Stake You

Chapter Three

The weekend passed by in a haze of drunken spills and a house that smelled like vomit. It wasn’t always that way. We were just going through a bad patch while my mother mourned the loss of the last boyfriend. It would end soon. It always did. Then she would clean the house and cook dinner, wear bright lipstick and dye her hair a vibrant chestnut shade. She would find another loser boyfriend, and the cycle would begin again.

I worked full shifts on Saturday and Sunday, making sure to dump the unwanted fifty euro into a charity box, and by the time it was over my eyes were blurring with exhaustion. That’s why I had to triple check the roster for the following week.

“Mark? You’ve forgotten me,” I called out to the manager.

“No, I haven’t.” He approached me with a cloth wrapped around his bleeding finger.

“You should have let me cut them,” I said reproachfully. He was too easily distracted to slice up fruit.

“Arm you with a sharp knife while you can barely keep your eyes open? And let you lose a hand? No way. Listen, I didn’t put you on the roster for the next couple of days on purpose.”

“Mark.” I lowered my voice. “I need the pay.”

“I’m sorry, Devlin, but I’m worried about you. You’re exhausted. I’m not going to take advantage of your willingness to work every single shift. Go home, get some rest, and I’ll see you on Thursday.”

He walked off before I could protest. Great. Monday through Wednesday wasn’t good for tips, but it was quiet and relaxing. Plus I really needed the pay.

“Yeah, well, good luck dealing with the noobs trying to serve half-pulled pints of Guinness,” I called after him. I heard his laugh, but it didn’t sway my anger. It wasn’t just the money. It meant I had no excuse but to spend time with my mother while she was stuck in one of the worst parts of her break-up cycle. I couldn’t exactly hang out with Deco or Shauna anymore, and I wasn’t looking forward to facing them the next morning at school in any case. I wasn’t in the mood to face anyone.

“Come on, moody,” Tom said, drawing me out of my thoughts. “Let’s head on.”

“I still have lots to do,” I protested.

“Yeah, but I’m under strict instructions to get you out of here. And Mark’s not the only one who’s worried about you, Dev.”

I grumbled all the way to his car, but I was secretly relieved that I wasn’t faced with all of the cleaning. As I belted up, Tom opened his shirt and rolled up his sleeves to reveal his inked neck and arms.

“Ah, that’s better,” he said, stretching. He started the car and pulled out of the car park. “Franco tells me that eighteenth the other night was full of your school friends. That maybe something upset you?”

“Franco has a bloody big mouth. Did he also tell you about all of the underage girls he tried to booze up?”

Tom laughed. “Ah, don’t worry about him. But you should have called me or Mark up to catch him this time.”

I shrugged. “Not up to me to get people sacked.”

“Mark will cotton on eventually. I’ll bet you anything he’ll find a reason to get rid of Franco once you’re available for a full-time job.”

“Won’t be long.”

He glanced at me. “Still no plans to go to college?”

“Not for me.” Didn’t stop me looking at the brochures though. “Besides, I love working at the pub. It’s the going to school bit that I can’t stand.”