"Well, it clearly did," I shot back, flustered. "Considering your friend's phone is in my brother's car."
"Little Shannon?" Gibsie sounded amused. "Is that you?"
"Uh, yeah." I flamed red. "It's me."
"Is your brother with you now?" he asked.
"Yeah, but he's driving, so he won't use the phone."
"Does he remember where he dropped us last night?"
"Hold on, I'll ask –" Pausing, I covered the handset and looked to Joey. "They want to know if you remember where the house is."
Joey nodded and I returned to the call.
"Yeah, he remembers."
"Can you put me on loud speaker?"
"I’ll try." Clicking a few buttons, I held the phone up to Joey's ear. "Okay, you're on loudspeaker now."
"Hey man, how's it going?" Gibsie's voice came out much louder now, though he was noticeably hoarse.
"Better than you by the sound of it," my brother quipped. "What do you need?"
"Could you drop Kav's phone over?" he asked. "I'm sorry to put you out, man, but he's losing his shit here. He's weird as fuck when it comes to his personal information."
"What's in it for me?" Joey shot back, not missing a beat.
"Joey," I whisper-hissed.
He shot a cheeky smirk back at me.
"Shit, man, I don’t know," Gibsie mumbled. "A rasher sandwich and a pot of tea? I don’t have much in the lines of barter."
Horrified, I shook my head and mouthed no, but Joey said, "Yeah, grand. We'll be over in thirty."
"Joey!" I cried.
"Thanks a million," Gibsie replied, sounding relieved. "You're as sound as a pound."
"No bother," Joey replied, taking the phone out of my hand. "And I like my rashers crispy," he added before cutting the call and dropping the phone down on the seat beside him. "Detour."
"What are you doing?" I spluttered, wide-eyed. "We are not going over there!"
"What's the problem?" he quizzed. "I thought you were friends?"
"I know him from school, Joey," I choked out. "That doesn’t mean I'm his friend!"
"Relax, we're only dropping over the guy's phone."
"And you're having breakfast!"
"Well, I'm hardly driving that far out of my way for nothing." Joey laughed. "Besides, I'm hungry."
"Yeah, for a chicken-fillet roll," I reminded him.
"I've changed my mind."
"What about Aoife?" I demanded. "And the boys?"
"Aoife and the kids won't be back until one," he replied. "She said so herself."
"Joey, we can't go over there," I pleaded. "Please."
"Shannon Lynch," Joey said in a teasing tone. "Are you blushing?"
"No," I grumbled.
"You know it's okay by me if you like him, don’t you?" Joey chuckled. "I'm not that kind of brother. All I want you to do is be careful. I've told you what he's about. He'll be gone in the summer so it's up to you if you want to get hung up on something temporary."
"I don’t," I lied, mortified. "So drop it."
"Fair enough," Joey mused. "Then you should have no problem stopping over for some grub."
"You can do what you like." Sulking, I folded my arms across my chest and huffed. "I am not getting out of this car."
Half an hour of tense silence later, we pulled up outside a gigantic pair of black-painted, iron gates, and Joey rolled down his window, stretched his arm out, and keyed something into the pad.
A few moments later the gates swung inwards.
My mouth fell open. "You have the password to his gate?"
My brother laughed in response.
A few moments later, the huge gates swung inwards and we continued up a long, winding laneway that was lined on either side with huge trees.
A house came into view a few minutes later and I sucked in a sharp breath.
Oh god.
This was where he lived?
Of course it was.
"Wow," I whispered to myself, taking in the sight of the huge, Victorian-style mansion with a bazillion windows and the biggest front door I'd ever seen.
"I know," Joey agreed with an impressed sigh.
Pressing my cheek to the window, I stared out at the sprawling lawns and gardens as the sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires filled my ears.
It was stone grey in color, but it was draped in so much ivy that it looked almost majestic.
"It looks like six of our house side by side," I whispered, gazing up at the property. "There's like, twelve windows on the top level alone."
Joey pulled up outside the front door and killed the engine before climbing out.
"You should see it from the inside," he said as he reached over and grabbed the phone. "Fucking incredible."
My gaze followed Joey as he strolled over to the front door, knocked once, and then sauntered inside.
Holy crap.
My brother just walked into Johnny Kavanagh's house.
33
King Clit is a liability
Johnny
I was in the process of flipping my mattress off my bed when Gibsie strolled into my room, whistling to himself.
"I've located your phone, Kav," he announced proudly.
"Thank Christ." I sagged forward in relief and dropped my mattress back down on the base. "Where was it?"
"In Joey's car."
My brows shot up. "Joey the hurler?"
Gibsie nodded. "Apparently."
"You dope," I grumbled. "This is all your fault."
"I know," he chirped happily. "But he's dropping it over for you."
"Yeah?" I sighed in relief. "Fair play."
Grabbing my duvet off the floor, I threw it back on the bed and then carefully lifted Sookie back up.
"Good girl," I coaxed, feeling terrible for disturbing her in the first place.
"That is seriously unhygienic, Johnny," Gibsie stated with a frown. "Letting her sleep on your bed like that?" He shuddered. "Fucking rank, lad."
"You're one to talk about unhygienic," I growled, swinging around to face him. "She's cleaner than you." I shot him a dirty look before adding, "At least Sook doesn’t puke all over herself in her sleep and roll it into my Ma's couch."
"You promised you wouldn’t bring it up again," he choked out, looking wounded. "Promise breaker."
"Gibs," I bit out, striving for patience. "I'm tired. I was up all night taking care of your drunk ass. I spent half the night turning you on your side so you didn’t choke yourself, and winding you like a bleeding baby, and the other half I spent mopping up your vomit. You wrecked the living room. You plastered the downstairs bathroom in puke. You almost smothered me to death with your Guinness farts when I brought you up here. Give me a few hours to get over it first before asking me not to bring it up."
"Well, at least I hosed off all the chunks," Gibsie replied sheepishly. "And the living room, hall and bathroom are back to their former glory."
"Good," I barked. "So, you should. It's your fucking puke."
"You made me sleep on the floor, Johnny!" he huffed. "That was mean."
"Because you can't be trusted with nice things."
"Not even a bed?"
"Yes, Gerard, not even a bed."
"Yeah, well, I'm your best friend and you put me on the floor," he shot back with a huff. "The dog gets the foot of your bed and I get the fucking floor."
I arched a brow. "Are you saying that you want to sleep at the foot of my bed?"
Gibsie stared back at me for several seconds before snickering. "Yeah, okay, I have no idea where I was going with that."
"Neither do I, lad," I muttered with a shake of my head. "Neither do I."
"By the way," Gibsie said with an impish grin. "I told yer man Joey that I'd make him a fry for his troubles."
"Fine. Just keep it tidy. My Ma will be back in the morning," I replied, too weary to contemplate the terrible idea it was to have Joey Lynch in my house when he was clearly skeptical of my intentions towards his sister.
And rightly so...
Gibsie looked at me expectantly.
"Don’t look at me like that," I told him. "You know where the kitchen is. I'm not fucking cooking for you."
"I'm not used to gas." Gibsie shrugged helplessly. "We have electric at home."
"Your mother is a baker," I snapped. "How do you not know how to work a bleeding stove?"
"And yours is a flashy fashion designer," he shot back. "But I don't see you prancing around the place in fur coats and Prada handbags."
"You're a baby, do you know that?" I growled. "You're like an oversized infant I've been given custody of to care for."