Page 161 of Keeping 13

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Did you gel it, too?”

“Jesus Christ, Ma,” I muttered, patting my hair. “So what if I did?”

“You’ve made such an effort with your appearance,” she mused, arching a brow. “You must be going somewhere special tonight.”

“Withsomeonevery special,” Gibsie, the fucking turncoat, threw petrol on the fire by adding.

“You got a haircut, too,” I reminded him.

“True, but I’m not the one with a date.”

I glared at Gibsie.

He raised his hands and grinned sheepishly.

“Oh, love, take off your pants,” Mam said then, dragging my attention back to her. “There’s a crease down the front of your jeans.” Hopping down from her stool, she moved for the ironing board. “Whip them off and I’ll run the iron over them.”

“What?” I gaped at her. “It’s grand, Ma. I have to go.”

“Jeans off,” she ordered sharply, plugging in the iron. “No child of mine is going outside the front door in creased clothes.”

“Jesus Christ.” Muttering out a string of curse words, I kicked off my boots and dropped my jeans. “I need to go,” I muttered, as I stepped out of my jeans and handed them to her. “Like, right now, Ma.”

“You look good,” Gibsie stated, tone serious, as he eyed the scar trailing down my thigh. The other one was thankfully concealed by my jocks. “It’s really clearing up.”

“Thanks,” I replied, giving him a WTF look as I shifted from foot to foot, waiting for my jeans. “Can you hurry it up, Ma?” I begged. “I need to go.”

“Are you taking Shannon to the pictures, love?” Mam asked, smiling knowingly.

“It’s called the cinema, Ma,” I growled, rubbing a hand over my jaw. “No one—and I mean no bleeding one—calls it the pictures anymore.”

“I do,” Mam chirped back happily. “So, is that where you’re taking her?”

“I don’t know yet,” I muttered. “I was going to let her decide.”

“Ah, that’s lovely, that is.” Turning to Gibs, Mam smiled. “Isn’t that lovely, Gerard?”

“It sure is.” Gibsie snickered.

“You should be taking that young one to the pictures,” Mam added. “What’s her name—the Biggs girl.”

Gibsie reddened and I smirked.

Ha fucking ha.

“Claire,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Ah, yes, Hughie’s sister.” Mam smiled to herself as she ran the iron over my jeans. “You’ve been chasing after that girl since the day Johnny brought you home here, looking like a little blond chubby cherub.”

I snorted, and it was Gibsie’s turn to glare at me.

“You were such a gorgeous little boy.” Setting the iron down, Mam picked up my jeans and shook them out, inspecting her work before thankfully handing them back to me. “Do you remember the summer back in primary school when you all camped out in the acre? You fell into that bush of nettles trying to lift her over the electric fence because she was afraid of the neighbor’s bull.” Mam laughed softly to herself. “You were all stung by nettles but you still managed to get her out of that field.”

“Oh yeah.” Gibsie chuckled, scratching his chin. “I forgot about that.”

“I said it to Sadhbh and Sinead back then that they would have to keep an eye on the pair of you,” Mam mused. “You were supposed to be Hughie’s friend, but you and that young one were always inseparable. Joined at the hip with that little girl, you were.”

“Well, thanks for the walk down memory lane, Ma,” I said impatiently as I yanked my jeans back on and slipped on my boots. “But we have to go.” Placing my hands on Gibsie’s shoulders, I steered him toward the back door. “Night.”

---