FEBRUARY 14TH 2000
JOEY
“AND THEN YOU just reconnect the wires together like this, and bob’s your uncle,” Tony Molloy explained on Thursday evening after school, as he passed me a pair of wire cutters.
The engine of the car he had been rewiring roared to life.
I grinned. “That’s fucking mental.”
He arched a greying brow. “I’m only showing you this in the case of an emergency, not for a midnight joyride or any of that shite young fellas around here are up to.”
“Obviously.”
“Here, hand me that face-tester.”
Thoroughly intrigued, I did as the older man asked, soaking in everything he taught me, and feeling beyond grateful that he had gone out on a limb for me last year – even if it meant that the role that I had been given made me Tony’s glorified lackey.
Filling petrol in the garage’s adjoining forecourt wasn’t exactly thrilling stuff, but the chance to work on engines was something I discovered I enjoyed. More than just enjoyed, it was exactly the distraction I needed.
The money wasn’t brilliant, at a fiver an hour, but I was too young to get a job on the books, not to mention too hot-headed to hold one down even if I was old enough.
I couldn’t seem to help it. I had a problem with keeping my shit together. The rage that built up inside of me whenever I was confronted with an altercation, or an asshole determined to argue with me, was uncontrollable.
There was something inside of me that demanded I fight back, no matter how small or unimportant an argument may be.
I couldn’t get a hold of it.
It was like there was a demon living just beneath the surface of my skin, one that had taken too many kicks lying down, and refused to take a single other.
Besides, the relief on my mother’s face when I handed up my wages every Friday night made it all worth it.
If I could take only a tenth of the pressure off her frail shoulders, put there because of the useless bastard she married who refused to find a job, then I would gladly slog it out for a fiver an hour.
Taking all of the hours they would give me, I worked most evenings after school until around nine or ten at night, and all day on Saturday, unless I needed to take a few hours off for matches.
“So, how’s school going, lad?” Tony asked, climbing to his feet. “Keeping the head down after that suspension last week, I hope?”
I wasn’t a fan of school and my boss knew it.
I fucking hated it at the best of times, but when I weighed up my options, I would have lived in the place – or here – if it meant I didn’t have to go home.
“I already told ya about that,” I said, following Tony into the office that doubled up as a staff room. “That prick Rice was out of line.”
“And you were only more than willing to put him back in his place,” Tony mused. Flicking on the kettle, he gestured to the black eye I was sporting. “Keep showing up to work looking like that, and you’ll scare off all the old biddies coming in for their petrol.”
I shrugged.
“You know, Joe, you really need to learn how to keep your head,” he continued, pouring two mugs of tea. “A hot temper like that makes you a liability, boyo. It will hold you back in life.”
Or it will keep me alive just long enough to grow up and get out of this town.
“Maybe,” I agreed, running my tongue over the recently healed cut on my bottom lip.
“It’s already holding you back,” he said, handing me one of the mugs, before diving into one of his frequent ‘you have so much potential,’ pep talks.
Sinking down on a chair at the table opposite him, I took a sip from my mug and tuned his voice out, making sure to nod and agree at the right cues, having heard every fucking word before, but knowing deep down inside that Tony wasn’t the enemy.
Every word he spurted was a familiar one that had been echoed before.
From him.
From Nanny Murphy.
From my principal at BCS.
From my coaches and trainers.
Blah fucking blah, blah, blah…
“Hi, Dad,” a female voice called out from the office doorway, causing Tony to pause mid-lecture, and my heart to jack knife in my chest.
My eyes landed on the familiar, leggy blonde, standing in the doorway, sporting the same uniform I had worn earlier today, and I bit back a groan.
For fuck’s sake…
This girl.
Yeah, this girl was a pain in my hole.
“Aoife.” Tony’s eyes lit up. “What are you doing here?”
“I was studying at the library with Paul,” his daughter replied, cheeks flushed, as she dropped her school bag on the floor, and walked towards her dad. “We have midterm exams next week. I lost track of time, and you said I wasn’t to walk home in the dark.” Smiling angelically at her old man, she batted her big green eyes and asked, “Any chance of spin home?”
“Lost track of time at the library?” Tony cocked a disbelieving brow. “At half-seven on Valentine’s night? Do you think I came down in the last shower?”
I snorted, also finding her excuse fucking laughable.
Her green eyes narrowed in warning at me, and I shrugged.
Like I gave a shit if she got into it with her old man or not.
She should’ve come up with a better lie.
That one was pathetic.
“Midterm exams?” Tony looked to me. “Joey, son, you’re in the same year as my twins. Did you hear anything at school about midterm exams?”
“Not a word,” I replied, vaguely recalling hearing something about upcoming exams, but enjoying her discomfort too much to hand her the shovel she clearly needed to dig herself out of this hole.
“Like he’d even know,” Molloy shot back with a growl. “Don’t mind a word he says, Dad. Joey Lynch spends more time in the office with the principal than he does in class with—“
“You and Paul?” I offered.
Tony’s brows rose. “Is that Paul the boyfriend?”
“More like Paul the prick,” I scoffed.
“Wow, Joey.” Her eyes narrowed on me once more. “I’m surprised you took your head out of your ass long enough to learn your classmates’ names.”
“We’re on the same hurling team.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Yeah, and?”
“And that’s how I know his name,” I drawled, leaning back in my seat. “No heads-up-asses required. And Paul Rice is a prick.”
Tony laughed and quickly backpedaled. “Hold up, isn’t that the lad you were suspended for fighting with last week?”
“That’s the one,” I confirmed.
“Because you hit him for no reason,” Molloy growled, quick to defend her boyfriend.
“That’s what you think,” I shot back.
“Ugh. Whatever,” she snapped. “Can I have a spin or not, Dad? I need to get home. I’ve a ton of homework to get finished.”
“Why didn’t you get it done at the library?” I mocked, enjoying riling her up a little more than I should. “While you were doing all of that important studying with Paul.”
“Why don’t you shut your mouth?” she countered huffily. “And mind your own business.”
“And more importantly, why didn’t this Paul young fella walk you home?” Tony interjected, tone serious now. “What kind of a young fella leaves his girlfriend in town on her own at night?”
“His mam collected him for training,” she explained with a shrug.
Tony looked to me. “Training?”
I shook my head. “There’s no hurling training tonight.”
“Tai chi,” she correctly hotly. “Not everything revolves around hurling.”
“Tai chi?” Tony frowned. “I thought that had something to do with house decorating.”
“That’s feng shui, Dad.”
I choked back a laugh.
Molloy glared at me.
“And his mother didn’t give you a lift home?”
She shrugged, flustered. “I didn’t ask her for one.”
Her father glowered. “And he didn’t ask her for you?”
“See,” I drawled, giving her father a knowing look. “Prick.”
“Dad,” she snapped, dutifully ignoring me now. “Can I have a spin or not?”
“Not.”
“What? Dad, I need to get home. I told you; I have a ton of homework.”
“Sorry, love, but I have a Corolla that needs a full servicing before I close up. I’ll be here another few hours at least.”
“Dad.”
“Daughter.”
“Father!”
“Fruit of my loins.”
“Fine,” she huffed dramatically, reaching for her schoolbag. “Don’t bother driving your defenseless teenage daughter home in the dark of the night. I’ll take my chances and walk.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” her father commanded. “Sit down. You can get your homework done while I’m finishing up and I’ll take you home then.”
“I’m not staying here until you close,” she shot back, affronted at the thought. “It’s only a couple of miles of a walk. Twenty minutes, tops. Besides, it’s cold in here, and boring, and I need—“
“To do your homework,” her father filled in for her, “Yeah, I think you’ve said that already. Well, you’re not walking on your own.”
“Well, I’m not staying,” she shot back defiantly, her blonde ponytail swinging over her shoulder, as she hoisted her bag up, and headed for the door. “I’ll be fine.”
“Jesus Christ,” Tony grumbled, shaking his head. “Joey, son, do me a favor and make sure that head-strong daughter of mine gets home in one piece. You can knock off afterwards.”
“I don’t need a chaperone,” Molloy argued, looking horrified, but her father cut her off.
“Either he walks you home, or you wait here for me to finish up work. Your choice.”
Balking, she seemed to ponder her choices before locking her eyes on mine. “Well, are you going to walk me home or not?”
For fuck’s sake…
I was supposed to be learning how to replace the spark plugs in Danny Reilly’s old Corolla, but, instead, I was walking a furious teenage girl home against her will.
How I got roped into this shit, I would never understand.
If Tony knew me, really fucking knew me, he’d quickly realize that his daughter was hell of a lot better off on her own than with me.
I was a bad bet; my mother had as good as told me so on several occasions.
With my hands in the front pocket of my hoodie, I walked alongside Aoife Molloy, listening to her rant on about sexism, differential treatment because she was a girl, the double standards of us being the same age and her father having no problem with me walking back alone, not to mention a whole host of other bullshit since we left her father at the garage.
In all honesty, her dramatic raving should be driving me nuts by now.
Instead, I was mildly amused by her.
“It’s a disgrace,” she hissed, power walking down the footpath in her high-heeled school shoes, her bare thighs on show beneath the scrap of grey fabric she called a skirt. “He’s being totally unreasonable—“
“Can I just stop you right there,” I interjected, holding a hand up.
“Yeah,” she said, turning to look at me with an expectant look. “Why?”
“No reason,” I replied. “I just wanted you to stop talking.”
“You know, Joey, you can be such an asshole sometimes.” Frustrated, she shook her head and marched on ahead of me. “Such an asshole.”
Fine by me.
I didn’t up my pace and chase her like I suspected she was used to fellas doing.
When she realized this, she swung back around to glare at me.
“You threw me under the bus tonight with the whole library thing,” she burst out, looking more emotionally invested in this argument than was necessary. “You could have backed me up, or just said nothing at all. Instead, you egged my dad on, made him worry about my relationship with Paul, insinuated that I was getting up to no good with him instead of studying.”
“Weren’t you?” I quipped, gesturing to the purplish mark on the side of her neck – curtesy of Paul the prick’s lips, no doubt.
“That’s not the point,” she shouted, stamping her foot. “You could’ve said nothing, you could’ve ignored me like you usually do. Instead, you tried to cause trouble for me.”
I shrugged, not entirely disagreeing with her statement.
“You don’t want to be here with me right now. It’s obvious. I’m the very last person you want to walk home, so why bother?”
“Your father asked me to.”
“Well, I’m asking you not to.”
“You don’t pay my wages.”
“Ugh.” She blew out another frustrated breath. “You are so annoying.”
“And you are such a fucking princess,” I shot back, unapologetically. “Pissing and moaning because your father cares enough about you to want to make sure you get home safe.” I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I can see that you’re having a real hard day, Molloy.”
Her feet came to a grinding halt and she swung back to face me. “Why don’t you like me?”
“Why does it matter to you?”
My words stumped her and she shook her head again. “We’re in the same class – have been for almost a year now, and still, you act like I don’t exist. I’m a nice person, okay. I have never said a bad word to you, but you avoid me like the plague. You’re never nice to me at school, and I don’t get it.” She blew out a heavy breath. “What changed?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” she snapped. “You were into me on that first day, and then suddenly you weren’t. So, what changed?”
My life fell apart and I realized you were my boss’s daughter.
“Nothing.”
“You are such a liar!” she argued, unwilling to back the hell down like I needed her to. “We hit it off and you know we did.”
“It’s not a crime for a fella to change his mind, Molloy,” I deadpanned. “Take it on the chin and leave it alone, will ya?”
“Maybe I could if you didn’t purposefully avoid me.”
“I don’t avoid you.”
“You constantly avoid me,” she corrected. “You only speak to me when you have to – and that’s usually only when my father’s around to mock and tease me. You talk to all of the other girls in our class, Joey. All of them. But not me. Never me.”
Be glad, I thought to myself.
“You have a fella,” I reminded her, the thought souring my mind. “Why would you want me to talk to you?”
“How about to be nice?”
“I’m not nice.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Say something nice to me.”
“Molloy.”
“Come on,” she demanded. “Do it. I dare you.”
“You have nice legs,” I offered flatly. “There, happy now?”
“You can be nice to the other girls in our class, but not me,” she argued.
“Molloy…”
“I’ve seen you be nice to Danielle Long, and Rebecca Falvey – and a ton of other girls from our year.”
I gave her a pointed look that said all I needed to say about that.
“You were with all of them?” she demanded and then groaned. “That’s disgusting.”
“No more disgusting than you letting Paul Rice put his hands in your knickers last week.”
Her face flushed bright pink. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” With a concoction of fucked-up feelings swelling up inside of me, I couldn’t help but taunt her. “Lace pink thong, from what I hear. How long have you been going out with him? A week now? He sure found a way into your knickers quickly enough.”
“He told you?”
“He told everyone, Molloy.”
“Who?” Her face fell and I felt like a piece of shit. “Who did he tell?”
The look of sadness in her eyes made me want to hit the prick all over again.
It had been worth the suspension.
Hearing Ricey tell half of the lads in our PE class about how Tony’s daughter was so tight he could barely get a finger inside her had caused me to flip the fuck out on him in the changing rooms.
I did it for Tony because he wasn’t there to do it himself.
At least, that’s what I continued to tell myself.
“He’s a prick, Molloy,” I bit out. “Prick’s talk, so word of warning; never do anything with one that you don’t want his entire circle of friends knowing about.”
“You don’t.”
“I don’t want?”
“Talk.”
“That’s because I’m not a prick. I’m an asshole, remember?” Stepping around her, I crossed the street towards her house, not looking back to see if she was following. I could tell she was by the sound of her high heels clicking on the ground.
“So, come on, since you’re so forthcoming tonight, tell me why you don’t like me anymore?”
“That’s a desperate question to ask a fella.”
“Don’t you mean an asshole? And you know I don’t mean it like that.”
“It’s still desperate.”
“Answer me anyway.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“Because? Come on, Joey. Please.”
“We’re not compatible,” I said, blowing out a frustrated breath.
“To have a conversation together?”
“To have anything together.”
“So, what you’re basically saying is that you think you’re too good to be my friend?” She planted her hands on her hips. “To hang out or be seen with me?”
The opposite.
“You asked me a question,” I told her, opening her front gate and gestured for her to go inside. “I answered you. Take it whatever way you like.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“I don’t care,” I replied, hand on the gate. “Now, I walked you home, safe and sound, with plenty of time to get your precious homework done. You’re welcome.”
She made no move to go inside, choosing to stand under the street lamp and glare at me, while I continued to hold the gate open for her like a tool.
“It’s because of my dad, isn’t it?” she pressed, ponytail blowing in the night breeze. “Is that why you changed your mind? Why you don’t even want to be friends with me? Did he say something?”
“Go inside, Molloy.”
“Don’t tell me what to do, Joey.”
“Fine. Suit yourself.” Shaking my head, I let go of the gate, and turned to walk away. “What do I care?”
“You know what? I think you do care,” she called after me. “In fact, I think you do like me. You like me and that’s why you act how you do. That’s why you riled my father up about Paul tonight. I’m right, aren’t it? You like me.”
Of course I fucking liked her.
She was the first thing my eyes had landed on when I walked through the entrance of Ballylaggin Community School last September, and the only face I consistently sought out since.
“…She’s a good girl is our Aoife,” Tony said, dark eyes watching me warily. His agitation had been slowly rising since I arrived at work from my first day at secondary school and mentioned that his daughter and I had been assigned to the same class. “She’s a bit on the wild side, but what young one isn’t these days. She’s not backwards in coming forwards, either, but she’s a good girl at heart. And innocent, too …”
“I hear you, Tony,” I quickly intercepted, needing this job more than I needed to get myself caught up in anymore unnecessary drama. Besides, I had responsibilities at home, shit that came before anything else. Even pretty blondes with long, long legs. “I don’t have any intentions of going near your daughter.”
“Good lad yourself,” came his relieved reply. “It’s not that I don’t like ya, boyo, you know I do. It’s just that I don’t want the two of you going out together and complicating things at work. Especially when she’s …”
Too good for the likes of you.
“Don’t worry,” I interrupted. “I know the way the land lies. I won’t go there. You have nothing to worry about when it comes to me.”
I knew Tony was fond of me. I was a good worker, just not good enough for his daughter…
“Good man,” he said with a chuckle. “But if you could keep an eye on her for me, make sure she’s not being taken advantage of, or losing the run of herself, I’d owe you one.”
“Will do…”
“You’re delusional, Molloy.”
“And you’re in denial, Lynch.” Planting her hands on her hips, she gave me look of pure frustration. “I waited for you; you know.”
I arched a brow. “You waited for me.”
“Uh-huh.” She nodded and blew a strand of hair out of her face. “I waited for months for you to get your shit together and ask me out.” She looked me right in the eye when she said, “Paul wasn’t my first choice, you know.”
“Meaning?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she drawled sarcastically. “I wasn’t aware that you needed me to write it down for you, asshole.”
Well shit.
The truth was if Tony wasn’t her father, and I didn’t have so much riding on my job, then she wouldn’t have had to wait for shit. She sure as hell she wouldn’t be fucking around with that pretentious prick, Paul Rice, that was for sure.
But I had responsibilities that she could never understand. I had a sister to protect, brothers to feed, and a mother to keep me up late into the night worrying about. I didn’t have the luxury of time to piss away like Paul had, nor had I the credentials, or reputation, any father would want in a lad for his daughter.
I didn’t blame Tony for wanting me to steer clear of his baby girl.
I would feel the same way about me, too.
“Well, it looks like you got bored of waiting,” I heard myself say, mentally kicking myself for not ending the conversation and walking away like I knew I should. “You’ve managed to shack yourself up with a Garda’s son from a nice side of town, so I reckon it’s safe to say that you came out on top, Molloy.”
“Yeah.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “It looks like I did, huh?”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
To her.
Fuck me.
“Go on inside and finish your homework like the good little girl you are,” I finally decided on, ignoring the weird ache in my chest, as I turned to walk away. “Oh, and don’t forget to wash the smell of Paul the prick off ya.”
“Ha. I knew it.” Reaching out, she grabbed my hand and dragged me back to her. “I knew you liked me.”
“Hey!” Snatching my hand away from hers, I shoved it back in the front pocket of my hoodie, feeling unnecessarily rattled by her touch. “Don’t do that again.”
Confusion filled her eyes. “Don’t do what?”
“Touch me.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“Because?”
“Because I don’t like you.”
“Liar.”
“How about because I don’t know where those hands have been.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
Dick move.
Take it back.
Take it back, asshole.
“Hey.” I shrugged, unwilling to listen to common sense. “For all I know, you could’ve been pulling on your saint of a boyfriend with those hands.”
“You did not just say that to me.”
Yeah, I did, and the fact that she was standing here challenging me meant that I couldn’t take it back.
Jesus, I had problems.
Like a defiant child, Molloy reached up and patted my chest, trailing her hands up my neck to my face. “Here, asshole, have some germs.” Pushing my hood down, she ruffled my hair before trailing her hands down my chest and into the front pocket of my hoodie. “Mm, mm, mm,” she taunted, before entwining her fingers with mine. “Feels nice, huh?”
“You’re such a brat,” I muttered, shaking my head, as I repressed the urge to shiver from the wonderful fucking feeling of having her warm skin on mine.
“And you’re such a tool,” she came right back with, unwilling to give an inch. “Now, are you going to walk me inside, or do I have to tell my dad that you abandoned me in the dark?”
My mouth fell open in disgust. “I walked you to your gate.”
“My gate is not my door.” She arched a brow in challenge. “Anything could happen to me.”
“Sure it could.” I rolled my eyes. “In the ten seconds it will take you to walk inside?”
When she made no move to back down, I relented with a frustrated sigh.
“Fine.” Shaking my head, I followed her into her garden. “I’ll walk you to your fucking door.”
“So chivalrous,” she teased, as she grinned victoriously up at me. “And sweet.”
“I’m not sweet.”
“And gentlemanly.”
“I’m not that, either – and let go of my hands.”
Cackling evilly to herself, Molloy turned the handle of the front door and pushed it inwards. “You coming in?”
Was she mental?
“No, Molloy,” I deadpanned. “I’m not coming in.”
“You sure?” Leaning against the door, she waggled her brows and said, “There’s a full box of coco pops in the kitchen with my name on, that I’m willing to share with you.”
“I’m not coming…“ my words broke off when my brain registered what she had said. “Coco pops?”
She nodded. “The good kind.”
Well shit.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I heard myself ask, “Is there milk in the fridge?”
“Always.”
My stomach rumbled loudly at the concept of getting fed tonight because, let’s face it, the odds of finding anything in the kitchen on a Monday night at my house weren’t in my favor.
“This doesn’t mean we’re friends,” I warned, as I took an uncertain step inside her front hall. “This changes nothing, Molloy.”
