Pistol

Chapter Fifteen

The patrons pissed him off no end tonight. Try as he might, Pete couldn't suppress the urge to hit something-or someone.

As soon as he arrived home from Steph's last night, he had pulled the letter Derek gave him out, purely to remind himself why it was he couldn't entertain the idea of keeping her around. The letterhead seemed to leer at him as he unfolded the page.

Irish Prison Service - Limerick Prison

He read the contents again, still maddened by what it meant for him. She shouldn't assume she had the right to interfere with his life now. The fact she was his mother meant nothing. His mother died the moment she committed the crime that put her in that prison.

The thing which turned his insides to a cesspit of lava, was that she fucking knew where he lived.

She had known how to contact him.

How?

His only connection to her was Derek, and he'd been more than clear with the old git that he didn't want the woman to know of his new home. So then, had the guy betrayed him? And did he honestly want to know? Because what difference would it make, that a week from now, his fuckin' mother would set foot on Australian turf to look for him.

Pete realised the tumbler he screwed around a dishcloth had begun to warm in his hand. How long had he stood there, in a daze as he dried the now super-heated vessel? He placed it down on the counter, and ran his eye over the dozen or so people who waited for service. Janie did her best to keep up, but hell, the woman had only been on staff for a month. He better get back into it, no matter how much he wanted to deck the next plonker who spilt a drink on him.

Pete worked his way through four bourbons, a teapot, two vodkas, and a swag of OJ's before he took a step back to catch his breath. He leant against the low fridges; his hands braced the top of the cool doors either side of him. A bubbly laugh drew his eyes right, and he spotted a familiar wave of blonde hair. Steph's friend edged into the bar, and beckoned Janie.

He swept past the barmaid, and took the spot before the blonde. "What ya after?"

Her eyes drew wide as she looked at him, and she turned her body like she wanted to block whatever was behind her.  "Two vodka martinis, thanks."

He nodded tightly, and then swung himself over the bar to look around her. She side-stepped, but not far enough. His eyes landed on the prize, yet he felt like he'd lucked out at the derby.

What the fuck has she done?

Pete tapped Janie on her shoulder, and pointed to Steph's friend. He then proceeded to march to the end of the bar, and out through the divider into the floor area. People moved aside wide-eyed, and cautious as he approached her.

"Can I help you?"

He scowled at her cheek. "What have ya gone and done to yerself?"

Steph looked down at her ensemble. "Got dressed?" She shrugged.

His blood pumped a bass-beat in his ears. "Yeah, but what in? And what have ya done to yer hair?"

She narrowed her gaze. "I dressed in clothes, Pete. And I believe people refer to what I've done to my hair as a dye job."