She was tall, mostly legs, blonde, mostly fake and curvy...Finnegan Gallagher decided he'd leave the rest up to his imagination. The blonde had asked him for his number immediately. Usually, Finn frowned on women being so forward, but something about her pouty lips and heavily lashed eyes had piqued his interest. She texted him immediately, something else that usually discouraged him. Texting was too...informal. And what he wanted to do with the women he met was far from informal. Besides, he likes to hear the husky tone of their voices and the way they whine when they tell him what they really wanted.
Finn couldn't help but smirk, remembering the last, for lack of a better word, relationship he had. Jeanette was something different and he had enjoyed their three weeks together thoroughly. Finn didn't do relationships longer than that. Three weeks was perfect, the way he saw it, a week to woo them, a week to enjoy and a week to start detaching. He continued to peruse the room service menu, thinking about a thick steak, a glass of nice red wine and maybe the blonde for dessert. The phone vibrating against his leg pulled him from his thoughts about food and sex. He fished the phone from his pocket and unlocked the screen so he could see who was calling. Who needed a cold shower when a picture of your mother flashed on your phone's screen? He pushed the ignore button but couldn't get his mother's picture out of his mind.
She had been truly happy when he snapped the picture. It was probably four years before, they were at the beach in Hawaii, one of the few family vacations they'd gone on. His mother was sunning herself, or not, given how she was under the world's largest umbrella. His sister-in-law, Nanette, was playing in the water with his niece, a chubby little toddler then. Nanette's pregnant stomach jetted out from between the folds in her shirt that she wore over her bathing suit. Quin was sleeping on his stomach. His niece, Kinley, squealed and ran for her Grandmother, sand and sea water in her hair and bathing suit, she launched herself into Bryna's lap, taking the older woman by surprise. Finn was quick with his phone and snapped a picture of his mother's smiling face, her sandy, wet granddaughter laughing and pressed against her chest. The memory made Finn smile, happy family memories were few and far between, in his opinion. Quin would probably have a different opinion.
The phone vibrated again. Finn looked down and saw it was his mother again. She didn't usually call twice in a row, much less so late at night. Reluctantly, but with a ball of worry in the pit of his stomach, he slid his thumb to answer and brought the phone to his ear.
"Hello Mother," He said playfully, "What do I owe the pleasure? And why so persistent?"
"Finnegan, are you ever serious?" Bryna snapped, "There's been an accident."
"What happened?" He asked, sitting up in his chair, a million scenarios in his mind.
"Quinlan and Nanette were travelling home," Bryna said, her voice flat and emotionless, "The plane encountered some turbulence. We are still unsure of what happened, but the plane crashed into the bay. The crash was yesterday evening, and the bodies were recovered this morning. The media reported it all over the world only a few hours after it happened, I thought you would have heard."
Finn was irritated with the lack of emotion in his mother's tone, but he also knew, in her years of being Queen, she had learned how to hold back when she needed to. Unfortunately, she often forgot how to let loose. He was silent for a long moment, unsure of what to say. It felt like a joke, a terrible one, but a joke, nonetheless. He made a point to ignore the news when he was traveling. The stress of keeping track of multiple countries problems was a little too much for him. It had been beneficial this time.
"I don't know what to say Mam," He said, using the childish connotation, "Were the kids..."
"Oh, heavens no!" Bryna replied, her voice softened, "They were here with me. Thank the Lord. I have not told them yet. I don't know how."
"Gently," Finn suggested, "Not the way you told me."
"Finn, I need your help. Please come home," Bryna said quietly.
"When's the funeral?" He asked.
"Not for a week," Bryna said, "But I need you before then. I do not know how to tell the children. I am trying to locate Nan's sister. I know she lives in Chicago somewhere. They weren't particularly close, but I want to invite her for the funeral anyway."
Finn sighed. Saying goodbye to his brother was one thing, but he felt his mother had other tricks up her sleeve. He didn't want the throne, but he decided it was not the time to argue with his mother. It seemed callous, even to him.
"I'll get on the next flight Mam, it won't be for a couple days, I'm sure" He told her gently, "But I can't stay long."
The phone was silent.
"Alright," Bryna said finally, the emotionless tone back, "I've read Quinlan's will, we will read it again when I can get you and Nanette's sister, Sophie, here. I love you."
"I love you too Mam," Finn replied, then ended the call.
His appetite was gone, for food and women. The idea of Quin being dead wasn't sinking in. As morbid as it was, he half expected his brother to call and laugh, that or pop out from behind his mother when he arrived on the island, ribbing him about having to fake his own death to get Finn home to visit. He knew that wasn't the case, Bryna wouldn't be involved in a joke like that, but the thought consoled him.
He and Quin were typical brothers. One minute they were playing soldiers in the garden behind the palace, and the next they refused to talk, their nanny trying to sort out some disagreement. They weren't close in age, five years, but they still seemed to argue over trivial things. As children, they fought over the kingdom. Quinlan, being the oldest, had first rights to throne. Finn was jealous and fought with Quin, ranging from trying to fight his brother for the right to lead and begging for Quin to step down. Somewhere around thirteen, Finn decided it wasn't really what he wanted anyway. By that time Quin was being primed for the Kingdom and their father's health was failing. Finnegan turned eighteen and was gone like a rocket. He sighed, remembering his brother's coronation, Nanette, young and beautiful at his side. They were newlywed, married for only two years, but neither of them seemed nervous at the task at hand. Finn had admired them.
Finn couldn't wait to get out of there. Just watching his brother had made him nervous and kicked in his wanderlust. He'd scooted off across the globe, letting his brother handle the kingdom. It was easy to miss Quin, they'd been friends and brothers both. Quin had protected him, picked on him and loved him. Finn felt a tear slide down his cheek and he made a deal with himself. Tonight, he'd cry for his brother, tomorrow he'd start defending himself. First things first, he wasn't going to take a fifteen-year babysitting gig, not for the throne or his nephew.