Page 64 of Dublin Devil

“Hello, Mr. Malloy,” I call out, to back Clare up.

“Hello, lass.”

With that settled, Clare escorts me to the back of her house, where she shares a room with her younger sister. “Come in. Sit down.”

I sit on her bed and before she can bombard me with questions, I tell her a watered-down version of the story that I thought up on the way here.

It’s vaguely true—more like truth adjacent—but covers all the bases.

“So, I haven’t talked to my Da since last week, but I want to go to Ryan’s wake.”

“Of course you do.”

“And I thought that if I borrow a dress and you help me fix my makeup to cover most of the bruises, he might not cause a scene.”

“But if this big client of his hurt you, don’t you think he’ll want to know?”

“I’ll tell him, but tonight is about Ryan and our family. I don’t want bad blood to affect the wake, and I figure having all our friends and family around will help keep things civil.”

She looks me over and I can tell she’s concerned, but I force my best smile. “Please?”

“Of course, I’m just worried about you.”

“And I appreciate that, but this will work. It has to.”

The Donnybrook Pub has been one of my father’s favorite hangouts since before he was a made man. It’s where he met his first wife, Aimee, when she was working as a barmaid, back in the late eighties.

It’s where he and Mam used to come to play darts on Saturday nights.

It’s where Declan was remembered a couple of weeks ago and now it’s where Ryan will be remembered tonight.

Two brothers in one month.

I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive Da for what he did to me, but there’s a tiny part of me that’s grateful it happened. Seeing the monster my father can be freed me from my delusion of needing his approval.

It taught me a lot about myself and how strong I am, with or without the McGuire name.

“Piper?” Rory is standing on the front step of the pub, an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips. “Where the fuck have you been? We’ve been worried sick.”

He’s about to wrap his arms around me when I press my hand against his chest. “I’m pretty battered up. Be gentle, please.”

“Battered up? What the fuck does that mean?”

I step closer and give him a one-arm hug, turning my body so the embrace doesn’t affect my bad ribs. “Later. Tonight’s about Ryan.”

Rory shifts the hair cascading over my bad cheek and frowns. “Who the fuck did this to you, Piper? I swear to God, I’ll end them.”

I grip his wrist and kiss his knuckles. “You can’t end them. I’ll explain everything tomorrow. For now, let’s get inside. And if you want to stick close to me and run parental block, I’d appreciate it.”

“Whatever you need. I’ve got your back.”

Rory puts his cigarette back in the pack and leads the way into the pub. Seeing him shocked and outraged means more to me than he could possibly know.

At least someone in my family loves me.

Maybe it’s not as bad as I imagined.

Maybe it was just Da losing his grip.

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