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“Right,” Shannon confirmed while I blurted out, “I’m a virgin.”
“Good,” Joey approved, pointing the knife he was using to butter a slice of bread at me. “Keep that shit up, Baby Biggs.”
I beamed back at him. “Thanks, Joe.”
“I knew I always liked that girl,” he told Shan, while pointing to me. “Keep her.” He turned back to me. “Lock and key, ya hear?”
“I hear you, Joe.”
“Before we even get into the fun parts of sex, I need to stress that condoms and birth control are a must,” Aoife quickly continued. “It’s not a matter of one or the other.” She eyed us knowingly. “It’s both, girls. It’s always both.”
“And fair warning,” Joey cut in. “If you’re puking on the pill, you’re unprotected.” Layering his bread with a slice of ham and then another slice of bread, he cut it in half. “And if you’re unprotected, you’re pregnant,” he added, strolling over to hand Aoife one half of the sandwich. “And if you’re pregnant, you’re a parent.”
“Thanks, stud,” Aoife replied, taking a bite of her sandwich before turning back to us. “And if you think your body miraculously bounces back after childbirth, then you’re wrong. You are ruined down there, girls. Like seriously. I tore so bad, but another mam I knew was ripped from her vagina to her butthole.”
“Shut the front door!” I yelped, horrified. “Ew.”
“Hand on my heart.” Aoife pressed a hand to her chest, while she cradled her sleeping son with the other. “I’m telling no word of a lie here, girls. She was maimed.”
20
Pints and Piss-Ups
GIBSIE
“Shots?”
“No.”
“Fine, pints?”
“I’ll have a pint of water.”
“I’ll have a pint of water,” I mimicked, thoroughly disgusted with the overgrown creature standing next to me at the bar. “You’ll have a pint, and you’ll be happy about it.”
“Gibs.”
“Not another word, Jonathan.”
“Jesus Christ, fine. I’ll have a pint of Heineken.”
“Good man yourself.” I clapped his shoulder. “Make it four pints, Mary,” I told the woman behind the bar. “And we’ll have four shots of baby Guinness while we’re waiting.”
“Gibs.”
“Each,” I added, slapping a fifty euro note on the counter. “We’ll be over in our usual corner.”
“I’m not having shots,” Johnny grumbled, walking over to the table with me, while politely acknowledging half the bar as he went. Everyone wanted a piece of my best friend, but he was on my clock tonight.
“Cap, Gibs,” both Hugh and Feely acknowledged when we joined them at the table.
“Lads, please remind this overgrown fucker that he is only eighteen,” I said, pulling up a stool at the table. “And that he needs to do regular eighteen-year-old things because that’s what this year is supposed to be about for him.”
The whole reason Johnny had postponed his signing to the pros was because he felt like he had missed out on most of his youth. I was determined to remedy that. My first plan of action was Friday night pints like a normal bunch of sixth years.
“You’re in better form than you’ve ever been,” Hugh offered, smiling politely at Mary who had arrived with a tray and was setting shot glasses down in front of us. “You can take a night off, lad.”
“And school?”
