Well...thank you for the follow gurl3677, reedus fan, eml7024 and PrueSaving! And I'll try my best not to let you guys down and write a good story! :D
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I leaned back against the bar, sipping occasionally on my bottle of Samuel Adams as I chatted with Saoirse about her cousin who lived in Donegal who was an aspiring artist. Apparently he was doing a show in Mullingar next week and she wanted me to come with her to see him, of course I agreed because Saoirse just had that effect on everyone, you almost couldn't deny her anything she wanted because she was such a nice girl!
"Well, slan, Aby!" Saoirse said with a smile, she started for the door with a skip in her step, "Tol' me mum I'd come by t'night and help her with the cannin'!"
"Bye, Saoirse!" I called, waving after her. On her way out the door she ran smack into someone and I heard her giggle out an apology and the voice that assured her it was ok I recognized as Connor. Sure enough, he edged around the redhead and approached the bar with Murphy on his heels. He slid onto the barstool next to me with a chuckle.
" Ye ever get a night off, lass?" he asked.
"Why would I need a night off?" I replied, standing to go behind the bar to pour his drink. "This place is so laid back it's hardly work at all."
"Ya wanna real job? Try herdin' sheep."
My eyes widened and I smiled as Murphy met my eyes.
"He speaks!" I said incredulously.
"O' course he does," Connor said, with a nonchalant shrug, "Ye just met him on one of 'is off days t'other day."
"Is herding sheep really all that bad?" I asked Murphy, "I've had some sheep on my farm back in the States and I love them."
"Some is the key word there," Murphy replied, and I really liked the sound of his voice. "Little shits are stupid. Get a few hundred of 'em t'gether and try t' keep 'em under control and ye won't like 'em so much."
I laughed and threw my bar rag over my shoulder and smacked the counter lightly.
"What can I get you two?"
"Guinness," Murphy stated immediately, Connor put a finger to his lips and tapped for a moment before deciding on Killian's. I opened the taps and filled their glasses and then slid them expertly down the bar to them. They grinned, I knew because I saw the whiskers lift, and raised their glasses to me before taking the first drink.
"Join us, lass?" Connor asked moving over a seat, leaving the one between the two of them open, "I see yer drinkin' some Adams there."
I did a scan of the place to see if there was anything I should be doing but everyone looked happily tipsy and were all chatting away in the smoke-filled atmosphere, so I shrugged and took the spot between them.
"I'm a Guinness girl, but I like to branch out sometimes and try new stuff," I commented as I twirled the contents of my glass in a circle.
"Why branch out when ye got the best right'chere?" Murphy stated, clinking his glass to mine and downing the rest of his.
"You're kind of bias there," I stated, sipping my beer. I was a sipper, not a chugger. "But I've yet to find something I do like better than a good ol' Guinness Stout."
"Smart lass," Murphy said, sounding almost cheerful. I took another drink and wondered in silence what had changed in the day since he was here last.
"Aby! Play us a tune!" I heard a voice call out, cutting my wonderings short. I giggled and shook my head but William Gallagher wasn't going to take no for an answer and soon he had the whole pub chanting "Aby! Aby! Aby!" so I rolled my eyes and slid off the bar stool, reached behind the counter and pulled my pennywhistle from under it.
"Excuse me boys," I said with a smile, "They won't leave me alone about it unless I play."
Connor and Murphy nodded and smiled and I trotted up to the small stage at the back of the room where Mr. O'Fallon was fixing the mic to the stand.
"Ladies and gents," he said into it as I tested my fingering on my instrument, "All the way from across the pond, Miss. Aby Crinigan!"
Cheers and whistles broke out from the small but rowdy crowd and I took a dramatic bow, smiling like crazy. I stood back up and placed the mouthpiece of the brass whistle between my lips and steadied my breathing, then I blew softly and closed my eyes as a smooth note resounded in the room, leading into a series of trills and rills that would make up the song "Rocky Road to Dublin". The thing about playing Irish songs is that you really tend to get in to it and I soon found myself skipping around the stage as the crowd sang out the familiar lyrics at the top of their drunken lungs. When I let the last note fade the room erupted in applause and cheers and I glanced at Connor and Murphy, Connor was clapping over his head and Murphy stuck his pinkies in his mouth and whistled long and loud. I bowed and skipped off the stage back to the bar.
"Well, I'd say Aby's got a bit more Irish in 'er than she lets on!" Connor stated as I started dutifully wiping down the bar.
"Not really," I admitted sadly, "Only one fourth Irish. I took my mother's maiden name when I turned twenty one."
"How old are ye then?" Murphy asked boldly. I smiled, the Irish...they didn't beat around the bush.
"Twenty six," I stated just as confidently, "Refill, guys?"
They both nodded and I collected their glasses and filled them up.
"How about you two?" I decided if I was going to fit in here I should just get over any hint of shyness in me. I set the beers down in front of their drinkers and turned to refill my own glass.
"Thirty two," they both replied at once.
I turned and cocked my eyebrow at them.
"Thirty two? Bull shit."
"Naw, lass, it's the truth!" Connor demanded, "Well technically I'm thirty two and ten minutes!"
"Shut yer mouth, Con! We both know I'm the oldest!" Murphy shot back, giving his brother a firm smack on the arm.
"Ice, Murph! ICE!" Connor turned on his stool to look at Murphy with an angry squint.
"Yeah, what's yer reason any other time?" Murphy muttered into his beer.
I don't have a clue what they were talking about but Connor suddenly flung his arms around Murphy's shoulders and shoved his full weight into him, causing them to topple off their stool onto the floor with a loud thump. I clapped a hand over my mouth as they two of them started wrestling and Connor actually threw a punch, which Murphy dodged with a laugh before pushing Connor off with his legs. Everyone in the pub watched the two of them with mild interest but then went back to whatever they were doing before, I had to assume this happened a lot.
"CONNOR! MURPHY!" I yelled at the top of my lungs and THAT caused everyone to look in our direction with wide eyes. The boys stopped fighting and looked up in surprise, Connor's fist pulled back and Murphy shielding his face with his arm. They stood slowly, their heads hung in shame and retook their seats.
Moments later they were chatting away at eachother like nothing had happened and I rolled my eyes and left them at the bar to go chat with Leon in the back corner. The band came in at eleven as always and Leon got up and left, he hated the band for some reason but I never had the nerve to ask why. I made a round to refill everyone's drinks and then returned to the bar to start cleaning up a little. Connor had turned around to watch the band and was singing loudly along with "Back Home in Derry" but Muphy was rolling a cigarette and remained silent. He lit his expertly rolled stick of tabacco and slowly let a cloud of smoke issue from his nose, his eyes closed and he leaned his chin on his left palm.
"You guys are twins then?" I asked, already knowing the answer, but I wanted him to talk.
"Aye," Murphy replied, taking another drag.
"You guys sure don't look thirty two," I added honestly.
Murphy laughed and I smiled at the sound, he had a very cheery laugh, slightly high pitched.
"Yeah, I guess it's been a while since we shaved," he tugged at his beard and sniffed.
"Or had a haircut," I muttered as I turned to wash the pile of glasses on the tray that had sat untouched for quite some time.
Murphy chuckled and when I finished the dishes I found he'd turned around and was now singing with Connor. The two of them managed to make a lovely song like "Maggie" sound like it was being sung by a pair of banshees and I shook my head at the sour notes they were merrily issuing forth.
The two of them stayed until the pub closed down and then they bid me a goodnight and left a generous tip on the counter. I pocketed the notes and wiped the last glasses dry before making the rounds and putting the chair up on the tables. With one last scan of the room, I clicked off the lights and locked the door. A steady rain was falling, of course it was, it was Ireland, and I pulled the hood of my jacket over my head and ducked down as I took off at a steady pace for my apartment across town.
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I flung open the door as a clap of thunder hit and tripped over something warm and fuzzy, landing ungracefully on my hands and knees. The light green eyes of my ruddy tabby looked up at me angrily, like it was MY fault.
"Damn it, Titus!" I growled as he rubbed his back along my chin, twisting the tip of his tail around my nose. I giggled and pulled him onto my lap and kissed him behind his ears as I ran a hand down his back and tail. He meowed indignantly and jumped out of my grip. He pranced to the kitchen and jumped up on the counter and paced along it, looking at me questioningly.
I'd found the sad little malnourished tabby in Dublin one rainy night while I'd been staying there my first week in the country, he was wet, dirty, flea bitten and ragged but my heart went out to him and I'd taken him in. Now he was lithe and lean and beautiful with his red dirt road coat with the chocolate stripes, and he acted like he was in total control of this apartment. Which, let's be honest, cats DO tend to own the space around them.
"I guess you're hungry, huh, you little fart?" I laughed and grabbed the bag of food from the cabinet. I had to keep it up there or Titus would shred the bag to get at the contents. I poured his small bowl full and grabbed a bag of plain chips for myself then changed into pajamas and plopped down on the couch. But, before I could even find a show to enjoy or eat a single chip, the night's work took me under and I was out like a light.
Funny thing was, I dreamed of Connor and Murphy. Nothing weird, just us at the pub when no one else was talking and having a grand time. As scruffy and dirty as they were, they were funny and never boring to talk to, especially Connor.
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I'm taking it slow, gotta build a report before we throw poor Aby into the hayday that it the lives of the Saints, right?! Review!