There is such a thin veil between love and hate.
Okay, so the feelings I'd had for Lydia had been more than simple lust. It hadn't been just her beauty that intrigued me. She'd affected not only my body but my heart. And that was why I needed to exorcise her from the part she still claimed. I needed to break her like she'd broken me and finally be rid of her. The love I had felt for her was false, based on lies. And if the love was false, the hate was false, too. I would ruin her, humiliate her, and then there'd be nothing left except peace. She had never really known me.
That must have been very difficult for you.
I set my glass down on the bar just a tad too roughly, causing the remaining liquid to slosh out. I threw some cash on top of my tab and raised a hand to the bartender, standing and nodding to Father Donoghue. "Thank ya for the listenin' ear, Father. It helped."
He nodded, a small, knowing smile on his lips. "Ya be well, Brogan. Ya know where I am if ya need me."
"I do. Thank you. Slán, Father."
"Slán, me boy."
I left the bar, pausing outside the door, taking a deep breath of the night air, smelling gasoline, the garbage can halfway down the block, and the spices and fried food smells from a food truck parked a little way down the street. I felt better, more in control than I'd been when I'd entered the bar.
A boy walking alone with his hands in his pockets caught my eye, and I watched him for a minute. He eyed the food truck, and I recognized the look on his face: desperation, hunger.
I began walking toward him as he moved surreptitiously through the small crowd of people talking and laughing as they waited for their food. His hand snaked up and grabbed an order as it was set on the counter and a number called out. He made to duck through the people closest to the counter when a burly guy, probably having just left a bar after a night of drinking, clamped his hand down on the kid's arm. "What the fuck? That's my number, you little thief."
Walking up to both of them, I laughed. "Whoa, sorry, that's what I always order. My friend thought it was mine." I looked at the kid. "I haven't had a chance to order yet, pal." I clapped the big dude on his back, taking the food from the boy and handing it back, giving him a small shove. He looked confused but moved along. "What'll you have?" I asked.
The kid glowered at me, attempting to break loose of the grip I had on his arm. He smelled like unwashed hair and dirty laundry. I could smell him even over the stench of the grease and food code violations wafting off the truck. I ordered the largest burrito they sold, and we stood waiting with the rest of the crowd. I could tell he wanted to run, but the allure of food was too great.
When the order came up, I paid and handed the food to him. He unwrapped it greedily and began stuffing it in his mouth. He followed me as I made my way to the sidewalk and sat down on a bench a little way down the block. "Sit down," I commanded. He hesitated, shooting me a nervous glance but finally relented, sitting at the furthest end of the bench from where I was sitting.
"Stealing food from drunks at two in the morning is the best way to get yourself beaten to a pulp or taken down to juvy."
"I was just hungry," he grumbled around the food.
"Yeah. I can see that. How old are you?"
He paused before answering, his mouth still full. "Eighteen."
"Finish chewing and then tell me how old you really are."
He chewed the oversized bite in his mouth, his eyes moving away from me before he said, "Fourteen."
I leaned forward, resting my forearms on my thighs and lacing my fingers in front of me. "Who's supposed to be feeding you at home that's fallen down on the job?"
He regarded me for several moments, another bite of food in his mouth before he again swallowed and answered, "My ma." He glanced up the street and then said, "She got herself hooked on heroin again. Took off last week with a boyfriend, and I haven't seen her since. She'll come back at some point, but there's no food in the house and—"
"What's your name?"
He shook his head. "I'm not going to foster care. No way. Got put in there for a couple months when I was twelve, and I'll never go back. Never." He shook his head again to make his point.
"You're old enough to work. How'd you like a job?"
He stopped chewing as he balled up the burrito wrapper, setting it in the paper tray and putting it next to him on the bench. "Nah, mister, I don't do that kind of stuff."
Oh you would if you became desperate enough. I should know. I shook my head, pushing aside the sudden feeling of self-disgust as best as I could. "It's a clerical job mostly. You'd be running errands for my business after school. It's not the most exciting job, but it pays well enough, and you'd be able to feed yourself."
His eyes narrowed, and I could see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to figure out the rub. I took a business card out of my wallet and handed it to him. "My office is nearby. You go to that address on the card tomorrow and ask for Fionn Molloy. He'll set you up with the forms you need to fill out. You don't feel right about it, you can leave. You only stay employed if you don't bunk off school."
He nodded, a light of hope brightening his expression. A lump formed in my throat and I quickly swallowed it down.
"Are you from here?" I asked.
"Yup. Born and raised."
"I've never seen you around."