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I walk in through the door to hear Sophie laughing with Jones in the kitchen. I could listen to that sound all day. When Jones sees me, his face straightens, then Sophie turns around. She is absolutely stunning. Dressed in her leggings, with bare feet, oversized hoodie, hair in a knot thing, and her glasses on. She looks innocent but I know she isn’t so innocent now, thanks to me.
It smells like garlic again in my kitchen. What have they made me now? I head toward the dining room and pour myself a whiskey. Sophie follows me in.
“How was your day?” she asks me when I sit down at the table.
“It was really boring, but the restaurant Brazen was busy. You have done an amazing job on the social media page. Thank you, Soph. I will get my accountant to sort you out with your fee for the work and your time.” I am proud of her, so I will pay her accordingly.
“I don’t want your money, I just want to be able to go home, Cahill,” she spits back at me. We will see about her going home. I might need to send her home earlier, but we will see.
“So, what’s for dinner, doll?” I am trying to change the subject.
“Chicken enchiladas.”
What the fuck is that? Mexican? Is she trying to kill me? I will have words with Jones, he is letting her dictate too much of the menu round here.
“You might like them. Just try it. I spent all afternoon with Jones making them.”
She smiles up at me. I don’t know about this. Do I even trust her?
Jones brings in the plates and Sophie is smiling, she looks proud. Jones is waiting at the edge of the room for my reaction and Sophie is watching too, a lot of pressure I am feeling over food. I take a bite. Oh, wow. This is good, really good. Why don’t I try more foods from other cultures?
“This is good. Maybe we could add this to the weekly menu in my house.”
Sophie lets out a laugh but looks so happy. I don’t think she expected me to like it, but I am full of surprises.
“I was actually expecting you to say,that’s niceand be really sarcastic about it, like Mam fromMrs. Brown’s Boys.”
She is still laughing. I haven’t watched that show so I have no idea what she is talking about.
“What ya drinking tonight?”
Her wine glass is filled with red, not sure if Jones opened a nice bottle for her because I can’t see the bottle on the table.
“Oh, ya know, nothing fancy, just a wee glass of Buckie.”
“Buckfast? You are drinking Buckfast? Are you serious?”
“Yep. I like it. It’s cheap and it’s actually not that bad.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. Jesus, Buckfast in my house, I have a wine cellar that holds hundreds of pounds of the finest wines across the globe, and she drinks Buckfast, I swear I can pick them.
“Have you even tried Buckie, Cahill? Or is it too cheap for you?”
“Oh, I have tried it, but it’s rough—like it would kill you from the inside out. I think you need the right palate for it.”
I am still laughing and so is she. Thankfully. We have dinner and talk about how Sophie made the dinner and what her plans are for the next few weeks with food.
“Any word on what happened last night?” I knew she would ask.
“Nothing for you to worry about, just somebody with a bee in their bonnet thinking they could take out some top men, didn’t work. The Garda caught him and his little monkeys,” I reply, in my most convincing voice.
“Have you spoken to your mam lately, Soph?”
“No, should I? Do you know something I don’t?”
“No, no, I was just making small talk, maybe call her tomorrow and check all is well in Muff.”
I keep smiling. We finish dinner, and as we get up, Sophie grabs both our plates and takes them to the kitchen. Jones will love her for doing that simple act.
