Shane Holland 2

Best bloody improvement to this piss-poor shack I’ve taken under my wing, is the new hot tub I bought since winning a rigged game of poker in some lad named Conor’s den up near Kerry. Initially, I was going to buy a better car than the busted up piece of metal that my current one is, but I figured a hot tub would be better. Especially since I now have more than just sawdust filled beds and moth-eaten couches in this house. I started off selling from the streets, mainly because it’d break my little brother’s heart if he knew I was selling, but also because I didn’t want people knowing where I lived. But then I found this old abandoned house and decided to take it for myself, so I could have my customers come to me instead of chasing them down. I had a few rules when it came to selling. One, don’t fuck with my family, pretty simple. Two, no bloody freebies, and three, don’t say shit to anyone. I didn’t want the Gardai finding out about my ring, even if the rumors were everywhere. Pretty much everyone knew, I had people from all different schools coming to my den. But only one Tommen girl cared to come by, and I hoped she’d never stop. Evelyn’s been a customer since day one, and she’s been my favorite since then. So of course, when I threw my little party for my buyers, she was invited. Now, as Callum’s fake watch rolled to 11, I rested my arms around her neck as she sat on my lap in the hot tub, laughing with the lads I invited over. She was bloody gorgeous, especially for a junkie. Yeah, while you might look at her and think she was an innocent little Catholic girl, probably believes Jesus is with her at all times, my little aingeal is halfway to being a crackhead. I reached out of the tub, reaching for a Baggy, and sitting up with a pull in hand. I didn’t read the label, didn’t have to, just handed it to her and muttered the words: “On the house,” and she took it. Yes, rule number two, no freebies. But she was different.