“He has a young one in the same year as yourself and the twins, doesn’t he?”
“Neasa. Yeah, she’s in my class. Listen, I could give him a buzz, if you want? He might throw ya a score for it.”
“Nah, the thing is on its last legs. It’s red rotten underneath. It wouldn’t make the price of the diesel it would cost me to drive it over there.”
Oh my god.
“Fair enough.”
He did not!
“Good man, Joey, can you carry that downstairs on your own?”
He did!
“Yeah, Tony, it’s not a bother. I’ll have to head off around three today, though. I’ve a match at the pavilion.”
Dad brought him home.
“Jesus, son, you’re as strong as an ox. And that’s not a bother. We’ll have it finished by then.”
Again!
And I looked like something that had been dragged through a ditch.
Perfect.
The prospect of seeing Joey, after spending a whole summer of not seeing his face every weekday morning in class, had me throwing the covers off my body, and springing off my bed, only to faceplant the floor in epic fashion, stubbing my toe on the metal corner of my bed as I fell.
“Jesus, Mary, Joseph and the donkey,” I cried out, along with an array of colorful curse words. Twisting onto my back, I let out a strangled keening noise, as I grabbed my foot and held it to my chest. “Ow, ow, ow…”
My bedroom door swung inwards then, revealing my worried looking father standing in the doorway.
“What in the name of Christ are ya doing, Aoif?” he asked, pressing a hand to his chest. “I thought there was a cat on heat in your room with the noises you were making.”
“No cat on heat. Just… me,” I mumbled, letting my head fall back against my bedroom carpet, pride – and toe – wounded. “What are you doing?”
“Joey’s giving me a hand to replace the old bathroom,” Dad explained. “Your mother wants the bath taken out, and an electric shower put in instead.”
“Sounds expensive,” I replied, wondering how we could afford a new bathroom. “What’s wrong with what we already have?”
“You know your mother,” Dad said with a weary sigh.
Yeah, I did, and I knew my father, too.
What Mam wanted, Dad got for her, regardless of whether he could afford it or not, usually as a form of compensation for his latest slip.
A new bathroom was a small price to pay for his wandering eye, I suppose.
It wouldn’t do me an ounce of good to know the name of my father’s latest mistake.
Not when I already knew the names of too many of the ones that had come before this one.
Frowning, Dad said, “Ah, Jaysus, Aoife, throw some clothes on, will ya?” He gestured to my bare legs. “Your brother’s downstairs with his friends, and I’ve the young fella over from work.”
“I was in bed,” I shot back defensively, pulling at the hem of my string top in a piss-poor attempt to conceal my thighs. “And I’m in my own room. I don’t make a habit of walking around in my knickers, Dad.”
“Still,” he grumbled, looking embarrassed, as he quickly turned on his heels and disappeared into the bathroom. “Did you ever hear of pajamas? And it’s ten o clock in the morning. Shouldn’t you be out of bed and doing something productive?”
Did you ever hear of doing something productive like keeping your dick in your pants?
“In case it slipped your attention, it’s like twenty-three degrees outside, which is freakishly rare for us, hence the knickers,” I tossed back. “And as for the lack of productivity, I have two days left of my summer holidays before school starts back up on Monday, and I’m thrown into revising for the Junior Cert, father dearest, and I have every intention of making the most of said days.”
“So?” I heard him call out from the bathroom. “That’s no excuse to laze around all weekend. You should find something productive to do.”
“And you should find yourself a moral compass.”
“What was that, love?”
“Nothing.” Feeling my heart sink into the pit of my stomach, I climbed to my feet. “Nothing at all, Dad.”
What a lovely way to end the summer holidays, I thought to myself dejectedly, as I padded across my room to close my door. Your father’s fucking around again, and instead of dealing with your father’s infidelity, your mother’s spent the savings on a new bloody bathroom.
“That’s loaded into the van, Tony. Do you want to strip that Lino flooring while we’re at it? That way, we only need to make the one trip to the dump…” Joey’s voice trailed off when he stopped short in the landing, just outside my bedroom door, and right in front of yours truly.
The minute his eyes landed on my bare legs; I felt a flush of heat wash over my skin. I didn’t feel the need to hide my body, not when I was thrilled that he was finally looking.
Besides, I wasn’t the self-conscious type. I had a nice body, and I wasn’t about to convince myself that I hadn’t, especially when the rest of the world was more than willing to chip away at a teenager’s self-esteem.
“Enjoying the show?” I teased, planting my hands on my hips, when his eyes continued to trail over me. I thought it was quite poetic that I returned the same sarcastic question he’d asked me once before.
In equally unapologetic fashion, he took his sweet time returning his gaze to my face. “It beats the view of your father’s ass crack, that’s for sure.”
I arched a brow. “It?”
Humor danced in his eyes, a rare change from the usual, generic fuck-the-world-and-everyone-in-it glower he doled out to just about everyone. “You.”
It wasn’t like we hadn’t seen each other during the summer. I’d swung by the garage on many the occasion to torment him when he was working with Dad, and I’d been to most of his and Paul’s matches, but we had been surrounded by friends or my dad.
Ridiculous as it sounded, I missed our little one-on-one moments.
Sure, they might have occurred against his will at times, but I knew that he enjoyed my banter as much as I enjoyed his.
Heart bucking wilder than necessary, given the fact that it was only the boy’s eyes that were on me, and not his hands, I reached up and brushed my thumb over his swollen bottom lip, addicted to tormenting him. “What’s that on your mouth, Joe; drool?”
“Don’t do that.” His green eyes darkened. “Not here.”
“Don’t do what?” Tone heavily laced with sarcasm, I traced his bottom lip with my thumb and grinned. “This?”
“Play your games when your father is across the landing.”
“Why not?” I teased, hell bent on playing games. “Are you afraid he’ll catch you looking at his daughter like you want to eat her up.” I stepped closer, waiting for him to crack and be the first to move away. “Do you, Joe? Do you want to eat me up?”
Reaching up, Joey snatched my wrist with his big hand, but instead of pushing me away like I was prepared for him to do, he pulled me towards him – so close that my body was pressed against his.
“Don’t try to fuck with my head, Molloy.” His voice was low and heated, and held the hint of warning. “I indulge you by playing your little games, but don’t push your luck.”