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SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND

Hugh

NOVEMBER 1, 2003

“H OLY SHIT, ” D ANNY C ALL CHOKED OUT, JOINING US IN THE KITCHEN. “ARE THOSE lads from BCS?”

My house was packed to the rafters, compliments of Gibs, and it took me a moment to track down the group of lads he was referring to.

“Oh, yeah,” I mused, instantly recognizing a few of the lads from my time at Scoil Eoin. “I haven’t seen those lads in years.”

“Well, should we escort them back to their side of town?”

“You’re such a fucking snob,” Gibs chimed in, looking wholly disgusted. “Escort them back to their side of town.” He rolled his eyes. “What a fucking uppity thing to say.”

Danny reddened. “Newsflash, we are uppity.”

“Your dad is a pharmacist,” I reminded him. “Don’t get carried away with yourself.”

“What’s the problem anyway?” Gibsie demanded. “They’re not causing any trouble, and besides, they were invited.”

Danny gaped. “By who?”

“By me, asshole,” Gibs shot back, sounding irritated. “You do realize that we went to primary school with them?”

“And they’ve been in my house before,” I added, brows furrowing. Every birthday party from junior infants to sixth class. “Those lads are decent, and they’re more than welcome to be here.”

“Only because we had to,” Pierce chuckled, joining us. “I thought we left the scum behind in primary school.”

This fucker.

He had some nerve showing up tonight.

“You really are a prick, aren’t ya?” I seethed, holding on to my self-control by the skin of my teeth. “Get the fuck out of my face before I break your nose.”

“Holy shit, Biggsie,” Danny exclaimed, looking confused. “What’s the problem, lad?”

“The problem is him,” I sneered, chest heaving, as I glowered at Pierce. “You better fuck off out of my sight before I take the head clean off ya. Fair warning.”

Thankfully, Pierce had the good sense to do just that, disappearing into the crowd with Danny before I lost my shit.

“Care to divulge?” Gibs asked, eyeing me curiously.

“You don’t want to know, lad,” I replied, still simmering with tension. “Trust me.”

“Okie-dokie,” Gibs replied, clapping my back. “How about we stop talking and start drinking?”

“I think that’s a very good idea, Gibs.”

“Here,” he said, pushing a shot glass of clear liquid into my hand. “Just knock it back, lad.”

Not bothering to question him, I tossed it back. “Fuck,” I hissed when the burning sensation clawed at my throat. “What the fuck was that?”

“Say hello to my little friend,” Gibs replied in an animated voice, waving a bottle with a sombrero-shaped lid in my face. “Tried and tested by yours truly.” Popping the hat off the top with exaggerated flair, he refilled my glass before pouring one for himself. “Guaranteed to numb all feeling.”

I eyed him warily as he danced on the spot with the bottle cradled protectively to his chest.

“Trust me, lad.” He clinked his glass against mine. “I’m the master concealer.”

“Fuck it.” Blowing out a shaky breath, I tipped my head back and swallowed it down in one gulp. “This was a mistake.”

“On the contrary, my friend, this”—he paused to perch the little hat on his head and down his own shot, before letting out an audible hiss—“is the best decision you’ve made all night.”

“Not the tequila, Gibs, the house party,” I explained, accepting another shot from him. “This was a fucking mistake.”

“Are you mental?” Still bopping and swaying, he gestured to the jam-packed kitchen. “Look around, Hugo. The house is packed. The drink is flying. The craic is ninety.”

He clinked his glass against mine again before tossing it back like a pro.

“Woo!” Hissing out a breath, Gibs continued to dance. “To the first of many parties at your wonderful establishment, Hugo—oh, and don’t worry about Old Murphy down the street. If that nosy bastard calls the Gards, I’ll take the blame.”

And if she shows up? I wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come out. Because I was shit scared of speaking it into reality.