Page 18 of An Angel's Share
She looks a bit shocked and I can see she doesn’t really want to. She’s fussing over her appearance, pulling at her clothes and trying to tame her stunning, wild red hair.
I smirk as Xan says, “What the fuck you up to Jonno?” They know me well.
“Hi.”
She sounds shy. I know she’s not. Might be an act, but she certainly looks nervous. I move the camera and pull her in closer to me so we’re both visible. Both men are staring intently at her. I hear her sharp intake of breath as she looks at the two magnificent specimens of manhood staring back at her. They’re enough to silence anyone.
“Hi, it’s ummm… nice to meet you. Heard a lot about you all from Jonno and Marshall. Congratulations on the babies. I’ll bet you’re all so excited,” she squeaks out. Her voice is unnaturally high and she’s speaking rapidly. I can see she’s apprehensive. But meeting two famous rock stars tends to have that effect on people.
Not me. To me, they’re just the two fuckheads I grew up battling with.
They then fell in love with and married my sister.
“Xander, Kellen, this is Aoife, Seamus’s daughter. Marshall's niece. The one that was in America,” I state with no emotion in my voice. I daren’t show them anything or they’ll be all over me like a rash.
“Nice to finally put a face to a name. Marshall’s so proud of you, he talks about you all the time,” Kellen says, trying to put her at ease. Not an F in earshot. What’s wrong with him?
“Yes, so good to finally meet you,” Xan states, his eyes laser focused on us both. “I hope you’re keeping Jonno in check. He needs it.”
I laugh at that. Aoife only manages a small smile.
“Oh, she definitely is. Aoife’s pregnant. What are you now, twenty-three weeks?”
Kell makes a strangled noise in his throat. He’s terrified for anyone who is pregnant. Not normally a man who is famed for tuning into people’s feelings other than reallyclose family, but say the word pregnant, and he collapses into a mass of hysteria.
“Well, Evie is just over twelve weeks, so we’re a bit behind you. Are you keeping well?” Xander flashes her his rockstar smile.
I scowl a bit at them. They can fuck off and keep their charms off this pregnant woman. They both clock my scowl. Bastards.
“I hope you’re being pampered,” Xan carries on, giving Aoife no time to get any words out herself. “It's hard through the summer. Is your partner or husband looking after you?” Xan, the crafty bastard.
“Err, yes. I don’t have a husband, but my fiancé is, yes.”
My scowl gets even deeper. I can see the glee in Kell’s eyes. Pair of fuckers. They know there’s a story there. Buttons to be pressed. Their favourite game. Well to be honest, mine as well. We all play it really well. But then we have known each other since we were nine years old.
“Well don’t let Jonno change that. In fact, I’m going to ring Marshall to make sure he takes really good care of you. Jonno, I hope you’re playing nice, not winding everyone up like usual.” I can see they’re trying not to laugh.
“Pfft, I am nice. And I’ve promised Aoife I will take really great care of her. In fact, I would say I’m as invested in Aoife as I was in Evie through her pregnancies.” They can get lost. I was great. “Don’t forget, I was chief partner for the twins and Rio. I even brought your older sons up for eighteen years. So no need for any coaching boys, I’m a pro.” My smile is so fuck you.
They both start laughing. “I feel sorry for you, Aoife, if he’s that interested,” Xan states, grinning. “Ring us if you need any help in how to deal with him and Marshall. Orring Evie. She’ll give you lots of tips on dealing with her crazy brother.”
They’re both fully laughing now.
“Fuck off, you pair of twats.” I grin at them.
“Love you, Jonno,” laughs Kell.
“Ring us, Aoife. Love you, brother.” Xander grins and hangs up.
I blow out a breath. Honestly, I don’t know why I phoned them. They just live to wind me up.
Aoife looks like she’s just pulling it together. They’re a lot, I know. Over the years, I’ve watched people fall apart around them, unable to handle their celebrity. And their actual personalities are far worse than the celebrity ones at times. My sister, though, not a bother. She’s whipped them into shape. She holds them all together. Pours oil when needed. Or throws ballistic missiles at them. What a woman.
“They seem so nice, so normal,” she finally gets out. I grin at her, and she gets a dazed look on her face again. “Why do you call Marcus Russell… Kellen?”
“It started when we were young. Known them from being nine years old. It was a way to annoy him. But then he turned it around and made it special, the fucker. Only he could think of that. His special name that only we Greystones called him. He uses it now to define relationships. But, other than us and Marshall, everyone else calls him Marcus.” I shake my head at the enigma that is Kellen Russell.
“Is it hard to deal with them, the fact they’re so famous?” She looks genuinely interested.
