Disclaimer: I do not own the Saints or Doc. I own Amanda, and the episodes in this story that are not in either of the Boondocks Saints movies.
Enjoy!
Chapter 2: New Friends?
She hadn't quite made it out of the kitchen door and into the seating area of the pub when strong, wet arms closed tightly around her shoulders. She jerked and writhed every which way, but to no avail – the arms held tight. She continued to scream until she heard a distinct "click" and felt heavy metal press into her right temple.
"Who the hell are ye?"
His thick Irish brogue told her that this was probably one of the neighborhood thugs.
"Who am I? Who the hell are YOU?!" she yelled back, not struggling any more. She was pretty sure that was a gun he had pressed to her head.
"I asked first." He was yelling at her. He seemed panicked – he clearly had not expected someone to interrupt his bath time.
"Look, I don't have the key to the register or anything, so can you just – I don't know, tie me up and finish your bath or whatever the fuck you were doing in there and LEAVE!"
To her horror, she heard the sound of Doc's key turning in the door. "Gramps, no!"
She called out to him, but it was too late. He swung the door open, carrying a large brown paper bag from the grocer down the street. His shocked eyes moved from Amanda to her assailant.
"What the feck do ye th- th- think yer doin' ye ffffeckin' idyot?"
Amanda's eyebrows came together in confusion. She was being assaulted and he was yelling at her?
"Tha's me feckin' g-g-g-grandddaughter ye ass!"
Immediately Amanda felt the arms release her. She ran to stand protectively in front of her grandfather, still not entirely aware of what was going on.
"Oh, Jesus, Doc, I'm sorry. I dinna know. She – She dinna say!"
"An-an-and why the fffeck are ye nnnaked?"
"What the hell is going on here?" She yelled out as two more men came tumbling down the far staircase, guns drawn. Her hands held Doc hard behind her.
She noticed her assailant for the first time. He was younger than she thought he'd be. And more handsome, as well. She was, of course, a good Christian woman, but even so it took every ounce of her strength to not allow her eyes to venture south to check out his package. She was pretty inexperienced when it came to men, and had never really had the opportunity that she had now to analyze the male anatomy. There he was, pretty attractive, and bearing it all to her.
Searching for a distraction, she looked over at the other two men. One of them was definitely Hispanic, with a long, dark mullet and somewhat comical expression of shock on his face. The other she guessed was American. Or maybe Irish. His face resembled the naked man's. They all seemed to be in their mid-to-late twenties.
"Jeysus Christ, put yer ddddamned guns away. It's me gggg- me son's kid."
"Oh." One of the gunned men, the non-hispanic one, tucked his gun into its holster with a smile. "'Ello there. I'm Connor. Conner MacManus." He had an Irish accent to match the naked man's. Crossing the pub in a few quick steps, he held a hand out to her. "That naked fuck over there is me brother, Murph. Say hello to the lady, Murph."
"Hello." He seemed to have forgotten that he was naked. "Sorry about that back there. Doc dinna tell us he was expectin' anyone."
"I – uh – Grandpa, what the hell is going on?"
"Oh, well, I, uh –" She took the grocery bag from Doc as he settled down onto a barstool. "Amanda, th-th-these fellas are sssome old fffffriends of mine."
"How come I don't know them then?"
"How come you don't have an accent if you're Irish?"
"I'm only part Irish." She snapped at the naked one, irritated at his interruption. She looked up at him. "And, I'm sorry, could you put some clothes on maybe? This makes me kind of uncomfortable."
He looked down at himself, as if noticing his nudity for the first time. "Oh, yah. Of course. Apologies." He left the room and she turned back to Doc and the other two men. "Who are you?" She asked the Spanish one.
"Name's Romeo. Nice to meet you, nice lady." He spoke to her in a flirtatious tone and she smiled when he came forward and kissed her hand.
"Grandpa, I never knew that you had so many thug friends."
"Hey, hey, hey –" the one called Murphy emerged from the kitchen belting a pair of jeans. He was still shirtless. "Ye got us all wrong. We're na thugs, here, lady."
"Oh really? Because usually, when people hold guns to people's heads, they're thugs."
"Now, I told you, tha' was a mistake, ye understand?" he waved a finger at her.
"Grandpa, what's going on?" She asked for the third time.
"Well, sssweets, th-th-these fellas are gggoin' ta be stayin' on fffer a FUCK…ASS."
She was used to the outbursts that his tourette syndrome caused. "Fer how long?" she demanded, catching a bit of his brogue in her sentence as she knew she was bound to do at some point.
"Ah, now there's the Irish in 'er comin' out. O' course, while she's yellin' at a man, notice." Murphy said to Connor.
"Oh, shut up, will ye?" She bit her lip angrily at having done it yet again. "Will you?" she corrected.
"Shouldna hide yer Irish pride." Connor told her.
"It's not a matter of hiding it." She explained. "I was raised in America. I don't have an accent."
"Uh, but I just heard – " Romeo started, but she interrupted him.
"It just comes out when I'm speaking to – to Irish people is all."
"Ah! There it is again!" Connor smiled at Murphy.
"Enough. Now, Grandpa, I'm not gonna ask you again."
"Darlin', these fffellas are st st stayin' in the sssssstorage rum."
She turned narrowed eyes towards the delinquents. "You're in some kind of trouble, aren't you?"
They looked back and forth at each other and simultaneously answered. "No."
"If you get my grandfather into any trouble…"
"We'd never do that." Murphy assured her, taking a step towards her to exaggerate his words. "No one will even know we're here."
She just looked at them. They stood in silence for a few moments before she broke it by walking into the kitchen, presumably to put the groceries away.
