The Guts Read Online Free Page A

good man. Perfect.
    He held up the remote.
    —Have yeh seen one of these before?
    —Yep, said Brian.
    —Good man again, said Jimmy. – You can watch it for half an hour, okay?
    —I already had my half-hour, said Brian.
    —You’re too honest, Smoke, said Jimmy.—I told yeh. Be a bit sneaky.
    —Sneaky.
    —That’s right, said Jimmy.—Have you had your telly today yet, Smokey?
    —No!
    —Have you not? Well, here yeh go.
    Jimmy lobbed the remote at him, and Smokey – that was Brian – caught it.
    —I don’t want to watch telly, said Mahalia.
    Jimmy kept forgetting she was thirteen – although she looked it.He’d never get used to it. His oldest child, Marvin, was a seventeen-year-old man. The youngest, Brian, was too big to be picked up.
    —Just do me a favour, May, said Jimmy.—Stay here for a bit. I need to talk to your mother.
    —Begging forgiveness, are we? said Mahalia.
    —Somethin’ like that, he said.
    —Good luck with that, she said.
    —Is that eye shadow you’re wearin’?
    —Did you just ask me to do you a favour, Dad?
    —I did, yeah.
    —The eye shadow is my business then, said Mahalia.
    —You don’t need it, yeh know.
    —That’s not an argument.
    —I love you.
    —So you should.
    He left them there. Brian wouldn’t budge and Mahalia loved being involved in the messy, stupid world of the adults, even if involvement meant staying out of the kitchen for half an hour.
    But Aoife was gone. There was a kid with his head in the fridge and he wasn’t one of Jimmy’s.
    —Who are you?
    The kid stood up and, fair play to him, he blushed.
    —I’m hungry, he said.
    —Good man, Hungry, said Jimmy.—But what’re you doin’ pullin’ the door off my fridge?
    The kid looked confused, his red got redder. Jimmy felt like a bollix.
    —Jimmer said you wouldn’t mind. Or Missis – your wife, like. Are you Mister Rabbitte?
    —Yeah.
    —Jimmer said she – Missis Rabbitte, like – wouldn’t mind if I, like, got something to eat.
    Jimmer was young Jimmy, another of Jimmy’s sons.
    The kid’s face had gone past red; he was turning black in front of Jimmy. He was holding a chicken leg.
    —Will I put it back?
    He was an old-fashioned young fella.
    —Did you eat any of it? said Jimmy.
    —Kind of, said the kid.
    He looked at the leg.
    —Yeah.
    —You’d better eat the rest of it so, said Jimmy.
    —Thanks.
    —Where’s Jimmy?
    —Your son, like?
    —Yeah.
    —Upstairs.
    —Grand.
    —We’re doin’ a project, said the kid.
    —What’s your name?
    —Garth.
    —What?
    —Garth.
    —And what’s the project about, Garth?
    —Supertramp.
    —Wha’?
    —The group, like.
    —You mean, the group tha’ were shite back in the ’70s twenty years before you were born and are probably even shiter now?
    —No way are they shite, said Garth.
    —Who listens to them?
    —I do, said Garth.
    Jimmy liked Garth, and he liked the feeling that he liked him.
    —And tell us, Garth? he said.—Are you some kind of a born-again Christian, tryin’ to convert my son to Supertramp?
    —No way, said Garth.—He converted me.
    —He what?
    —He says the CD’s yours.
    —It isn’t.
    —He says it is, said Garth.—It’s old looking and the price on the sticker is in old punts, like, not euros.
    Aoife walked in.
    —Tell Garth here, said Jimmy.
    Garth was turning black again and he was trying to put the chicken leg into his pocket.
    —Tell him what?
    —That I hate Supertramp, said Jimmy.
    —You don’t, said Aoife.
    —I do!
    —Don’t listen to him, Garth, said Aoife.—He loves them. Or he used to.
    She walked across the kitchen. Garth was trying to get awayfrom her. He looked like he was going to climb up into the sink.
    —Go on then, Jimmy said to Aoife—Name one Supertramp song.
    She hadn’t a clue – she never had.
    —’Dreamer’, said Aoife.—’The Logical Song’, ‘Breakfast in America’, ‘Take the Long Way Home’, ‘It’s Raining Again’. I think that’s the order they’re in on