‘Aren’t you forgetting something O’Keegan?’ Meehan said as he threw his tailored jacket aside.
‘Am I? What am I forgetting Meehan?’
‘Spoken to you Pa recently? I thought we had a deal? You fall and you Father stays standing. That’s how it’s going to work. If you decide to go the distance, I’ll make sure he’s mailed to you, piece by piece, so you can have some fun putting the old man back together again.’
They all saw the switch flip. One second O’Keegan was bristling anger and hatred, ready to tear Meehan’s throat out here and now, the next he was a man brought to heal. Flannery’s stomach crashed to the floor as he saw the physical change in O’Keegan, saw the man’s will squeezed and the heat of temper ooze out like an emptying bath. O’Keegan was no longer the avenging angel, he was the cowed puppy slapped by his master.
‘I know the deal Meehan. Don’t worry, I know the deal.’ O’Keegan looked over at Flannery and then averted his eyes, lowering his head. Flannery’s fear jumped up and ran full circle around his brain. ‘Shit, shit, shit. He’s going to throw the fight’ was all that Flannery could think as he watched O’Keegan. Meehan continued to talk, sure that he had already won.
‘So, do me a favor OK. Try not to get too enthusiastic making it look good. I have somewhere to be after you go down and I want her to go down too, so try to make it look good but not too good. She likes me nice and pretty.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll send you to her looking the best you’ve ever looked. You have my word on it.’
‘Good. So, let’s get out there. Can’t hang around here all night.’
‘One last thing Meehan…’ O’Keegan looked down as if there was something he hated to ask, looking at Flannery briefly from under his bowed forehead
‘What?’
‘My boys. What’s going happens to them after I’m done?’
Meehan smiled, a benevolent syrupy sincerity oozing from his voice,
‘They’ll be taken care of O’Keegan. I’ll look out for them and your man here.’
He nodded over at Flannery. Flannery grimaced and nodded, knowing full well what Meehan’s plans would likely be. Meehan turned his back and finished taking off his tie, shirt and pulled of each brace that had been perched above each shoulder. His clothing had been cut for effect, each inch of material tailored to show of his physique but even as he stood there in his trousers and dangling braces, it was obvious Meehan was still in very good shape.
As O’Keegan quickly stripped down, throwing his tired and worn shirt in the corner, the comparison between O’Keegan and the fit Meehan was still sharp. Meehan was refined muscle upon muscle, O’Keegan brick upon brick. One a beast of speed, the other of force. They both stood opposite each other, appraising the lack of weakness and flaw, both recognizing that they had never come up against anyone like this before, someone who had this potential to cause them so much harm. O’Keegan revelled in it. Almost tasting the salt of his own blood in his mouth they he fully expected to taste before the end of the evening. He welcome the fight, anticipating finally coming up against someone who really did stand a chance of beating him. His mind was eager to see where this would go and providing the call he’d made in the meat shop was right, there would still be a chance this fight would be played for real.
Could Meehan really beat him? If so, it would be a new experience, perhaps it would release him from the need to always win, perhaps there would be comfort in just letting go and not allowing himself to get back up. But looking over at Flannery, he knew that this wasn’t about him. There were men outside who had sweat blood because of their belief in him. No matter how hard it was going to be, he still owed it to them. Where the hell was Alteri? He was the only one the could pull it all back. His Father was a son of a bitch but O’Keegan knew he wouldn’t let him die, not even for his own boys. Alteri, where the hell are you?
Meehan scanned O’Keegan and for the first time in his life felt the kick in the gut that told him that he was looking at someone that might have what it took to win. No matter the threat or the odds, he had always walked into every situation with an almost crazy belief that he would walk out the other side in one piece. Self belief multiplied to the point of a godlike faith in his own invulnerability. But as he stood, looking at O’Keegan, for the first time he felt the knife of nervousness prying open his steel encased confidence, letting out the demons of doubt to run around his mind. Flannery raised the curtain with a tired arm, almost desperate to see this all to its conclusion, hoping that O’Keegan was playing the game right up until the last moment.
Flannery didn’t take his eyes off of Keegan, wanting some sign, some wink, anything, to show that this was all part of the act. The bowed head, the slight tremors in his voice, the cowed demeanour, he wanted it to be the greatest act he’d ever seen, but O’Keegan kept his eyes and his thoughts to himself as he and Meehan stepped through to the waiting circle.
++
The hum of the machine was constant, the noise of the crowd a verbal vibration throughout the warehouse. The small talk underpinned the big talk as each person added their twig to the fire in the hope that it would keep burning. Most of Boston had come to O’Keegan’s place and Meehan now stood close to the centre. Getting ready for the whole crowd to see, stretching, bending to touch toes, limbering up and confident.
Alteri pushed his way through the crowd, the package he had carefully held throughout the day tucked under one arm, making a zig zag through until he stood just a few steps from Meehan, seeing a few of his men clapping him on the back, wanting to ingratiate themselves with cheap congratulations for his soon success. Closing the gap, he tapped Meehan on the shoulder. Meehan’s guys let their smiles fall, wondering what Alteri had to say to Meehan that he would want to hear, already moving to intercept him if Meehan wanted him moved away.
Meehan, his back to Alteri, stepped forward a step before turning. Something he had learnt long ago, instinctively putting himself out of arms length before turning to the unknown. Meehan looked Alteri up and down, uncertain for a second before recognising him from a description he had received from one of his boys. Adding it up, he figure Alteri to be one of O’Keegan’s boys. Alteri stepped forward, leaning in so he could whisper into Meehan’s ear.
‘I have something for you…make sure you look it over without your boys around. It’s important.’
Meehan looked down, expecting to see a gun or knife poised, wondering if this was O’Keegan’s last move before the fight kicked off in just a few minutes. What could this guy possibly have that would stop the inevitable? Moving back quickly his eyes looked downwards, no knife or gun visible, just a small package. Taking it, he held it like it would explode at any moment.
Looking over at one of his guys, he signalled for his closest to take what Alteri was offering. His meaty hands clasping the package as Alteri stepped away, turning and pushing his way back into the crowd, disappearing as Meehan’s man held the brown paper and string, soft to the touch. Meehan looked down at it, seeing the blood stains and red finger marks across its surface. He felt it then, a sick feeling twisting his guts, a prickle on the back of his neck as his mind did the math. He looked into the face of his man, still holding the package.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s a package Boss. I don’t think it’s anything to worry about Boss, it’s soft.’
‘I know it’s a fucking package you idiot. Give it to me.’ Meehan felt his fingers shaking as he snatched it from his man’s hands, not understanding why but something telling him that his world was about to be rocked. His imagination went to work, a queasiness in his stomach taking away the adrenalin that had been coursing through him moments before. Something in his brain told him to do what O’Keegan’s man had said, not wanting his men to see what was inside. Meehan turned, pushing his way towards the curtain that segmented off O’Keegan’s boys from Boston’s watching eyes. Throwing aside the curtain, he walked in and sat himself down, only then noticing O’Keegan was s
itting on one of the benches, anticipating his appearance and waiting for him.
Before Meehan’s shaking fingers could take hold of the paper, O’Keegan walked over to the curtain, now needing more than anything to leave, Meehan looking up at him then back to the package then to O’Keegan. O’Keegan stopped, hand starting to move the curtain aside, willing himself to step outside but needing to say one last thing to Meehan as he sat, pulling his courage together to open it.
‘Meehan…Meehan…’ O’Keegan tried to get Meehan’s attention, Meehan’s eyes looking up to refocused on O’Keegan, Meehan still not having opened the package.
‘I want you to know before you open that, that it wasn’t anything to do with me or any of my boys. This is not how we play the game, there are some rules we don’t play by. You got other’s involved in this and to them, winning is everything…no matter what. Do you understand Meehan? This wasn’t my doing…it was yours’.
As if O’Keegan was saying magic words which unlocked his ability to move, Meehan’s fingers started to work, pulling at the brown paper as O’Keegan stepped outside. Leaving him alone. Meehan’s fingers tore at the paper, the movement making whatever was inside rattle, a childish noise more than familiar to Meehan. His hands worked slow, like passing through lead as the paper came apart, tears already starting to course down his face as the package’s contents came into view, a teddy arm, face and body, marked with blood, falling to the floor as Meehan raised his hands to his face, tears streaming as his body shook.
Ten minutes later, O’Keegan walked back behind the curtain. Meehan sat rocking in place, the bear clasped to his chest, moving backwards and forwards repeatedly as he sat, the tears coursing down his face. O’Keegan looked down at him, feeling some of the pain that Meehan must have been feeling, knowing he should not but unable to help himself.
‘Meehan, I was given a message. She’s okay…that blood, it’s not hers. Seems they wanted to get a message across. They told me that if you let my Pa go then you daughter will be let loose. They also said that you can’t leave until this is all done, you need to stay here. If they see you walking out then you may never see her again…I wouldn’t risk it, I know these boys…’
Meehan’s rocking stopped, his eyes looked up, pleading into O’Keegans.
‘She’s alive? You’re sure?’ He wiped the back of his hand across his face, trying to get back some control.
‘That’s what they tell me. Like I said, I know these people, they don’t hurt kids unless they are pushed to it. But you need to do what I said…let my Pa go, stick around here and let’s finish our business.’
Meehan’s brain started to work again. There was still some hope.
‘They’ll give my daughter back if I let you Pa go?’ O’Keegan reached down to touch Meehan’s shoulder, still feeling for him.
‘That’s it. Shall I send one of your boys in?’
‘Yeah…yeah…do it will you?’ Meehan wiped his hand across his face, doing his best to clear away the residue of his emotion. O’Keegan started to leave half way out as Meehan spoke.
‘O’Keegan…what about the fight? O’Keegan stopped, arm raising the curtain high.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Do I have to throw it? Is that also part of this?’
O’Keegan shook his head.
‘No…I told you. This was not my doing, you brought family into this, me…I’ll do what I came to do, when you come into the ring, I’ll expect you at the top of your game. Win or lose, if my Pa is let go, you’re girl will be back asleep in bed with her toys before we’re done.’
Meehan could barely believe it, O’Keegan was actually going to play it straight.
‘You’re a piece of work do you know that O’Keegan? You’ve got me on the ropes and you still want to play it fair?’ Meehan shook his head in disbelief ‘Where did you come from O’Keegan, are there really people like you still around?’
‘Like I said Meehan, it wasn’t me, I don’t got you against any ropes…that comes later, when me and you get in there. Then it’s just down to you and me, who’s the best.’
‘That’s all it’s really been about for you isn’t it O’Keegan? You’ll really play it straight, win or lose, no matter what?’
O’Keegan nodded.
‘Yeah, that’s all there is Meehan’.
Ten minutes later, Meehan has given one of his boys the instructions and he was on his way to unlock the box on O’Keegan’s father. With business dealt with, Meehan cleaned himself up, ready to go back out into the crowd, sure that he had done everything he could to get his girl back, his man on the way to let O’Keegan’s Pa back into the world.
Stepping out from behind the curtain, he tried to put it all inside, urging himself back into the moment. He looked around, seeing face he knew and some he didn’t. They all looked different to him now. Boston had been everything to Meehan, the only place that was home. Boston had given him everything but had asked a high price but he had willingly given up his soul, not thinking it was worth much anyhow. He had everything he wanted and yet now it all felt and tasted like shit to him, everything except his wife and his daughter, they were everything good in his world, Meehan realised as he moved through the crowd. As he moved, he thought back to the story that he used to be told about a king that turned everything he touched to gold. He had never understood how that wasn’t the best gift one could ever get…until now. But as he reached the circle, he stood at Boston’s centre, finally understanding. He was where he had always wanted to be and it felt like crap. Meehan had spent his whole life scrapping to be at the centre of this goddamned town. Here he was, so what?
Growing up and even until this morning he would have given almost anything to have received the pats on the back from people that would usually cross the street when he was nearby. That’s what progress was all about wasn’t it? Now they were here doing exactly that and it felt hollow and worthless. He watched his men congregated around, not sure what had happened but doing there best to joke their way through.
He could not join in the jokes told about the foreigners that were told for his amusement, he didn’t get a kick out of shaking the hundreds of hands that were now prodded at him like he was suddenly somebody they all wanted to meet. Meehan was in the middle of it all, the place he had always wanted to be, and it felt grey and ashen. He now saw it all, knew they thought of him as a freak, someone to give them their jollies on a Saturday night or one more story in the Sunday Boston Globe. It finally hit him that he would never be allowed to be one of them, he would always be the entertainment or the man they used to scare their kids into eating their greens or to make them go to sleep quietly at night.
He was at the centre of it all but as the crowd tightened and squeezed themselves around him, he finally realized that he would forever be completely apart from them all, whatever their smiles, handshakes and mouths said to the contrary. Boston had made him a freak, had maybe helped to take away his most important treasure, his daughter, and for the first time in his life, he hated it all.
++
It was impossible. A crowd this big, this drunk, this tightly wound could not be this silent. They had been taken on a rollercoaster of life and near death and yet they still wanted more. Their appetite had been wetted and they would get more.
As Meehan and O’Keegan stood in front of them, their eyes reviewed every piece of the two men before them, bare-chested and almost ready to fight, soon be at war. The crowd were silent in appreciation at the sacrifice, weighing each person, their shouts and screams held in their throats.
They mentally considered Meehan, the Boston boss and O’Keegan, the newcomer reviewing each scar and old wound, each muscle and sinew. The crowd were getting their money’s worth, this would be something to talk about until the end of their days, each second to be captured as mental photographs for later amusement and story telling.
Meehan looked confident, hiding his hollowness behind smiling eyes, bouncing on the balls of his feet li
ke he had energy that needed releasing, almost wanting to proclaim himself the winner before the fight was even started. O’Keegan looked distant, a man summoning every ounce of will and strength, pulling each thought and breath to his very centre while he stood without movement. Flannery stood behind them both, three men waiting for the invisible clock’s hands to arrive at the right point. O’Keegan turned, leaning into Flannery to whisper,
‘Don’t worry Flannery, it’s all been sorted…now it’s just between me and Meehan, a fair fight’.
Flannery perked up, not sure how it had happened but taking O’Keegan at his word, showing some relief before turning again to the moment that was ahead.
The crowd maintained their silence, no wanting any sound to delay the moment of that was heading towards them, not wanting any release until bell chimed.
Flannery finally stepped between Meehan and O’Keegan, pulled forward by the moment, all actors moving on their respective tracks like figures on an obscene cuckoo clock.
Raising both hands high, Flannery offered both men to the crowd,
‘Meehan and O’Keegan, Ladies and Gentlemen’
The cheer was physical, a wave of noise, a built up pressure valve loosened but not fully released by the shouts of approval. Meehan glanced at O’Keegan, pleased with himself, now sure that the result would at least be real, mentally crossing his fingers that O’Keegan would take the fight to Meehan and win. O’Keegan ignored it all, looking ahead, his expression stoic and peaceful.
The Fighting O'Keegans Page 24
