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As a unit, we all pulled a face.
Da was definitely an acquired taste. Forty years into knowing him, I still wasn’t sure if I’d acquired it.
“I think it’s more to do with encouraging him to get into fights,” Declan murmured. “At least, right now, anyway. She’s still smarting over Da’s monologue on why artists are a drain on society over Ma’s topside of beef the other week.”
“I’m sure he does it to wind us up,” Finn grumbled.
“He probably gets a kick out of it,” Conor agreed, throwing himself back onto the seat I’d forcibly vacated him from.
“Sick fuck,” I muttered, before I shrugged back my shoulders and smoothed my jacket down. “Anyway, dipshits, the interrogation over? Some of us have work to do.”
“Because you’re the only one who’s working right now, huh?”
I smirked at Dec and said, “Feels like it sometimes.”
He rolled his eyes, but asked, “You think you can get married without a massive bachelor party beforehand?”
My mouth turned down at the corners. “If I wanted one, I’d have asked.”
Conor grinned. “Don’t worry. We’re going to have a belated one.”
“When’s that going to be?”
He tapped his nose. “It’s being handled.”
I scowled at him. “Conor, if you think I’ve got time for this bullshit—”
Con waved a hand. “Look, chill out. You’ll have a blast.”
“If you say so,” I said wryly, before I took a seat behind my desk. “Don’t make solid arrangements, fuckface. You know what it’s like with the Sparrows right now. We’re all on borrowed time.”
A collective sigh seemed to wend its way among us. But I felt their pain. As if we didn’t have enough plates to keep spinning without those bastards getting in our way.
“Any news from the Mayor?” Aidan asked, which meant Da had been speaking with him. That he’d shared that, but not news of Vasov’s death, didn’t shock me. He wasn’t exactly forthcoming.
“No. I’m going to put some pressure on him at the gala on Friday.”
Conor smirked. “Am I going to see you on page 6?”
“I’ll dress up nice just for you,” I taunted.
He grinned. “I’m going to start making a scrapbook of cuttings from magazines you guys feature in. Ma will love that. Now we’ve got women in the family, you’re all turning nice and respectable, going to galas and the ballet—I think it’s going to be my Christmas present to her.”
Declan wrinkled his nose. “Fuck, that’s a good idea. She’ll love that.”
“Probably more than that ugly plant you got her last year, Dec,” Eoghan agreed, laughing when Declan moved to punch him in the shoulder.
Thinking about what Tink had said downstairs, I shook my head as he started chasing him around the office... seven, fourteen, or thirty-fucking-four, kids were always goddamn noisy.
