Page 76 of Dirty Dylan: Dirty Dusters

“It’sgood to see you, Jessie girl. I thought something had come up.”

I smile at him. “Well, I moved things around just for you, Fergal. Nothing is more important than seeing my favorite O’Connell.” Taking off my shoes, I walk barefoot to where he’s sitting, squeeze his shoulder as I always do, then swing the Newton’s Cradle into action.

He chuckles. Da Duster actually chuckles. Not making eye contact with any of the others, I smile at him once more as I walk back to my chair.

Fuck. Them. All.

Apart from Fergal, that is. I’m sure he’ll be aware of what’s gone on between Despicable Dylan and me now. Not that it matters. He can’t change anything as it’s a done deal.

I don’t even glance at Dylan before I immediately command the floor. Let’s get this show on the road—no more hiding out in toilet cubicles. No siree.

“I spoke with Mick yesterday.”

“Mick?” Eoin’s looking at me like I’m speaking in a foreign language.

“You know. That man in Dublin who calls himself your uncle.”

He raises an eyebrow at me. “And how is he…. Uncle Mick.”

“Well, he’s very flirtatious and likes to tell a joke at every turn. I can tell who Padraig has inherited that gift of the gab of his from.”

Paddy laughs heartily in response, while Sophia just glares.

“And why did you have to contact Uncle Mick?”

“I noticed the payment going to their usual Irish account was higher than normal. I wanted to know why. I figured he was the best person to tell me. Was it a one-off increase? Something that would be ongoing? It turns out it’s the latter. It’s apparently due to a rise in transport costs.”

“Go on.”

“So, armed with that answer and having calculated the total increase including an apportionment of overhead for the additional workload it will create, I then spoke to Rod.”

“So, you’ve also spoken to La eMe?”

I nod and frown simultaneously. “You make it sound like it’s a big deal. I’m just doing my job, Eoin.”

“Not at all. I’m just surprised you picked up the phone to Rodolfo Flores.”

I frown again. “And why wouldn’t I call Rod? As I told you before I’ve known him all my life. I mean, if my daddy had had his way, I would have been married to him by now.”

Cue the mic drop moment right there as they all stare at each other.

“And why didn’t you marry him?”

I lean back in my chair. Do I fabricate an outlandish story, or do I tell the simple truth? I’ll go with the latter. Honesty is always the best policy.

I shrug. “Rod doesn’t like blondes. He told me I’d need to dye my hair. I refused. Too much upkeep involved. I mean, gentlemen are meant to prefer blondes, right? Well, someone forgot to mention that to Rod. Then again, being a mafioso, some might argue that he’s not actually a gentleman. I mean, who on earth would want to marry the billionaire who’s rumored to be the next silent boss of La eMe anyway?”

I shrug again.

“In the end, the idea was vetoed by all parties concerned due to my reluctance to change hair color. So, I got to stay blonde. And Rod went off in search of a dark-haired Plan B. Maybe I should have agreed. Rod’s still searching as far as I’m aware so the vacancy’s still open. And Jessie Flores has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

I watch as Eoin frowns in Dylan’s direction. I’d give anything to see the expression on his face, but I can’t do that without turning my head.

Then again, there probably isn’t one. Or at least not one that shows he’s in any way bothered by my admission. He’s got Grace now, after all.

“Anyway, all that aside, I spoke to Rod and told him there needed to be an uplift. He’s agreed. He’ll be paying double what the Dusters’ costs are.”

“And you handled all this without Jaine?”

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