Own nothing of BDS. Obviously. Rights to respective owners.
*In Fine Spirits
I needed a beer. It was fucking cold.
Cold is an understatement. I thought grimly as I pulled my blanket closer to my body. It's fucking freezing.
The walls of our apartment had this awful way of leaking cold air. I hated the cold. Despite the Irish blood running through my veins, I utterly despised the climate of South Boston in December- though admittedly it made hiding out in plain sight much easier. In winter, it's okay to wear pea coats, gloves, and scarves at all times. Even still, the cold brought out the Irish temper in me. Winter made me incredibly lonely, which in turn left me highly agitated.
Thank God, mother hen isn't here. A moment of fucking peace.
Murph was out somwhere- More than likely with Rocco, down at McGinty's. I was recovering from an ass kicking bout of the flu, spending most of my time in a Nyquil induced coma and watching bad basic cable. Murph had spent the past week watching out for me, forcing me to drink orange juice and pop vitamin c pills.
I looked over at the collection of cold medicines and vitamins on the coffee table. I wouldn't have taken any of them and manned it out, but Murph being, well, Murph, wouldn't hear any of that. "Are you bloody fuckin' stupid?" He chewed my ass the second night into my sickness. "Take them for Christ sakes! They were invented for a reason you know."
It took some doing, but after downing a rather copious amount of cold medicine, he finally relented and went out. He became more cautious and protective as time went on. With the whole 'Saints' thing- our calling card from God to splatter the brains of bad guys onto the walls- Murph had went from high strung to downright intolerable at times. I understood. I couldn't imagine losing him, living life without him next to me- but that didn't mean I wanted to be around him all the time.
I swear I haven't even been able to take a piss this past week without him hovering around.
I sighed and sat up from the couch, stretching out my unused muscles, silently hoping I never got sick again- I couldn't take another week of illness with Doctor Murphy. I yawned widely, and looked over at the clock. 10 pm. I ran a hand through my dirty hair. Actually, my whole body was dirty. Laying around for a week doing absolutely nothing had killed my motivation. When was the last time I showered? I honestly couldn't remember. I think I spent most of my time too doped out of my mind to really give a rat's ass about how I smelled.
I wandered over to the shower, and stripped down naked, praying that the shower would spit out some hot water. For once, I got my wish, and I stood under the sputtering shower head, taking care to finish before the hot water ran dry. I got out and wrapped a tower around my waist, trying to figure out what to do with my night. It wasn't a smart idea for me to get tanked right after getting over the flu. On the other hand I was going to go nuts- as in cabin fever, Jack Nicholson in the Shining nuts- if I didn't find something to do with my night. Another evening filled with tv sitcoms and cough syrup was just not an option.
McGinty's it is then.
I walked the four or so blocks to the bar, and found it full of people. Murph and Rocco were sitting at the bar while Doc- affectionately known as 'Fuck Ass'- talked to them and tended to the drunk people. I walked over and took a seat next to Rocco and clapped him on the back.
"Hey man! What the fuck is going on? Thought you was on your death bed or some shit!" yelled Rocco. Murph smirked at me.
"Yeah, Connor, nice to see you out of bed. Got enough beauty rest, did ya?"
"Ah, shut it Murph. Hey, Fuck Ass!" I flagged down the cooky old bartender. "Gimme a Guinness when you get a chance."
Doc slide a bottle down the bar to me. I popped it open and took a long drink.
Much better than Nyquil.
We spent a good chunk of the night doing guy shit- starting bar fights, telling stories of sexual exploits, and trying to out drink each other. I, for once, was pretty sober. Murph and Rocco couldn't say the same. They were in the middle of their fifth round of shots when a women walked into the bar. I didn't take much notice of her, at first.
She came up to the bar and sat down. I predicted her order- something weak and girlie. She had to be a lightweight- She was a petite thing.
"Excuse me, sir." She tried to get Doc's attention.
"It's more effective if you call him Fuck Ass." I said in between sips. She looked at me oddly.
I shrugged. "It works."
"Excuse me, Fuck ass-" She spoke softly. Seemed her size fit her personality.
"No, no, you got to yell it lass. Yell it. Come on. Can't be that difficult."
She rolled her eyes and sighed. "YO! FUCK ASS!" She yelled.
I was shocked. She could make noise after all. Doc hurried up to the bar.
"What'll you have?" he asked, before the explicatives 'Fuck!" and "Ass!" escaped his mouth.
"Um, I'll take a jack and coke. Heavy on the jack- No, fuck it. Just give me a jack on the rocks." So much for a girlie drink.
I went back to sipping my drink, observing her out of the corner of my eye. She had dark brown hair that was pulled back into a tight bun, and she had dark circles around her eyes and was wearing scrubs with a long sleeve thermal underneath. This lady- whatever her name was- looked as if she had the weight of the world riding on her back. I didn't normally talk to strangers- especially since the aforementioned 'calling card'. But considering the fact Murph and Rocco were both plastered, what else did I have to do? Besides, she looked like she could use an ear.
"Long day at work?" I asked.
She nodded her headed. "Very."
Silence passed in between us for a few moments. "So what are you, a doctor?" I tried again.
"I'm a nurse." She snapped. "Why? What do you do?"
"Entrepreneur of sorts." I invented off the top of my head. "You looked like you're having a shitty night. Though I'd try and talk you out your bad mood. Can't stand to see a lass having anything to complain about."
It wasn't a pickup line. I held a soft spot in my heart for females. They were gentle, loving, empathetic- all the things our mother was. Evidently, the lady next to me didn't believe me.
"Pfft. Right." She drained the last bit of whiskey in her glass. "Like you really care if I'm having a bad day or not, or if anyone for that matter is. Hey, fuck ass, gimme another jack, no ice?"
"I'll pay for it, Doc. Put it on out tab." Doc nodded as he set the glass down in front of her.
"Alright, lady. We're gonna get you in a better mood. First off, what's your name?"
"Ericka. And yours?"
"Connor. Would you happen to be Irish?"
Ericka looked bemused. "Yeah, I am actually. A quarter anyway. The rest of me is German. Why?"
"Well, you're in an irish pub. Come on. Normal people don't just walk in here." I tapped on my temple. "Gotta be born a little drunk, you see."
"You mean, like those two?" She nodded to Murph and Rocco, who were drunkenly headbanging to an old hair metal song that just came on the radio.
I cringed. "That's….my brother, Murph. And friend, Rocco."
"Rocco looks like a package runner for the mob." She said matter of factly. My face went white. Rocco was indeed a package runner.
She shrugged. "He looks like a lacky for the mafia is all."
"Ah." I drank the last bit of beer I had left. "Well, I better get them home before they start a bar fight." I stood up.
"Does this happen often?"
"Yeah, bout every time we come here."
"No, I meant the drink. You pay for every poor girl's drink when she comes in here?" she said amused.
"No ma'am." I smiled at her. She had a light in her eyes that hadn't been there before- making her look a great deal prettier. "Come here often?"
"Nah. I'm new to town."
"Ah. Had some old friends living here or something?"
"Nope. Wanted something new. Speaking of friends, you should go help yours. Looks like all hell is about to break loose."
As if on cue, the sounds of breaking glass and shouts of drunken men sounded. I sighed. "Well, it was nice talking to you. See ya around."
She raised her glass as I walked over to Murph and Rocco, and started to drag them home.