Page 21 of Time of Your Life

“Yeah, alright.” She starts walking away.

Jo turns to me. “Alright, Trouble?”

I give him a smile. We kiss. He goes after my friend, and I hear him say as they leave, “My friend is well keen on you—”

“Is your friend sexy?” I hear Lala ask.

“You tell me—” And Joah points to someone in the crowd who I can’t see.

Rich and I trade looks, and I take a great big breath as we walk in silent step over to the bar.

“Whiskey. I don’t care what kind,” he tells the bartender. Then he looks at me. “What do you want?”

“Tom Collins, please,” I tell him.

Richie hands me my drink. I take a sip.

“Why is he drunk already?” I ask. The night’s quite young, that’s all.

Richie rubs his hands over his mouth like he has something to say but doesn’t quite know how to say it.

“Oi, listen, right—It’s been fucking mental how tame Jo’s been since you met.”

Whoa. I don’t know what I thought he was going to say—I didn’t think it’d be that.

“What?”

Richie shrugs. “He was drunk and high every night before he met you. Got into a fight at least once a week—”

I’m looking at him like I think he’s a liar. I think I do think he’s a liar, actually. He just shakes his head, though.

“I mean, Ysolde—you had to know that. It was in the papers every fuckin’ day.”

“The papers lie,” I remind him.

Richie shakes his head. “Don’t needa with him. Truth’s fucked-up enough, innit?”

I don’t know why he’s saying any of this. I shake my head—is he implying something—?

“I didn’t ask him to stop anyth—”

“Nah, I know.” Rich shakes his head quickly. “You’re just the kinda girl you change y’self for, don’t need to ask…”

I frown, not really tracking.

“Then why is he drunk?”

I don’t love it when men drink, actually. Don’t care when I drink—I know that’s a double standard, but I don’t care. I like my men strong and in control and sound of mind.

Rich gives me a long look. He’s quite restrained, I think. I think he has lots of things to say, and he chooses not to say them.

“He’s a complicated lad, my brother…” He nods to himself. “Lot of feelin’s.”

I say nothing—because, what? He keeps going.

“Lot of unprocessed pain—”

I look at him suspiciously. “Are you being funny?”

Richie pulls a face. “Are you—? Or has he just not shown you his true colours yet—?”

I don’t like the implications of that. Actually, I’d go as far to say that I resent the implications of what he just said. “I know all his colours.”

“So you’ve seen him high, then?” he asks, staring at me intensely.

“Well—” No, is the answer, truthfully. But I think I’d probably have lied to shut this man up, but he cuts me off before I get a chance.

“And who’s he punched when he’s been with you?”

I shake my head at my boyfriend’s big brother. “What are you doing?”

“I’m giving you a fucking heads-up, Featherstonhaugh—because I don’t reckon you know our kid as well as you think you do.” His eyebrows go up now. “And I can fucking smell it on him, you’re gonna meet him tonight.”

I think he’s just trying to scare me. I don’t know why.

I’ve heard that they have crazy fights. Joah hasn’t said as much, but Pix told me. She said the Harrigan brothers are infamous for their fights. Maybe this is part of it. Maybe Joah’s this sort of, innocent bystander to an emotionally manipulative mastermind?

I give Richie an annoyed look and push past him, going and standing at the bar on my own instead.

I never go to and stand at bars on my own, really. For one, Aleki would kill me. And two, I don’t really like talking to strangers… But I’d fancy my chance with a stranger over another minute of Richie Harrigan’s mind games, I think.

I order another drink and then take a long sip of it.

“You alright?” says someone, sidling up beside me.

I barely glance at them. “Yeah. Fine.”

“You know him?” The guy nods his head in Richie’s direction—who’s looking at me, actually. Staring. Bit of a scowl on his face.

“Uh—yeah.” I nod. “My boyfriend’s brother.”

He nods a few times, something about the nod makes me feel like he might have already known that.

“You’re Fallow’s girlfriend,” he tells me.

I pinch my eyes. “I’m Joah Harrigan’s girlfriend, yes.”

He shrugs. “One and the same.”

I give him a bit of a bored look. “If you say so…”

He watches me a couple of seconds, takes a sip of his own drink.

“Richie can be a bit of a prick,” he says and that gets my attention. Maybe I’m weak, I don’t know—we all like to be vindicated.

“Right?” I look at him properly for the first time. God, he’s kind of familiar. Handsome. Blond. Short hair.

“Is he a bit of a pot stirrer or something?” I ask.

“I’ve always found him to be that way.” The guy nods. “Yeah…”

“Really?”

“Yeah—” He nods again. “Stirs shit up for your boyfriend, I think. Frames it like Joah’s the bad seed, but I’m not so sure—”

I give him a little scowl. “No one thinks Joah’s the bad seed…”

“Baby, everyone in his bar and their fucking mother thinks Joah’s the bad seed, besides you.”

And then he unscrews the lid of his little vial necklace, does a line of cocaine right in front of me. He offers me some wordlessly. I shake my head.

“Sorry—who are you?”

He smiles, looks 80 percent amused, 20 percent pissed off. “Do you not know who I am?”

I lift an eyebrow. “Should I?”

He nods coolly. “Most girls do…”

I shake my head at him, unfazed. “I’m not most girls…”

He nods again. “I can see that…” He pauses, looking me up and down. “Your boyfriend knows who I am.”

“Oh—” It suddenly all clicks. “You’re Bright Line.”

He looks pleased I recognise him. “Finn.” He offers me his hand. “Williams.”

I take it, reluctantly. “Ysolde.”

“Oh.” He chuckles. “I know exactly who you are.”

Hardly surprising. “Most people do…”

“Yeah.” He nods casually. “I’ve actually come all over your chest before.”

And it’s weird, I don’t entirely process what he’s said immediately. It feels a bit like there’s a CD in my brain and the track is skipping. I stare at him, completely confused.

“I beg your pardon?”

He’s smiling now. Looks pleased. Happy to have rattled me.

“There’s this photo of you in The Face and you’re…

” He trails. “You know—” He grimaces and gestures to my breasts, mouths naked .

“Fuck, Joah must hate that. He’s such a jealous prick sometimes, isn’t he—?

” He’s grinning. “It’d drive him mental that anytime I want, or anyone wants really, they can—”

“Please stop—” I cut in.

He doesn’t though.

“—find a photo of you with your tits out and have a g—”

And then—oh my god, literally out of nowhere, there’s a hand wrapped around Finn Williams’s throat as he’s shoved violently backwards into the bar.

“Finish that sentence, bruv—” Joah says through gritted teeth. “I fuckin’ dare ya”—Jo squeezes a bit tighter—“Come on, big man, let’s fuckin’ hear it now…”

“Jo…” Richie says quietly, edging closer.

Joah sort of shakes Finn. “Fuckin’ SPEAK!”

He starts making sounds that aren’t good sounds, you know—there are sounds people make when they’re not getting air. I’m familiar with that sound, unfortunately. I made it once myself.

“Jo—” I shake my head at him, quick and urgent. “I don’t think he can”—my voice breaks—“breathe?”

Gritted teeth, Joah shakes his head “Don’t care.”

“I care!” I grab his arm, trying to shake the Bright Line guy loose from his grip. “I care, Joah—”

Jo glances at me, looks enraged. “Why are you protecting him?”

“I’m not protecting him—” I shake my head quickly. “I’m protecting you .” Joah watches me for a second, his chest is heaving. “Let him go—please?”

Jo stares at Finn Williams dead in the eye and squeezes yet again, tighter.

“—Talk shit to my girlfriend one more time, I’m going to rip your fuckin’ spine out through your stomach.”

Then he throws him away by his neck. Jo turns around, hooking his arm around my neck, pulling me away towards the exit and then—

Fuck.

Finn William launches at him. Genuinely, completely tackles him. Knocks me right over.

And then the bar erupts into chaos. I hit the floor hard, my palms stinging against the filthy floor, and I know it’s stupid but the first thing I think is— fuck, I’m going to have bruised knees for the swimwear shoot I have in Paris next week.

Jilly’s going to kill me. I’m still thinking that impossibly stupid thought when I’m plucked up from the ground and planted back on my feet.

Richie tilts his head, staring at me. “You alright?”

I nod quickly, but I’m not really, I’m completely rattled— what the fuck is going on?

My heart’s pounding because—holy shit—Finn’s on Joah now, fists flying everywhere.

Jo’s swinging wild, drunk and furious, landing one to Finn’s jaw that makes him stagger, but not before Finn comes back with a hook to Joah’s ribs.

That hurts him, I can see it on his brow.

“Joah!” I scream, but he doesn’t hear me—or if he does, he doesn’t care. They just keep fighting.

Then—thank god—Richie barrels in, shoving his way past the crowd that’s already forming to see the spectacle.

“Oi!” he yells, but it’s then I realise, he’s not there to stop it—he’s here to back his brother.

I don’t know what it is about them—mob mentality—I think something must have happened when they were younger?

Maybe they got into lots of fights or something?

Made some bad friends—? But Pixie’s mentioned this before—an attack on one of them is an attack on both of them.

Unless they’re the ones attacking each other, I suppose.

Anyway, Richie grabs Finn by the shoulder, spinning him ’round just as fucking Mitch Montrose-Bowes—of course it’s fucking Mitch MB—dives on in, slamming a fist into Richie’s gut.

“Fuckin’ hell, mate—” Richie growls, doubling over before straightening, catching Mitch with a nasty uppercut.

And it’s pure carnage now. They’ve gone completely barbaric.

Fists flying, glasses smashing, someone around me yelling something about getting the bouncers, and I’m not really doing anything except—when did I start crying?

“Jo!” I scream again, my voice breaking, but he doesn’t hear me.

He’s too far gone, slamming Finn down on a table.

Finn comes back with a fist to Joah’s perfect jawline, splitting his cheek open, blood blooming instantly.

Joah spits—actual blood—then he grabs a beer bottle from a nearby table without even looking.

“No—!” I shout, but it’s too late.

The crash of glass echoes over the room as Joah cracks the bottle over Finn’s head. Shards fly everywhere—sharp, glittering—and Finn stumbles, clutching at his head, blood dripping between his fingers.

The room goes deadly quiet.

“Shit, Jo—” Richie looks a bit scared, actually—breathing hard, staring at the wreckage in front of him.

Mitch is dragging Finn back, both of them bloody and staggering, and Jo’s standing there, chest heaving, bottle neck still clutched in his hand like a weapon.

His eyes are wild, unfocused, until they find mine.

“Joah…” My voice is shaking.

For a second, he just stares at me, like he’s waking up from a terrible fever dream—then his face hardens again, and he jerks his head towards the exit.

“We gotta go,” he says, voice rough, grabbing my hand, pulling me through the crowd as everyone watches, silent and stunned.

I let him pull me. My hands are trembling.

My heart’s racing. And as we burst out into the cold night air, Richie and Lala behind us—Lala’s on her impractically large mobile phone, no doubt calling Jilly.

She’s good in a crisis, Lala. Always has been—Joah starts shaking his head as we pile into a cab.

I don’t know who hailed it.

“It’s not my fault—” Jo says. “He jumped me.”

“I know.” I nod, though I’m not sure I do know that.

“And he said vile things to you—”

I nod a lot really quickly. “He did.”

I don’t even think Jo heard the worst of it, actually—

Joah looks at Richie with big eyes, worried, asking for help without asking.

“It’s gonna be fine, Jo,” Richie says calmly, and I think Joah believes him. He nods a handful of times—looks out the car window. His chest is still heaving as he absent-mindedly picks up my hand and kisses the back of it.

Across from me, his brother stares at me, hand pressed into his mouth. Then he shakes his head as he leans forwards towards me, whispers so no one else can hear him, “Told you.”