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“Yes, it is,” the big lad argued before turning back to me. “His folks are in Portugal. Free drink all night—oh, and sausage rolls, too.”
“Free sausage rolls?” I feigned excitement. “Well, why didn’t you say that earlier? I’m in.”
His eyes widened in delight. “Really?”
I rolled my eyes. “No, not really, you langer.”
“We can pay,” another one said, and this one had dark hair. “We have money,” he added, standing slightly back from the others. “Whatever you want. It wouldn’t be an issue.”
“Shit, Feely, lad, don’t say that,” Hughie groaned. “We only have two hundred.”
Now, I was listening. “Two hundred?”
“Yeah,” he replied, withdrawing a wad of twenties from his jeans pocket. “Is that enough?”
I glanced at Alec, who was dutifully trying not to burst out laughing. He might be a thick fucker, but he was streetwise enough to know that they had enough cash to supply their rugby team and our hurling team.
“How much are you looking for?” I heard myself ask.
“Lynchy, can I talk to you real quick?” Podge interrupted, before dragging me away from them.
“What are you doing?” I hissed, shrugging his arm off.
“What am I doing? What are you doing?” he demanded, when we were out of earshot. “I thought you were done with Shane Holland and all of that bullshit.”
“I am,” I bit out, glaring at him. “I don’t need to go anywhere near Holland for this.”
“How?”
I shrugged. “I have an eighth back at the house.”
“I thought you were done with all of that?”
“I am,” I repeated, pissed off. “I haven’t used.”
His eyes bulged. “Weed is using.”
Mine narrowed in response. “No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Cannabis is a drug.”
“Cannabis is a plant.”
“It’s against the law in this country.”
“So is taking a piss on the street,” I shot back. “Rules are stupid. What’s your point?”
“Jesus, Joey,” Podge groaned, rubbing his face with his hand. “It’s like two steps forward and ten steps back with you.”
“Bullshit. It’s prescribed by doctors for pain in half the world.”
“So are Oxycontin and the dozens of other prescription meds I’ve watched you ram down your throat since primary school. They’re prescribed for pain, too, Joe, but you know only too well what happens when they fall into the wrong hands.”
“I told you that I haven’t touched anything in weeks.”
