Page 59 of Playing Dirty
"Afraid so."
"We'll forgive you for that, so long as you're not one of those tourists who comes in banging on about their Irish heritage. Great-great-grandfather from Cork, that sort of business." Rob grins. Cillian rolls his eyes at him, and Rob throws his hands up. "What? I'm a bartender in central Dublin. I see it so fucking much."
"Don't worry." I laugh. "Zero family from Ireland on my end, so you're safe from me."
"Then you're sound in my book." Rob's laugh echoes off the low, dark beams. "So you're the one who prompted Cillian's little dash into the stands?"
"Rob," Cillian warns.
"No, it's fine," I say, shooting Cillian a grin. "Yes, that would be me. Apparently I have a face that inspires either kindness or felony. There's no in-between."
Rob lets out a bark of a laugh, slapping the copper bar top. "We'll get on grand, Margot."
I smile back, but before I can respond, a woman maybe about thirty, with striking dark hair and bright blue eyes, catches Cillian's arm with a look of deep familiarity. He turns, momentarily surprised, before a huge smile breaks across his face and he pulls her in for a quick, affectionate squeeze.
"Margot, this is my older sister, Fiadh." His expression is radiating warmth. "Fee, this is Margot, who I've told you all about."
"It's so nice to meet you," I say, feeling a fresh spike of nerves as I reach out to shake her hand.
Fiadh ignores my hand entirely and pulls me into a warm hug, smelling faintly of perfume and red wine. "It's so good to finally meet you too. Cillian's been talking about nothing but you lately."
He's actually mentioned me to his family!
She has the kind of vibrant, open personality that puts you instantly at ease, and I find myself liking her immediately. I catch Cillian shooting me a rueful, apologetic grin, that silentmight as well meet the family while we're at itlook.
"I'm terrified to imagine what he’s told you," I say, a soft laugh escaping. "Though I’m holding out hope that at least some of it was complimentary."
"Oh, it was all glowing, trust me." Fiadh grins, her blue eyes dancing. "And from everything he's shared, I’m already certain we’re going to be fast friends."
Rob, meanwhile, has moved on to business. "What's the story with you and yer man, then? Saw he's been trashing you extra hard over the whole fight thing."
"Brennan? Aye, he's been running his mouth all week. Riding the suspension story for everything he can get out of it." Cillian shrugs, but his jaw tightens. "Hopefully it'll die down once I'm back on the ice."
The mood shifts at the mention of the suspension, and I bite the inside of my cheek. He's having a great time tonight, clearly happy to be surrounded by his people, but any moment he isn't actively distracted, I can see it in his face. It's killing him that his team is playing without him and there's nothing he can do about it.
Rob nods, his face going serious. "Give it socks once you're back out there, alright?"
Give it socks?Despite the shared language, the volume of local slang I've encountered in forty-eight hours could fill a textbook, and I might as well be trying to crack a code for all the sense I'm making of it.
"I will." Cillian gives him a small smile and refocuses on his sister. "And what's the craic with you being here, Fee? I thought you were in Donegal until tomorrow."
"Aye, I was in two minds about it, but I couldn't miss the birthday celebrations. Then Mam sent that photo of you all at dinner last night, and the FOMO was too much to bear." Fiadh gives a light shrug. "Thank goodness too, or I'd have missed meeting the lovely Margot."
Behind us, Joe has apparently adopted "the lovely Margot" on the spot, because he's already shouting about getting me a drink. Fiadh takes it upon herself to relay the order down the bar to Joe, who's soon working the tap with ceremony, a glass of something dark surging and settling under a slowly forming dome of cream.
Before I can assemble a protest, the glass is pressed into my hand, a round goes out to half the pub, and Fiadh raises hers to toast Joe and his birthday.
Cillian leans in close. "You don’t have to drink it, Ace. I know you mentioned you don't like beer, and it's a bit of a heavy start. Want me to swap it for a wine?”
"No." I shake my head. "I've never actually tried one, and it seems like a crime not to have my first in a Dublin pub."
"You'll have to split the G then, if it's the first time." Rob grins. "Means you have to drink down to the horizontal line of the G on the glass in your first go. No stopping."
"Don't listen to a word he says, Margot," Fiadh says, shaking her head. "I've never done it once. It's entirely unnecessary."
"It's her first pint, gotta make it memorable," Rob insists, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. “It's a rite of passage.”
I look down at the glass in my hand, the gold harp and lettering facing me, the cream head sitting thick and level.
