Fuck, where’d that thought come from?
“Come on, lad,” Eddie interjected, grabbing ahold of the back of my neck with his beefy hand, and steering me towards the door. “You need to cool down.”
“Don’t do that,” I snarled, breaking free from his hold, chest heaving now, as my skin crawled from the touch – from the surge of memories that came with a touch like that. “Don’t ever fucking touch me like that again!” I warned, trembling, as I reached up and cupped the back of my neck. “Ever again.”
“It’s all good, Lynch,” Eddie replied calmly, holding his hands up in retreat. “I just want you to go outside and take a breather, lad. For your own good, that’s all. There’s a selector outside looking to talk to you, and it won’t do your chances of being called up to the minors a bit of good if he sees you losing the head like this.”
“Like I give a fuck about the minors,” I hissed, backing up towards the door. Raising the hand still clutching my hurley, I pointed it right at Ricey. “Next time you see me, you won’t have a roomful of people to protect you.”
“I’m shaking.”
“No need to shake, asshole. Just make your peace with God, because I’m going to bury you.”
Having said that, I turned on my heels and stalked out of the changing room, slamming the door loudly behind me.
I turned back three times towards the changing room, twice to go back to kill Ricey, and the other to go talk to that selector, before finally wrangling my temper into check.
Releasing a furious growl, I kicked at the gravel, and forced myself to walk away.
I didn’t have the patience or the mental capacity to handle any types of conversations about my future.
Besides, hurling was an amateur sport, and while I understood how big an honor it was to be chosen to play for your county, it wasn’t going to pay any bills.
Now, if I’d been born into money, I could’ve played rugby like those posh pricks over at Tommen College and had the opportunity to make some decent money for putting my body on the line.
“So, you survived the match without maiming anyone,” a familiar voice called out, dragging me from my thoughts. “And you managed to score, too. What an overachiever.”
I swung my gaze around only for my eyes to land on Molloy’s fantastic fucking legs, as they dangled from the wall she was perched on.
Shielding my eyes from the evening sunshine, I squinted up at her.
Dressed in an oversized white jumper and tight denim jeans, she sucked on a red freezer ice pop, and smiled down at me. “Nice winning score, by the way.”
“Nice legs.”
Grinning, she took another lick from her freeze pop, before saying, “Do you have any plans for the rest of the evening?”
“Why?”
“What do you mean why?”
“Why means why, Molloy.”
“Do you want to hang out?”
“With you and him?” I snorted. “No fucking thanks.”
“Come on, Joe,” she said in a playful tone, green eyes dancing with mischief. “Paul can be third wheel.”
“Funny.”
She rolled her eyes and cackled. “Oh, don’t be so cranky.”
“Joey!” a chorus of young voices echoed out, and I watched as my younger brothers, Ollie and Tadhg, came thundering towards me.
“You were class, lad.”
“Yeah, you were the bestest,” Ollie agreed, wrapping arms around my waist. “Good job, Joe.”
“Thanks, lads.” Patting Ollie’s small shoulder, I let go of the hold I had on my hurley so Tadhg could snatch it up to inspect for cracks or damage – something he did after every game.
“Who are these little mini-images of you?” Molloy asked, curious green eyes locked on my brothers. “Don’t tell me you’ve been hiding a secret wife and family from me.”
I rolled my eyes. “They’re my brothers, genius.”
“I’m Ollie,” my little brother piped up before I had a chance to answer. “And that’s Tadhg,” he added, pointing to where Tadhg was messing around with my hurley. “This is Joe. He’s our big brother.” Arching his head back, he asked, “Who are you?”
“I’m Aoife,” she replied with a little laugh. “And, yeah, I already know your big brother. He’s in my class at school.”
“Is she your friend, Joe?” Ollie asked, looking back to me. “She’s pretty.”
“I sure am his friend, Ollie. And aren’t you just adorable to call me pretty.” Her gaze flicked to me, and she winked. “Joey thinks I’m pretty, too.”
“Pretty fucking annoying,” I muttered under my breath.
“That’s ‘cause it’s true,” Ollie with a lopsided grin. “Whoa, she’s really really pretty, Joe.”
“Settle down, stud,” I grumbled, reaching into the front pocket of my gear bag for the emergency tenner I always kept in there. “Here,” I said, thrusting it into his hand, trying to buy myself a minute’s peace. “Go up to the shop and get yourself and Tadhg a bar of chocolate.”
“Whoa, thanks, Joe – hey, Tadhg!” Ollie roared, running off in the direction of our other brother, who was pucking a sliotar against the wall further up. “Joey gave us a tenner!”
“Sweet,” I heard Tadhg say, hurley forgotten, as he and Ollie ran off in the direction of the pavilion tuck-shop.
“I want my change back,” I called after them.
“They’re adorable,” she said, drawing my attention back to her. “They didn’t come here on their own, did they?”
“They’re something alright,” I muttered, as my eyes searched the dispersing crowd, while the familiar feeling of impending doom settled deep in my stomach. “And no, they came with our father.”
“Is your dad the big guy I see you talking to after games sometimes?”
“That would be him.”
“Babe?” I heard Ricey call out, and we both turned our heads in unison to find him standing outside the changing room, with a mutinous look about him. “Are you coming or what?”
“Yeah, give me a sec,” she called back, jumping down from the wall, and landing far too fucking close to me for comfort.
“You sure you don’t want to come?”
“Yeah, Molloy, I’m sure.”
“I want you to.”
I want you, too… “Not interested.”
“Fair enough, Joe.” Sighing heavily, she patted my shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow at school, okay?”
“Yeah. I’ll see you then.”
Frowning, I stared after her as she skipped off in the direction I’d just come from.
To him.
Which just so happened to be the same direction my father was now coming from, with a thunderous expression on his face.
Fuck.
CONGRATULATIONS
MAY 15TH 2001
JOEY
The weather was shit, and I wanted to die…
The sky was black, and I was pissed off…
None of it matters because it won’t put food on the table…
Tossing my English copybook across the room, I gave up on the essay I had been attempting to write.
Glaring at my homework journal like it was the devil incarnate, I bit back the urge to roar.
What the hell was I doing?
Sitting on my bed doing fucking homework, of all things, I glowered at the wall opposite my bed and sighed in defeat.
Who was I trying to fool?
Didn’t matter whether I finished tonight’s essay or not. I wasn’t going to college, I wasn’t going anywhere, and the teachers couldn’t do shit to make me feel worse about that than I already did.
The sound of my stomach growling in hungry protest stirred me from my depressing thoughts, and I stood, knowing that I would have to face him sooner or later.
Besides, I had to be at work in an hour.
Later, Joey.
Later is always better when it comes to him.
“Fuck it,” I grumbled to myself, “you’re going to die young anyway, might as well put an expedited stamp on your forehead.”
Changing out of my school uniform, I threw on my work clothes before stepping into the landing. Ignoring the stench of piss and whiskey, I stalked down the staircase, needing to seem as aloof and unaffected as I could when facing the parentals.
It was my saving grace.
My only way of protecting myself from the prick whose prick I had been conceived from.