“Of course, of course. Now, tell me, did you fall—or were you pushed?”
“As I told the wonderful officers who helped me,” she said, “I don’t know. There’s always so much pushing and shoving on the platform, you know? I could hear the train, and the next thing I knew, I was on the tracks and a woman was reaching down to help me. I’m so lucky and so grateful she was there. Whoever she is, she’s an angel. I’d love to meet her and thank her in person.”
“I’m happy to tell you, Shirley, that your angel is New York City’s own Kieran Finnegan. I’m sure she’s out there somewhere, maybe watching this very broadcast.” He addressed the camera. “We’d love to meet her, too, so, Kieran, if you’re out there, give us a call.”
Shirley Martin smiled and said straight into the camera, “Please call. I plan to finish high school, then go to NYU for their performing arts program. I intend to act in film and on Broadway. Thanks to you, Miss Finnegan, I’m alive to get my shot.”
She smiled broadly again, and Kieran had to wonder if they hadn’t practiced their “live coverage.”
Once again, as everyone in the pub broke into whistles, toasts and applause, all Kieran wanted was to crawl under the table.
She felt her face burn, but she forced a smile and waved.
Then she felt Craig Frasier’s face close to hers, very close, as he whispered to her, “What’s the matter? Aren’t you enjoying your fifteen minutes of fame?”
She turned to look at him, dismayed. And apparently he saw honesty in her face at last.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Really. It’s just that—well, most angels would want their moment of fame and the thanks of an entire city.”
“Anyone would have done it,” she said almost desperately.
“Actually, no. A lot of people would have jumped back or panicked, afraid they’d be pulled down. You need to give yourself more credit for your quick thinking and competence. But then again, I’ve seen you in action. Now, you’ve saved two people... Angel.”
“I saved you from a water pistol,” she reminded him, and suddenly she couldn’t take it any longer. “Julie, gentlemen, if you’ll all forgive me, I really need to go home and crawl under the covers.”
“Of course,” Julie said, looking guilty, as if she were personally responsible for Kieran’s need to escape.
Which in a way she was, Kieran thought.
The men stood, and Kieran couldn’t stop herself from glancing over at Craig.
He was looking over at Kevin, who was standing by the bar, a towel in his hand. She could have sworn that the two men exchanged a look, and that her brother nodded.
In two seconds Kevin was beside her. “You ready to head home?” he asked.
“Yes.” She couldn’t keep a tinge of suspicion out of her voice.
“Cool. I’m ready when you are.”
“You coming with me again?”
“Another shoot in the morning,” he said. “We’ll catch a cab. You’ve had a long day.”
“I’m done eating,” Craig said. “I’ll drop the two of you, then swing back for Mike and my boss.”
It seemed agonizingly long to Kieran, though it was only a few minutes, before they headed out to the street. Declan had to hug her, then Danny, and then half the pub again. But finally she was in the car next to Craig with Kevin behind her, headed toward St. Marks.
“You know it will be a few days before people leave you alone, right?” Kevin asked her.
“What do you mean?” she asked, glancing worriedly back at Kevin.
“You’re the girl of the moment,” Kevin said. He looked out the window, as if searching for hidden paparazzi. “Reporters, bloggers, anyone looking for an audience is going to try to interview you. I guess people don’t know you’re a Finnegan’s Finnegan or the place would have been crawling with reporters.”
Kieran leaned her head back and groaned softly.
“Don’t worry. It will end soon,” Craig assured her. “The press is fickle. They’ve already forgotten about the other night, and they’ll move on again as soon as there’s a new sensation or a juicy scandal.”
“Must be something going on at the karaoke bar,” Kevin said, sitting forward to peer out the windshield as they drew close to her building. “Reporters, I bet. The wolves are congregating.”
“Great. Everyone knows where I live. How is that?” Kieran asked.
“Easy enough information to find,” Craig said.
“I can’t believe this,” she said, falling back on the seat and staring ahead. What if she didn’t go home? She could sleep on a sofa at the office. That would be fine.
“What do you want to do?” Kevin asked her.
“Back to the pub, to a hotel, my office—anywhere but here,” Kieran said.
Craig kept driving past the clump of reporters milling on the sidewalk.
She hoped the karaoke bar would at least get some extra business from curiosity seekers drawn by the men and women of the media with their cameras, notepads and microphones, then staying to sing.
Craig pulled over about five minutes later, near Cooper Union and about a block off Broadway.