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I wanted to ask him if he asked about me, but I managed to keep that question from spilling from my lips.
“Yeah, Shan, and Jesus Christ, by the looks of their property, his family must be minted.” Joey blew out a breath. “Never seen anything so fancy in my life—”
The sound of a phone ringing cut through the air, distracting us both.
We both patted our pockets.
“Not mine,” Joey stated.
“Mine either,” I muttered, looking on the dashboard and then on the floor at my feet.
The ringing cut out and then restarted a few seconds later, vibrating loudly.
“Check the back seat,” Joey instructed as he pulled over on the side of the road and threw on his hazard lights.
Unclipping my belt, I crawled between the seats and dropped into the back seat, my eyes searching the seats for the noise.
“Anything?” Joey asked, pulling back into traffic.
“No.”
Dropping down between the seats I peeked under the driver’s seat.
“Oh, wait, it’s here!” I exclaimed, eyes locking on the sleek-looking phone lighting up and vibrating against the floor. “I see it.”
The ringing cut out again and I snaked a hand out, retrieving the phone. Shuffling back onto the seat, I quickly fastened my seat belt, eyes glued to the phone.
“Is this Aoife’s?” I gazed down at the expensive looking device. “Did she get a new phone for Christmas?”
“No,” Joey replied. “Her folks got her hair straighteners for Christmas.”
The phone began to ring again, screen lighting up with the name King Clit flashing across it.
“Ew, Joe,” I groaned. “That’s disgusting.”
“What?”
“Whoever’s calling this number is listed as King Clit.”
My brother threw his head back and laughed.
“That’s not funny,” I admonished, watching the screen go blank again as the call ended. “That’s pretty disturbing.”
“It’s yer man—the Gibsie fella. I heard Johnny ranting at him over changing his contacts around last night.” Joey chuckled. “He’s King Clit.”
The phone lit up again, vibrating in my hands and ringing loudly.
“Well, answer it,” my brother instructed, tone impatient. “He’s probably looking for it.”
“I don’t want to.” Shoving my hand between the seats, I tried to thrust the phone at my brother. “You answer it.”
“How the fuck am I supposed to answer it?” Joey hissed, batting my hand away. “I’m driving, Shannon. Just answer the phone.”
“No,” I refused, shaking my head. “They’ll think we stole it.”
“No, they won’t think we stole it,” Joey shot back tetchily. The ringing stopped and Joey let out a growl. “When it rings again, answer the fucking thing!”
Like clockwork, the phone rang five seconds later.
