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“Nope, I’m perfectly capable of driving my own car, Jonathan.”
“Gibs, lad, you’ve coasted over the middle line three times already,” Johnny tried to coax. “I really think I should drive.”
“Alright.” Using one hand to steer the car, Gerard reached behind him with his free hand and held his thumb up in challenge. “Fight me for it.”
Johnny laughed. “By thumb wrestling you?”
“Are you scared you’ll lose?”
“Get ready to be a back-seat bitch, Gibs.” Assuming position, Johnny linked hands with Gerard and smirked. “One, two, three, four, I declare a thumb war.”
“Five, six, seven, eight, I use this hand to masturbate.”
“Gerard,” I yelped at the same time Shannon choked out, “Gibsie!”
“And that’s the end of the thumb war,” Johnny muttered, abruptly dropping Gerard’s hand. He wiped his hand off his shorts and shuddered. “You win.”
“Who’s the back-seat bitch now?” Gerard laughed, cranking up the volume of the stereo. The Offspring’s “Original Prankster” blasted from the speakers, causing Gerard to bop his head like a madman, while Johnny and Shan clung to their seats in terror. I wasn’t scared, though. I trusted this boy with my life. Gerard wouldn’t kill me. After all, he’d promised to marry me before we both died.
Thoroughly engrossed in his drum pattern, Gerard slapped his hands against the steering wheel of his Focus, while he sang at the top of his lungs about knocking down walls.
“Lad, shut the fuck up,” Johnny strangled out from the back seat when Gerard slowed at the traffic lights to serenade an elderly lady standing at the zebra crossing.
“You little hooligan,” the old lady shouted back at him, shaking her fist.
“Oh my god,” I laughed, twisting sideways in my seat just as the lights went green and Gerard floored it. “She’s still waddling after us.”
“Maybe she wants me,” he shot back, winking at me.
I waggled my brows. “Maybe she needs to get in line.”
“Gibs, slow the bleeding car down!” Johnny barked as he placed a protective hand over Shan’s middle. “If you kill me, I swear to Christ, I’ll come back and kill you!”
“How can you come back to kill me if you’re already dead?”
“Where there’s a will there’s a relative,” Johnny shot back, draping a protective arm over his girlfriend. “Trust me, Gibs, I’d find a way.”
10
Back to Tommen
GIBSIE
“Now, Johnny pet, I’ve put a mixture of muffins and cakes in the basket, plenty for everyone, and don’t forget to tell your mother to give me a call. I need the dates for the children’s birthdays,” Mam said on Thursday morning when Johnny stopped by to pick me up for school.
By the time I made it down the staircase to intercept her, she had already cornered my best friend in the front hallway. “I’ve made every one of your birthday cakes from the age of twelve and I plan to do the same for the Lynch children,” Mam continued to say as she handed my best friend a gigantic picnic basket full of goods from the bakery. “She’s a mighty bit of stuff is your mother.”
“She’s a keeper alright,” Johnny agreed with a polite nod. “And thanks a million, Sadhbh. Ma will be delighted. I’ll tell her to give you a buzz. She was saying that she wanted to bring you over for coffee soon.”
“Oh, that would be lovely,” Mam replied with a beaming smile. “I’m looking forward to meeting the newest members of the Kavanagh clan.”
“The youngest two are worth meeting,” I tossed out, bouncing off the last step. “But the middle fella is a demon.”
“Alright, Gibs?” Johnny smirked, attention flicking to me. “Looking sharp, lad.”
“Alright, Kav.” I winked. “Right back at ya.”
“Oh, good, you found your uniform,” Mam said, retraining her entire focus on me. “Sweet Jesus, would you look at the state of you.” Catching ahold of my necktie, the woman all but strangled me to death in her attempt to make me look presentable. “Now.” Admiring her handiwork, she patted me down pulling and probing at the collar until she was satisfied. “You’re growing more handsome by the day, Bubba.”
