“Wow. That sounds exciting. What was your group’s name?”
“The Bohemia Quartet. Ever heard of us?”
“Sorry, can’t say that I have. Do you have any recordings?”
“Yeah, three albums. You can buy our stuff on iTunes.” He gives me this cute little self-deprecating grin.
“Cool. I’m going to look you up sometime. So why did you leave?”
His shoulders slump as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “That’s a depressing story.”
“I can deal with depressing,” I tell him.
He shakes his head. “Nah, not tonight. Perhaps some other time.”
“Okay. So are you planning on walking me all the way home?” I ask, noticing we’re almost at the end of Harcourt Street now.
Shane glances up and down the road. “How much farther is your place?”
“Five minutes from here. You can head off if you like. I might see you around at work.” I begin walking away, but he rushes to catch up with me.
“Hey, what’s your hurry? I can go another five minutes.”
I stop and turn to face him, giving him a sad look. He’s like an enthusiastic puppy — a darkly exotic enthusiastic puppy.
“We’re not having sex again,” I state, getting straight to the point.
He blinks and sputters. “Is that what you think I’m after? Jade, I just want to talk with you some more. I like you.”
Putting my hand comfortingly on his chest, I tell him softly, “That’s really sweet, and I’ve no problem talking. In fact, I’d love to be friends, but I just need to know you understand that what went on between us last night won’t be happening again. ’Kay?”
He stares at me, and his eyes tilt downward. Great, now I’ve kicked the puppy. For a moment I think he’s going to argue with me, but then he simply replies, “I’d love to be friends, too.”
He gives me a small smile, one which I return. “Friends it is, then. Come on, buddy. Walk me home.”
A few minutes later we’re approaching my house. I take a glance at the group of boys who seem to be continually camped out at the end of the street. Then I breathe a relieved sigh when I confirm that Pete isn’t with them.
Pulling my keys from my bag, I turn to Shane. “Well, this is me. Thanks for the chat. It was good talking to you. Hopefully we can do it again soon.”
He stands at the end of my front step, hands dug into his pockets. He doesn’t say anything, but he’s staring at me, real intense.
“What are you looking at me like that for?” I ask, letting out a small nervous laugh.
“I’ve never met a girl like you before,” he says.
What am I, a mermaid or something?
“Well, I wouldn’t imagine many of the girls from around here hang out with men who play the violin, nor do they attend any string quartet concerts,” I reply jokingly, gesturing over to a couple of girls standing by a house across the street, puffing on cigarettes in their pyjama bottoms, massive gold hoop earrings in their ears.
Shane looks to them and then back at me. “No, I don’t suppose they do. You know, I’ve never actually been in this part of the city before.”
“No, I don’t suppose you have,” I say, teasing him.
He narrows his eyes, giving me a tight-lipped smirk. “I, uh, don’t think I remember the way back.”
I laugh. “Well, that was silly, now, wasn’t it? Where do you live?”
“Ranelagh. I was going to catch a cab.”
“In that case, come on inside and I’ll call one for you. My neighbour Barry drives a taxi. He’ll do you a discount if he knows you’re a friend of mine.”
I turn my key in the door and step into the hallway, my ears immediately getting blasted with loud rap music. Great. I forgot my brother Alec usually has his friends around for a few beers on a Sunday night.
“Sorry about the noise. It’s just my brother and his mates. Come on into the kitchen.”
I gesture for him to take a seat at the table. “Do you want some tea while you’re waiting?”
“I’d love some.”
I put on the kettle and then pick up my phone to call Barry. It rings out twice before he answers.
“Jade, what can I do for you, love?”
“A friend of mine needs a lift out to Ranelagh. Are you free?”
“I will be in about fifteen minutes. You at your house or somewhere else?”
“My house.”
“Right, give me half an hour, tops. I’ll beep when I’m outside.”
“Great. Thanks, Barry.”
The music coming from the living room gets louder, and I find it hilarious when Shane furrows his brow as though offended. I can’t blame him. If I spent my life playing classical music, I’d be offended by rap, too.
I bang my fist on the wall, shouting, “Keep it down, Alec.”
The volume lowers, and I go about making the tea. A minute later Alec walks into the kitchen, opening the fridge to take out more beers. My eldest brother is a sight to behold these days. He’s been working for a construction company, so all the hard labour has bulked him up, and he’s taken to tattoos in a big way. He’s already got a full sleeve on his right arm and is building another on the left. His light brown hair, the same shade as that of all my siblings, is cut in a Mohawk down the centre of his head.
“Sorry about the music, Jade. Some of the boys got carried away.” He notices Shane then and gives him the once-over. The two couldn’t be any more opposite: Shane in his black shirt and slacks, and Alec in his jeans and ratty T-shirt.
“You a friend of Jade’s?” he asks, taking the cigarette that had been resting behind his ear and lighting it up.
“Yeah, he is. This is Shane. Shane, this is my brother, Alec.”
“Nice to meet you, bud,” says Alec, reaching across the table to give Shane’s hand a sturdy shake. What with his appearance and his deep inner-city accent, Alec can come across like a bit of a scary bastard, but he’s actually a really amiable guy. He’s the funniest fucker I know, brilliant sense of humour. You’ll never get one over on him in a battle of wits.
“Nice to meet you, too,” says Shane, smiling urbanely.
Alec grins when he hears Shane speak and gives me a look that says, haven’t you done well for yourself, snagging the posh fella.
I give him a look in return that says, we’re just friends!
“Right. Well, I’ll leave you both to it,” says Alec finally, picking up the beers and strolling back into the living room.
“And keep the music down,” I call after him.
“So, you’ve got two brothers and a sister?” Shane asks as I set a cup of tea down in front of him.
“That’s right, though Alec’s big and ugly enough to take care of himself now.”
Shane laughs. “Right, yeah, I can see that. What happened to your parents?”
“Whoa, bit of a personal question there,” I say, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from him.
He looks embarrassed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, you’re all right. Mum died four years ago from lung cancer. My dad died a few months after I was born, got knocked over by a car. The others have a different father, though — that’s why I’m the only one with this mad albino hair. Their dad’s name is Patrick, absolute waste of space. He shows up every once in a while, but mostly I try to keep him out of the picture.”
“Sounds complicated.”
“It is. So, do I get to ask about your family, or does this interview business only go one way?”
Shane sits back in his chair. “You can ask. My situation is fairly simple, though. I’m an only child. My parents live in Dalkey.”
I grin. “Well, I’d never have guessed. Is that where you grew up?”
He eyes me speculatively. “Uh-huh. And wh
at do you mean, ‘you’d never have guessed’?”
“I was just teasing. I knew you must have been raised somewhere around that area, given your accent.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah. Are both of your parents white? Correct me if I’m wrong, but you look like you’ve got some Asian blood in you.”
“Bit of a personal question,” he says with a smirk, throwing my own words back at me.
“I like asking personal questions.” I lean in closer to him, my elbows on the table, and bite flirtatiously on my lower lip. I do it jokingly, but Shane’s expression heats up nonetheless, his eyes zeroing in on my mouth.
“I bet you do. And yeah, both of my parents are white. They lived in Beijing for several years in the eighties where my dad was working for the Irish embassy. While they were over there they tried for a baby, but something wasn’t working. In the end they found out that Mum was infertile, so they hired a surrogate.”
“Say what?” I exclaim humorously. Shane shoots me a narrow-eyed look. “No, seriously,” I go on. “I thought only crazy celebrities and millionaires hired surrogates.”
“It’s actually more common than you’d think. So anyway, they paid this nice Chinese woman to have a child for them. Basically, they used my dad’s sperm, and the surrogate got pregnant through artificial insemination. So I’m my dad’s biological son, but not my mum’s.”
“Wow. And have you ever met your birth mother?”
“No. Mum thought it would be best to sever all the ties. When I was five we moved back to Ireland.”
“What age are you now?”
“Twenty-nine. I’ll be thirty next month. You?”
“Twenty-six going on fifty.”
He laughs. “You don’t look fifty.”
“I feel it sometimes,” I sigh.
He gives me a sympathetic expression and reaches out to softly squeeze my hand. He doesn’t keep doing it for long, but it’s nice while it lasts.
We stay locked in a moment as he drags his tongue over his bottom lip, wetting it. I stare at his mouth, half mesmerised.
The moment is broken when a car horn beeps loudly from outside, signalling Barry’s arrival. “Ah, there’s your ride home, and the conversation had just gotten interesting,” I announce with amusement.
Shane stands and gulps down the last of his tea. “Well, we can continue it tomorrow if you’d like. Are you working?”
“Yep. Eleven o’clock until seven.”
“I have a rehearsal until four. Can I stop by the bar and see you?”
“Sure. You’ll be bored out of your tits watching me work, but I’ll try my best to fit in some talking time.” I smile and stand up, ushering him out to the front door.
“It’s a good thing I don’t have tits, then, isn’t it? See you, Jade,” he calls, blowing me a cheeky kiss and making his way over to Barry’s taxi.
I make a show of catching it with my hand, like a big fat nerd. Standing on the step, I watch him go until the car disappears out of sight. A second later, my sister April and her best friend Chloe saunter up to me, wearing outfits that almost match. They’ve both got some variation of a white cotton top on with similar denim miniskirts and fake UGG boots.
“Hey, Jado,” Chloe calls to me as they approach. She’s got this annoying habit of making up nicknames for everyone, normally ending with an “O.” She calls April “Apro.” You get the picture.
“Eh, who was that?” April asks, her voice booming halfway around the street.
“A friend.”
“Your friend is a fucking ride,” Chloe puts in, fanning her face theatrically. For those not in the know, “a ride” is Dublin slang for “hot.”
“Yep. That he is,” I reply to her, deadpan. “Where have you two been?”
“Nowhere,” says April, tight-lipped, which might as well be slang for “up to no good.”
“Okay. Have you seen Pete around?”
“Nope.”
“You’re a fountain of knowledge tonight, April, really you are. Here, I’ve got a proposition for you,” I say.
Chloe snickers at my use of the word “proposition.” I’m dealing with a future Nobel Prize winner in this girl. April looks at me appraisingly.
“What is it?”
“Lara’s looking for a babysitter for little Mia. What do you think? It’ll earn you some money until you can find a full-time job.”
“Yes, I’ll do it! How much is she paying?” April asks enthusiastically, while Chloe’s eyes simultaneously light up as she mouths the words free house at April.
“I saw that, Chloe, and there’ll be no free house.” I wag my finger at her. “If April’s going to do this, she’s going to do it properly. You can’t have boys over if you’re going to be responsible for a three-year-old. Do you hear me?”
“Yeah, I know. Don’t snap at me — it was Chloe who said it. I know I have to take it seriously. I’m not stupid.”
“Good to know. Now, are you coming in or what?”
She rolls her eyes at me and walks into the house, she and Chloe heading straight for the living room so that they can flirt with Alec’s friends. I spend the next half an hour trying to get a hold of Pete, but he’s not answering his phone. Eventually he arrives home, giving me the silent treatment after our argument last night. He shuffles up the stairs to his room, shutting himself inside with a slam of the door.
I really don’t know what to do about him anymore. In my room I fall onto my mattress, exhausted. This is what I mean about teenagers being a handful. To be honest, I’d much prefer two wailing babies.
Reaching for my handbag, I pull out my phone and check my messages, of which there aren’t many. The rap music is still thumping from downstairs, so I grab my headphones and stick them into the phone, scrolling through my music. Nothing tickles my fancy, so on a whim I go onto iTunes and search for the Bohemia Quartet. Their albums immediately pop up, and I download the most popular, titled Songs for Her.
I know I shouldn’t, but I immediately wonder who “Her” is. There’s a picture of the group on the cover, and all of them are equally good-looking guys, so it could be any one of their girlfriends or even a relative. Anyway, seeing the picture makes me understand why they were so popular. I’m sure they had a huge female following.
I hit “play” on the first song, and the opening notes hit me right in my soul like a soothing balm. All remnants of the rap music below float away as I get lost in the beauty of the strings.
Chapter Four
When I wake up the next morning, I realise I fell asleep with my earphones on, Shane’s music having lulled me into a slumber. Later that day at work, he shows up at the bar at a quarter past four, looking invigorated.
“Whatever you’ve been taking, can I have some?” I ask him jokingly.
“I sometimes get like this after playing,” he explains. “Could I have an ice water?”
“You can indeed,” I say, pouring him a glass. He knocks it back in three long gulps and then asks for another.
There’s a writers’ talk going on in the main auditorium at the moment. It just started, so the bar is empty. I decide to take a break, grabbing myself an orange juice and a gin for Shane before walking around to take the seat beside him.
He eyes my orange juice. “No drinking alcohol on the job, eh?”
“No drinking at all, actually,” I reply, pulling up my sleeve to show him the five small blue sparrows tattooed onto my inner forearm. “One for each year I’ve been sober,” I explain.
“You were an alcoholic?” he asks softly in surprise, eyes tracing up and down my tattoos. One of the best artists in the city did them, and the blue has the effect of looking like watercolour paints.
I give him a grave nod.
“But you work in a bar. Isn’t that kind of tempting fate?”
“For som
e, maybe, but not for me. I find being around alcohol is like working a muscle, so the more I do it, the stronger I become. The sparrows represent freedom from my addiction and my commitment to staying free of it. There’s nothing more committed than ink permanently under your skin.”
Shane reaches out and traces his fingers over the birds, his head tilted as he studies them. “They’re very pretty. Are you going to keep getting a new one each year?”
“Probably not. I mean, I only have so much real estate,” I joke. “They start at my wrist, so I guess once they reach the top of my arm I’ll stop. If I get ten years under my belt, I don’t think there’ll be anything that could ever drive me back to drinking.”
Shane looks at his gin now, like he feels guilty for having it in front of me.
“Oh, don’t be silly. Drink up. I know that most people can enjoy alcohol responsibly. I’m just not one of them.”
“When did you start drinking?” he asks, giving in and taking a sip.
“You probably don’t want to know the answer to that.”
He arches an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything.
I let out a sigh. “Eleven when I had my first taste, fifteen when I began drinking properly.”
“Fifteen, shit.”
I pick up a cardboard coaster and begin picking at it. “I had a few…issues when I was younger. I guess drowning them in a bottle of vodka was the only thing that worked for me back then. I got my stomach pumped several times, almost died from kidney failure once.”
Shane moves his stool closer to mine. “Is that what made you quit?”
I’m lost in my own thoughts for a second, and I don’t hear his question. “Sorry, what was that?”
“The kidney failure. Is that why you quit?”
“Oh. No, actually. My head could have been falling off and I wouldn’t have given up drinking. Didn’t care enough about myself, I suppose. It was my mum getting sick that gave me the final push. I suddenly realised that she was never getting better and that my family needed me. Pete and April were still just kids at the time, and there would be no one to look after them, not their waster of a dad, anyway. I couldn’t stand the idea of them being put into foster care, so I had no other choice but to step up.”
Rockers After Dark: 6 Book Bundle of Sexy Musicians Page 29
