by Chloe Walsh
"You are supposed to be at the gym," Mr. Kavanagh replied calmly, popping his t-shirt over his wife's head. "You always go to the gym on Saturday." He smirked at his son and that only seemed to push him off the ledge.
"And you're supposed to be in Killarney," Johnny roared back.
"We're going shortly," his father replied. "We got a little distracted."
"Distracted," Johnny sneered. Narrowing his eyes, he pointed a finger at his parents. "Is this the kind of thing you get up to when I'm not around? Riding my mother in the kitchen? Huh? Where else have you been? Jesus Christ, tell me you haven't touched my room!"
"Johnny, love," Mrs. Kavanagh interjected. "Calm down –"
"No, I won't fucking calm down, Ma. I'm traumatized!" Shuddering, he ran a hand through his hair and glowered at his parents. "You let him do that to you… Jesus, you both just ruined my life!"
"Hey, it's okay," I whispered, slipping my hand into his. "It's, uh, kind of normal?"
"Normal?" Johnny spluttered, eyeballing me with unrestrained outrage. "Shan, there is nothing normal about those two…two…geriatrics!"
I laughed into his face. I felt bad, but I honestly couldn’t help it.
"This is funny for you?" Johnny accused hotly. "You're supposed to be on my side here, baby!"
"I am," I coaxed, holding his hand with both of mine. "I'm always on your side."
"Sex is a beautiful thing, love –"
"Don’t you dare start that shite with me or I'm leaving," Johnny warned, swinging his glare on his mother. "I'm serious. I'll move out."
"And where will you go?"
"The fucking dog shed would be better than staying here with the two of you," he snarled.
"Don’t be so dramatic, Johnny," Mr. Kavanagh laughed. "You're overreacting."
"The garage – I'll convert it," Johnny barked, still going strong. "I'll move my girlfriend in with me and then I'll fuck her for good measure. Loudly. Repeatedly. In fact, we'll both quit school so we can fuck all the damn day long. Because, apparently, that's the norm around here!" Furious, he waved a hand in front of himself. "Visualize that, you inconsiderate freaks. Would you like that? And I won't wear a condom. I'll get her pregnant. How about some grandchildren? Sound good? Shannon and I will become another statistic, and you'll have no one to blame but yourselves for traumatizing me!"
"Oh, you're so grounded," Mrs. Kavanagh told him, still smiling, still half naked.
"Did you not hear me?" Johnny demanded. "I'm about to go out to the garage and impregnate Shannon. Think about that."
"You're too smart to be stupid, Jonathon," his father shot back.
"Yeah? Well, we'll see about that." Grabbing my hand, Johnny dragged me down the hallway. "Come on, Shan. Let's go make some bleeding babies."
"The garage is outside, son," Mr. Kavanagh laughed.
"Don't talk to me," Johnny choked out, upping his pace.
"Keep your bedroom door open, Jonathon," Mrs. Kavanagh called after us.
"Fuck off, the pair of ye," he roared, pulling me up the staircase. "And put some clothes on. My friends are on the way over."
"Uh, I don't want to make any babies today, Johnny," I croaked out, hurrying up the steps after him.
"Me either, Shan," he grumbled, leading me down the landing to his bedroom. "And I couldn't if I wanted to because it's gone."
Biting down on my lip to stop myself from laughing, I hurried after him. Stalking into his bedroom like a man on a mission, Johnny shuddered and muttered under his breath. "Fuckers," he continued to growl as he paced the floor. Reaching behind his head, he yanked his hoodie over his head and tossed it on the floor. Rolling his shoulders to loosen them out, he continued to pace his bedroom floor, twisting his neck from side to side as he went. He was sewn into his blue t-shirt, his broad chest and shoulders filling out the fabric better than any grown man could. "I'm ruined."
Deciding on leaving him to his ranting, I gingerly stepped around him and walked over to his television, switching it on. Grabbing both controllers off the console, I sank down on one of the beanbags and set up the game.
"I'm not playing," Johnny declared, tone still laced with outrage. "My pride can't take another hit after that."
"Come on," I replied, stifling a giggle. "It'll distract you."
"Doubtful." Grumbling to himself, he dropped into the beanbag beside me and pressed a kiss to my cheek. "Very fucking doubtful."
"Lad –" the bedroom door flew inward and Gibsie came barreling into the room, breathless and grinning like a demented puppy dog. "I think your Dad was just giving it to your Mam in the kitchen." Eyes wide with excitement, he added, "They were getting dressed when we walked inside."
"Oh, Jesus." Groaning, Johnny tossed the controller away and twisted around in what looked like physical pain. Covering his face with his hands, he hissed, "Fuck my life."
"Oh my god! Your Dad is so hot, Johnny," Claire gushed, charging into the room after Gibsie. She was freshly changed in what looked like boy's clothes, but at least the mud was gone and her hair was back to its blonde glory. "Did you see him, Shan? What a babe!"
"Let me die, baby," Johnny choked out, dropping his head in my lap. "Seriously, just kill me now."
"Shh." I stifled another laugh as I trailed my fingers through his hair. "You'll be better before you're married twice."
"I'm only doing that once," he huffed, wrapping his arms around my waist. "So I'll never be better."
"Don't feel bad, Johnny," Claire said, plopping down on his bed as if she owned it. "Your parents are both hot, and hot people tend to have hot sex with one another."
"Wow, Claire, thanks so much for the insight," Johnny deadpanned. "I feel a lot better now."
"You're welcome," she chirped, sifting through a stack of magazines and papers on his bedside locker.
"Yeah, don't worry about it, lad," Gibsie snickered, sprawling out on the bed beside Claire. "Your father's a legend."
"Fuck right off," Johnny growled.
"Aww," Claire gushed, holding a newspaper up for me to see. "Look at the two of you."
My gaze landed on the huge two-page spread from several months ago when Tommen won the School Boy's Shield. In the picture, Johnny had his arm wrapped around me and I was grinning like a maniac at the camera. "You should have this on your wall of fame," she stated, giving Johnny a scathing look, as she bounced off the bed with the newspaper in hand. "It's ridiculous that you don't have a photo of your girlfriend in here."
"I'm kind of in the middle of a personal crisis here," Johnny grumbled, nuzzling my stomach with his nose. "I haven't had time to redecorate."
"Well, I can do that for you."
"Claire," I warned, feeling my cheeks grow hot. "It doesn't matter."
"Of course it matters," she replied, carefully tearing the page out. "You're a babe," she added, standing in front of Johnny's desk, scrutinizing the cork board hanging over it. "Now which one of you is losing their thumbtack?" She made a clicking sound with her tongue before grabbing a picture off the board. "Sorry, B.O.D, you treasure of a man," she mused, pressing a kiss to the photograph in her hand. "But I need your spot."
"Claire –"
"Let her do it," Johnny interrupted. "I meant to hang it up ages ago anyway."
"Do you want to get out of here?" Gibsie asked then. "I'm bored."
"You're always bored," Johnny shot back.
"Because you're boring," Gibsie countered.
"If I'm boring, fuck off home and find someone else to torment," Johnny grumbled.
"I can't," Gibsie mused. "You might be a boring fucker, but I'm awfully fond of you, and I always miss you too much when we're apart."
"Jesus…" Grumbling to himself, Johnny rolled onto his back and said, "Fine. What do you want to do, Gibs?"
"I don't know, Johnny," Gibsie replied, smirking. "What do you want to do?"
"I want to go back in time and not see my Da boning my Ma on the bleeding counter," Johnny shot back, lifting himself up on h
is elbows to glare at his friend. "But since I haven't perfected the art of time traveling, I'm going to go with bleaching my eyeballs instead. Sound like fun?"
"Only if I get the full experience of seeing your mother naked, too," Gibsie shot back. "Although, god himself couldn't make me erase the mental image of your mother –"
"Get out of my room," Johnny snarled, causing Gibsie to roll around on his bed laughing.
"Why don't we go into the city?" Claire offered, as she re-arranged Johnny's entire cork board of pictures and autographs. "We could get a bite to eat first and go to the cinema afterwards?" Dragging the desk chair over to the wall, she climbed onto it and reached for the pictures of the naked women tacked to his bedroom walls. "Oh, and I'm confiscating these, pervert," she told him. "Just letting you know."
"Go for it," Johnny replied, clearly unaffected, as he dropped back down to rest his head on my thighs. "What do you think, Shan?" he asked, looking up at me from his perch on my lap. "Do you want to go?"
"Uh…" Embarrassed, I looked around the room aimlessly before leaning close to his ear and whispering, "I don't have any money."
"I have," Johnny whispered back, holding my head in place with his hand. "And I'm paying." Pressing a kiss to my lips, he added, "So don't overthink this."
"Are you sure?" I asked, feeling embarrassed.
"I'm always sure," he replied. "Stop worrying."
"If we're going, you're going to have to disentangle yourself from Little Shannon and drive," Gibsie interjected. "Because I'm not comfortable with the roundabouts yet."
"Yeah." Sighing heavily, Johnny released my face and stood up. "It'll probably be safer if I drive." Reaching for my hand, he pulled me to my feet. "At least we'll get there in one piece."
"I haven't killed you yet, have I?" Gibsie huffed.
Johnny arched a brow. "Yet being the appropriate word, lad."
"Now you're just being ungrateful," Gibsie countered. "I drove your ass around for weeks when you broke your dick – and I kept you alive!"
"Thank you so much for driving me and my broken dick around and keeping us both alive, Gerard," Johnny said, rolling his eyes. "How can I ever repay you?"
"You're more than welcome, Jonathon," Gibsie replied with a grin. "And you can repay me by not ejaculating on me again."
"What?" Claire and I both laughed in unison.
Johnny narrowed his eyes. "You're so fucking dead."
"It's a long story, girls," Gibsie snickered, diving for the door. "I'll tell you all about it in the car."
51
Mannequins and Movies
Johnny
I was going to kill my best friend, and after enduring seven years of his antics, I was positive there wasn't a jury in the country that would convict me. Not after his latest stunt.
"Get out of the window before the girls come back from the bathroom," I growled for the fifth fucking time. It was no use, though. My words were falling on deaf ears. Gibsie didn't even blink in response as he stood, still as a statue, in the display window of Debenhams department store in Mahon Point shopping center, with his hands on his hips in a Superman pose, his jeans around his ankles, and a scantily clad mannequin's faceless head positioned against his dick.
"There are kids around," I hissed when a lady with two small children cut me a dirty look as she hurried past. "Come on, lad," I pleaded, spotting Shannon and Claire heading in our direction. "Just come out and I'll buy you a combo."
"I want the extra-large combo – with Minstrels," he stated before turning to stone once more.
"Fine," I agreed, flustered, waving back at Shannon. "No problem – just get out of window before you get us lifted by security."
Grinning widely, Gibsie pulled up his jeans and climbed out of the window, laughing to himself. "Lad, you're so easy to get a rise out of."
"Just get out of the shop," I growled, repressing the urge to strangle him.
"What are you two doing?" Claire asked, eyeing us suspiciously. "Were you shopping?"
"Maybe," Gibsie teased. "Do you want me to have been shopping?"
"Definitely not," I muttered, making a beeline for my girlfriend, grateful to have her here so I didn't have to sit next to that gobshite for an entire film. "You all set?"
"Yeah." Smiling brightly, Shannon nodded and tucked into my side. "I'm ready when you are."
Slinging an arm over her shoulder, we strolled into the lobby of the cinema complex to queue up for our tickets.
I'd been to the cinema countless times with Gibsie and Claire down through the years, and was more than prepared for the argument that ensued when I asked the dreaded "What are we going to watch?" question. It was the same fight they had before every bleeding film. Like an old married couple, they threw down right there in front of the ticket booth.
"You're wrong, Gerard," Claire growled, folding her arms across her chest. "I'm telling you, we need to go see The Wedding Date."
"I'm not listening to you," he shot back, glaring right back at her. "Not after The Notebook escapade."
"That was a great movie," she choked out, clutching her chest. "You have no taste."
"You cried!" he spat. "For days!"
"So did you!" she shot back. "Louder than me."
"Exactly," Gibsie ground out. "Which is why I'm not listening to you again."
"Yes, you are."
"No, I'm not doing it," he told her. "I'm not, Claire. Not this time."
Tapping her foot, she pouted up at him.
"Don't give me that look," Gibsie warned her. "It's not working this time. It's my turn to pick."
"What about Sin City?" I offered.
"No," they both shot back in unison.
"We're seeing House of Wax."
"No, we're not!"
"Yes, we are."
"Anyone want to ask what me and Shannon want to watch?" I asked.
"No," they both barked again.
Shannon chuckled into my side. "They're so funny."
"Claire, it's my turn," Gibsie hissed. "You've picked for the last ten fucking years!"
"No, I haven't," she countered. "You made me go see the Pokémon movie."
"Because you made me watch The Spice Girls movie!" Gibsie shot back, looking appalled. "Do you know how much shit I got off the lads for that? Huh?"
"Okay," Claire coaxed. "Just let me pick tonight and I swear you can choose next time."
Gibsie's eyes bulged. "That's what you said last time."
She rolled her eyes. "I didn't mean it last time."
"No," Gibsie growled, standing firm. "We're watching my film tonight, Claire. Mine. Me. What I pick." He pointed a finger at her. "And you're going to like it!"
"Fine," she deadpanned.
"No, no, no," Gibsie growled, frustrated. "Don't say fine. That's a dangerous word when it comes out of your mouth."
"I said it's fine, Gerard," Claire said flatly. "Pick the film. I don't care."
"You're lying," he accused. "It's not fine and you're going to make me suffer."
"Do what you want, Gerard."
"Stop mind-fucking me!"
"Fine."
"Don't say that."
"Fine."
"Fine!" He threw his hands up in the air. "Fucking fine. You win." Turning to the man sitting behind the counter, he said, "Two tickets for The Wedding Date please, and a container for her to store my balls in." Sighing wearily, he gestured over his shoulder to me. "And that poor bastard behind me will have the same."
"Yay!" Claire squealed happily and wrapped her arms around his waist. "You're going to love it."
"It's not fair, but whatever," Gibsie muttered as he paid the man and handed Claire the tickets, stepping aside for me to pay and collect mine and Shannon's tickets. "Doesn't ever matter what I want."
"You're the best." Pressing a kiss to his cheek, she stepped back, waving the tickets in the air. "I'll share my popcorn with you."
"Hmm," he grunted, with his nose cocked in the air. "I'm not hungry anymore."
"Oh, come on, you big, cranky baby," she coaxed, grabbing his hand. "You're hungry and you know it. Let's beat the food queue."
Gibsie relented with a huff and let Claire drag him off in the direction of the concession stands. "Fine, but you get the Maltesers and I'll get the Minstrels – that way we have it covered."
"Obviously," she snorted.
"Do you want something to eat?" I asked, turning to look at Shannon.
She shrugged and tucked her hair behind her ear. "I don't know."
"You don't know?" I arched a brow. "Are you hungry?"
"Are you getting something?" she answered my question with one of her own.
"I might." I watched her carefully. "Only if you get something."
She blew out a small breath, cheeks reddening. "If you're sure?"
"Is this about money?" I came right out and asked her. "Because I already told you I'm paying."
Looking embarrassed, she glanced down at her feet and then back up at me. "I'll eat some of your popcorn if you're getting some."
Knowing that was all I would get out of her, I nodded and led her to the food court and ordered a large tub of popcorn, a large coke, and a bottle of water. "Thank you," she whispered as we trailed through the complex after Gibsie and Claire. "I really appreciate it–"
"If you thank me for buying you a bleeding coke, I'm going to throw a tantrum worse than Gibs." Handing her the coke, I pulled the door of screen one open and gestured for her to go ahead of me. "I mean it, Shan."
"Like the one in the kitchen earlier?" she snickered, hurrying inside. "With your parents?"
"Ugh." I shuddered and followed after her. "Don't remind me."
"It's okay," she teased. "When the lights go out, I'll make you feel better."
"Do you promise?" I muttered under my breath.
"I promise," she whispered, squeezing my ass.
Jesus…