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He blanched. “Why me?”
“Can’t hit a girl, which means I’ll be coming for the next best thing,” I explained. “So, bear in mind that every single time your Bella decides to make a threat, spread a nasty rumor, or fuck with my Shannon, I’ll return the favor on your face. Every single goddamn time.”
Cormac visibly paled, and the visual, although slightly hazy, was extremely satisfying.
“Good,” I grunted, pulling my phone out of my pocket to call a taxi. “Glad we understand each other.”
Shaking my head, I blinked a couple of times to clear my vision as I pulled up my phonebook and dialed the number labeled Fat Paddy.
Fucking Gibsie.
I should have known better than to leave my phone alone with him when I went for a shower. The last time he got ahold of my phone, he renamed my mother Sugar Tits and Bella Devil Pussy. It was all shits and giggles until Sugar Tits texted me in the middle of the night, demanding I come downstairs and unlock the front door because she was standing outside and wanted to come inside. Not knowing who the hell was texting me, I had replied with more profanities than I cared to think about before threatening to call the Gardaí—on my own bleeding mother.
Talk about a clusterfuck of a misunderstanding.
“Do you want to shake it out?” Cormac asked, distracting me from my mission to get my drunk ass home as he extended his hand toward me.
“Get that fucking thing away from me.” I scowled at his hand as I put my phone to my ear. “I know where it’s been.”
His expression darkened, but he had the good sense not to push his luck for the night. With a stiff nod, Cormac turned around and walked back inside the bar.
When Fat Paddy’s number rang off, I tried five more times before giving up.
Taxis around here turned their phones off on Saturday nights when it got busy, and from the sheer volume of people about the streets tonight, I knew I’d be waiting a long fucking time to get home.
Frustrated, I turned my attention back to my phone and scrolled through my contacts, looking for Hughie’s name.
“That little bollox,” I cursed when I realized that Gibsie had once again changed the name of every single contact on my list.
Sugar Tits and Devil Pussy were once against present in my contacts, along with new ones like Big Daddy G, Fanny Flaps, Call if Arrested, Do Not Call if Arrested, and my personal favorite: Judas Iscari-cunt.
Clicking into that particular contact, I recognized the number as being Cormac’s.
He could stay like that.
Devil Pussy too.
I spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to find Hughie’s number because I couldn’t figure out who was bleeding who in my phone.
After accidentally dialing the contact Casual Sex and hearing Coach Mulcahy’s voice on the other line, I quickly hung up.
Canceling another incoming call from King Clit, because who in their right mind would answer a number listed as that, I switched off my phone and shoved it back in my pocket.
Morose, I made my way across the road to the chip shop and ordered half a dozen cheeseburgers and two bags of chips. No need to watch my diet now. Not when my body was hell-bent 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 blond.
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.”
