Redeeming 6 (Boys of Tommen #4)

by Chloe Walsh

Redeeming 6 is dedicated to the boys I went to secondary school with, whose shenanigans, friendship, banter, hilarious antics, and blind loyalty inspired the characters of Johnny, Gibsie, Feely, and Hughie. Walshy, Slash, Al, & Madden: the OG Boys of Tommen. (And, yeah, I married the first one.)

“Jaysus, it must have been one hell of a fight,” he stated, watching me from the other side of the car we were working on. “She’s been hysterical for days now. Crying herself to sleep most nights.” Fuck. “She has?” Her father nodded. My heart sank into my ass. “Jesus.”

“She listens to you. Get her to patch things up with young Casey before she floods the house with tears.” “Yeah, I’ll, ah, I’ll call her after work,” I managed to squeeze out, though it was hard to breathe let alone talk. Because this was on me. Molloy’s tears were on me. This whole damn mess was a result of my inability to resist the pull of my fucked-up DNA. Feeling like my heart was constricting to the point of explosion, I set the ratchet down and moved for the back door. “I’ll be back in five.”

“Tony said that you’ve been crying.” “And?” “And?” I shook my head. “It fucking guts me to hear that. I don’t want you to cry, Molloy.” “Well, unfortunately, that’s usually what happens to a girl when her boyfriend sacks her off.” “Stop.” I flinched, hating both the words and the pain in her voice. “I didn’t sack you off.” “You broke up with me, Joey,” she replied, tone thick. “You can wrap it up as sweetly as you want, but in the end, that’s exactly what you did.” “I still love you.” I heard her sudden intake of breath, but she didn’t say anything for a long beat. “Don’t.” “I fucking love you, Aoife Molloy,” I repeated, focusing on an oil stain on the back wall of the garage. “I always will.” “Then take it back.” “I can’t.” I shook my head, feeling like my heart was splitting clean down the center. “I’m not good for you.”

“Are you clean?” I closed my eyes and nodded weakly. “Yes.” “Since when?” “I haven’t touched anything since that night.” “Because you’re turning over a new leaf?” “Because I’m fucking ashamed of myself,” I came right out and told her. “Of what I exposed you to. How I treated you.”

He was terrified of us becoming his parents, of becoming the man at the end of the bar and had taken drastic measures to stop that from happening. To protect me. Telling me that he loved me on the phone earlier wasn’t right, he should be keeping that shit to himself, but I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t soothe the ache in my chest. Just a smidge.

“Come on, Podge.” I shrugged, deciding to go with the truth for once. “It’s fairly obvious that the road I’ve been traveling down isn’t exactly aligning with the one Aoife’s on, lad.” “And that matters to you?” “She matters to me.” “Are you broken up for good?” His question caused my heart to plummet into my ass, and my mind to scream fuck, I hope not. “It depends.” “On what?” “On whether or not I can get my shit together.”

“Is she?” he pushed. “Thinking about other lads?” “She should,” I muttered. “But no. I don’t think so.” “And if she does?” I bit back the urge to roar. “Then I won’t hold her back.” “Jesus, you really love her, don’t you?” More than life. “So what if I do?” I bit out, immediately on the defensive. “Nothing, lad, nothing,” he was quick to placate. “It’s just that I’ve known you since junior infants, since we were four, and I’ve never heard you admit your feelings for anyone.”

“Look at me, asshole.” I gestured to my training gear. “Do I look like a dealer?” When he didn’t immediately say no, I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not a fucking dealer.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Get your ass up, Molloy.” “Never.” “Don’t make me climb on there and get you.” “You wouldn’t dare.” “Try me.” After a ten second stare down we both dove for my duvet at the same time, arms flailing and legs kicking. “If you’re not ready to get over your ex by getting under one of those fine-ass rugby boys, then I will take one for the team and do it for you,” she growled, wrestling the blanket out of my hands, as she straddled me. “But you’re still coming with me to be my wing woman.” “Never,” I protested, trying and failing to knock her off by bucking my hips. “How are your thighs so freakishly strong?” “It’s called using my mam’s thigh-master, bitch,” she shot back, pinning my arms to the mattress. “Now, do you relent, or do I need to kick your ass some more?” “Case…” “Do you relent?” “Fine.” Releasing a pained groan of defeat, I stopped fighting her. “I relent.”

“And that’s Hugh’s younger sister, right?” I asked, pointing out the stunning blonde with a head of to-die-for curls, who was sitting on the couch opposite us, dressed as Baby Spice. I watched, completely invested in the animated conversation she was having with an equally beautiful blond boy dressed like a Malibu Ken doll I used to own back in the day. They were all smiles and hands flailing as they talked and laughed and touched each other.

“He’s, uh, well, let’s just say that he’s one of a kind. He sort of lives in his own world.” B*Witched’s C’est la Vie started to play and I swear to God, this Gibsie boy all but levitated from the couch with excitement, dragging Claire along with him. “She clearly lives in that world with him,” I mused, feeling myself smile for the first time in weeks, as I watched them. Bopping around and throwing shapes like nobody was watching, Gibsie and Claire danced around the living room to what was clearly their jam. Him spinning her out and then pulling her back to his chest as they stumble-waltzed to the music. “I’m guessing they’ve been together since forever, am I right?” “They’re actually not together at all.” “Bullshit.” I pointed to where they had moved to the middle of the makeshift dance floor. “Look at that boy. He’s clearly besotted with her, and she’s staring at him all gooey-eyed like he hung the moon.” I shook my head. “Nah, K, they’re clearly doing the deed.”

Completely in sync with each other’s bodies, and with their entire focus on the other, they laughed and danced it out to the beat, uncaring that a huge portion of their schoolmates were watching them. “No way,” I choked out a laugh. “Boy moves like lord of the dance.” “Pretty sure his mam made him take Irish dancing lessons in primary school,” Katie giggled. “There’s a bunch of medals on display in the cabinet in Hugh’s front room from Feis competitions that they competed in.” “Who? Gibsie and Claire?” She nodded. “Aw, they danced together?” “Uh-huh.” Katie laughed. “Until he hung his dancing shoes up for rugby boots.” “You’re honestly trying to tell me that those two aren’t in love?” “I never said they weren’t in love.” Chuckling, she added, “Only that they’re not together.”

“Oh, the scandal,” I replied flatly. “What life changing information I have been given about three people I couldn’t give one single fuck about. How will I ever contain my excitement?” “You’re sarcastic and blunt to the point of being cruel.” She threw her head back and laughed. “I love it.”

“Are you going to look at me?” “Not right now.” “Why not?” “Because it hurts too much.” My heart constricted in my chest. “Baby.”

“But you seem like you’re doing a lot better, so clearly this break up is working for one of us.” “Are you serious?” I took a step back, feeling like she had just knifed me in the gut. “You think I’m not hurting?” “I don’t know how you feel anymore.” “In love,” I bit out. “With you.” “Don’t…” “Nothing’s changed for me, Molloy,” I interrupted, needing her to know. “Nothing.” “I can’t do this,” she admitted, voice torn. “I can’t.” “Can’t do what?” I asked, feeling panicked. “Can’t talk to me?” “Be here with you and not be with you,” she strangled out, pressing a hand to her forehead. “It’s too much. It’s too hard.” Shaking her head, she turned to walk away. “I can’t.” “Aoife.” A fucked-up combination of guilt and fear coursed through me as I watched her leave. “All I’m trying to do is protect you.“

Leaving me is not protecting me, dammit!” Furious, she blinked back her tears and glared up at me. "That is not how you treat the person you love, which goes to show that you never loved me the way I loved you.” “Never loved you?” I gaped at her. “Are you fucking crazy? You’re the only person on this planet I do love!” "No," she snapped, shaking her head. "You don’t get to do that. You don't get to come back and wreck me." Placing her hands on my chest, she pushed me back when I reached for her. “You don’t get to tell me you love me and then go right back to breaking my heart!” She choked out another pained sob when I cupped her cheek. “You don’t love me, Joey.” Eyelids fluttering, she leaned into my touch and sniffled. "You don't know how to love anyone." "Maybe I do it badly," I strangled out, as my heart splintered apart. "But I do love you.” “You’re a shithead.” “I know.” “I can’t live like this.” “I know.”

While the rest of his friends had long since abandoned their girlfriends and dates, Gibsie hadn’t taken more than three steps away from Claire all night. “Honestly, they’re not doing it,” Katie offered, seeming to read my thoughts, as she rolled her eyes. “They’re always like this. Like two weird little unicorn magnets drawn to each other.”

“Molloy!” “Lynchy, just relax.” “She’s only having a bit of craic, lad.” “I said no,” he snapped, snatching the joint out of my hand and handing it off to the stranger standing behind him. “I said no, Aoife.” “You can’t tell me what to do, Joe,” I growled, feeling a combination of drunk and dizzy. “You don’t own me.” “Well, that’s bad fucking luck on my account, because you sure as shit own me!” Drunk or not, his words hit me like a wrecking ball to the chest. Feeling the air whoosh from my lungs, I glared up at him, feeling a torrent of emotions crashing through me. “Why would you say that to me?” “Because it’s the truth.” “Since when?” “Since I was twelve.”

Reaching up on her tip-toes, she curled a hand around my neck and pulled my face down to hers. “You’re an asshole.” “I know.” “You crushed me.” Pain. It hit me square in the chest. “I know.” “Bad boy.” Her breath was laced with alcohol and so fucking warm on my face when she whispered, “Tell me you’re sorry.” Pissed off and agitated, I gave in without a fight, too weary and too damn in love to fight my feelings. “I’m sorry.” “How sorry?” “Very sorry.” “Good boy.” Her tongue was on my ear then, her body pressed flushed against mine. “Now, tell me you love me.” “I love you.” The words flew off my tongue in record time. “Say it again.” “I love you.” “How much?” “A lot.”

“Look at me.” It hurt to look at her. To feel how deeply I felt and know that I wasn’t good for her. “Look at me,” she repeated, green eyes burning through me as the song played around us. “Keep your eyes on me.” Shivering, she kept me close and said, “Make this song about us instead.” With a dull ache in my chest, I forced myself to comply. To give this girl whatever she wanted. “I love you.” “I know.” “I don’t want to hurt you.” She stroked my cheek. “I know that, too.” Exhaling a pained breath, I let my brow sag against hers. “You’re all I want, Molloy.” “Then prove it,” she whispered, fingers gliding over my skin. “Because you can’t keep me hanging in limbo like this.” “That’s not what I’m trying to do.” “Maybe not, but that’s what you’re doing.” Pain struck me in the chest. “I’m trying to protect you.” “Stop trying to protect me and start making me happy,” she countered, eyes locked on mine. “Because it’s time to pick your poison, Joey Lynch.”

“It’s you,” he repeated gruffly, fingers tightening on my waist. “I pick you. Every single time.” “I mean it,” I warned, shaking my head. “I’m a big girl and I knew what I was getting myself into when I kissed you that day outside your house. You have this warped notion that you need to shield me from your life when nothing about your life has come as a surprise to me. I walked into this relationship with my eyes wide open, and guess what; my eyes are still open, and I still want in.” “I still want in, too,” he replied gruffly. “I just…” He blew out a ragged breath. “You mean the world to me,” he confessed, voice pained. “I know I have a fucked-up way of expressing myself, and I don’t show it like I should. But it’s true. I don’t want to do anything to hurt you, yet most of the time, that’s exactly what I end up doing.” His words, his touch, his scent, it was all too much in the moment. “Joe.” "I'll love you the right way this time," he whispered, and his breath fanned my cheek. "If you show me how.”

“What I did at Christmas? How far I went? It scared the shit out of me, and all I could think about was if I didn’t get you away from me, I would end up destroying my world, because that’s what you are to me, Aoif. You’re my whole goddamn world wrapped up in one girl. So, yeah, maybe I’ve gone about it entirely the wrong way, but all I’ve ever tried to do is protect you.” “See, that’s a huge part of our problem right there, Joe, because I’ve never needed your protection,” I croaked out. “I’m not your mother or your sister. I’m not another girl who needs something from you. I’m the girl who wholeheartedly wants you. I’m the girl who wholeheartedly loves you. The hurler. The mechanic. The boy. The protector. The asshole. The lover. The addict.” Sniffling, I added, “All of your versions. All of your shapes and colors. I accept them all.

“Good.” Trembling, I clenched my eyes shut, losing the battle with both my emotions and my pride, as I dropped my forehead to rest against his chest. “Because you can’t take it back this time, Joe. Do you hear me? You don’t get to walk away again for any other reason than you don’t want to be with me, and trust that I will do the same.” “Okay.” His hands slid from my waist to my shoulders, and then moved to cup my face, hands tangling in my hair, evoking a shiver of pleasure from my body that only he could. “I can do that.” Illicit sensations and feelings roared to the surface when he stroked his nose against mine, nuzzling me with the kind of affection I knew he held only for me. It was empowering and terrifying all in one breath. “I love you.” He said it so easily now that it sounded foreign to my ears. A shaky breath escaped my parted lips. “I love you,” he repeated slowly, leaning in to give me an innocent, sweet, soul-destroying kiss. “No more walls, Joe.” My arms came around his waist, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, as I clung to him like a prayer. “No more secrets and coverups, okay? We’re way past those. Because I’ve never been your enemy,” I squeezed out. “I’ve always been your teammate.”

“You gave her all of your money?” “Every cent,” he admitted before quickly backpedaling with a frown. “I got those slouch boots you wanted for Christmas first. They’re under my bed.” My heart squeezed in my chest. “Joe.”

It had taken years to happen, but my body and mind didn’t automatically slip into attack mode when she called me out on my bullshit anymore. I didn’t shift into defense mode either, because something deep inside of me recognized her as an ally. My teammate. It had never happened before. Not with a single other human on this planet. Not even my sister. But something about this girl settled something deep inside of me.

I felt like I was riding this thrilling wave and it didn’t matter if I fell or not because I could only land on softness. I wasn’t going to get hurt this time. Because Aoife Molloy, and it had taken me six long years to accept it, was not going to harm me. When she told me that she loved me, she meant it, and it was as unsettling as it was addictive, because if she only felt a fifth for me of what I felt for her, then I was one lucky son of a bitch.

“Yep,” she breathed, leaning heavily against me. “Exactly one year ago yesterday, you stuck your tongue down my throat.” “That’s a little fumble with the truth,” I teased, grinning down at her. “If my memory serves me correctly, it was your tongue that entered my mouth first.” “Only because you were too pussy to make the first move.” I laughed. “I was building up to it.” She arched a brow. “For five years?” “What can I say?” I pulled her closer. “I had to be sure.” “Of what?” “That you wouldn’t run.” “And now you’re sure?” She watched me closely. “Now you trust me?” “Yeah, Molloy.” Nodding slowly, I leaned in close and brushed my lips against hers. “I trust you.” “Wow.” She expelled a shaky breath. “I think that means more to me than when you finally admitted that you love me.” “How’d you figure?” “Oh, please. You’ve been in love with me since forever. It’s so obvious,” she replied, without a hint of self-doubt or shyness, and I fucking loved it. “But I was never sure if you could ever truly open yourself up in that way to anyone.” “Not anyone, Molloy,” I told her. “Just you.”

“E-fa,” he whispered back, and then shyly clambered back to the safety of his big brother’s arms. “O-ee.” Wrapping his small arm around Joey’s neck, he snuggled closer, and buried his face in the curve of his brother’s neck. “O-ee.” “You’re grand, I promise,” Joey mumbled, eyes still closed, as he tightened his arm around the little guy, and my heart squeezed tight at the sight. “Just close your eyes, Seany-boo.” “O-ee, poos.” Those two words had Joey practically vaulting off the bed, with his baby brother tucked under his arm. “Fuck my life,” he muttered, stalking over to his door and one-handedly dragging the chest of drawers out of his way before unlocking and yanking the bedroom door open. “You can wipe your own ass this time,” he warned the little guy in his arms, as he disappeared into the landing. “But good job for telling me, kid.”

“Absolutely,” he replied and then choked out another laugh. “Especially when you have champagne bubbles coming out of your nose.” “Oh, fuck right off,” I snapped, grabbing a pillow from behind my back and smacking him over the head with it. “I did the best I could with your hair,” he added. “But I’ve never washed hair as long as yours before, so if I screwed up, don’t hold it against me.” My heart squeezed. “You washed my hair?” “I sort of had to,” he replied. “You sprayed your ponytail with chunks, too.” “Oh god.”

“Yeah,” Joey called over his shoulder, while poking me in the rib. “She’ll puke quieter next time.” “Asshole,” I grumbled under my breath, trying and failing to stamp on his foot with my heel because the asshole had the reflexes of a cat.

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” I said instead, struggling to keep my emotions in check. “You don’t even realize how brave you are.” It was the truth. Where she saw weakness, I saw strength. Where she saw fear, I saw resilience. Where she saw timidity, I saw courage. Unlike me, Shannon didn’t need to alter her mind to survive the world we lived in. She thought she was the weakest link in the family chain, when it couldn’t be further from the truth. My sister was titanium.

Let her go, I silently commanded myself, stay put and let her do this. “You text me,” I couldn’t stop myself from saying, as I hurried after her. Stopping midway down the staircase, I watched on helplessly as she opened the front door. “I’m serious. One sniff of crap from anyone, and I’ll come sort it out.” “I can do this, Joe,” she replied, turning back to look at me. “I can.” “I know you can.” I forced myself to smile back at her. “I just…” Blowing out an anxious breath, I said, “I’m here for you, okay? Always here for you.”

Pressing a hand to my chest, I leaned against the banister and allowed myself to sit with my anxiety for a moment, reeling in the potential problems she might encounter and a million what ifs, until I felt I might explode. Only then did I turn around and jog back up the stairs, calling out, “Tadhg, Ols? Let’s go, lads. It’s time for school,” as I shifted into daddy mode and got the rest of my brood sorted.

“You know I love you,” I tried to placate, hooking arms with her. “You’re my best friend.” “But so is he.” I shrugged, helpless. “Is that such a bad thing?” “It’s an amazing thing,” she encouraged in a sad tone. “When he’s not off his rocket.” “Casey.” “Just be careful, okay?” she hurried to say. “I know you love him, Aoife, and I know what you and Joey have is about as real as it gets, but so are his issues.” “He’s doing better,” I heard myself defend. “For now.” “He’s doing better, Casey,” I reiterated thickly. “I don’t have a crystal ball to show me the future, so I’ll take a ‘for now’ as a win.” “Fair enough.”

Fully clothed and body rigid, he lay on top of my covers, with his hood up, and his hands resting on his stomach, as he glared up at my bedroom ceiling. He was breathing in excessively deep and slow, letting me know that he was dealing with something in his mind, and instead of running to Shane, he had come here. To me. In the darkness, with only the hue of the moon shining through my window to illuminate us, we laid side by side. My body cloaked in warmth, and his in coldness. Mirroring our lives. Without speaking a word, I reached out and took one of his big hands in mine and lifted it to my mouth. He needed to process. He needed to make the next move for himself. I couldn’t do that for him. Pressing four soft kisses to each of his scarred knuckles, I cradled his hand to my chest and waited. After what felt like an eternity, he exhaled a pained breath and entwined my fingers with his.

“What do you see, Joe?” “You,” he whispered brokenly. “I see you, Molloy.” “You see love,” I corrected softly, releasing his hand to cup his stubbly cheek. “You see acceptance.” He swallowed deeply, but didn’t reply. “We’re mirrors, Joe,” I told him, taking his hand and placing it on my cheek. “Everything you feel for me is reciprocated. It’s mirroring back at you.” “Molloy.”

He exhaled and whispered, “I’m really fucking drowning here, Aoif.” “Don’t worry, Joe. I won’t let that happen,” I replied, nuzzling his nose with mine. “I won’t let your head go under.” “Promise?” I leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I promise.” “I love you.” “I love you back.” “I’m going to get this right, Molloy.” “I know you are, Joe.” “You’re really sticking around, aren’t ya?” “Afraid so.” I smiled in the darkness. “For the ring. The white dress. The white picket fence. The whole nine yards.” “Jesus,” he chuckled. “Don’t push it.” “I always push it, Joe.” “Understatement of the century, Molloy.” “When we get engaged—” “We’re not getting engaged.” “I want a ring the size of my fist.” He snorted. “Good luck with that.” “And when we get married—” “We’re not getting married.” “I want a big house in the country, with a huge four-poster bed, and one of those giant flatscreen televisions hanging on the wall.”

“I’m completely yours, too.” The words were a quiet, barely spoken admission, but they meant so much to me because I knew it all but killed him to expose himself to me. “I always have been.” “I know, Joe.”

This particular door led to a dimly lit stairwell that, once followed to the end, led onto the pitch. “Here or my car?” “What?” I laughed, allowing her to pull me flush against her. “You do know that I was in the middle of something back there.”

She claimed my mouth with hers and pushed me roughly against the wall at my back, while her hands moved for my belt buckle. “You’re crazy,” I growled, hips thrusting towards her, without an ounce of protest, as I watched her unzip my pants, yank my boxers down, and drop to her knees. “Wait, wait, wait. Your car. We should definitely do this in your—” My eyes fluttered shut when her tongue circled the head of my dick. “Mm… never mind.”

Fuck me. What was I supposed to say to that? “Thank you?” It seemed like the appropriate phrase given that she had blown my world with her tongue. “Seriously, thank you.” “Such good manners,” she teased, reaching up to pat my cheek before moving for the door.

Girls were dangerous creatures with hidden meanings behind every word they spurted, and Molloy was no exception to the rule. She might be my best friend, and there was very little I held back from her these days, but I had enough of my balls still attached to know that there were two crucial no-go topics that should be avoided at all times. The first was weight – her weight, to be exact, because apparently, she could comment on my appearance to her heart’s content, and suffer no such consequences. The second, and most crucial, topic of conversation to never enter into was the one about previous relationships; or in my case the girls I had fucked in the past. Yeah, that was a huge no-no.

“You’re due on,” I groaned, letting my head fall back. “Fuck my life.” “Come on, stud.” Reaching for my hand, she tugged me over to her bed and winked mischievously. “I’m sure we can be inventive.” “You know, sometimes I really,” I breathed, trailing after her. “Love my life.”

“What the hell are you doing?” my brother demanded when he walked into the living room on Sunday night. Mam and Dad had gone out for a drink, and Joey and I were thrown down on the couch, watching You’re A Star on RTE, and arguing over who we thought should win the singing competition. I was rooting for the siblings from Westmeath, while Joey was rooting for an aneurysm to put him out of his misery, or so he continued to tell me. Secretly, I think he liked the siblings, too.

“She has friends, Molloy,” he said then, sounding as close to content as ever I’d heard him. “An actual social life. She’s not hiding behind her bedroom door, listening to music and burying her nose in books. She’s going out.”

“Or could it be possible that your baby sister is growing claws?” “Christ, I hope so.” “Yeah.” Me, too. “You have to remember that she’s almost sixteen now, Joe,” I reminded him. “With hormones, and feelings, and a mind of her own.” I ruffled his hair and smiled. “It was bound to happen at some stage.” “I was worried it wouldn’t,” he admitted gruffly. “All flowers bloom, Joe, even the late ones,” I told him. “And sometimes, it’s the late blooming flower that makes the biggest impact.”

“He has this really wide tongue,” she continued to tell me, like this was important information her current boyfriend needed to know about her ex. “Which would be a pretty great asset if the boy actually learned how to use it.” Snickering, she added, “But he’s one of those ‘three flicks of the bean and I’m done’ kind of guys.” “What a lovely mental image to inflict upon me,” I drawled, tone laced with sarcasm. “Ricey’s wide tongue on my girlfriend’s pussy.” She threw her head back and laughed. “Trust me, it was never a pleasurable experience.” “Do you want me to puke?” I accused. “Because I’ll puke, Molloy.”

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and I felt my body both tense up in anxiety and sag in relief at the same time. Molloy was supposed to be coming over tonight. I didn’t want it, at least, I didn’t want her here, but I was working really hard on keeping the lines of communication open, and putting momentous effort into not shutting her out. That was all she wanted from me. Honesty was only thing she ever asked me for. It seemed to be working in my favor, too. The more I let her in, the more she rewarded me. Sometimes, I felt like a fucking dog bringing her a stick just for a belly rub, but I had grown too addicted to her affection to slam the brakes now.

Donned up to the nines with a face full of make-up, and crimson painted lips, she looked like she belonged on the cover of a fucking magazine, not a doorstep in Ballylaggin. The miniature-sized Santa hat perched on top of her head was the icing on the cake. I shook my head, at a complete loss. “What. The. Fuck.” Beaming back at me, she waggled her brows and purred, “Ho, ho, ho, Joe.” “Christmas was two months ago, Molloy.” “I know. But I found it on a sale-rail in the city today and couldn’t wait to try it on!” she squealed, clearly delighted with herself, as she did a little dance in her skyscraper black stilettos. Hitching her coat up, she twirled around to give me a 360 view, not giving two shits who saw her. “Fifteen-euro, Joe. Down from eighty-five! Can you believe it?”