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“No bother.”
He started the engine and had just pulled onto the road when I felt the car brake suddenly.
“What the fuck?” Joey barked seconds before two hands slammed down on the hood of his car. “Get off my car, asshole!”
“You’re stealing my center,” Gibsie roared in the window as he leaned over the hood of the car. “Give him back.” His eyes darted from Joey to me, recognition sparking. “Hey, Cap.” He grinned, head lolling to one side. “How’s it going? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“And this clown is?” Joey asked, tone derisive, attention locked on Gibsie who was having a one-way conversation with me through the windscreen of his car.
“He’s my flanker,” I grumbled before turning my attention back to the man-child hugging the bonnet. “Gibs! What the fuck are you doing, lad!” I barked, glaring out the windscreen. “You’re supposed to be gone home with Hughie.”
“The Gards pulled him over for tax and insurance,” he called back through the windscreen like that answered my question.
I gaped. “So? Hughie’s above board.”
“He looked at me, Johnny—shone his big fucking torch right in my eyes,” he called back. “I panicked and jumped out of the car.” Shrugging, he added, “I’ve been running around town ever since.” He narrowed his eyes. “I tried to call you but you kept cutting me off!”
I glared at him. “You’re King Clit?”
“Oh, yeah,” Gibsie snickered. “I forgot about that.”
“What’s Hughie down as?”
“Ginger Pubes,” he replied like it was the most obvious thing ever.
It wasn’t.
“He’s blond,” I growled.
“His girlfriend isn’t.”
“Jesus Christ,” I groaned, rubbing my forehead.
“What do you want me to do with him?” Joey asked.
I shrugged and contemplated telling him to drive over the annoying fucker, but then I knew I would be terribly lonely without him. And in all fairness, he had taken a few slaps defending my honor tonight.
“I should probably bring him back to my place,” I begrudgingly admitted. “Or a secured hospital.”
Joey muttered something incoherent under his breath and climbed out. It sounded something like, You two fuckers better not puke in this car.
I was making no promises. My buddy was a projector.
Pulling on the seat, Joey dragged it forward and instructed an intoxicated Gibsie to climb in.
He did. But instead of climbing or crawling inside, the bastard lunged into the back seat.
“Fuck!” I roared, doubling over in pain when his elbow landed in my crotch.
There goes your last shot right there…
“Shit, man, did I get your dick?” Gibsie slurred as he tried and failed to climb over me. “I’ll get ice for your balls when we get home.”
“Get. Off. Me,” I strangled out, fairly sure I was turning purple from the pain, as he climbed over the seat, digging and kneeing me with his elbows and knees.
Finally, he managed to drag his ass over to the other side of the seat.
“Christ,” he mused, settling down alongside me. “That’s the tightest hole I’ve been inside in months.”
