“How do I know you?” I demanded, eyeing him warily.
“I’m Hughie Biggs,” he was quick to offer up, holding his hands up, the universal symbol of peace. “Our sisters are friends.”
“Yeah,” the big one chuckled, waving a tissue in front of him. “We come in peace.”
“Shut up, Gibs,” Hughie muttered, shaking his head. “Jesus, lad.”
Taken aback, I unfurled my fists, and forced myself to simmer down.
There was no threat here.
I needed to get my body to register that.
“What are you doing here, Biggs?” I asked, addressing Hughie, and ignoring the big ape of muscle he had standing beside him. “What do you want?”
“Looking for you, actually.”
Now, I was on alert again. “Why?”
“I sort of need a favor.”
“I don’t do favors for strangers.”
“Our sisters are friends,” he repeated, tone hopeful. “Which means we’re sort of friends, or acquaintances, maybe…no? Okay then.”
“I don’t do friends,” I repeated coldly, sizing up each and every one of the overgrown bastards, with their designer clothes, and expensive haircuts. “And I don’t do favors.”
“Hey,” Alec huffed, folding his arms across his chest in outrage. “Thanks a fucking lot, friend. What am I? Dog shit?”
“Shut up, you dope,” Podge grumbled. “Let Lynchy handle this.”
“Fair enough,” Hughie replied, with a shake of his head. “Clearly coming here was a bad idea.”
“Clearly,” I bit out, staring him down until he looked away. “See ya.”
“What?” the big fella demanded. “No, no, it was a brilliant idea, and I’m not leaving until I get what I came for.”
“And what was that exactly?”
“We’re looking to take a trip to the spliffs of Moher, if you get me?” he chuckled, waggling his brows.
I stared blankly back at him.
“We need drugs.”
“Jesus, Gibs,” Hughie groaned, dropping his head in his hands. “Tact, lad. Tact.”
“Drugs?” I cocked a brow. “And you came to me because?”
“Because we’ve heard the rumors,” another one said.
I arched a brow. “Rumors?”
“From Hughie,” the big lad offered up.
Hughie groaned loudly. “Jesus, Gibs.”
“He said you’re off your trolley on drugs and I really need to borrow some of those.”
“Thanks a fucking bunch, Gibs,” Hughie spluttered, taking a safe step back.
I locked my gaze on the big one. “And you thought that I could help you with that?”
He nodded brightly.
“Look at me, asshole.” I gestured to my training gear. “Do I look like a dealer?”
When he didn’t immediately say no, I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not a fucking dealer.”
“But you do have contacts, right?” he offered back, tone coaxing. “You know, friends in low places and all of that jazz? You are from Elk’s Terrace, aren’t you?”
“One: I’m not your friend. Two: the fact that you’re insulting me to my face by insinuating that I’m from a lower place than you, deserves a smack in the mouth. And three: I’m not doing shit for you. Now, clear off.”
“I accept all three of those reasons as being fair and true,” the big fella replied. “And I honestly would oblige you by clearing off, but I really need those drugs for my captain.”
“Your captain.”
“Yeah, my captain.” He nodded eagerly. “He’s having a hard time right now – a really fucking hard time. He had this procedure before Christmas, you see, and the poor bastard is as stiff as a poker from it. All I’m looking for is something to help relax him.”
“Gus, is it?” I asked calmly. “Is that your name?”
“Gibsie,” he corrected with a sheepish grin. “It’s Gibsie, although my mother calls me Gerard—”
“I don’t give a shit what your mother calls you,” I interrupted, leveling him a warning look. “And as for your captain and his procedure? Tell him to go to a doctor and get a prescription like everyone else.” Turning back to Hughie, I added, “Don’t come back here, Biggs.” I pointed to the big ape beside him before adding, “And especially not with him.”
“But he can’t write me a prescription for weed!” the big lad blurted out. “Please? Come on, man, it’s just a little weed?”
“What part of I’m not a dealer are you having trouble with?”
“I know, I know, you’re not a dealer, blah, blah, blah. I heard ya,” he reeled off. “But if you could make an exception just for tonight, then I would really owe you one.”
“You already owe me,” I muttered. “The last five minutes of my life that I’m never getting back.”
“You can come to our party tonight,” he tried to coax. “It’s at Hughie’s gaff. It’s 90’s themed—”
“No, it’s not, Gibs.”
“Yes, it is,” the big lad argued before turning back to me. “His folks are in Portugal. Free drink all night – oh, and sausage rolls, too.”
“Free sausage rolls?” I feigned excitement. “Well, why didn’t you say that earlier? I’m in.”
His eyes widened in delight. “Really?”
I rolled my eyes. “No, not really, you langer.”
“We can pay,” another one said, and this one had dark hair. “We have money,” he added, standing slightly back from the others. “Whatever you want. It wouldn’t be an issue.”
“Shit, Feely, lad, don’t say that,” Hughie groaned. “We only have two hundred.”
Now, I was listening. “Two hundred?”
“Yeah,” he replied, withdrawing a wad of twenties from his jeans pocket. “Is that enough?”
I glanced at Alec, who was dutifully trying not to burst out laughing. He might be a thick fucker, but he was streetwise enough to know that they had enough cash to supply their rugby team and our hurling team.
“How much are you looking for?” I heard myself ask.
“Lynchy, can I talk to you real quick?” Podge interrupted, before dragging me away from them.
“What are you doing?” I hissed, shrugging his arm off.
“What am I doing? What are you doing?” he demanded, when we were out of earshot “I thought you were done with Shane Holland and all of that bullshit?”
“I am,” I bit out, glaring at him. “I don’t need to go anywhere near Holland for this.”
“How?”
I shrugged. “I have an eighth back at the house.”
“I thought you were done with all of that?”
“I am,” I repeated, pissed off. “I haven’t used.”
His eyes bulged. “Weed is using.”
Mine narrowed in response. “No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Cannabis is a drug.”