Page 56 of Ruthless Dream

“No distractions,” he says.

“I’m not Seamus.” Or Dermot, or Bryan, or any of my other boneheaded cousins.

“I know you’re not.” His eyes roam again. “One day you’ll be standing, lecturing a young idiot, telling him not to lose sight of things.”

What things have I lost sight of? I’ve done more work than any of my cousins since we got here. Uncle Cormac pushes tirelessly, and I’m following his lead.

“One day you’ll be telling him of the shitty flat you lived in and the hard work you put into creating something bigger. Something better.” My uncle’s Rolex glints, a stray afternoon ray filtering through the window. “This will all just be a story.”

“Right, except, by then we’ll have given up the pub. Be sitting in a gentleman’s club with other rich fuckers.”

Cormac’s gruff laugh reminds me of nights spent over a pint. “Hardly, Ciaran. Hardly. But we will at the very least own said pub that we’re sitting in.”

Too long Dublin’s been owned by those who don’t even care for her. Piece by piece we’re prepared to gain more territory from our rivals until we have it all. And then we’ll continue to grow.

“I’ve got dinner with Byron,” Cormac says, checking his watch. “If you can grace us with your face tomorrow, we’re all getting a roast.”

“What, you mean like a hot dog from one of those carts?”

“When you’re in America,” he jokes back and then reminds, “Monday. Noon.”

“I’ll be there.”

I lock the door behind Cormac. The room is still, the afternoon light shading it in a peacefulness. I don’t have time to give it much thought, though, when my phone rings.

“Nora,” I greet. It’s been almost a week since I’ve talked to Ian’s mam. She called to complain about a leaky faucet in the kitchen. When I began to tell her what to do, she snapped at me.

“Do you think I don’t know how to fix a fecking leaky faucet?”

I’d laughed, because of course I fucking knew that. Nora knows everything, like most single mothers raising not just her own son but another that was frequently dropped off at her place.

Ian is only two months older than I am, meaning my father stuck his cock into my mother after knocking Nora up. She has never, not once, held that against me.

One day my mother dropped me off, telling me I should get to know my brother. Later she picked me up, her blonde hair freshly dyed and her nails a bright pink.

I’d liked Ian’s room, though, and I liked how we’d chased each other down the stairs in Nora’s terrace house. So the next weekend I came over again, hanging out with my brother while my mam treated Nora like a fucking babysitter.

She’s never said shit about it, not even to this day. Saturday afternoons turned into weekend sleepovers. I went to school with Ian, walking back to Nora’s afterward, except for a few years when Cormac moved me to a nicer school.

Not that that mattered though, because by that point I’d moved into the spare room. Nora found herself with not just one teenage son, but two.

My mam’s attraction to Cain Murray should’ve been more indicative of her personality. Flighty. Unattached even to her child.

Nora and Uncle Cormac kept me rooted.

“What in the fuck are you on about?”

Her stern voice echoes over the phone, traffic in the background indicating she’s walking outside.

“I didn’t do anything,” I reply, her tone sending me right back to my schoolboy days.

“Oh piss off.” Her words are sharp. Acerbic. But this is Nora Hayes. I’d be shitting myself if she complimented me in some flowery way. “Why have I just gotten off the phone with your da, then? Talking about you dating Adeline bloody Akatov.”

My head falls back onto the sofa. “You never talk to Da.”

“He never fecking calls!”

Why is my father even concerned? Matters of the heart mean nothing to him. Nora should know that better than anyone else.