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Tate takes another mouthful of coffee as he considers what to tell Dara. He’ll probably just go straight back to the family and fill them in. But with everything in the papers and all over the net anyway did it really matter at this stage?
‘Don’t know. I’ll find out in a few days.’
‘Well I know a good lawyer if you need one.’ He nudges Tate in the arm. ‘I’ll even give you mates rates.’
‘Thanks but I’m sorted.’
‘Any idea what you’re facing yet? I’m not asking so I can run back and tell everyone. I’m asking as a lawyer who’s used to keeping his mouth shut.’
Tate looks out the window at the boats wishing he could jump on one of the trawlers and head off to sea. ‘She reckons it’ll just be a fine but there’s a chance it could be time. It shouldn’t be as it’s my first offence, but who knows.’ He smiles at Dara. ‘I might be needing you to take Jove out for me. Can’t having him waiting seven years for me to exercise him.’
‘Positive thinking, Tate. Like you said, it’s your first offence. I’m sure you’ll get a slap on the wrist and that’ll be it. You’re the lead singer of one of the hottest bands in Ireland. They’re not going to give someone like you a custodial sentence on a minor drug possession charge. I hope it works out for you, Tate. I mean that.’
Tate puts on what he hopes looks like a genuine smile. ‘Yeah. Thanks.’ He drinks more coffee and rubs his eyes. Instead of helping, the coffee is making him feel worse.
Dara leans over and frowns at him. ‘Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve gone a bit grey. Tate? Tate!’
He stares over at Dara, taking a few seconds to focus on his face.
‘Sorry. What?’
‘Okay, I think I should take you home. You shouldn’t drive when you’re like this. Swap seats and I’ll drive.’ Dara gets out and walks around the front of the truck. He opens the driver’s door and gestures for Tate to get out.
‘You need some help?’
‘I’m grand. I can drive myself.’
‘Fair enough. If you can take five paces without falling, I’ll be on my way.’
Tate steps out and his legs instantly buckle under him. It feels like the damn things aren’t attached to his body. Dara catches him before he lands on a stack of lobster pots.
‘It’s okay, Tate. I got you.’ He gets under Tate’s arm and helps him stand up. ‘God, you weigh a ton.’
‘Sorry. I feel strange.’
‘Don’t worry. We’ll get you home in no time.’
With one arm around Dara’s shoulders and the other braced against the bonnet of his truck, he somehow manages to stumble around to the passenger side and pull himself into the leather seat. Exhaustion goes over him in waves. He can barely keep his eyes open. So much for extra strong coffee. Dara climbs in and adjusts the driver’s seat.
‘I don’t... feel...’
Dara reaches over and fastens the seatbelt across Tate’s chest then starts the engine. ‘Don’t try to talk. It’s okay, Tate. Just sleep.’
Tate wants to talk but his mouth won’t form the words. His body has turned to lead. Dara puts Tate’s truck in gear then pulls out of the parking spot, but Tate is already asleep.
∞
Chloe looks out the window at the driveway but there’s still no sign of his truck. Tate disappeared about two hours ago and hasn’t turned up again. Dillon, Luke, and Gregg had left a few minutes ago to see if they could track him down. She’d tried calling him but he wasn’t picking up. She can’t blame him. She was angry and shouldn’t have said what she did.
Ellen comes back into the room muttering to herself. She sits down and glares at her phone in her hand before slamming it onto the table.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Fucking Tate, that’s what! I could just—’ she stops talking and wrings her hands together. ‘You know what he’s gone and done? He’s thrown himself on his damn sword to save you. Don’t get me wrong,’ she adds quickly, ‘he’s sorted your issue, but left me with an even bigger one.’
‘What did he do?’
‘He contacted someone at the paper and agreed to an exclusive on what happened to him if they drop the story about you.’
