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It was the only thing that was keeping me going; knowing that there was a naggin of vodka, and a joint with my name on them, waiting for me across town.
“You’ve a carrier bag full of sweets, lad.” Leaning against someone randomer’s garden wall, I played another mindless round of snake on my phone, ignoring the hordes of trick or treaters running up and down the street. “You have plenty.”
“Tadhg gots more than me,” Ollie whined. “He gots a whole bag more than me – see, Joe!” He pointed at our brother, who was carting around an overflowing plastic bag of sweets in one arm, and an equally overflowing pillowcase thrown over his shoulder. “It’s not fair.”
“Give it a rest, ya big moaner,” Tadhg shot back with a snicker. “Maybe if you stopped trying to have a conversation with every old biddy that answers the door to ya, then you’d have gotten more houses done.”
“I was being nice,” Ollie shot back, tone hurt. “I was using my manners.”
“And I was using my brain,” Tadhg countered. “So quit complaining.”
“But he gots more than me,” Ollie complained again. “Look, Joe, look…”
“That just means that Tadhg’s going to be a whole lot fatter than you,” I replied, distracted, and then muttering a string of curses under my breath when I got killed in my game.
“Yeah, well, my costume is better than his,” Ollie grumbled, gesturing to the makeshift cape and mask that Shannon had made for him. “I’m Robin.”
“Don’t get carried away with yourself, Ols,” Tadhg shot back. “You’ve a black bin bag wrapped around your shoulders. You look more like a bag of shit someone dragged out of a wheely bin than Robin.”
“Tadhg,” I warned. “Pack it in. He’s only small.”
“Yeah, well, I look better than you,” Ollie huffed, folding his skinny arms across his equally skinny chest. “You’re a crappy Batman.”
“Maybe, I am,” Tadhg agreed. “But I still got more sweets than you.”
“Right,” I said, shoving my phone into my pocket. “Come on, lads, we’ve been out for almost two hours. Time to get ye home. I’ve things to do.”
“What things?” Tadhg demanded, eyeing me warily, as I herded them across the road, grabbing ahold of Ollie’s hand when he almost ran out in front of a car.
Smirking, I gave him a wink. “A Gard wouldn’t ask that question.”
“Uh-oh,” Ollie grumbled, plodding along beside me. “That sounds like trouble.”
You have no idea, kid.
“I already know where you’re going anyway,” Tadhg huffed. “That disco in the Pav.”
“Then why’d ya ask?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know.”
“Is it fancy dress?” Ollie’s face lit up. “Do you gots a costume?”
“It’sgot, notgots,” Tadhg sighed. “Learn how to speak, will you?”
“Tadhg,” I said in a warning tone before answering Ollie. “I don’t know, kid. I suppose some of the girls will dress up.”
“In scary costumes?”
More like as slutty angels and devils.“Some of them,” I offered instead, distracted at the possibility.
Without my brain’s permission, my imagination conjured up a fantastic fucking visual of Molloy; with her long legs on full display in red, fishnet stockings, and her tits pressed together in a skimpy white nurse’s dress with one of those little nurse’s hats perched on top of her long, blonde hair.
Jesus.
But then my imagination went all Judas on me by envisioning Paul the prick all over her on the dancefloor, and I physically balked.
Thoroughly disgusted now, I pushed all thoughts of Molloy to the back of my mind and concentrated on getting the boys home.
