That’s right; I was so fearful of driving a moving vehicle, that I didn’t want it anywhere near my house.
Unlike a lot of other places, the law was pretty relaxed in Ireland regarding learner drivers. Basically, you took a theory test, got your green license from the tax office, and off you went. We didn’t need to undertake a shit ton of lessons or abide by a million laws like my cousins in London had to. Hell, my own mam had been driving on her green license for twenty years now. The Gards always looked the other way. It was no biggie.
The only damn reason I had applied for my provisional driving license was so that I would have photo I.D to go out drinking with when I turned eighteen next year.
I didn’t want it to drive, but that’s exactly what my father assumed I would do.
“I hate to point out the obvious, Molloy, but when a shop door’s locked, and the lights are out, it means the place is closed.”
Joey’s familiar voice filled my ears, and I quickly swung around to see him coming from the side of the building.
“Jesus,” I whisper-hissed, startled to see him in the darkness. “What are you doing out here?”
“Locking up,” he replied dryly. “If you’re looking for your old man, you’re out of luck,” he added, as he used a set of keys to lock the side gate behind him. “He went on the beer with the rest of the lads at lunchtime.”
I feigned sadness. “And they didn’t take you?”
“Sadly not.”
“I suppose you need to turn eighteen to enjoy the full perks of the job, huh?”
He smirked. “I need to turn seventeen first before that can happen.”
“That’ll be soon, right? Your birthday is close to Christmas, right?”
“Yeah,” he agreed, sliding his work keys into his pocket. “Christmas day.”
“That’s so shitty,” I groaned, feeling a flash of sympathy for him. “I bet you’ve been cheated out of so many presents down through the years, with the whole two-for-one gift bullshit.”
“I can’t say that I’ve ever noticed, Molloy,” he replied. “I’m not the present counting type.”
“Well, you’re a better person than I am, Joey Lynch, because I would cause ructions if I had to share my birthday with Jesus.”
Joey laughed, actually laughed a genuine laugh, as he closed the space between us. “So, are you going to ask me, or are we going to stand out here all night?”
My heart flipped in my chest. “Ask you what?”
“To walk you home.”
“Okay.” I blew out a shaky breath. “Walk me home, Joey Lynch.”
“That’s telling,” he teased, leaning against the door, as he smiled down at me, green eyes dark and full of heat. “You need to ask nicely.”
My god, it was something else when that boy smiled.
He was just so beautiful.
“I have a better idea,” I heard myself say, and then I did something incredibly fucking reckless. Reaching into my coat pocket, I withdrew the set of car keys and jingled them in front of his face. “How about you drive me, instead?”
Even though he was the master of concealing his emotions, Joey couldn’t mask the excitement that flashed in his eyes. “I won’t be seventeen for two more days. I only have a tractor license until then.”
“That’s true,” I agreed, watching his gaze flick from my face to the keys and then back to me. “So that means that we’ll be breaking the law, doesn’t it?” I taunted, giving the keys a little rattle. “But, then again, when has that ever stopped you?”
Joey stared at me for a long time before releasing a low chuckle. “Give me the keys, Molloy.”
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Squealing with nervous excitement, I clenched my eyes shut and choked out a laugh, when we took the corner of the local supermarket, after burning the rubber of my tires doing half a dozen donuts around the empty carpark.
“Oh, my Jesus, watch out for the footpath!”
“Relax, Molloy, I’ve got this.”
Yeah, he did.
Joey might not have an official license yet, but he certainly knew how to handle a car. I put it down to years of messing around with motors at the garage with Dad.
With Jay-Z and Beyonce’s ‘03’ Bonnie & Clyde’ blasting from the car stereo, a fitting song given the circumstances, I held on for dear life to the dashboard, as the wild and reckless boy in the driver’s seat blew my mind. Sitting in the passenger seat beside him, I felt like I was on a power trip. Like we could take on the whole world in this moment.
It was exhilarating.
“Happy fucking birthday to me,” Joey laughed, clearly delighted with life, as he slipped my car into fifth gear, and left the lights of Ballylaggin behind us. “So, where do you want to go, Molloy?”
Anywhere with you. “I don’t care, just don’t kill me, okay?” I begged, and then screamed out a laugh when we flew over a hump in the back road.
Joey cast a sideways glance at me and grinned. “I’m making no promises.
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A lot of miles on the clock later, and we were on the back road near the beach, with me in the driving seat, and Joey laughing his ass off at my discomfort.
“I can’t do it!” The car chugged and stalled for the third time in a matter of minutes. "It’s pointless. I’m never going to figure this shit out.”
“Well, you better keep trying,” he warned, not one bit sympathetic to my cause, as he balanced my heels on his lap. “Because I heard your father tell Danny Reilly that if you don’t pull your finger out, and start actually driving instead of admiring the stereo, he’ll sell him the car.”
“Fine by me.” Flustered and barefoot, I turned the key in the ignition, and attempted to pull off. “I’m entirely the wrong person to be behind the wheel of a potential death machine.”
“Yeah, because you’re really going to do some damage in first gear,” Joey drawled. “Come on, Molloy, you know the drill. Clutch and slide into second.”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t.”
“I really can’t.”
“Stop being a princess and just fucking do it.”
Deep in concentration, I attempted to do just that, but the gear stick wouldn’t comply. “This car hates me,” I wailed, yanking on the gear stick and then wincing then the engine roared in protest.
“Jesus, come here. Okay, press the clutch.” Reaching across the passenger seat, Joey covered my hand with his, and deftly slid us into second. “Now put a bit of pressure on the accelerator,” he instructed, while I repressed a shiver from the feel of his big hand on top of mine. “Good, now clutch again,” he added as he switched us into third. “See? You’re doing it; driving without conking the engine. It’s not as bad as you’ve built it up in that head of yours.”
“Yeah, but it’s just so fucking tricky,” I wailed, both hands springing up to grip the wheel. “Feet on the pedals, hands on the wheel, hand on the gearstick, eyes on the road…” I blew out a frustrated breath. “It’s like I tell my dad every time he forces me to get behind the wheel. There are just too many things to do at once.”
“I thought females were the ultimate multitaskers.”
“Well, not this female,” I choked out, twisting the wheel to avoid a pile of sand sludge on the road. “Oh, my Jesus, Joey. I hate this stupid car.”
“You don’t hate the car,” he countered. “You hate the feeling of not being in control. It’s new and scary. I get it, Molloy. You’re just figuring it all out.”
“How do you know so much about this?” I eyed him sitting beside me. “How can you be three months younger than me, and kick my ass at driving?”
“It’s not a competition, Molloy,” he chuckled, with a shake of his head. “And your dad showed me a lot down through the years.”
“Well, good for you,” I bit out. “Because he basically showed me nothing until he handed me the keys for this thing and said drive.”
“Give it a couple of months. You’ll look back at this night and laugh.”
“Doubtful,” I mumbled, eyes locked on the dark night ahead of me. “Very doubtful.”
I DON’T WANT TO GO HOME
DECEMBER 24TH 2003