Author's Note: sorry for the delay – had finals and all.
kungfupandabear: glad you're enjoying! I LOVE the deleted scene when their mom calls from Ireland – after I watch the first movie I have to play the special features disc and take a look at that scene. The gag reel was great, short, but great.
MindPolicePatrolCar: I'm psyched that you love my story! Thanks again!
angiebaj: thanks for all the reviews! I'm glad you like my story! And no worries – I will definitely be adding more "Account" entries and flashbacks. I feel like I didn't spend enough time with Amy's growing-up at McGinty's, so I'll definitely be adding a bit more to further explain the relationship between Amy and the MacManus brothers.
Katy: I always enjoy reading your feedback! LOVE 'EM! I'm glad you like it and I'm glad you were surprised by the route I took. I like that you dislike Simon :p haha. I'm still not sure how I feel about him myself except that a counterpart is somewhat necessary for Amy – and one that is completely opposite of Murphy. And YES I am bringing Eunice in. I LOVED her character in the sequel. I had my fears when I first saw the trailer because I like that the Boondock Saints have left out a romantic interest (duh, that's what fanfiction is for!). And I was glad that Eunice wasn't a love interest at all – she was a strong female character and the Boondock Saints world needed one. I think she and Amy would get along great! Can't wait to see how it unfolds…
Thanks EVERYONE for the reviews! Please keep them coming because it definitely helps with my ego-boost (haha, jk… but no seriously) and it's good to know that people are enjoying this. I enjoy lots of feedback (the good and the bad) because I would like to improve my story/writing.
Enjoy!
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Chapter Eleven: No Looking Back
The silver baton slipped into her hand easily. Amy grabbed the metal tube and sprinted as hard – and fast – as she could.
The gray running shorts felt uncomfortable as she ran and the matching silver-and-white tank top felt too tight against her breasts. Her eyes took a moment to glance at her school's track uniform responding to the run. The sound of her name being cheered in the audience forced Amy to focus back on the relay.
One lap. Amy muttered "one lap" in her mind over and over…
Her white sneakers smacked against the black track in unison with the crowd's clapping. Amy gripped the baton tighter as she passed two female opponents – one dressed in orange and the other in a dark green.
Amy came around the first loop. She was catching up to the girl in the lead – a student from a school whose colors were maroon and brown.
She noticed how the maroon-and-brown girl's black hair whipped behind her as she ran. As she noticed the girl in more detail Amy realized she was coming around the second loop and toward the finish line.
The white streamer was held by the coaches. They waited in anticipation to see who would win…
Amy ran faster as her name grew louder from the crowd. A smile crossed her face when a "FUCK! ASS!" echoed among the crowd.
Her eyes darted to the crowd for just a moment…
Doc waved his hands in the air wildly as Connor, Murphy, and Rocco cheered. Each had a cigarette in their hand and an upset parent glaring down at them. They continued to cheer obnoxiously and shout curses into the air. When they called out her name again… Amy found herself running side by side with the maroon-and-brown girl.
Amy grinned as the other girl snared back.
The two tried to run faster – the other girl was having trouble with her breathing while Amy was trying to find the strength to pump her legs faster…
The sixteen-year-old girl was still smiling as she heard her uncle's turrets come into play. Amy bit her lower lip as she found a way to hit her feet harder against the track.
The sound of cheers made Amy realize that she had run through the white streamer. She had crossed the Finish Line first – she was the winner.
Amy began to run slower in her realization that the race was done. Her teammates crowded around her and congratulated her with hugs and pats on the back.
Minutes later Amy pushed through the crowds of happy or upset parents and high school students. She found Doc and accepted the bouquet of pink roses he handed to her. Rocco could be seen hitting on a teacher out of the corner of Amy's eye. As she smiled Amy became more excited as Murphy and Connor found her through the crowd. They were jogging toward her and Amy held her arms out for their embrace-
"Amy?" Lydia's voice popped into Amy's head suddenly.
The woman turned away from one of the television screens that showed a high school track meet. Amy unfolded her arms across her chest and stared blankly at her secretary. The smaller woman gestured that a cab, seen outside of the airport, was waiting on them.
Amy grabbed her carry-ons from the flight and joined Lydia in their walk exiting Boston's General Edward Lawrence Logan International airport.
The cabdriver had already placed their bags in the trunk of the yellow vehicle. He had obviously been tipped early – a down payment, of a sort – and did his best to receive a second handsome tip at the end of the journey.
He opened the back door of the cab to Amy who climbed in quietly. She straightened out her blue business skirt and matching blazer as she sat inside. Lydia followed in after her and the cabdriver quickly darted to the driver's seat. Lydia explained the directions to the Palmetto and he politely said "As you wish!" and took off.
Lydia held onto her organizer close to her chest as the cab took a sudden turn around the airport.
"Boston cabs are different from Edison's," Lydia whispered.
Amy nodded. "And trust me… you never get used to it."
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The Palmetto was a very nice hotel – exquisite, beautifully furnished and structured, and had no history of mob killings in the building. Amy did not want to leak the information of the Petrova shooting at the Copley Plaza back in 1999. The last thing she wanted was for Lydia to pick up any details regarding Boston's "Saints."
Lydia was taking care of the checking-in process at the front counter. Amy's eyes were focused on the big screen set up in the lobby. She had been watching ten minutes of the news and, to her relief, heard nothing of any "Saints" business.
They had been gone for eight years and, hopefully, they would stay like that.
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The luxury suites were on the top floor and Amy was pleased to be informed by the bellhop that not many guests were occupying the surrounding rooms. Lydia and Amy were separated by one suite – due to Amy's request – and Lydia stepped into her suite as the bellhop escorted Amy to her room.
The white door was opened for her and Amy stepped inside. The bellhop began to give Amy the tour – the living room (with two wide couches and a wide-screen TV), the bedroom (king-size bed), the bathroom (with a standing shower and Jacuzzi), and the kitchenette (with a mini-fridge and bar). Amy paid no attention to the extensive details of the suite. The bellhop left with a good tip and Amy was finally alone.
She left her luggage in her bedroom, not worrying to unpack yet, and Amy removed her gray blazer and tossed it on the black dresser.
Amy left her bedroom, ignoring the fact that it was two o'clock in the morning and she desperately needed sleep, and aimed for the bar.
Her taste hadn't changed for alcohol – Amy still hated the smell and bitter after-taste – but she needed something in her system to help her sleep. Too much to think about… Amy thought as she scrambled through the white cabinet in the kitchenette. She found a small bottle of scotch and smiled. Amy poured the auburn liquid into a small glass that was already waiting for her on the counter. She poured a bit and immediately swallowed. The horrible taste lingered in her throat and the liquid burned the corners of her mouth.
Amy's eyes suddenly stung and she realized it was time to remove her contacts. Before her trip to the bathroom Amy went to answer her door. The small knocking had interrupted her drinking.
She opened the grand white door to find her tired secretary before her. In her arms was the black organizer that Lydia could not live without.
Lydia stepped inside and yawned.
"Care for a drink?" Amy offered.
The small dirty-blonde girl shook her head. "I'm about to pass out. No thanks - with my luck I'll wake up with a hangover. So you're not meeting with T&F until Monday so we have time to arrange spreadsheets and documentation and contracts… Boston University has agreed that an early appointment in the morning – on Friday – will be good." Lydia rubbed her eyes. "Should we wake up early? Get a couple of hours – wake up at seven – and get started?"
Amy poured herself another glass of scotch. With a small sip Amy shook her head and said, "Sleep in." She noticed the confused look on her secretary. "We really only need a day's work. Let's sleep in. Wake up when you please. Have breakfast whenever. All meals are complimentary of the company. How about we meet for a late lunch at the dining hall at two and start working from there?"
Lydia did not complain. She smiled as she tiredly bid Amy a good-night and left the room.
"Have a good night boss," Lydia repeated when she closed the door behind her.
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Hotel beds were unpleasant for Amy. They were nice and perfect – of course – but Amy had never enjoyed the full, almost new feeling to the bed. The pillows were too fluffy for her liking and her head barely sank into the white pillows. The comforter – a light pink shade – felt too heavy on her. She was so comfortable that Amy felt too comfortable. Amy had traveled for Aurora-Ansell before, but she had travelled with other administrators and business heads so her mind had always been at ease about her work. Hotel rooms had been manageable then.
She moved around in the unnecessarily large bed and Amy found comfort lying on her side. Her hair fell over her face, only adding to her annoyance.
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5:00 AM
Amy stepped out onto the balcony of her suite. It wasn't much of a balcony – more like a piece of roof meant specifically for the suite's occupant. There was a lovely gray patio set with a peach-colored umbrella nearby. She walked across the cold, salt-and-pepper floor of the balcony and reached for the gray-barred banister.
She was dressed only in the hotel's white robe. Amy's legs were bare but she didn't mind the cold.
Boston in the fall was a familiar thing. Amy felt the chill breeze against her cheek and shuddered. Everything smelled familiar to Amy too…
Welcome back to Southie, Amy… she told herself.
Her body begged for her to turn around. Amy wanted nothing more than just to head back to bed and attempt to sleep.
But her mind was filled with the past. The images of once-was fluttered through her brain despite Amy's internal protests.
Amy tried to imagine everything in black-and-white. She figured that if she forced her memories into a film-like montage, it wouldn't be as real to her…
She already knew what would happen today: Amy would wake up. She would be exhausted. The lunch with Lydia would be filled with talk of business and things that would evaporate in Amy's head.
She knew where she would end up tonight.
There was no stopping it.
No one – not even Amy – could stop herself from ending up at the dreaded source of memories tonight.
She had to see it. She had to see the place as a real thing. Had it actually existed or had it all been a dream?
It was rare for someone who grew up in South Boston – especially someone that had a great opportunity to get out – to ever return.
And Amy was back.
Her chest ached at the thought of seeing her three favorite people there. She knew, however, that two of them were long-gone. But she wondered if that daffy old man would be there.
Of course… and he'll tell you to get the "FUCK! ASS! out!"
Her hands gripped the banister and she closed her eyes…
Doc will be there… the twins, well, they're gone forever… Rocco…dead…
Because of them, no doubt…
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She ran.
Dressed in tight black jogging pants, black under armor, and a pink Speedo tank top, Amy ran through the familiar streets of South Boston.
Not much had changed except the few people Amy had passed on the streets were unfamiliar to her. Regardless of the faces she met Amy felt like she was running through 1999.
Her hair was tired back and whipped behind her as she sprinted through alleyways and jumped over cardboard boxes and other types of debris.
Amy knew she was about two blocks away from McGinty's. She was tempted to run by it but Amy realized where she was suddenly –
The building they had lived in.
She breathed heavily and placed her hands on her hips as Amy stared up. Her eyes found the fifth floor's windows and Amy – without hesitation – walked into the building through a backdoor.
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She could hear the voices of angry Irish families yelling at one another. Amy only assumed that people were still illegally living in the building.
There had only been a few times Amy had actually come to visit the building; she had become more acquainted with it the summer before she left for Northwestern.
Amy had stopped by the building every day that summer…
To always find it empty.
She stepped off the lift when it came to the fifth floor.
Not bothering to pause or rethink, Amy walked toward the apartment door she remembered so well…
It was empty. No surprise there…
Amy's sweaty hand touched the wall near the door where their rosaries used to hang.
The same two nails were there…
The couch that had once been just a few feet away from the door was missing. The beds too.
All that was left in the apartment was a stale, vile odor and garbage and newspaper lying around.
The toilet, to Amy's surprise, was missing from its place as well.
Her heart sank deep into her chest. Amy realized the feeling that was arising in her chest and throat was disappointment.
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She hadn't bothered to run by the bar. Her legs, with a mind of their own, took her back to the Palmetto.
Amy was smothered in sweat and felt her face and eyes sting because of it. She passed by the elevators and ran up the hotel's extravagant staircase.
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The meeting with Lydia in the dining hall had gone from two o'clock in the afternoon to six in the evening. Her gregarious secretary seemed to have talked for the majority of the meeting – reiterating Amy's plans and organizing everything aloud. Her fingers wrote desperately in her organizer and Lydia announced and read aloud the e-mails she had received from Ansell in the morning.
Amy had signed off several pending contracts and edited letters for Lydia to send.
Her hand and mind was tired near the end of it. Amy did not want to think about Aurora-Ansell, any merger-business, Arts for All, Boston University, or anything involved with work.
The ring on her right hand annoyed her. Amy used her thumb to spin the ring around her finger several times before realizing Lydia had proposed an early dinner.
"I'm actually not hungry," Amy said as she rose from the table. Lydia scrambled to get several papers and her laptop off the table.
"Alrighty then, I'm going to head to my room and order a bit of room service. And I'll get to work on these contracts and make a few phone calls." Lydia looked over to Amy who was standing very still. "What are you going to do tonight?"
Amy looked up from the floor and stared blankly at her secretary. "I need to go get a drink."
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The cab dropped Amy off a block away from the bar.
She stepped out and stared around the familiar street. Amy paid the cab driver and made her way toward McGinty's.
Her curly hair swayed against the wind as Amy walked to the bar. She wore dark denim jeans, gray boots, and a purple pea coat – to ensure that she looked "grown up" compared to the Amy Jensen that had lived in South Boston eight years ago.
She stuck her hands into her pockets and turned the corner.
There it is…
She found the sign across the street easily. Her eyes blinked several times before Amy crossed the street in a rush.
The light of McGinty's was off. Amy approached the familiar sign closer and found that the hours of operation had changed: only open on the weekends from 5:00PM to 1:00AM.
Amy pursed her lips in interest. She tried opening the front door.
It was locked.
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Amy climbed up the fire escape out back. She remembered the trick she had to use in order to get to the old bathroom window: Amy, on the top step, had to maneuver her boots between the brick wall and climb up the gutter. She continued to climb the gutter and Amy found the window she had – on so many occasions – slipped into and out of.
The latch was open. Amy opened the window with her free hand while the other clung onto the gutter.
The window opened rigidly but Amy found a way to get her leg in through first.
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Amy stepped out of the bathroom with her lips parted slightly. The bathroom had appeared to be unused for some time.
The apartment was not the one she remembered. The living room was filled with dust and old boxes. The pinball machine and billiard table – that had once been down in the bar – now occupied the living room. She touched the dusty edge of the pool table and walked across the apartment.
She turned the lock on the door that led to the bar.
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The bar was different.
Amy took her last step from the staircase and stared around in surprise. The building had been renovated and the entire back of the bar was gone. It was as if the bar had been cut in half. There was a wall that separated the bar from whatever it was the bar had lost its space too. McGinty's was now just a bar counter with stools.
The walls were a brighter green color and the place was clean. Amy realized that the new wall in McGinty's was cluttered with old pictures. She stepped forward to stare at the familiar photos…
It had been a McGinty's tradition to take a picture on Amy's birthday with everyone in the bar in it as well. In each picture Amy was sitting on a stool in front of the bar. Everyone in the bar was either beside her or behind the counter with Doc. There were eight photos – one for every birthday Amy had had at McGinty's – and in each picture were five people that had been in every photo: Doc, Amy, the twins, and Rocco.
Her eyes glazed over the photos and soon Amy heard the front door unlock itself and open.
Amy turned around in alarm – she had been successful in her breaking and entering.
But the old man walked in instead of the brigade of police officers Amy had expected.
Dressed in brown pants, white shirt, and green sweater, the owner struggled to step inside with his walker-cane.
His eyes – even with the small spectacles – struggled to see the figure standing in his bar.
"A-A-A-Amy?" Doc stuttered in surprise.
Amy nodded and turned fully to the man.
"Hi Doc."
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Author's Note: more to come! Reviews appreciated!