“The least you could do is offer a little conversation.” Beckett dodged a pothole, keeping his eyes on the road.“You want me to talk?”“It would be the polite thing to do.”“Okay. Let’s talk.”“Any topic will be fine.”“I’m going to sit here and silently think of one. Might take a while.”

“Any pub will do?”“McPherson’s, I think. One with music that will alter my life forever, give me eternal happiness, and make me see God. You know. One like that.”“So you need the magical sound of Ireland and some information about an Abbeyglen native. Francine”—Beckett’s eyes danced in the streaming sunlight—“I’m about to solve your every problem.” Beckett stood up and gave my hair a light tug. “Prepare to worship and adore me.”

“Finley, would you get Beckett something to drink, please?” Beckett caught my less-than-pleasant expression.“Water will be fine. Not too much ice. Add a slice of lemon.” He reached for my hand and electric currents blazed up my arm. “And don’t spit in it.”“That’s a lot to remember. You’ll understand if I forget at least one of those commands.”

“Make me proud my little first-grader" he said, fist pumping robbie "and, remember rule number one above all""Right" he replies "don't talk politics”

“If I'm going to be your bloomin' tour guide, I'm gong to do it right." He held out his hand."Do you think I'd take you somewhere dangerous?""You bite people for a living.""Don't be a chicken.""If you push me over the edge, my parents will be seriously ticked."He grabbed my hand and pulled me along. "They'll probably send me a thank-you note.”

“Make me proud today, Robmeister. Keep your hands to yourself and remember rule number one above all things.''Don't discuss politics.''No, the other one.'Robbie nods. 'Don't eat glue.' He drops his chin. 'It's my weakness.”

“Do you realize what a special assignment you have here?"I just stared at her. Special assignment would me like interviewing Lady Gaga. This was just cruel and unusual torture.”