SPENDING my Saturday night inside of a house that could have easily accommodated three of the one I’d grown up in, and surrounded by a bunch of people from Tommen College, was not something I had ever anticipated happening.
The closest I’d ever come to their elite school was when I walked past the big iron gates on my way to a match. Now, somehow, I found myself slap bang in the middle of their fucked-up inner circle, watching on as a bunch of privileged private school boys got fucked up on high-grade skunk.
The captain these lads had been hellbent on loosening up hadn’t bothered to show up tonight, but it was clear from most of their red-eyed, goofy-as- fuck expressions, that all thoughts of their captain had long since dwindled.
Clearly, there was no limit to the levels that I was willing to stoop for a couple of hundred quid.
Jesus.
The fact that my sister was supposed to start school with these people on Monday morning didn’t exactly sit well with me.
Especially the big blond fucker with a penchant for dope, debauchery, and his friend’s baby sister.
“Put her down right this instant, Gerard Gibson,” Shannon’s curly-haired pal, Claire Biggs, instructed, as she stood on the last step of their impressive staircase, dressed up as the blonde from the Spice Girls, and pointed a finger at the big bollox attempting to waltz to the Vengaboys’ Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom!! with a pampered looking cat. “Don’t you dare hurt my—”
“Pussy?” he offered, and then made a ridiculous purring noise with his tongue. “You know that I would never hurt your pussy, Claire-bear.”
Yeah, he was a few crayons short of a full box.
“I told you not to call me that in public,” she protested with a huff.
“And I told you not to wear that pink dress,” the big lad shot back with a wolfish grin, as he set the cat down on the couch and prowled towards her. “But I’m so fucking thrilled that you didn’t listen to me.”
“Avert your eyes from my sister, fucker,” Hughie warned, appearing from thin air to intercept his friend before he reached the staircase. “What did I tell you about keeping your dick on the other side of the street.”
“Contrary to the many rumors going around about my magical dick, it doesn’t yet possess the ability to un-attach itself from the rest of me, lad,” he shot back, brows waggling, as he bopped and rocked around in a pair of pink board shorts and a Hawaii themed, floral shirt. “So, if I’m here, my dick’s here.”
“Then go home.”
“No way,” he laughed. “This 90’s party is my lovechild.”
“It’s not a 90’s anything, Gibs. It’s just a party, so tell that asshole on the decks to play something decent.”
“No. It’s my party and he’ll play what I want him to play.”
“It’s my house.” “It’s my playlist.”
“Then at least go home and change your clothes. You look like a tool.”
“Are you mental? Look at me. I make a beautiful Ken.” “Beautifully deranged, more like. Nobody else is dressed up, lad.” “My lover is.”
“Your lover? Are you well? She’s my sister, not your lover, asshole.”
“I take it all back,” Podge slurred, distracting me from their antics. Leaning heavily against my shoulder, he tossed back another shot of Jameson and grinned. “This was a fantastic fucking idea.”
“Where’s Alec?” I asked, roughly shrugging him off. I fucking hated being touched, and this drunk asshole knew it. I also detested the smell of whiskey. It did shit to my head. Made me feel on edge.
“He went upstairs with some posh girl with a huge rack,” Podge replied with a huge grin, still leaning heavily against me. “Lad, these rugby-heads know how to throw a party.” He waved a hand, gesturing to the mob of bodies surrounding us. “This is unreal, Joe.” He pointed to where some older lad with speakers and decks set up in the far corner of the room had switched songs to 2Pac’s Changes. “I’ve never seen so much drink and food in my life.”
“It’s easy for them to have it,” I replied bitterly, still nursing the same bottle of beer I’d been handed when I walked through the door. “When they have their fathers’ wallets to pay for it.”
“Ah, loosen up, Joe. It’s not their fault they’ve got a few bob in the bank,” Podge chuckled, looking like something a Christopher Lee Dracula movie
shat out with the big bloodshot eyes on him. “You did good tonight.” No, I did what I had to do to feed my family.
“Have a smoke and relax,” he encouraged, handing me another bottle of
beer from a nearby table. “A few drinks and a smoke won’t hurt.”
I arched a brow and set it back down. “Coming from the fella who almost pissed himself when I told him that I was still smoking.”
“Yeah, well.” He grinned at me and shrugged. “I’ve been reminded of the perks of being your best friend.”
“Yeah.” I smirked. “Damn straight, asshole.”
“Stay out of their medicine cabinet, though, ya hear?” he warned, holding a finger up. “And don’t go losing the run of yourself.” He reached up and slapped my chest. “If you get tempted to score, just think about the girl whose name you’ve got tattooed over your heart…”
“Best friend or not, if you put your hands on me again, I will rip your arm off,” I warned, batting his hand away. “And if I wanted to get fucked up, that’s exactly what I would be doing, but I’m not. So, I don’t need any lectures or advice from you, and I don’t need any reminders of what’s at stake, either. I’m a big boy, Podge. I can handle my own shit. I’ve been doing it my whole life, so don’t start trying to mother me, ya hear?”
“I hear you, Joe,” he chuckled good-naturedly, holding his hands up as he backed away. “I hear you, lad.”
Jaw ticking, I watched as he slipped into the crowd, feeling pissed off and on edge.
This wasn’t easy for me, and I needed him reminding me of that like I needed a hole in the head.
Fuck.
Depressed and on edge, I finished my bottle and set it down, refusing to pick up another. I didn’t need the complications that I knew would follow.
“Because he’s only using you,” I heard someone say, and I turned my attention to where Hughie was in a heated discussion with another familiar blonde.
This one wasn’t his sister Claire.
No, this girl was Shannon’s other little friend.
I couldn’t remember her name, but I had a feeling it was Lilly. Or maybe it was Izzy.
Either way, she was standing near the doorway, with her arms folded
across her chest glaring up at Hughie Biggs, who was glaring back at her, while he flailed his arms around in obvious exasperation. “You can’t seriously be considering going upstairs with him.”
“Like you give a shit,” she continued to say. “At least Pierce doesn’t act like I’m invisible when he’s with his friends.”
“You know I give a shit,” he was quick to counter. “If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t—”
“You wouldn’t what, Hugh?” she cut him off by hissing. “You wouldn’t treat me like an afterthought? Because, newsflash, asshole, that’s exactly what you’ve been doing.”
Taking it all in with sober eyes, I briefly considered telling them that if they were trying to conceal a hook up, then they were doing a pretty terrible job, before remembering these assholes were not my monkeys and this was not my circus.
Shaking my head, I stepped around them and headed through the impressive kitchen until I found the back door.
Slipping outside, I ignored every other asshole in the back garden, and wandered over to the far end of the yard, sparking up a cigarette as I went.
Temptation was all around me and I needed to keep my head.
I had two weeks of torture put down and I sure as hell didn’t plan on throwing it away for a piss up with a bunch of people who, in any other given circumstances, would cross the road to get away from me.
“Got one of those to spare?” a female voice asked, and I turned around to find Shannon’s friend that had been fighting with Biggs moments before. ”Remember me?”
“Just about,” I replied, rubbing my jaw. “Lilly Young, right?” “It’s Lizzie,” she corrected, unblinking. “So, can I have one?” “One what?”
“A cigarette.” “No.”
Her blue eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
“Because you don’t smoke,” I replied coolly. “And I don’t share.”
She gave me a hard look, one I was only too willing to return, before relenting with a heavy exhale. “I hate parties.”
“Then why come?” “It’s complicated.” “Fair enough.”
“That’s it?” She eyed me curiously. “You’re not going to ask me why?”
“No.”
“How come?”
I shrugged. “Because I don’t care about your answer.”
“Hm.” She tilted her head to one side, studying me with her blue eyes. “You don’t belong here either.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” “Then why’d you come?”
I smirked. “It’s complicated.”
Her lips begrudgingly tipped up in a smile. “You know, I used to have an epic crush on you when I was younger.” She didn’t blush or blanch when she said it either. Girl had an impressive pair of balls on her. “Most of the girls in our class had. You even overtook Leo DiCaprio for a bit – and that was during his Titanic superstardom stage.” Shaking her head, she released another sigh before adding, “Which only proves that I’ve always been attracted to the worst kind of wrong for me.”
Frowning, I inhaled a deep drag, held it there just long enough to take the sting out of the pain in my chest, and then exhaled slowly, while I tried to think of what to say to this girl who, even though she clearly had a sharp tongue, didn’t look like she could handle another kicking. “For a kid, you sound awfully cynical.”
She narrowed her blue eyes. “I’m not a kid.”
“Maybe you’re not.” I shrugged and took another drag. “But you are friends with my baby sister, which means that you could be forty and you’d still be a kid in my eyes.”
“If this is your attempt at letting me down gently then save your breath,” she was quick to counter. “I said that I used to have a crush on you, as in past tense, as in not currently.”
“Wise decision,” I chuckled, amused by her bitchiness. “Best to stick with Leo.”
“Funny.” She rolled her eyes, tone flat. “Besides, I know you hurl for Cork, and I don’t like athletes anymore.”
“And yet you’re attending a party being thrown by your school’s rugby team.” I nodded. “Makes perfect sense.”
“I’m here for Claire.”
“Bullshit,” I corrected with a snort. “You’re here for her brother.” Her eyes widened. “What are you—”
“Let me guess,” I interrupted, amused. “You’re fucking Biggs, and he
won’t commit, so you’ve gone off with one of the lads on his team to get back at him?”
“I don’t… It’s not…” Her mouth fell open and she gaped in horror at me. “You need a better poker face.”
“You have it all wrong.” “I don’t think I do.” “Joey, please—”
“Don’t worry,” I cut her off with a wink. “I don’t talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” She looked truly terrified now. “Because like I said, you have it all wrong.”
“Sure I have.”
“Oh god. Please don’t say anything, Joey.” Swallowing deeply, she pressed a hand to her brow and groaned. “He has a girlfriend, and I have a…”
“I’ll tell you what, Lilly.“ “It’s Lizzie.”
“Lizzie.” Taking pity on her, I pulled a cigarette from my box, put it to
my lips and sparked it up, before holding it out for her. “You keep an eye on Shannon when she starts at your school next week, watch her back and keep any assholes who think about targeting her in line, and I’ll forget everything you think I have all wrong.”
“I was planning on looking after Shannon, regardless,” she replied, taking the cigarette and putting it to her lips.
“And I was planning on keeping my mouth shut, regardless,” I replied evenly. “So, it looks like we both win.”
“I’m not a bad person,” she was quick to point out, tone defensive. “I’m not a slut, either.”
“I never said you were.”
“Yeah, but I know what you’re thinking.” I arched a brow. “I really doubt that.”
“You’re thinking I’m a horrible snake to even consider going there with
another girl’s fella, but you have no idea what’s really going on,” she mumbled, red-faced. “It’s really, really complicated. And messy.” She exhaled a ragged breath before muttering, “And a million other things.”
I shrugged. “It’s not my business.”
“So, that’s it?” She eyed me warily. “That’s all you’re going to say?”
“What else is there to say?” I replied with a shrug. “The way I see it; you’re not the first to get tangled up like this, and you won’t be the last. Either way, I’m no priest, so no need to offer your confession up to me. Not when I’ve done plenty worse than you.”
She arched a brow, reluctantly intrigued. “When you say worse.” I smirked. “You’d need a bishop to take my confession.”
