“Aye!” Liam says, slapping my shoulder a little too enthusiastically. “Sorry,” he says, rubbing my sore spot absently. “So, the gobshite says, ‘You go back to the hotel and relax, I’m going to send up some entertainment.’”
“Oh, don’t make me listen to your escort conquests!”
“No! It gets worse. This pink-haired lass shows up and before the door is closed she’s rippin’ off her dress and climbing up on me like a cat on a Christmas Tree, all claws and no style.” Liam pauses dramatically, waiting to see my shared outrage for his plight but I’m laughing too hard.
“Please stop, I’m cramping! I’m cramping!”
“Aw, lass. I knew yah needed some cheering up.”
“Did you throw her out of the room?”
“No. I dug her nails out my shoulder and it was good craic.”
“Wait,” I stop, rubbing my aching stomach. “Was that good?”
“The hooker was, the heroin was banjaxed,” he scowled. “I had to fly back to Dublin and tell my uncle his sources are shite and the powder was cut with everything from baby powder to my granny’s arthritis pills.”
“I’m sorry the trip was worthless but that storytelling was art. It was poetry,” I say, giggles still bubbling up when I pictured the Canadian escort climbing him like a cat on a Christmas Tree.
“I know,” Liam agrees modestly, “and now you’re smiling again, yeah?”
“You are the best,” I link my arm with his. “So I get the feeling you don’t like your uncle?”
“He’s a bastard,” he said, all animation drained from his face. “He’s running the show until I graduate and so far, he’s driving my Da’s organization six feet under. Which is where I’m putting that weaselly fuck when I take over.”
Wide-eyed, I walk with him silently. I’ve never heard Liam so angry. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him angry at all. “I’m sorry,” I offer slowly, “I can’t imagine how hard this has to be for you.”
“Just a few more months,” he says, like it’s a mantra he’s been repeating over and over until the words have carved a furrow in his heart.
“Just a few more months,” I echo. “And then you can kick his ass all over Ireland if you want. You’ll get the organization up and running the way it should be.”
“Thanks,” he smiles, but it’s tired, distracted.
We walk in companionable silence for a while. We’re past most of the buildings, walking through the Barrens, a gigantic boulder field left over from glaciers that were here thirty thousand years ago.
“Mala?”
“Hmmm?”
“I saw you and Professor MacTavish yesterday.” He’s not looking at me, still walking slowly, arms linked.
“Well, yeah. I had-”
“You were walking together, over by his cottage,” he cuts me off, glancing around us, like he’s looking for someone.
“I…” Do I admit to a relationship to throw him off the scent of anything deeper? Does he know what Cormac is really doing here?
“It’s not my business who you’re taking for a ride,” he continues, “just… you have to be careful, you know? Someone else could have seen you. The Dean, she’s pure evil wrapped in a pantsuit. I don’t wanna see you hurt.”
Oh, thank god. He just thinks I’m sleeping with the professor. I blush, looking down. “It’s nothing. Nothing important. And too much of a risk, you’re right.”
Liam ruffles my hair. “This is me,” he pauses outside of the gym. “You behave, yeah?”
“Thanks. You’re a good friend.” On impulse, I kiss his cheek. I see the pain flicker through his gaze before his practiced grin comes back.
“Yeah, I’m a feckin’ saint.”
He walks off with a careless wave goodbye as I watch him thoughtfully. Behind me, there’s a noise, a scatter of pebbles roll down one of the boulders, as if disturbed by a footstep. I spin around, looking through the field, but there’s no one.
