Needing 13 - Johnny Kavanagh

VALENTINE'S DAY IS OVERRATED

FEBRUARY 14TH 2002

TARA 

Aoife: I have a problem.

Me: ??

Aoife: Your brother's here.

Me: I have four brothers. Be more specific, blondie.

Aoife: Joey. I caught him taking a line in my bathroom.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath. "Fucking shite, Joey."

Me: Is he still there?

Aoife: Yes. He's in my shower now. I swear, Tara, I thought he was dying or something.

Me: What did he take?

Aoife: A mixture of cocaine with erectile dysfunction medication, according to Holland.

Me: Tell Joey to stay there. Tie him to your fucking bed if you have to, but he's not going to practice like that today. Tell him that I'll take care of our Da.

Aoife: Okay. I'll take care of him. I promise.

My best friend might be in an on-off relationship with Prick Paul, but her heart belonged to my brother—my Joe. It always had and always would. Despite everything, Aoife Molloy loved him fiercely and unconditionally.

"Need a ride?" Darragh asked me in a bored tone, barely looking up as he flipped through the channels on his television.

"Actually, yes," I replied, sliding my phone into the pocket of my sweatshirt. "I have to pay a little visit to someone."

"Ohhh, me likey," Darragh said, rubbing his hands together, his gray eyes gleaming with excitement. "Black Widow mode activated. I need to witness this. Do you want me to grab my brother's hurley? My grandfather's gun?"

"Connie's hurley will do just fine."

Without missing a beat, my best friend sprinted up the stairs, returning moments later with his brother's hurley in his left hand and his father's old hurley in his right.

"What's with all the bleeding plastic?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the plastic wrap covering the hurley. "Afraid I'll damage it or something?"

Darragh shook his head with a mischievous grin. "Connie won't give a shit if you break it," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "I put the plastic on in case—hypothetically speaking, of course—the visit we are going to make involves someone ending up bleeding."

"You watch too many true crime shows, Dar. Although, I guess if I had to commit a crime, I'd do it with you."

"We so need code names or some shit. Obviously, you're Black Widow. What should I be? Give me ideas."

"I'm not going to indulge in this."

"Oh, come on, Kitten," he protested, his voice taking on a pleading note as we stopped at a red light. He turned his head slightly, giving me a puppy-dog look. "I'm your best friend. We're partners in crime."

I raised an eyebrow and smirked. "My partner in crime is Tadhg," I said, savoring the brief flicker of disappointment that crossed his face.

"Well, he's not here right now. Plus, I'm the one driving the car to commit a crime."

"I've seen that you have several garbage bags in the trunk, Dar. Do you want to get acquainted with the inside of any of them? Just say the words, and I'll be happy to oblige."

"You're no fun. This was supposed to be a cute bonding moment, Kitten. Over committing a crime, but still."

I pressed my hand against my forehead, shaking my head with a mix of exasperation and amusement. Darragh O'Shea was like a Labrador jacked up on Red Bull.