Page 20 of Dirty Padraig: Dirty Dusters

Jaine Jones

I’ll worry about Eoin agreeing to it all closer to the time.

Adjusting the size of the image of me and Irish, I press print before placing the hard copy in the case of my burner phone, alongside the image of me and Ace and the one of my two boys.

CHAPTERSEVEN

PADRAIG

The Ruocco Home, Agrigento, Sicily

Isit wrong that I haven’t told my family that I’ll be returning to New York imminently? The old me was the type who would have welcomed any opportunity to be made a big song and dance over, but I’m not sure that fella even exists anymore.

The only person I’ve maintained any dialogue with the entire time I’ve been away is Ma, and that’s been under strict instructions that she’s not allowed to mention anything about what’s going on back in Dusterland.

I don’t want to know.

I don’t want to hear about how happy everyone else is with their lot when I’m the complete opposite with mine.

I don’t want to hear about pregnancies or children when I’m never going to experience being a da.

One of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do was cut off all contact with our Dylan. Me and him were as thick as thieves. We always had been. But I had no choice. Through no fault of his own, he became the middle person—the go-between between me and Jaine.

It would have been impossible for him never to mention her, given they’d become such close friends, even more so when his wife was her business partner.

I couldn’t put him in that position. Not after the countless sacrifices he’d already made on my behalf. I asked so much of him that, in the end, he almost lost out on his own chance at happiness all so I could continue to live out my lie for a little while longer.

But any talk of Jaine needed to be off-limits. I had to let her go. Because she’d already let me go. It was the only way that I could survive.

So, in the end, I had to let him go too.

I’m not sure how the family would react if they knew I was coming back. Would they be glad or not? I’m pretty sure they’ll all have gotten on with their lives in my absence, pleased they don’t have to listen to mardy arse me continually complaining about how unfairly treated I am.

But I had a reason for moping around—a valid one. I should have had a say in my own future.

I’m aware that many wealthy, influential men were insulted at me indiscreetly sleeping with their wives and significant others right under their noses. That I was steadily creating a long list of very deadly enemies and making a lot of trigger fingers itch.

I didn’t have some sort of death wish. I wasn’t trying to goad Fate himself every day to see if he’d answer my silent prayers and put me out of my misery by sinking a bullet into my skull.

I was searching for another Jaine.

I found out pretty early on that it was an impossible task, but it didn’t stop me from going round and round in a never-ending circle all the same.

I appreciate that I became a liability to the family. The Dusters had to put an end to the problem, or someone else would have. Permanently. So, I understand why they did what they did, but it doesn’t mean I will ever accept it.

What does any of it matter anyway when my reason for living decided that I wasn’t hers?

12 Years Earlier (Age Nineteen)

Yale University, Connecticut

“You want me to order pizza?”

We’re sitting on the floor of her room, surrounded by books, having just halted a marathon study session. I watch as she stands and stretches before sitting on the edge of her bed to reach for her phone.

My eyes graze over her long, tanned limbs in little white shorts. Legs that I want to part so I can access the paradise at the apex.

Fuck food. The only thing I want to be eating is her sweet pussy. I pounce on her, and she giggles as I push her back against the pillows.

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