put a death grip on Seamus. It filled him with a rush of adrenaline knowing he was going to leave her with a night to remember after she was able to breathe again. Any second the bungee cord would go taut, sending them skyward. Right when it seemed they would crash into the audience Seamus reached out to push off the stage floor inches away from the steel poles the woman had been tied to, sending them rocketing back toward the ceiling with the woman resuming her screams. As they neared the chandelier a familiar set of hands grasped onto the woman’s harness, slowing their wild ride. It was Emmanuel, who had slid down the chain suspending the light fixture from the crank shaft. He pulled the woman into the safety of his arms just as Seamus unsnapped the bungee cord, leaving him dangling from one of the chandelier arms to support his weight.

Everyone in the auditorium looked on in horror as one of Seamus’s hands slipped from the wrought iron arm; it didn’t seem possible that he could hang there for very long before his shoulder became tired. Where was the safety crew when they were needed? The seconds ticked by at a snail’s pace, only adding to the audience’s worry. Their worst fear became a reality when they witnessed his fingers slip one by one from the arm until he was falling. Then the darkness arrived, the room so pitch black one couldn’t see two inches in front of their face. Screams echoed around the building, some crying out for paramedics to aid in the dancer they had just seen plummet to what was surely their death.

Signs of relief replaced the screams when the lights turned on again. Still there was something wrong. Where was the dancer?! Not one of the women noticed a body lying around on any of the seats even after seeing him fall. It was mind-boggling. No one could have survived a fall like that; if they had they wouldn’t have been able to get up and walk away.

“Looking for something, ladies?”

The women’s heads whipped around toward the stage where they gawked in amazement at the man standing in the middle wearing only black leather pants and combat boots. It was Seamus… completely unscathed and irresistible as ever. They weren’t going to try to comprehend how he had made it out of that stunt alive. There was only one explanation: he had to be a god.

 

Not long after the show had ended and the dancers had changed into more comfortable clothing the men mingled amongst the women that had stayed behind to flirt with the men, and if they were lucky, score some of their numbers. Whilst Emmanuel stayed rooted to his seat beside a cute brunette with blonde highlights chatting animatedly, Seamus slipped off to a quiet, secluded corner of the auditorium. He wasn’t one for putting himself out there willingly for some female to hang all over him. Sure, he liked his job of stripping down for their enjoyment, but that was where it ended. Let the other men have their fun; they’d regret it eventually when they had an intoxicated crack w***e trying to molest them.

Seamus had just pulled out his phone to do a little more research on his biological family when the show’s owner, Cleo whistled at him as she walked toward him with a shy, young woman close to her.

“Seamus, I’d like you to meet this pretty young thing. Lily is her name.” Cleo gestured toward the woman, who gave a little wave before her cheeks turned red out of embarrassment, “She has paid for a little special service from you seeing as how she just turned the big two one and requested to spend some time with her favorite dancer.”

The dark green male eyed the owner suspiciously as he was unsure of what she was referring to by ‘special service’, “Please enlighten me, Cleo. I’m not quite following.”

“What’s there to follow, Seamus? You’re going to take her to one of the rooms in the back and do what it is that you men do so well.”

“Sleep with her?!”

“Precisely.”

What is this woman smoking? Seamus moved his attention from Cleo to Lily and then back to Cleo all while trying to process everything the owner had said. “Since when did Kilts and Renegades become a brothel?”

Having made his rounds over to a group of women nearest to where Seamus was, Emmanuel chimed in nonchalantly, “Come to think of it, why is this place called ‘Kilts and Renegades’? Kilts aren’t even part of our dress.”

“An excellent point, Emmanuel.” Cleo pulled out a piece of paper from her clipboard to scribble a note on, “I’ll have to consider changing that.”

Mouth agape and eyebrow cocked in questioning, Seamus spoke again, “Can we get back to discussing this?” He gestured toward Lily.

“There’s nothing to discuss. You’re going to take her back and get busy. She’s paid for two hours, so… go have fun.”

“Okay, first of all, nowhere in my contract does it say after the shows to screw the broads.”

Cleo laughed, “Obviously you didn’t read the fine print.”

“What fine print?”

The owner flipped through the clipboard of papers she held until she found what she was looking for: Seamus’s contract. She pointed to an area at the bottom of the page with her pen, “There.”

He leaned forward in order to read what appeared to be nothing more than a blank area. Upon closer inspection he could make out lines of black ink with letters the size of a gnat, if not smaller. “Oh, that’s bullshit. It’s not considered fine print if you have to use an electron microscope to read it.”

“But it’s there, yes?”

Without saying a word in reply, Seamus turned and headed for the exit; as far as he was concerned he was turning in his g-string for good. He wasn’t going to be used for sex; saving his virginity for someone he treasured.

She’d s**t a brick if she knew I was a virgin, he thought.

“Where are you going, Seamus? You signed a contract,” She held up the contract beside her head to remind him.

In a fluid motion, Seamus reached into the waistband of his pants, and turning around, flung a four inch knife at the paper. The blade found its mark, pinning the contract to the wall behind Cleo, whose eyes had grown to the size of saucers when he had thrown his knife at her head, or what was close enough to it.

Seamus stepped up to Cleo, his face inches from hers as his hand retrieved the knife, “That’s what I have to say about your contract.” He turned away from her seeing as how he had made his point. Before stepping through the exit, Seamus threw up a peace sign, “Deuces, a bhitseach.” Something to remember me by.

The night air was a big relief to Seamus after being controlled by Cleo for so long. Never did he think she had been using her dancers as prostitutes to reap more money for her own selfish desires. Lord only knew what she charged for those services. It was sickening to think about.

“Dawson!”

Seamus turned around in the middle of the street to see Emmanuel running toward him. The man had thrown on a skin tight shirt and had his bag slung over a shoulder. He avoided a car flying by as he started into the street after Seamus.

“What are you doing, Emmanuel?” Seamus questioned.

“I’m coming with you. I always had that sneaking feeling Cleo was up to something.” Emmanuel pulled a cigarette out of his shirt pocket and stuck it between his teeth before lighting up. He blew a plume of smoke out and asked, “What are you going to do now, Seamus?”

“Well, I’ll find me a temporary job, and when I save up enough money I’m going to the States to find my family.”

Author's Note

warning: mild profanity