Page 42 of The Scald Crow

“Easy peasy, hurling boy.” She chalked the cue one more time.

Pádraig snickered, his face beaming like the second coming of Christ.

Oisin whistled.

Cillian slapped his thigh.

I watched the way her lower lip shifted to the left. The way she had blinked before every shot.

“Left corner pocket, lads.” She pointed her cue. Tilting her chin, she gave me a teasing smile, then drew back, driving the white ball into the cushion, making the most spectacular-looking bank shot I had ever witnessed.

Hollers and shouts broke the silence the moment the black ball disappeared into the left corner pocket.

“Thanks for the game, boys.” She moistened her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue, then slid away.

I took my hands out of my pockets, picked up my pride, and followed her.

“Where’d you learn to play?” The frog in my throat croaked sincere congratulations.

“I’m good at a lot of things.” Sparkles danced in her eyes, but she didn’t elaborate.

“I’m sure you are.” I extended my arm, leaning on the doorway, stalling for time.

“What’s wrong, buttercup? You don’t look like you’re having much craic.” Her words whispered over me.

She was a temptress, that Faerie girl.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I knew what defeat looked like. I took one last look at that enchantress.

"Pardon?" She challenged me to express the obvious to everyone.

“Your Storey’s wan.” I nodded toward my cousin, who seemed oblivious to Calla’s presence. It made sense: the playful kiss, the hug, and the big announcement Polly was so excited to share.

“I’m what?” Her smile teased me.

“I’m not naïve, Calla.” The trusting fool seemed oblivious to Calla’s whereabouts. If she were mine…the thought played with my mind before I could shut it out.

“Storey and me?” She handed me the pool cue, a smile teasing her lips. “You need to work on your game, buttercup. Rounds on Colm O’Donnell.” She lifted her chin, making an announcement for all to hear. Her voice rang out as she floated away, her graceful swish daring me to follow.

My pride, the only thing I had left, stopped me.

I observed my cousin from afar, studying his movements and enthusiastic conversation with the barkeep. I should rise above my disappointment and congratulate him. Fair play to him. I should, but I failed to do so. I weaved toward the empty bar stool.

“Such a nice send-off for him, aye?” Breda handed me a foaming pint of the Black Stuff.

“Aye. Thanks.” A cloud hung heavy over my head, and I wallowed in it.

“Don’t thank me. This is your treat.” Breda tugged my sleeve. “It was nice to see Eamon get up and sing. Did you notice his hands shake?”

“Aye.” I took a long sip of the tall blonde in a black dress, one of many I would drown tonight. Tomorrow, I would share my concerns with Storey.

“Colm? What’s wrong?” She prodded.

“Things aren’t what they seem, Breda.” I took another long pull.

“What things, Colm?” She gazed into my eyes. “Are you having visions again? You don’t look good.”

“No.” I tossed Breda my car keys, settling in for the next round or two or three. She owed me one.

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