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“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.”
“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.”
“But first, I need you to feed me.” “My dick?”
“You know, sometimes I don’t know if you use me as a soundboard for the crazy shit that goes on in your head or as an accomplice,”
“I’m not a horse, Molloy.” “Maybe not in real life, but metaphorically speaking, you’re an absolute stallion in the sheets.”
“I’ve loved your daughter for six years,” Joey finally broke his silence by saying. “I can easily love her for another eighteen.”
“So, what’s it going to be, Joey Lynch? Are we dying tonight, or are we living?”
“Anything, Shannon like the river,” Gibsie parroted in mocking tone, clutching his chest. “You can have anything, baby.” “Gibs,” Kav warned, climbing to his feet and pocketing his wallet. “Give it a bleeding rest, will ya?” “You can have my battered sausage,” Gibs continued to gush mockingly. “Like I said: anything for you, baby.”
“Just as I thought. You’re fully dilated, Aoife,” the midwife declared. “You’re ready to deliver.” “A poo?” “No, pet, a baby.” “Oh, Jesus, Joe.” Crying out, she clutched my hand and pulled me close. “If I shit in front of you, please don’t hold it against me.”
“Thanks for my baby, queen. You still take the air clean out of my lungs.”
