Keeping 13: Boys of Tommen #2

I bulldozed.

I didn’t need Gibsie or anyone to tell me what I already knew. Shannon was stone-cold silent the entire drive to Claire’s house, keeping a full seat of space between us, letting me know in no uncertain terms that I had, indeed, fucked up. Furious with myself, I didn’t say a word when I watched her walk into Claire’s house, terrified of making a bad situation worse.

Even now, as I heaved my body up and down on the chin-up bar fitted in Gibsie’s ensuite bathroom doorway, I couldn’t relax. I couldn’t breathe easy, because I knew in my heart I had made things a million times worse for her. Shannon was only across the street, but it could have been a million miles away for all the good it would do me. I was so fucking mad at myself, I could taste it.

‘I should go over there,’ I announced for the fiftieth time in the space of two hours, and for the fiftieth time, Gibsie responded with, ‘No, you shouldn’t.’This is the property of Nô-velDrama.Org.

He was sprawled out on his bedroom floor with a pen and ruler in hand, surrounded by half a dozen textbooks, and frowning in deep concentration as he used that weird yellow paper that helped him to focus and make sense of his own writing.

‘What’s that word?’ he asked, holding up his History textbook to me. ‘Renown?’

Locking my arms into place, I squinted at the text on the page before saying, ‘No, lad, that’s renaissance.’

‘Renaissance,’ he repeated, churning the word around. ‘What a stupid fucking word.’

I shrugged and continued pulling my body up, feeding off the pain in my muscles as they burned in protest.

‘Can I ask you a question?’

‘I already told you that I’d give you my history notes, lad,’ I replied. ‘You don’t have to ask again.’

‘No, it’s not about school,’ he said. ‘It’s about rugby.’

‘Oh?’ I frowned, interest piqued. ‘What about it?’

‘What do you think my chances are of getting one of those Academy contracts?’

I paused mid chin-up with my arms locked tight and studied his face. ‘You serious, lad?’ He looked serious. ‘You’re not messing?’

‘I’m not going to go down the college route, Johnny – I can barely handle school as it is.’ He shrugged. ‘Mam’s been on my case about what I want to do after school, and I like rugby.’ Sighing, he added, ‘If I don’t make a plan, I’m going end up in the bakery with her.’

‘You’re good at rugby,’ I agreed. ‘You know The Academy were interested in you a couple of years back.’

He sighed. ‘Yeah, I know, and I fucked it.’

‘You’re still only in fifth year,’ I reminded him. ‘You have another year to turn it around.’

‘You think I can?’ he asked, grey eyes locked on mine.

‘I think you have the potential to do anything you set your mind to,’ I told him. ‘You’ve got the talent and that’s ten percent of what it takes.’

‘And the rest?’

‘Determination, dedication, and consistency,’ I replied. ‘The 30/30/30 effect.’

‘I might need a hand with that,’ he muttered.

‘What do you need from me?’

‘To pull me into line,’ he admitted. ‘I think I can do it, Johnny.’

‘I know you can,’ I replied. ‘I’ve always said that.’

‘I know, but I didn’t want it before.’

‘And you do now?’

‘I’m wasting my life,’ he said. ‘I’m letting all the opportunities slip through my fingers.’

‘Yeah, well, I’ve been saying that for years, too.’

‘So, what do I need to do?’

‘Quit smoking, cut back on the drink, and meet me at my house at half five tomorrow.’

‘That’s a bit late in the evening to start –’

‘Who said anything about evening?’ I arched a brow. ‘5:30am, Gibs. The early bird catches the worm.’

‘Oh shit,’ he groaned. ‘You’re going to kill me, aren’t ya?’

I shrugged. ‘If you’re serious, and you want it, then you’ll get your ass out of that bed.’

‘Lock your legs,’ Gibsie said then, turning his attention back to his book.

‘I can’t,’ I bit out, breathing hard. ‘It’s too sore.’

‘Well, if you went home and rubbed one out, you’d feel better,’ he shot back, not missing a beat. ‘And you’d be able to close your legs.’

‘What would you have done, Gibs?’ I asked, ignoring his dig. ‘If you were me back there?’

‘Given what you know about her family?’

‘Yeah,’ I grunted, breathless.

‘Exactly the same thing,’ he replied, confirming that I wasn’t alone in my madness. ‘But I would have stemmed the threats of violence.’ He tossed his pen down and sat up. ‘That’s her brother, lad.’

I arched a brow and gave him a don’t bullshit me look.

‘Fair enough,’ he chuckled before admitting, ‘I would have killed him.’

I nodded stiffly. ‘Thank you.’

‘But I’m not saying that’s the right thing,’ he added, climbing to his feet.

‘Do you think she’s still pissed?’ I asked, gaze flickering to his bedroom window. ‘Am I in trouble?’

‘You’re always in trouble,’ he mused. ‘It’s like your thing.’

‘You know what I mean,’ I grumbled.

‘I don’t know,’ he replied, tone light. ‘I’ve never had a girlfriend. I have no fucking clue of what the relationship etiquette in this situation should be.’ Grinning, he added, ‘I usually solve my problems with my tongue.’

‘Gibs–’

‘I’m serious,’ he added. ‘Mad at me? Have a lick out. Hurt your feelings? Let me eat you out.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s all I know, lad.’

‘Is that what you did today?’ I narrowed my eyes. ‘Used your tongue to sort Claire’s shit?’

He stared blankly back at me.

I groaned. ‘Tell me you didn’t.’

‘I’m not telling you anything,’ he shot back. ‘Let’s just concentrate on your fuck ups for today.’

Fair point.

‘One day,’ I groaned, dropping my head. ‘One bleeding day and I made a hash of it.’

‘Yep,’ he laughed. ‘It’s a new record for you.’

‘Fuck it –’ Lowering myself back down, I rolled out my shoulders, groaning in relief when my muscles clicked and popped back into place. ‘I’m going over there.’

‘Good,’ he agreed. ‘About time.’

My mouth fell open. ‘But you said I shouldn’t –’

‘Hey –’ Gibsie held his hands up and grinned. ‘I’m the last person you should be taking advice from.’ Shrugging, he added, ‘I’m following your lead, lad.’

‘Jesus, we’re fucked,’ I muttered.

‘That we are, buddy. That we are,’ he replied, slapping my back. ‘But seriously, you really should know better than to take my advice to heart since I’ve clearly dug myself into a hole I can’t get the fuck back out of.’

‘What’s going on there, lad?’ I asked, frowning. ‘Does Dee have something on you?’

‘Nah.’ He shook his head. ‘Nothing I can’t handle.’

‘You sure?’

‘Absolutely.’

A trickle of unease ran down my spine. ‘Gibs, if you’re in trouble, you can talk to me.’

‘Appreciate the concern, but you’re the one whose girlfriend is on the other side of the street, Johnny,’ he chuckled. ‘And besides, I have a plan.’

I narrowed my eyes. ‘What kind of plan?’

‘On how to keep my dick in my pants,’ he told me.

‘What – and out of the school secretary?’

‘Yep.’ He nodded. ‘I’m injured now. Out of action for the next six to eight weeks.’ He gave me two enthusiastic thumbs up. ‘She can’t touch me anymore.’

‘You’re injured? Where? How? What the…’ I shook my head and gaped at him. ‘You’re going to have to elaborate a little more for me here, lad, because if you’re using a picture of my cock and pretending it’s yours –’ He dropped his pants and I sucked in a sharp breath. ‘Holy shite!’ Gaping in horror, my hand automatically moved to cup my own dick. ‘What the fuck were you thinking?’

‘I was thinking I need a way to keep my dick out of the school secretary,’ he shot back, holding his dick in his hand.

‘When did you do this to yourself?’ I demanded, outraged.

‘During the Easter holidays,’ he replied. ‘I told you I was bored.’

I balked. ‘So you went out and got your dick pierced?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s actually kind of genius if you think about it.’

‘Gibs, you voluntarily allowed someone to stick a needle through your penis,’ I deadpanned, gaping at the piercing on the underside of his shaft. ‘That’s not genius, lad, that’s lunacy.’

‘It’s not so bad,’ he said in an upbeat tone, stroking the crown of his dick. ‘It’s almost healed, and it’s looks a lot better when I’m hard –’

‘Don’t you dare pull on your dick in front of me!’ I warned him. ‘What the hell is wrong with you? I don’t want to see you hard!’

‘You wanted to know my plan,’ he huffed, tucking himself back into his jocks. ‘So, I showed you my frenum piercing.’

Shaking my head, I hissed, ‘Frenum?’

‘Yeah.’ He nodded eagerly. ‘Like a Jacob’s ladder without the ladder.’

‘What…how…’ I gaped at him. ‘Are you planning on adding to it?’

‘No,’ he replied. ‘Not for a while, at least.’

‘You’re fucking insane,’ I choked out. ‘Deranged, even. And you’ve scarred me for life.’

‘I’ve scarred you for life? Yeah. Sure,’ he scoffed. ‘I showed you a piece of body art, lad. You showed me your gangrened ball sac.’

‘For the last time, I didn’t have fucking gangrene,’ I snapped. ‘I had a torn adductor.’

‘Whatever you say, lad.’ Laughing, Gibsie sauntered out of his room with me trailing after him, still visually traumatized. ‘But those were the most discolored balls I’ve ever seen in my life.’

‘I hate you,’ I grumbled, hobbling down the staircase after him. ‘I hope you know that.’

‘And I love you, too,’ he snickered.

‘Is it sore?’ I asked, still grimacing at the thought.

‘Nah. It’s just heavier. It’s taking a bit of getting used to.’

‘Ah, shite…’

‘Boys, have a bit of respect,’ Gibsie’s mother ordered when we thundered into the sitting room to say goodbye to her. ‘The Angelus is on.’

Grimacing, Gibsie and I both blessed ourselves and mumbled off the prayers imbedded inside of us since birth as the familiar church bell rang loudly on the television. Sadhbh Allen was a religious woman, and for one solid minute, there would be no talking in the Gibson household while we waited, head-bowed, for the signal of the 6:01 news to come on.

‘Now,’ Mrs. Allen said, muting the television when the news came on. Walking towards us with her giant, white Persian cat in her arms, she smiled brightly. ‘How was school?’

‘Fine,’ we both replied in unison.

‘Johnny.’ She flashed me a warm smile. ‘How are you feeling since Dublin, pet?’

‘I’m grand, thanks,’ I replied, offering a smile. I stepped forward to give Brian a rub while Gibsie lunged away from the cat. ‘I’m getting back on track.’

‘Your poor mother must have been beside herself with worry.’

‘Yeah.’ Grimacing, I gently scratched Brian under the chin. ‘You could say that.’

‘Where’s Fa?’ Gibsie asked, using the pet name for his stepfather, Keith Allen. He’d been in Gibsie’s life since the age of eight. It was short for father – a term of endearment and sign of respect to the man who had helped raise him. A man who wasn’t quite his father, but much more than just Keith. Fa was the middle line and Gibsie had called Keith that for as long as I’d known him. ‘I thought he’d be back by now?’

‘He’s still on the building site, pet. There was a delay with a delivery, but he’ll be home tonight.’ Mrs. Allen stepped closer to Gibsie and he comically dived backwards.

‘Keep that beast away from me,’ he strangled out, eyeing Brian warily. ‘I don’t trust him, Mam.’

‘Ah, he’s harmless,’ Mrs. Allen laughed. ‘You wouldn’t hurt a fly, would you, Brian?’

‘No, the flies are grand because his issue is with me,’ Gibsie grumbled. ‘Isn’t it, Brian?’ The cat hissed and Gibsie leapt behind me. ‘You’re going to have to do something about his behavior,’ he warned his mother. ‘I don’t feel safe in my home anymore.’

‘Anyways, I better get going,’ I announced, clearing my throat. I was fond of Gibsie’s mother and always enjoyed watching Gibsie’s cat tear strips out of him, but knowing Shannon was directly across the street was making me anxious. ‘Thanks for having me, Mrs. Allen.’

‘Anytime, Johnny,’ his mother replied, waving me off. ‘Don’t be a stranger.’

‘I’m going with him, Mam,’ Gibsie told her as he hurried after me, narrowly avoiding a swipe of the paw from their cat. ‘I’ll be home later.’

‘Of course, you are,’ she called after us. ‘Behave yourself, Bubba.’

‘Keep your head,’ Gibsie instructed when we stepped outside and he closed the door behind him. ‘Just talk to her – don’t go in all guns blazing like you did earlier.’

‘I will keep my head,’ I grumbled.

‘I mean it,’ he shot back. ‘No talking shit about her brother.’

‘I don’t do that,’ I snapped, flustered. ‘But I swear to god, lad, if I have to look at her with one more bruise, I’m the one who’s going to be in Cork prison, not her Da. He’ll be in a fucking graveyard with his son beside him if either of them puts their hands on her again.’