“Casey, if you told me that the entire Irish rugby team was going to be in attendance, I still wouldn’t come.” Reaching for a pillow, I hugged it to my chest and sighed heavily. “Do you remember the Cadbury’s advert that used to be on the television when we were small; the one with the woman devouring a square of dairy milk while Show Me Heaven played in the background?”
“Yeah, so?”
“Yeah, well, I’m the woman in the ad and Joey’s the chocolate bar.”
“So, you’re saying that he’s the only flavor you want to taste?” She shook her head. “That’s so stupid when he’s the only flavor you’ve ever tried. He dumped you, Aoif. He cut off your chocolate source. So, get off your ass and come sample something from the luxury menu with me instead.”
“I’m not interested.”
“Get up.”
“I’m too sad.”
“Which is exactly why I’m not leaving this room without you. Now, Katie, go and turn on the shower for our girl here,” she ordered, “And put this on,” she added, tossing Christina Aguilera’s Stripped album into Katie’s hands. “Track two.”
“Is it really that kind of an intervention?” Katie asked, hurrying over to the stereo. “You’re bringing out the big guns?”
“I think I need a new haircut,” I mumbled, pulling on my long braid. “I need a change.”
“Oh my god, it is,” Katie yelped, quickly switching discs.
“You can bet your ass it is,” Casey replied. Christina’s Can’t Hold Us Down blasted from the speakers a moment later, and Casey nodded her approval before turning her attention back to me. “If you chop off those long locks, I will use the strands to strangle you with. Now, get up.”
I shook my head. “No.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Get your ass up, Molloy.”
“Never.”
“Don’t make me climb on there and get you.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
After a ten second stare down we both dove for my duvet at the same time, arms flailing and legs kicking.
“If you’re not ready to get over your ex by getting under one of those fine-ass rugby boys, then I will take one for the team and do it for you,” she growled, wrestling the blanket out of my hands, as she straddled me. “But you’re still coming with me to be my wing woman.”
“Never,” I protested, trying and failing to knock her off by bucking my hips. “How are your thighs so freakishly strong?”
“It’s called using my mam’s thigh-master, bitch,” she shot back, pinning my arms to the mattress. “Now, do you relent, or do I need to kick your ass some more?”
“Case…”
“Do you relent?”
“Fine.” Releasing a pained groan of defeat, I stopped fighting her. “I relent.”
HOW THE OTHER HALF LIVE
JOEY
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.”