“Shots?”
“No.”
“Fine, pints?”
“I’ll have a pint of water.”
“I’ll have a pint of water,” I mimicked, thoroughly disgusted with the overgrown creature standing next to me at the bar. “You’ll have a pint, and you’ll be happy about it.”
“Gibs.”
“Not another word, Jonathan.”
“Jesus Christ, fine. I’ll have a pint of Heineken.”
“Good man yourself.” I clapped his shoulder. “Make it four pints, Mary,” I told the woman behind the bar. “And we’ll have four shots of baby Guinness while we’re waiting.”
“Gibs—”
“Each,” I added, slapping a fifty euro note on the counter. “We’ll be over in our usual corner.”
“I’m not having shots,” Johnny grumbled, walking over to the table with me, while politely acknowledging half the bar as he went. Everyone wanted a piece of my best friend, but he was on my clock tonight.
“Cap, Gibs,” both Hugh and Feely acknowledged when we joined them at the table.
“Lads, please remind this overgrown fucker that he is only eighteen,” I said, pulling up a stool at the table. “And that he needs to do regular eighteen-year-old things because that’s what this year is supposed to be about for him.”
The whole reason Johnny had postponed his signing to the pros was because he felt like he had missed out on most of his youth. I was determined to remedy that. My first plan of action was Friday night pints like a normal bunch of sixth years.
“You’re in better form than you’ve ever been,” Hugh offered, smiling politely at Mary who had arrived with a tray and was setting shot glasses down in front of us. “You can take a night off, lad.”
“And school?”
“The books will still be there for you on Monday,” Feely added. “Not that you have to worry about academics.”
“Come on, Cap,” I coaxed, slapping his shoulder. “Let’s make some fucking memories here. You’ll be gone before we know it and then all you’ll have is your regrets.” Reaching for a shot, I held it up and implored him with my eyes to do the same. “Be a teenager with us.”
“Come on, Cap,” Johnny mimicked several hours later. “Be a teenager with us.” Shaking his head, he blinked the bleariness away and tried to glare at me. “Why haven’t I learned by now to never listen to you?”
“Just your good luck, I guess,” I said, clinking my half-empty pint glass against his. “Bottoms up.”
“No, no, no,” Feely laughed, grabbing my attention. “I would use the fifty/fifty option on the easier questions. There’s nothing worse than seeing a fella stuck on the sixty-four-thousand-euro question with four outlandish options to choose from.”
“What’s that now?” I asked, curious.
“Hugh was asking which lives I would use if I ever got called up to be on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? on the television.”
“Well, make sure you put me down as your phone-a-friend,” I said, tapping my temple. “I’m a whizz at that show.”
Both of them cracked up laughing in response.
I narrowed my eyes. “Well, that’s fucking lovely, that is.”
“Cap would be my first port of call,” Hugh chimed in.
“Same here,” Feely added.
“And then you, lad,” Hugh said, turning to Feely.
“Right back at you, Hughie.”
Jesus Christ, the betrayal!
“It’s nothing personal, Gibs,” Feely tried to coax, still laughing. “Don’t get the hump.”
“Hey, Johnny, if you got on the show, you’d call me, wouldn’t you?” I turned to my best friend. “I’d be your phone-a-friend if you were on the show, wouldn’t I?”
Johnny stared at me like I’d grown three heads. “What the fuck are ya talking about, Gibs?”
“Those assholes would call each other if you didn’t answer,” I explained, pointing a thumb in the direction of Feely and Hugh. “But you’d call me, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course I would, Gibs,” he appeased, patting my arm. “You’re my number one, lad.”
It was bullshit but the fact that he had my back in public like this meant everything.
“See, fuckers,” I grumbled, tossing back the rest of my pint, before raising my hand to call for another round to be brought over to us.
“Hey, lads, do any of you want kids?”
I gaped at my best friend. “Kids?”
“Yeah.” Johnny nodded solemnly. “Are ye planning on having some?”
“You want kids, Cap?” Hugh asked.
“Of course.”
“Now?”
“No, not now, ya bleeding eejit,” Johnny replied, sounding pissed as a fart. “In the future.”
“Thanks, Mary,” Hugh said to the ageing barmaid when she arrived at our table with another round of pints. He handed her off a twenty before turning his attention back to our captain, clearly engrossed in the horrific topic. “How many kids?”
“I don’t know, maybe two or three,” Johnny mused, draining the last of his pint. “Definitely not one on his own.” His brows furrowed. “Wouldn’t want them to be lonely.”
“What are you doing?” I demanded, glaring at Hugh. “Stop encouraging this behavior!”
“Whatever Shan can give me,” Johnny replied, ignoring the appalled look on my face. “I’ll take whatever she’s willing to give me.” He frowned again, thinking hard about something before saying, “You know, I think I’d love a daughter.” He scratched his jaw as he spoke. “I’d be delighted with sons, too, of course, but I’d love to raise a little girl with Shan.” Shrugging, he added, “You know, show her how different it should’ve been for her.”
“You’d make a good girl-dad,” Hugh agreed with a solemn nod.
“I know,” Johnny agreed, reaching for one of the fresh pints the barmaid had set. “Fuck it, we’ll see how it goes, won’t we? Time will tell.”
“I don’t want kids,” Feely mused, scratching his jaw. “I don’t think I want a family, period.”
“Jesus, that sounds depressingly lonely,” Johnny replied.
He shrugged but didn’t answer.
“I kind of like the way Claire and I grew up,” Hugh offered, rubbing his jean-clad thigh. “Having a baby sister is a pain in the hole at times, but we’ve had a good life.” He shrugged. “If I was to have a family, I think I’d like something like what my parents gave us.”
“Do ye think Lynchy and Aoife will have more?”
“In a few years, probably.”
“Well, if anyone wants to know the whereabouts of my future children,” I interjected, holding a hand up, “I left a fresh batch of them in a tissue in my room this morning.”
“You sick fucker,” Feely laughed, while Hugh shuddered in revulsion.
“Filter, Gibs!” Johnny barked, elbowing my side. “Filter.”
I shrugged unapologetically. “You know what I was just thinking?”
“No, Gibs, and I doubt we want to know either,” all three of them chorused.
“I was thinking that it must be nice to know that your parents wanted you so badly that they went to the extreme lengths of having you cooked up in the lab.” I patted my best friend’s shoulder. “Fair play, lad.”
“As opposed to?”
“Pillowing your way through a hole in a condom,” I offered honestly. “I heard that, you know? When my parents were separating. Apparently, I was just such a strong swimmer that I poked a hole in the condom.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Feely was quick to placate. “I was an accident, too. Mam was forty-six when she found out she was pregnant with me. All of my sisters were raised. She thought she was in the menopause.”
“Jesus, Pa.” Johnny’s brows shot up. “Your ma is sixty-three?”
“That’s some quick math, lad.”
Johnny brushed the compliment off. “I never knew your ma was that old.”
“Why?” Feely asked. “How old is your mam?”
“In her early forties,” Johnny replied. “Da’s a couple of years older.”
“Mine’s forty-three,” Hugh said. “Same as my old fella.”
“And mine,” I chimed in. “They all went to school together.”
“My old fella is closer to seventy,” Feely said quietly.
“Whoa,” I mused, shaking my head. “You’re probably going to be really young when they die.”
“Jesus, Gibs!” Johnny and Hugh both barked. “Filter!”
“Don’t worry about it,” Feely chuckled. “I’m well used to him.” His phone chimed then, and he quickly pulled it out of his jeans pocket and tapped at the screen.
“Who’s texting you?” I asked, leaning over the table to get a better look at his screen. Why, I had no clue. I had trouble reading on a good day, without a dozen pints in my belly.
“Gibs,” Johnny scolded, catching ahold of my shirt, and pulling me back up. “You don’t ask a fella that.”
“Nah, it’s grand,” Feely replied, tapping a few lines of a text out before sliding his phone back into his pocket. “It’s just Casey.”
“Casey?” Johnny frowned. “Who’s Casey?”
“Jesus, Cap, for such a smart fella, you have the worst observational skills,” Hugh chuckled. “She’s Aoife’s friend.”
“The wild one,” I chimed in, waggling my brows. “Feely’s been tapping her for months.”
“Gibs,” Feely groaned. “Don’t fucking say that, will you?”
“Aoife’s friend?” Johnny stared blankly. “Nope. No idea.”
“That’s because you’ve been too busy chasing rugby and Shannon to look up and see what’s happening with the rest of us,” Hugh laughed.
“That’s not entirely true,” Johnny argued. “I know plenty about what happens in your lives.”
“Hah!” I clapped his shoulder. “Good one, Johnny.”
“I fucking do!” Setting down his pint, he folded his arms across his chest and glared at the three of us. “You,” he said, beginning with Feely. “You’re eighteen, apparently in a situationship with this Casey, and you’re the youngest brother of three sisters. Your birthday is in July, and you’re a closet musician with a voice better than anyone on the radio.” Then he turned to Hugh. “You, you’re seventeen, the oldest of two kids, your birthday’s on Halloween, same as Seany’s, you’ve been with Katie since forever, and she’s your first serious girlfriend.” Finally, he turned to me and said, “And you, you’re the baby of the gang. Your birthday’s in March. You’ve never had a girlfriend because you’re in love with his sister since the beginning of time and have the attention span of a Creme Egg, and you’re fucking the school receptionist.” Blowing out a breath, Johnny smirked at us before saying, “Did I miss anything?”
“Only a few minor details,” Feely mused, pushing his dark hair off his face. “I’m not in a situationship with anyone, but that was impressive, Cap. And to be fair, you’re a million times better since you got with Shannon.”
“That was dreadful,” I accused, turning to gape at him. “My birthday is in February not March. I most certainly do not have the attention span of a Creme Egg, and I am not fucking the school receptionist.”
“And Katie and I started going out when I was in fourth year,” Hugh offered, holding a hand up. “Not since forever.”
“No, no, no,” Johnny argued. “I specifically remember you being obsessed with that girl back in second year.” He tapped his temple. “I know because you were always missing out on training when we were younger to go chasing after her.”
“Wrong girl, Cap,” Feely muttered, rubbing his brow.
“The fuck?” Johnny gaped at him before turning to me. “And your birthday’s not in March?”
“No, it is not in bloody March, you sorry excuse for a best friend,” I huffed. “The fucking cheek of you forgetting my birthday.”
“Sorry, Gibs, I could’ve sworn it was in March.” He scratched his jaw. “Why is March in my head?”
“Because Shannon’s birthday is in March,” I growled. “You pussy-whipped prick.”
“And he’s not in love with my sister, either,” Hugh interjected. “He just thinks he is.”
“Don’t you start,” I warned, turning to glare at Hugh. “I might not be smooth like the rest of ye, or a fucking mathematician like Brains over there—” I paused to point at Johnny “—but I have a heart that pumps and beats and grows feelings. I care. I feel. I love. And all of it is solely directed towards your sister.”
“Then make a fucking change, Gibs,” Hugh snapped, glowering at me. “Because I have to say, lad, if you think you’re getting anywhere near my sister while you’re sticking your dick in Dee, then you’re sorely mistaken. Claire deserves more than to get mixed up in your twisted drama and you know it.”
“Oh my Jesus. For the last time, I am not sticking my dick in Dee!” I growled, throwing my hands up in despair. “I haven’t been anywhere near that woman since fifth year.” Narrowing my eyes right back at him, I snapped, “And I’ll have you know that I would never do anything to hurt your sister. I would rather peel the skin off my bones first.”
“Except that you already do a whole pile that could hurt her,” Hugh urged, tone serious. “Come on, Gibs, if Claire knew about your extra-curricular escapades, it would rip the heart clean out of her chest.”
“He has a point,” Feely added, taking Hugh’s side. “Claire’s in love with you, lad. Has been since we were kids. You know this. It’s no hidden secret. And if you felt the same way, you’d have done something about it by now.”
“Hold up,” Johnny said, coming to my defense, “nobody is saying Gibs is the only fella to put his dick in the wrong girl here. Not one of us is an angel, lads. Everyone has a past.”
“True,” Feely agreed.
“I haven’t,” Hugh deadpanned.
“So, you’re a squeaky-clean virgin now, are ya?” Johnny chuckled. “Saint Hugh?”
“I’ve only been with Katie,” Hugh replied, eyes locked on Johnny. “So, what do you think, Cap?”
“But you’ve been together since … ” Johnny’s brows shot up. “Shite.”
“Yeah,” Hugh snapped. “Unlike the rest of ye sick bastards, I don’t spread myself around like butter.”
Feely cocked a brow. “Butter?”
“Butter.”
“Hey, I’m loyal,” Johnny huffed. “Like a bleeding Labrador.”
“Listen, it’s got nothing to do with who you’ve been with in the past and everything to do with what you’re doing in the present,” Feely said, steering the conversation back on track. “All we’re trying to say here is stop playing with Claire’s feelings.”
“Exactly,” Hugh agreed, with a stiff nod. “No more of this leading her on bullshit.”
“You either want her or you don’t,” Feely added. “And if you don’t, that’s grand, Gibs. Understandable. But if that’s the case, then step aside and let the girl have a life. Because she doesn’t have a chance of getting over you when you’re standing in her way.”
