I wanted to get to know Dublin, sure. But I wanted to know Sam more. Talking to him sometimes felt like being in class where everyone had done the reading assignment but me. “What’s it about?”
“Death. And waiting. With funny bits.”
“That sounds...”Intimidating. “Great. Thank you. But I don’t have anything for you.”
His gaze drifted over me, touching, lingering, sparking tiny fires in its wake. “We’ll think of something.” His eyes focused over my shoulder. Narrowed. “Fuck.”
I was jolted. “What?”
“That little shit is chatting up our Grace.”
I turned. A red-haired boy from Tim’s team was talking to Sam’s sister. She was laughing up at him, her book closed on her lap. Something about his face... I’d seen that face before.
I frowned. “Is that...?”
“Doyle!” Tim shouted.
One of the boys who’d followed me.
“Trouble,” Sam said grimly.
Grace watched the boy jog back to his position on the field.
“Is he... Would he hurt her?”
“Danny Doyle’s harmless enough. But he’s a shit-for-brains. He’ll always be a shit-for-brains. He’s no good for our Grace.”
Her cheeks were pink. She looked so hopeful. Happy.
“Maybe he’ll change,” I offered tentatively.
“Not in our world. Not in the real world. It’s all about opportunity, isn’t it? Even if he wanted to be something better, he’ll never have the chance.”
“Are we still talking about Danny Doyle?”
“Who else would we be talking about?”
He’d gone to Trinity, I remembered. An English major. “When did you graduate?”
“I didn’t, did I? Dropped out.”
“Why?”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“Then why not tell me?”
He shrugged. “Why does anybody leave school?”
Short of being lampooned by your lover and disgraced by your department... “Bad breakup?” I guessed. “Bad grades?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I had better things to do.”
“How long have you been working at Clery’s?”
“All my life.”
“But how long have you been...”
