No need to watch my diet now.
Not when my body was hellbent on giving up on me.
Slumping on a wall outside the chipper, I devoured everything and chugged it down with a bottle of water.
The grease tasted foreign to me, and I knew I would pay for it tomorrow, but for now I didn’t care.
"Johnny Kavanagh?" a vaguely familiar voice called my name. "Is that you?"
I snapped my gaze up to see a tall lad about my age looking expectantly at me.
He had his arm slung over the shoulder of an attractive blonde.
Fan or friend?
Friend or fan?
I tried to place the face and couldn’t, so decided on fan.
"No pictures tonight, kids," I bit out, tone slurred. "Johnny's on a time-out."
The guy laughed but made no move to shove a camera in my face, which was just as well considering my current condition.
Instead he shocked the hell out of me by saying, "I spoke to you on the phone the other week. You know my sister, Shannon. You dropped her home from school."
My head snapped up and I found myself concentrating a whole heap more on the lad in front of me.
"You're the hurler–" I paused and racked my brain for his name. "Joey!" I blurted out, proud of myself for managing to retrieve that piece of information in my state. "Joey the hurler and Shannon like the river."
"Like the river?" the girl chuckled. "God, how much have you had to drink?"
"A river load by the looks of it," Joey stated wryly, eyeing me with curiosity. "Do you think you should head home, man?" he added. "You look fairly well oiled."
"Would if I could," I admitted with a grumble. "No taxi."
"Sure we can give you a lift, can't we, babe?" the girl announced, pointing down the street. "We're only parked down the road."
I opened my mouth to protest but, "That'd be great, thanks," came out instead.
"Yeah, sure, no problem," Joey agreed, looking a bit surprised. He shifted uncomfortably for a minute then inclined his head. "Let's go."
I managed to stand up, but it took a lot of work to stay upright.
Slamming my shoulder against the wall, I managed to keep my balance as I followed after them.
Thankfully, the girl who I presumed was Joey's girlfriend, wasn’t messing when she said they were only parked down the road.
Another few stumbling feet and we reached the red Opal Corsa.
At least that's what I thought it was.
It was hard to tell because my head was spinning and the car was a bucket of rust.
Fuck it, though, I was in no state to question their methods of traveling.
I was beyond grateful for the lift.
"I'm Aoife Molloy, by the way," the girl announced, giving me a bright smile before making her way around to the passenger side of the car. "Joey the hurler's girlfriend." She snickered at that last bit before climbing into the front seat.
"Nice to meet you," I replied, keeping my weight against the wall while Joey opened the driver's side door and then rolled the seat forward.
"Three door," he said by way of explanation. "You're going to have to climb into the back."
"It's fine, lad." I pulled away from the wall and braced my weight against the car before wedging myself through the tiny space.
My efforts were about as effective as sailing a paper boat because Joey had to shove on my back to get me inside.
"Christ," I muttered when I was finally in.
Sinking down in the middle of the seat, I had to twist my body sideways, my legs facing the side window, so Joey could push back his seat.
"You good, Kavanagh?" he called out when he climbed inside and pushed his seat back another five inches.
"All good," I croaked out, body mashed between the back of his seat and mine. "Thanks again for the lift."
"No bother," Joey replied. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to his girlfriend's lips before fastening his seatbelt. "Where are we heading?"
Straight to your house because I wanna fuck your sister, I thought to myself, smirked at the fabulous notion, and then hunted the crazy thought away with a shake of my head.
Probably love her, too, I mused to myself, a fucking lot, before pushing that madness out as well.
Cop yourself on, asshole!
"About four miles the other side of Tommen College," I slurred.
I tried to find my seatbelt, but my fumbling hands wouldn’t cooperate.
"Head out the main road for the city." Giving up on finding my belt, I dropped my head back against the rest and sighed. "I'll call the turn offs when we get to them."
"No bother."
He started the engine and had just pulled onto the road when I felt the car brake suddenly.
"What the fuck?" Joey barked seconds before two hands slammed down on the hood of his car. "Get off my car, asshole!"
"You're stealing my Center," Gibsie roared in the window as he leaned over the hood of the car. "Give him back." His eyes darted from Joey to me, recognition sparking. "Hey, Cap." He grinned, head lolling to one side. "How's it going? I've been looking everywhere for you."
"And this clown is?" Joey asked, tone derisive, attention locked on Gibsie who was having a one-way conversation with me through the windscreen of his car.
"He's my Flanker," I grumbled before turning my attention back to the man-child hugging the bonnet. "Gibs! What the fuck are you doing, lad!" I barked, glaring out the windscreen. "You're supposed to be gone home with Hughie?"
"The Gards pulled him over for tax and insurance," he called back through the windscreen like that answered my question.
I gaped. "So? Hughie's above board."
"He looked at me, Johnny – shone his big fucking torch right in my eyes," he called back. "I panicked and jumped out of the car." Shrugging, he added, "I've been running around town ever since." He narrowed his eyes. "I tried to call you but you kept cutting me off!"
I glared at him. "You're King Clit?"
"Oh, yeah," Gibsie snickered. "I forgot about that."
"What's Hughie down as?"
"Ginger Pubes," he replied like it was the most obvious thing ever.
It wasn’t.
"He's blond," I growled.
"His girlfriend isn’t."
"Jesus Christ," I groaned, rubbing my forehead.
"What do you want me to do with him?" Joey asked.
I shrugged and contemplated telling him to drive over the annoying fucker, but then I knew I would be terribly lonely without him.
And in all fairness, he had taken a few slaps defending my honor tonight.
"I should probably bring him back to my place," I begrudgingly admitted. "Or a secured hospital."
Joey muttered something incoherent under his breath and climbed out.
It sounded something like 'you two fuckers better not puke in this car.'
I was making no promises.
My buddy was a projector.
Pulling on the seat, Joey dragged it forward and instructed an intoxicated Gibsie to climb in.
He did.
But instead of climbing or crawling inside, the bastard lunged into the backseat.
"Fuck!" I roared, doubling over in pain when his elbow landed in my crotch.
There goes your last shot right there…
"Shit, man, did I get your dick?" Gibsie slurred as he tried and failed to climb over me. "I'll get ice for your balls when we get home."
"Get. Off. Me," I strangled out, fairly sure I was turning purple from the pain, as he climbed over the seat, digging and kneeing me with his elbows and knees.
Finally, he managed to drag his ass over to the other side of the seat.
"Christ," he mused, settling down alongside me. "That's the tightest hole I've been inside in months."
Joey climbed back in and started the engine before quickly tearing off down the street.
"I hope there's not any more of you," he said. "The car's weighing down at the back."
"Sorry," I began to say but was cut off by Gibsie.
"It's his fault – the fat bastard," he announced. Turning to face me, he added, "Hey, is your dick okay, man? I'm really sorry about that. I hope I didn’t squash your balls."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Go fuck yourself, Gerard."
"I was being sincere, Jonathon," he shot back, wounded. "For that, you can get your own bloody ice tonight – hold up!"