Chapter one
Authors note: I own Amalia and Bree O'Connell. This takes place during Boondocks Saint's first movie. I haven't posted a story in a while. I do have a life outside of FF, so if I don't update every damned week don't hassle me.
Amalia and Bree O'Connell, born of Irish descent on March 18, 1977. Raised in Southern Boston, within the Irish neighborhood. Never believed things would change with the slums, until the Saints showed up, and entered their lives. Nothing would ever be the same again.
Amalia's description: Burgundy wavy hair, mid shoulder length, blue eyes. Pale complexion. Natural rosy cheeks, full lips.
Body build: athletic ( due to defensive training and extensive working out)
Personality: Headstrong, temperamental, selfless, intuitive, indecisive, smart mouthed.
Outfit she wore on Saint Patricks day: Knee length black pencil skirt, green silk laced top, black coat and black stilettos. Hair was let down.
Bree's description: Medium Brown hair wavy, mid back length,green eyes.
Light tan complexion, Rosy cheecks, full lips.
Body build: athletic ( due to extensive workouts, defensive training and High school swimteam)
Personality: Selfless, stubborn, quick thinker, witty, temperamental, Intuitive, out spoken, free thinker.
Outfit she wore on Saint Patricks day: Black knee length pencil skirt, red stilettos, red silk chiffon top, black coat. Hair worn swept to the side.
Amalia's POV
St. Patricks day, the one day Irish can find a real excuse to get shitfaced.
After Wednesday morning mass and going to work in the office of our fathers law firm. Doc's place was open and my sister and I came for a couple drinks. We had heard his place was getting shut down so the Russian assholes could own it. Doc was a sweet old man and whenever we needed somethin' he was there. Bree and I were just getting comfortable in a table off in the corner laughing at the group of fellow Irishmen drinking when we heard the bell to Doc's bar open. We turned and saw three huge Russians tell everyone to get out except Doc. Of course the bar being Doc's (the sweetest guy in town, next to our Da) the Irish boys said no. Bree looked at me and we rose up and were just leaving when a Russian grabbed my ass. Bree, being the ever attentive woman she was heard me say "what in the bloody hell do ye think yer doin?"
The stupid pig faced Russian of course replied " doin' whatever I want"
Doc told us to {fuckin shit} leave! , in fact he practically rammed us to the door, But neither Bree or I were having any part of it. We didn't care if they were little foot soldiers to the mob, you don't touch any woman like that, (unless we want it) And apparently the other men in the room agreed. (Excluding the other two mobsters) So guess what happens. That's right a bar fight. Good thing Bree and I grew up in the slums and knew how to defend ourselves. As soon as all the Russians were "taken care of" Two boys about our age were helping Doc clean, because all the other men had to go home and tuck in their wee ones. Doc had just finished dumping the last broom full of glass bottle into the trash, when he suggested we stay the night with the two boys. He said he's known em' since they were wee ones as well, and since we lived on the other side of southern Boston to just take a cabbie in the mornin'. We trusted Doc so we agreed. As we were all heading out of Doc's place we said our goodbyes to Doc. We learned that Doc had known their mother while they were babes and that they were twin brothers named Connor and Murphy MacManus. They were twenty five years old and had never met their father, but what shocked me was that they still spoke so highly of him, despite the fact that they've never met the man. Connor and Murphey took the floor while Bree and I took the couch. We sat there a while and just talked about each other and joked till we said goodnight and crashed. But right when Bree and I looked at each other we could tell there was something different about these boys. Something that intrigued us.