Kuro here! Look! Chapter 2! 8D
Epic Skittles: I'm glad I grabbed your attention. ^w^... The second part of your name reminds me of my friend's cat-Skittles (we consider her a party favor, seeing as my friend took her home on the morning after a party I had a few years back).
Life'sKerfuffle: Don't worry-at the moment I'm peeved with the Sharks for getting rid of Nabby-at least now he's playing in Russia instead of on an opposing NHL team. I'm also secretly a fan of another NHL team-the Red Wings, but that's a dirty little secret amongst my family whom I don't want to share it with. Hopefully chapter two is to your liking.
Oh, and to figure out what the hell it is they're saying in Irish (Gaelic), go to google translate and select Irish to English. I prefer this site than to Babel Fish (that site annoys the shit out of me).
Disclaimer: I don't own Boondock Saints or its franchise. If I did, oh the money I'd be rolling around in right now-not to mention, I wouldn't have to deal with going back to school to get a damned degree. DX
Note: I was corrected by Yume when I said Connor MacManus (Sean P. Flanery) speaking Spanish made her giddy... Use your imaginations people. On a similar note-she's got my movies "hostage". DX I let her borrow them-after having made a vow to myself that I would never, ever, EVER let those movies out of my sight. Also-Yume own's all rights to Ebony Ire and her family. I own all rights to the minor character Joseph and my main character Aislinn Bristol and her dysfunctional family. And our good friend Alexis, whom I met recently at the beginning of this Summer, somewhat owns Rowan-I had to come up with the name and look for her, Alexis gave her the attitude. 8D
"What do ye mean she's moving?"
"It's exactly as I said—but don't let Aislinn know I told you, Connor. She swore me to secrecy, and I'm doing the same to you. Promise to tell no one? You can't even tell Murphy."
Connor nodded his head. The news had hit him like a hard slap to the face. He looked at her in disbelief. He was going to lose a friend—who was like a little sister to him since the first day they had met—and there was nothing he could do about it. His entire being felt numb, his chest felt as though someone had stabbed a knife through it.
"The plan had been that by the end of this month was when she'd find out if she was moving or not—but it turns out that her father has decided to ship her off to America sooner then expected."
"When did she plan on tellin' us this?"
"I have no idea... But remember, you can't tell anyone—not even Murphy."
[5 Years Later: South Boston, MA—Saint Patrick's Day]
The bruise that had formed next to her right eye still hurt. It had been two days since it had happen, but she felt satisfied with the end result. She had walked away with a few scrapes and bruises and a claim that she fought back in self defense. While the man who had started the fight sat behind bars at the precinct with a busted lip, missing teeth, and possibly a minor concussion.
She stood behind the bar, watching the patrons come and go from the pub. "Slow day, isn't it?" came the voice of a young woman who was busy putting drinks on a tray. The girl had to be at least in her late teens, early twenties. Light hair, the color of a wheat field, that was tied up into a bun. Blue eyes hid behind thin framed glasses. Her name was Rowan. She had come to work the the barely full bar two years ago after completing high school—not as a bartender, she was under age, so the older woman had her working as a waitress. Now that she was of age—she did work as being both a waitress and a bartender.
The large room was filled with low chattering from the customers. "Aye, that it is." She picked up a fresh washed glass and began drying it with one of the clean bar towels that sat next to the small sink. "Only half passed two. At four o'clock, we'll close up shop. We're going ta an old friend o' my father."
"Awesome—oh! By the way, when are you going to teach me Irish Gaelic? I'd like to learn the language of my father's country at some point in my life."
"One day. It's not as easy as it sounds though. Growing up in Ireland, I was forced by my father, through the school to learn just about every language that they offered—and it wasn't easy."
The young woman opened her mouth to reply to her employer's comment when the front door to the pub opened with a loud bang causing everyone to go silent. A man standing at five foot-ten inches stood in the door way. He had dark hair—pale skin—brown eyes. "Aislinn!"
"Christ," she muttered, looking at the man who had entered her establishment. "What the hell do ye want, Joseph? Ye come in here, day after day, bugging me fer something—what is it now?"
Joseph, a man a few years older then her, had recently become her admirer—which Aislinn had told him not to be confused with being a stalker. He was at the pub between late afternoon up until closing time—unless Aislinn had something to do with it. She didn't like the loud mouthed Irishman, he drove her nuts.
"Isn't there a some place you ought to be? Like some prostitute out there that you should be buried balls deep in seeing as no self respecting woman would go near you?" came the nineteen year old's rude comment—which made Aislinn crack a smile.
"Fuck off, Rowan. I'm talkin' ta Aislinn, not you." He moved away from the door and made his way to sit at the bar in front of the young woman who captivated his attention.
Rowan, the waitress who helped Aislinn out at the bar, pushed passed the man, purposely stepping on his foot—hard. Like the Irishman in front of her boss, Rowan was an Irish American—born and raised in America to an Irish immigrant father and a Boston woman who ran a bakery four buildings away. Both of their accents came and went, depending on the mood they were in. "Well, Joseph, I've got nothing ta say ta ye, so buzz off."
"Why do you reject my feelings for you?" He picked up her hand, bringing it to his lips to place a kiss on it and attempted to pull her towards him, but found it difficult as she dug her heels into the ground.
"It's not love yer feelin' Joseph. Yer thinkin' with yer other head." She snatched her hand away from him, and using her other to slap him in the face with a dish towel she had picked up without him noticing. "Now, what is it ye want? I plan on closing up early, so either buy a glass o' alcohol, or get lost."
Rowan, having finished serving the drinks ordered by the table in the far corner, let out a loud enough snort for the dark haired male to hear. "Yeah, so scram!" she said, using the edge of her tray to poke the man hard in the chest. "Ain't no body want you around here."
Joseph opened his mouth to speak his mind when the door opened. "Listen here-"
"Excuse me, I saw the sign outside—are you still looking for help?" The question came from the figure who stood in the door way.
All three sets of eyes looked at the figure. She was very petite, between five-foot four-inches and five-foot five-inches. She had to be about the same age as Rowan. Mocha colored skin, raven black hair, chocolate brown eyes. Aislinn narrowed her eyes at the woman. She seemed very familiar but she couldn't place where she had seen her before. "An bhfuil Gaeilge agat?" she asked, leaning in on the counter on the balls of her palm.
"Is ea. Ach níl mé líofa go hiomlán," she responded back with ease.
Greenish-blue colored eyes widened at the realization as it hit her with enough force to cause her legs to feel weak. By now, both Joseph and Rowan had confused looks on their faces as the two women spoke to each other in a foreign language. "Ebony? Ebony Ire?" Aislinn asked, hopping over the bar counter and nearly knocked the poor girl over onto the floor had it not been for the somewhat self-restraint she possessed.
"How do you know my name?" She was startled to hear a stranger call her by her name. She had only been in Boston a week, after having graduated from college two cities over, and began looking for work. The hotel she was staying at was starting to creep her out—her constant changing roommates just got weirder and weirder.
"I haven't seen ye since my last day in Ireland—it was the day before Christmas, remember?"
Chocolate brown orbs widened when she realized that the Irishwoman knew her personally. "Praise be to Jesus! Aislinn!" She hugged the older woman tightly. "How have you been?"
"Good—past few years I've been trying ta get a hold of ye and the boys back in Ireland—yer ma said ye had gone of to study abroad after receiving yer Leaving Certificate. And Mrs. MacManus said that the boys left around the same time ye did ta-"
"I don't mean to interrupt such a touching reunion, but can you tell me what the hell is going on here?" Joseph cut in, looking from the woman of his dreams to the dark skinned woman standing at her side. He had an annoyed look on his face that made Aislinn want to laugh right then and there.
"Rowan! Get the kettle goin' up stairs, aye?" Aislinn had totally ignored Joseph with a question of her own—which had been directed to Rowan.
"Yes boss!" Rowan made a mad dash for the stairs behind the counter, the sound of her boots hitting the wooden stairs with loud thumping sounds.
"What am I? Chopped liver?"
"No. But yer close to it," Aislinn said, turning her happy gaze into a soured one to the annoyance named Joseph. "Get out o' here, now." She made a shooing motion with her hand and guided Ebony back behind the counter and up the stairs just as Rowan was coming back down.
"Man the bar?" It was a question she didn't really have to ask—it was a duty she had become accustomed to whenever Aislinn needed to disappear up stairs for a while. When the boss was away, she felt as though she owned the pub itself.
"Aye. And make sure Joseph leaves," she called out over her shoulder as she ushered her friend up the stairs.
Rowan looked at the man. "You heard her. Leave. Now."
"Bite me."
"Don't tempt me."
As both old friends disappeared up stairs, Ebony couldn't help but let out a chuckle. "I think she likes him."
"Don't say that around her—she may try ta maim ye fer it."
[4:15 PM—McGinty's Bar]
"It's good ta see ye lass." The bar owner, an elderly man well into his mid-sixties. His head, which was once full of color—was now a bright white color.
"Good ta see ye too, Doc," Aislinn said, hugging the old man as she took position behind the counter next to him. She turned her attention to the two girls she'd brought with her. "Ebony, Rowan, start taking the customer's orders—it's gonna start getting real fast in about fifteen minutes."
"Right!" Both nineteen year old girls said simultaneously as they tied aprons around their waists and picked up small writing pads and got to work.
In the span of fifteen minutes—all three girls had gotten lots of work done. Aislinn had managed to stop two different bar fights at once, getting hurt in the process—a busted lip and a bloodied nose. The bar, however, suffered a broken table and busted chairs which both Ebony and Rowan quickly disposed of out back and replaced it with spares in the back room. And unlike most girls—Aislinn was quite the brawler, having been around boys since she was little, she picked up on fighting real fast. She had hauled all four men out of the bar—with the help of several other bar patrons—and tossed them out onto the street, warning them that if they came back, there would be hell to pay.
A cold wash cloth was pressed against her split lip, wincing as the cool relief washed over her. To those who hadn't been there for the fight, it looked as though she had escaped an abusive relationship—what with the bruise near her eye, the bloody nose, and the split lip.
"You think that's interesting—you should have seen her back in Ireland when it came to brawling with the school bullies," Ebony said, remembering back to the good old days. "When confronted by the nuns, she told them God gave her permission to beat the snot out of them for picking on those weaker and less fortunate than them."
"There's a better part o' my life I won't be able ta live down," Aislinn said, picking up a few ice cubes and chucking them in Ebony's direction—who dodged them by stepping out of the way.
"What happened after that?" Rowan asked, looking from her fellow nineteen year old to her boss. This was a first she'd ever heard of Aislinn's past.
"My Da was called in from work—I was suspended fer a week and got the grounding of a life time."
"How long?"
"A month. I wasn't allowed ta go out and be with my friends."
At about four-forty-five, a large group of people came into the bar—Doc had explained that they always came in from the meat packing plant after work. As the girls took orders and Aislinn producing them as fast as they were being ordered, two more patrons came in—both were as loud as the rest of the group. "What'll it be?" Aislinn asked, looking at the two who had just come in and sat down at the bar in front of her.
"Yer the new help?" the one to her right said. He had light brown hair that had a fluffy-spiky texture to it. Bright blue eyes stared right into her greenish-blue ones and then to the cut on her bottom lip. "Who had the balls ta hit a girl?"
"I work here occasionally on Saint Patrick's day—when my own pub isn't busy, like today. What will ye boys have?" She looked from one to the other. She narrowed her eyes at them. "And I'm not defenseless, sir. I handled the bar fight quite well, thank ye very much." Why do I get the feeling I know 'em from somewhere...
"Don't call me 'sir'. Makes me feel older than I already am. And my brother and I will have a pint o' Guinness and a shot o' Hennessy." He wrapped his arm around the darker haired man's shoulders, indicating that this was his brother.
Raising an eyebrow, she nodded her head. Rolling up the sleeves on her shirt, revealing on her left arm a simple Celtic knot—it took the form of a triangle. Grabbing two small shot glasses and setting them in front of the two young men. She then proceeded to pour into each, the Hennessy they had ordered. Turning her back to them, she grabbed two taller glasses, and went to the tap to fill them with Guinness.
While she was out of their range, both held a conversation. "She looks familiar—doesn't she?"
"Aye. That she does—holy shit, Con, look who it is!" The young man sitting next to the light haired male pointed out one of the waitresses currently serving drinks to those seated at tables around the walls of the pub after having nearly nudged the man's arm so hard, nearly spilling the shot his friend had picked up.
Turning his attention away from the front of the bar, his attention was caught by the sight of Ebony. "Well, I'll be... Ebony!" he called out, waving his arm in the air to grab her attention.
It took a while before she finally noticed the man waving his arm around like a lunatic and walked over towards them. "Can I help you?" she asked.
"Ye mean ta tell us, ye don't recognize us?" the light haired male asked.
"Should I?"
Both men looked at one another before the dark haired one picked her up, holding her over his shoulder and began spinning her around—causing her to scream. "I'm not puttin' ye down until ye remember us!" he yelled over her screaming.
"Aislinn!" she cried out, reaching for the woman behind the bar who had returned to serve the brother's their drinks. "Help me!"
Aislinn's eyes grew wide at the sight of her friend being spun around on a man's shoulders. Hopping over the counter, the Irishwoman nearly tackled the man holding her friend hostage by jumping at him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Let her go!"
"Connor! Get her off o' me!"
The one named Connor watched with amusement as his brother was nearly taken down by the part time bartender. "Nah, Murphy, I'd rather much watch this play out—it's been a while since I've felt nostalgia."
"I'll kick yer ass! Get this wild woman off o' me!" he dropped Ebony to the floor, trying to shove the other woman off of him. "I'd rather not relive the brutal beatings I got years ago!"
Ebony sat on the floor, looking over as the tall man by the name of Murphy and her friend fell to the floor in a heap. Aislinn put Murphy into a head lock. "Con!"
It took a while before she finally noticed the man waving his arm around like a lunatic and walked over towards them. "Can I help you?" she asked.
Ebony sat on the floor, looking over as the tall man by the name of Murphy and her friend fell to the floor in a heap. Aislinn put Murphy into a head lock. "Connor? Murphy? You both wouldn't happen to have the last name MacManus, would you?" she asked, looking from the man trying to pry Aislinn's arms from around his neck to the man laughing on the bar stool.
"That'd be us."
TBC.
Thanks for tuning in this weekend. Stay tuned for more! 8D I'm going to try to make a regular update-but no promises, okay? So don't get butt-hurt. Any who, you see that button that says "Review"? DO IT! Or else I'll send a hoard of Irish demons after you.