Taming 7: Chapter 53
Hugh and Patrick were drinking, Pierce and Lizzie were fighting, Katie and Aoife were dancing, Johnny and Shannon were sucking face, and Joey was out front trying to sober Gerard up, which left me in prime position for the title hostess with the mostest.
Honestly, I was the only one of my friends helping by handing out drinks and cleaning up rubbish. I knew I didn’t have to, but I felt bad for Mam, who had put on such an impressive spread.
Dad had made a rare appearance at the party tonight and had miraculously decided to stay. I wasn’t sure who was more surprised by this – Mam, me, or Hugh – because it certainly wasn’t a common occurrence. I suppose it wasn’t every day your firstborn came of age. I was glad for Mam that Dad decided to make an effort. He even shaved, something he was known to go months without doing. They were sitting out back, sharing a bottle of wine, hence my stepping up to host in her stead.
The DJ was doing such a good job entertaining the guests by blasting Kaiser Chiefs’ “I Predict A Riot”, that I honestly didn’t hear the ruckus coming from the front hall. It was the guests at the party, who started dropping like flies from my line of sight, that alerted me to trouble.
The sound of something crashing against the wall, loud enough to be heard over the music, had me dropping my bin bag, and bolting into the front hall.
Pushing through the huge crowd that had formed there, I battled my way to the front door, only to bite back a groan in dismay when my eyes took in the carnage unfolding in my driveway.
Harley Quinn had the Joker pinned to the side of my brother’s parked car to stop him from fighting, while Juliet wept into her hands, and Romeo tried to console her. On the other side of my brother’s car, Gomez Addams was dipping Vivian Ward, having valiantly shielded her from a rogue beer bottle, while Edward Lewis straddled a dark-cloaked stranger on the front lawn. To top it all off, Morticia Addams had decided this was her ample opportunity to throttle Danny Zuko, while Uncle Fester looked on gormlessly.
“Omigod, guys!” I shouted, running headfirst into the madness, because, of course, every alcohol-induced uprising needed a referee in the form of Sandra Dee.
It would have been hilarious if these people weren’t my people.
“Who the fuck do you think you are coming on my property?” my brother was roaring, and the homicidal tone in his voice had me veering towards him. Biggest problem first.
“The Gardaí are on the way,” Mr. Murphy from two doors down shouted. “They’ll bring the paddy wagon and sort ye little toerags out.”
“Good,” Hugh roared, fists still flying, as he wrestled with the stranger on our lawn. “Tell them to bring more transport. Because if they put me in the same paddy wagon as a rapist, I’ll kill him!”
Rapist?
Oh no.
Oh no, no, no, no …
“Hugh!” Sadhbh Allen came barreling across the street with Keith in tow. “Get off him this instant!”
“Hugh, no!” Katie cried out, covering her face.
“Don’t touch him,” Lizzie was quick to jump to my brother’s defense when Keith caught ahold of Hugh and dragged him off his son. Too quick. “Get your fucking hands off him!” Not hesitating for one moment, she threw herself at Gerard’s stepfather, clawing and scratching and slapping at every exposed piece of flesh she could reach. “Let him go!”
Now that Mark was free and back on his feet, he charged my brother, knocking all three of them onto the driveway, Lizzie included.
The minute Mark landed on Lizzie, she started to scream, and it was the worst, scariest, most feral noise I’d ever heard.
“Get the fuck off her,” Gerard roared, momentarily calling a truce with his long-time nemesis, as he rushed to her aid.
Refusing the hand Gerard had extended to her, Lizzie scrambled out from beneath the men on her hands and knees, shaking and crying uncontrollably.
“Shh, Liz,” Shannon tried to console, as she dropped to her knees and threw her arms around our friend. “Shh, Liz, just breathe, okay? It’s okay. You’re right here with me.”
“Jesus Christ.” Quickly unbuttoning his jacket, Patrick moved towards the girls, not stopping until he was crouched down in front of them, where he draped his jacket over Lizzie’s trembling shoulders.
“See what you did?” Hugh roared, drawing my attention back to where Johnny was standing firmly between both parties, with Mark and Keith on one side, and my brother on the other. Standing off to the side, with her hand covering her mouth, was Sadhbh, while Gerard was nowhere to be found.
“What the hell is going on out here?” Mam and Dad both demanded, arriving on the scene just as I was about to go look for him.
“Oh, thank God.” Sadhbh sounded like she was close to tears when she saw my mother. “Do something, Sinead, will you?”
Mam, the levelheaded woman that she was, took in the scene around her before homing in on her co-culprit son. “Get into the house, Hugh,” she ordered in a tone that left no room for arguing. “Right now.”
“But—”
“You heard your mother!” That was Dad and holy crap did he sound mad.
Hugh ran a hand through his hair in clear frustration and opened his mouth to say something, before wisely snapping it shut.
Chest heaving, he stormed past our parents and into the house without giving the Allen family a backwards glance.
Hugh was followed inside a few moments later by a skittish-looking Katie, and then Shannon and Johnny, who Mam had instructed to take Lizzie up to my room.
By the time Mam restored order, our guests had wisely returned inside before any police showed up, leaving only myself and Patrick outside with the grown-ups.
“What in the name of God happened?” Mam asked in a calm tone of voice. “One minute they were all joking and laughing and the next they were tearing strips out of each other.” Frowning, she added, “I know Hugh is no angel, but he’s not one to fist fight.”
“It’s my fault,” Sadhbh was quick to blurt, pressing a hand to her chest, as tears trickled down her cheeks. “When you called to say Gerard was after drinking too much, I should have come and got him myself.” Sniffling, she added, “I sent Keith instead.”
“And he sent me,” Mark growled, spitting out a mouthful of blood and then dabbing at his busted lip. “You’re lucky I like you, Sinead,” he continued. “Because I have a good mind to press charges.”
My father opened his mouth to respond, but Mam placed a steadying hand on his arm, letting him know with that simple touch that she was well able for this man. “I appreciate that, Mark,” Mam said, using that superhuman willpower and professional politeness that all nurses seemed to possess. “And I can assure you that he won’t be getting off lightly with this.”
I was quite sure that my mother had treated some morally questionable patients in her time, and it had prepared her for handling scenarios like this one. Like the scumbag standing in front of her.
My parents didn’t like Keith Allen, and I knew for a fact that Dad in particular loathed Mark, but they loved Sadhbh and adored Gerard.
When everything went to hell six years ago, Mam and Dad had made the joint decision to both stand by and support what was left of Joe Gibson’s family. Especially Gerard, who was my father’s godchild. They had taken a lot of stick for their decision, namely by the Young family, but they had held firm, and remained a constant in Gerard’s life.
Speaking of … “Where’s Gerard?”
When none of the grown-ups answered me, clearly too busy kissing ass and calling truces, I looked to Patrick.
“He took off down the street earlier.”
“He did?”
Aw crackers.
“Come on.” Sighing wearily, Patrick reached into his pocket and grabbed his keys. “I’m sober. I’ll drive.”