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She is very pretty, but I don’t let her good looks have me away with the fairies. No matter what she is, first and last, she will always be a Doyle, and her gold crucifix necklace is just confirmation of this. She is the enemy, a dangerous enemy with a pretty face.
“Yer American then?”
“Yes,” I reply coolly. “I’m here on vacation with friends.”
“Ah, some craic. How ya liking it here?”
“It’s awesome. Although, it’s fucking cold.”
She laughs while I mentally catalogue everything I can about her. “Have you worked here for long?”
“Aye, my whole life. My family owns this pub,” she clarifies when I don’t respond. “It’s expected of me to be here, regardless of if I want to be or not.”
She doesn’t seem happy of that fact.
“I know that feeling all too well,” I reply, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose.
“I imagine you would,” she says, making a point to look at my bruised face. “I’m Erin, by the way.”
“Mike,” I reply with a smile.
“Well, Mike, that’ll be ten euros.”
I pay her, ensuring our fingers touch when I pass her the money. “Keep the change, Erin. It was nice meeting you.”
I grab my drinks, hoping my aloof act works—it does.
“I have a break in half an hour. I hope yer still here.”
Smiling, I don’t bother saying anything as I walk away with drinks in hand. Rory and Cian are doing a good job at blending in, and when they see me, they can read the buzzin’ expression on my bake. Setting the glasses down onto the table, I casually turn my back toward Liam, not wanting to raise any red flags.
“How’d it go then?” Rory asks from behind the rim of his glass.
“Grand. It’s her,” I affirm as her comment about her family owning this pub means we’re on Doyle turf.
“Yer sure?” Cian asks softly, keeping his eyes peeled to the table behind me.
“Aye, she told me her family owns this pub. She’s got to be Brody’s daughter.”
“She could be a relative,” Rory reasons, and he’s right. She could be. But I feel it in the pit of my stomach that she and the cunt behind me are Brody’s kids.
“What else did she say?”
“Nothin’. Just that she’s havin’ a break soon and hopes I’m here when she does.”
Rory jokingly pretends to boke while Cian shakes his head. “Ach, yer breakin’ hearts even in Dublin.”
“Fuck off,” I playfully reply, throwing back my drink.
The men behind me are talking softly, which just confirms they’re talking business, and when one of them stands, excusing himself to use the jacks, this is my cue to find out what they’re discussing.
I finish my drink, then follow him.
The jacks are empty, apart from the man taking a piss at the urinals. I keep my eyes up front and use the urinal two away from him. It’s as awkward as it sounds, making conversation when taking a piss, but thankfully, the shithead doesn’t seem to mind.
“Look at the bleeding state o’ you, lad.”
Turning to look at him, I smile. “I ran into a door,” I reply with cheek.
