by J. B. Havens
The inside of Finnegan’s was everything you could hope for in an Irish pub. The thick smell of home-cooked food was like ambrosia to us. The smells of roasting meat and gravy hung heavy in the air, back-dropped by the musk of whiskey and beer. There was a large stone fireplace, unlit this time of year, but would hold a peat fire in the winter. The long flagstone mantel was full of pictures of Ireland and locals toasting the camera. The long L-shaped, hand carved maple bar gleamed darkly in the low light; that is what you could see of it through all the locals crowding around waiting for drinks.
Manning the bar was the Irishman I had come to see, Willie McBride. I caught his eye around the back of the leggy blonde in front of me. A wide grin lit up his scarred face, pulling the pitted skin tight on his cheek and neck. Burn scars trailed down the left side of his cheek and his neck, from behind his ear, down over his collarbone, and into his shirt. They emerged again on his left arm, covering almost his whole arm down onto the back of his hand. In the palm of his left hand was a perfect star shape from an old fashioned doorknob. The scars didn’t take away from his looks at all.
He has a striking presence that seemed to fill the space around him. He was one of those people whose soul shined out into the room around him. It was why this bar was filled nearly every night. Willie had the most beautiful amber colored eyes, coupled with thick black lashes. Add the eyes to the recipe with his dark red hair, charisma, and panty-dropping smile; scars or no scars, he had his pick of all the available women in the area. Some of the unavailable ones too, if Willie was less honorable.
“How do, Mic? You look mighty lovely tonight,” Willie said, winking at me. As long as he had been here, he still had most of his accent. He braced his thick arms on the bar and leaned past the leggy blonde trying to get his attention.
“Good now, Willie me boy. And thank ye,” I said in a bad Irish accent, making him laugh his full throated, husky laugh. Just seeing Willie had the power to cheer me up every time. We weren’t just lovers when it suited us; we were good friends. He knew more than anyone about what we did; knew we weren’t playing at being a militia. He’d seen my Steel tattoo and bullet wounds. He had earned that trust with years of solid friendship.
He slid a Guinness across the bar to me without needing to be asked. I lifted the pint to my mouth, relishing my first swallow of the thick cold creaminess. Willie checked the faces of the men behind me and barked orders to his assistant bartender, filling the men’s orders without needing to hear them.
“What’ll it be, mate?” Willie gestured to Jordon, who seemed to be slowly taking it all in. The girls crowded around in short skirts and tight jeans. The local men were in flannel and camo or a combination thereof. There were John Deere hats and belt buckles. Steel toed cowboy boots were the footwear of choice for most of these hard working men. Grease stained hands grasped the waists of their women or slid along a shoulder. My team always got the local territorial alpha shit going. They didn’t even have to say anything. These locals who wouldn’t hesitate to take someone out to the parking lot for a bare-knuckled brawl sensed the superiority of the men standing behind me. They could smell the gunpowder and violence on my team and were threatened by it. Pierce and Flynn got their draft beers and melted into the crowd. Phillips and Jones stayed at my back, flanking me.
“Jack Daniels. Straight up. Two fingers,” Jordon barked. Someone sounded butt hurt.
“Sure thing. Comin’ right up.” Willie turned away to fill the order and nodded to a couple patrons shouting their orders at him over the music that had just started. I turned to Jordon, questioning him with my eyes.
“What?” He snapped at me. Yup, butt hurt for sure.
“You tell me what, Jordon.” I barked back. I was not going to let his perceived hurt feelings get in the way of what could be my last night out.
“Nothing. Whatever. Do what you want, Michaels,” he snapped back before taking his drink from Willie and following Flynn and Pierce into the crowd.
“Whatever is going on with you two, Mic, you need to take care of it,” Phillips said softly in my ear before walking after Jordon. God dammit. This was more drama than I needed right now. Chris fucking Jordon was a problem for another day. I brought some of this on myself with what I did in the ring earlier, but he’d also told me to keep my hands to myself. I didn’t want to keep them to myself, at the moment, I wanted them running over the slickness of Willie’s scars. I wanted them buried in his hair with my mouth on his neck, not to mention other places.
“Jones, you got anything to add? Wanna chime in?” I turned to him as I said it, knowing that I was making him a target for my own frustration.
“I’ve got nothing, Mic. You’re a grown woman.” He shrugged and left me too. Sigh.
I noticed a rare empty stool at the bar and scooted into it quickly before anyone else could get it. I earned a glare from the blonde, but shrugged her off. From the back she looked half decent; then I saw her face and it looked like she’d used magic markers to put her eyebrows and lipstick on. Talk about a fear of clowns.
“So Bea, what brings ye here?” I looked away from the walking makeup disaster next to me and turned back to Willie. I crossed my arms and leaned onto the bar in front of me, knowing that it would push my breasts up and together. Willie grinned at the eyeful before him. I felt his eyes drag up my neck to my lips and finally back to my eyes. I gave him a smile that said everything I needed it to.
“Oh, aye.” His grin was liable to split his face in two soon. His amber eyes darkened with the knowledge of what was to come later. He looked side to side subtly before touching his lips to mine in a quick wet kiss. I heard the blonde next to me huff and stomp off, making Willie chuckle.
“Fan of yours?” I asked, as I relaxed back into my stool.
He harrumphed before answering. “That woman is a fan of any man on two legs. She scares the daylights out of me. Can you imagine seeing that in the mornin’?” He shuddered dramatically, making me laugh.
“Good thing I’m here to protect you then, huh?” It was his turn to laugh before making his way farther down the bar, filling drink orders and joking as he went.
I turned my back to the bar and surveyed the room around me; not even bothering to hide that I was checking up on my team. Flynn had a girl on each arm, a brunette and a red head. They were giggling behind their hands and I’d be worried about whether they were legal if we were in any other bar. He was earning himself glares from the single locals. They probably saw it as poaching in their territory. Pierce was deep in conversation with a stunning older blonde woman. She was tall and trim and I could see the intelligence shining from her eyes, even over here.
Phillips was holding up the wall and glaring at the whole room, oblivious to the girls checking him out. They were trying to get the courage to test the bad boy aura he was throwing off, pushing one another and trying to be unobtrusive and failing. Jones, on the other hand, had the blonde from the bar in a corner, one long arm caging her in, while he traced her jaw with the back of his other hand. Guess he didn’t have a fear of clowns.
I spotted Jordon sitting at a small table against the wall on the other side of the room. He had a perfect view of the bar and the door. By the expression on his face he saw the kiss and didn’t like it much. He had his own gaggle of fan girls checking him out. His grip on his whiskey glass was so tight his knuckles were white and I worried he’d shatter it. Once again Phillips was more right than I cared to admit. I needed to take care of this.
I walked to Chris’s table and set my beer down beside his now empty whiskey glass. He didn’t even make an attempt to hide his anger and confusion.
“What’s up boy-o,” I asked in my usual manner, needling him when I should be acting like an adult.
“You; you’re what’s up. I can’t take this shit anymore. One minute you’re all over me, the next you’re playing kissy face with the bartender.” His voice was low and hurt. How did this go so bad, so fast? We were both acting like children.<
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“You know what Jordon, you’re right. None of this has been fair to you. This one time and one time only, I will explain it to you.” Fortifying myself with another long swallow of my beer, I continued. “I’m attracted to you. Very much so. It’s not something I can help and if I could, I would. Anything going on here isn’t fair to either one of us. It can’t happen. I was wrong to do what I did in the gym. Consider it over. Whatever it was, it’s done now.” I let my words sink in a bit as I waited for him to say something.
“Ok, Mic. It’s done.” He held his hand out for me to shake. I took it. “Friends?”
“Yeah, Jordon, friends,” I said, as I shook his hand.
The sharp rumble of pissed-off male voices grabbed my attention on the other side of the bar. Flynn had the girls pushed behind him as he stood toe-to-toe with three locals. Phillips abandoned his wall and joined the party, standing behind Flynn with his arms crossed. His glare alone should have scared the drunken idiots off. Jordon and I exchanged a glance and stood as one, shoving our way through the crowd gathering around the men.
Jordon shoved two men aside and shouted, “Make a hole!” Everyone turned and looked at us, but they moved. Willie was on his way to help break it up. I caught his eye and held up my hand. He stopped and gave me a nod. He knew that I could handle this, and it was better for everyone if I did. I stepped up beside Flynn and then took a small step in front of him. The boys were all here now, Jones to my left. He knew if there was a fight, I’d need his long reach. Jordon was to the right and slightly behind Flynn. Pierce was watching our backs from the little table with the blonde woman. Phillips turned slightly to watch our backs and sides. The drunk locals in front of me looked around to each man quickly. Seeing that they were outnumbered and outclassed in every way was giving them pause. I could see them deflating like a balloon with a slow leak.
“What seems to be the problem here, boys?” The three of them looked down on me with surprise. I don’t think they expected little ‘ol me to step into this. The one that seemed to be the leader was tall, but soft around the middle. He had the look of someone that was used to being taken seriously in a fight from his size alone. He was almost as tall as Phillips, but he had a beer gut hanging over his belt and the red blotchy face of a heavy drinker. No contest here. I could take this guy without even trying hard. The other two were smaller versions of their beer gut leader.
“Listen here, little girl. This doesn’t concern you. This is between us and that faggot there.” He shoved his finger over my shoulder at Flynn. As if I needed the reminder.
“Your word choice is about as advanced as your I.Q.,” I snapped back. “I’m not here to trade insults. You can see the men behind me, so walk away. Now. Or you won’t like what I will let them do to you.” I pointed over my shoulder with my thumb. See, I could do unnecessary hand gestures too! Jones popped his knuckles and Flynn stopped fighting his crazy grin. Jordon dropped back into a fighting stance, balanced and ready. I put my hand on my hips and tipped my head to the side. I figured the guys were enough of a threat without adding myself to it.
“Fuck you, bitch! That faggot took my girl.” He spat in my face, his sour beer breath making me lean my head back to try and escape it.
“If he’s a faggot, why would he take your girl?” I said as sweetly as I could manage. Laughs erupted from the crowd around us. Someone had shut the music off. I guess we were more entertaining than J-Lo. Beer gut just stared at me in confusion. His fat stupid face creased as he tried to reason it out.
“Question too hard for you? Should I dumb it down a little? Let’s try it this way.” I spoke slowly, pausing after each word. “If he liked cock, he wouldn’t be after your girl.” I couldn’t fight my smile any longer. He was so mad, his face flushed even more red than I thought possible and he balled his big meaty paws into fists. I felt the guys tense behind me, getting ready for the idiot to step off to his death. I had to needle him just a little more. Maybe it’s a fault of mine but it’s one that I own. I never know when to shut up when confronted with an idiot. “Or are you the one who likes cock and you’re just projecting onto my boy here?” This was just too damn easy.
“Fuck you, you fucking cunt. You think you can come in here and act like you own the place?” I knew what he was going to do before he did. He reached out with a giant fist for my shirt. I stepped back, grabbed his hand, twisted, and bent it up sharply, as I stepped around his body. Twisting his arm again I brought it behind him and up at the same time that I kicked him in the back of the knee. He dropped like a sack of potatoes. He was making a high pitched noise that wasn’t quite a scream, but it was close. Jordon and Jones each had his buddies in similar positions.
Leaning as close to his ear as I could stand, I said, “I can break your arm in this hold. It would snap so easy. I love the wet snapping sound a breaking bone makes. Nod your head if you understand.” He nodded rapidly, tears starting to run down his face. “You’re going to get your stupid friends and get the fuck out of here or I will do worse than break your arm. And I’d enjoy doing it. Nod if you understand.” More rapid nodding. “I’m going to let you go now. If you try anything, I won’t just break your arm at the elbow, I’ll dislocate your knee too. Understand?” My arm was straining to hold his back. He was big and strong. I caught him by surprise, but I needed to diffuse this before the pain sobered him up and he figured out he was stronger than me.
“Ye…eesss,” he stuttered out between gasps of pain. I let him go all at once and stepped out of his reach quickly. I shouldn’t have bothered. He stayed on the floor hugging his arm, trying to get his knee to hold his weight so he could stand. He wiped his face on his sleeve like a child. The look in his eyes was not childlike. He was humiliated in the middle of the bar in front of all his friends and neighbors. Humiliated not only because he was taken down so easily, but because a small female did it.
Jordon and Jones let dumbass one and two go. They stepped to their fallen leader and helped him to his feet. He strained against them, wanting to come at the wall we had formed, but they dragged him limping out the door. As soon as they were gone, the music started back up and all the people went back to drinking and dancing.
I crooked my finger at Flynn and waited patiently as he came closer. “What the hell was that about?” I asked as soon as he got close enough that we wouldn’t be easily overheard.
“Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t sure?” The girls were hanging back, wisely giving us privacy. He glanced back at them for a second before looking back at me. “You saw us, Mic. They were all over me. I didn’t know one of them was with that guy. She says they broke up months ago and he won’t leave her alone.”
I sighed heavily. This night was not going the way I had planned. I was supposed to be drinking and flirting with Willie, enjoying the last night out I was going to get in who knows how long before we went on this mission. Now instead of that, I would have to deal with this high school drama crap. Willie sauntered over causally.
“What seems to be the problem, Bea?” He asked, after throwing his arm over my shoulder. I rubbed my hand up and down his forearm, enjoying the slickness of the scar tissue.
“Girl drama, Willie. Unfortunately, Flynn here seems to step into it all too often.”
“Hey, now Mic, how was I supposed to know Rednecks one, two, and three had any claim on these two?” Flynn said, waving his hand at the girls still standing back huddling together.
“It seems to be done now, Bea, and no one called the sheriff. Let the boy get back to his fun,” Willie added, sounding like a parent defending his child. In a way we kinda were. We’ve been coming to Finnegan’s to blow off steam since I joined Steel.
“Take care of it, Flynn. Get those girls and get them out of here. Remember your curfew,” I said, as I waved Pierce over. “Make sure they make it out of the parking lot okay. I wouldn’t put it past them to be out there waiting. Sound the alarm and we’ll come to the rescue.”
“Sure, Mic. I�
�ll make sure Don Juan here makes it out okay,” he said, as he grabbed Flynn by the shoulder and led him to the girls.
I looked at Willie, who was happily staking his claim on me, and ignoring the line at the bar. He stared back with those soulful amber eyes, looking at me like I was the only girl in the world. I didn’t take the look too seriously because I knew that for tonight, I was the only girl in the world, but when I was gone there would be another girl to fill the space. For Willie, every girl is the only girl in the world. He admitted to me once that he would never marry because he knew he couldn’t ever be faithful. He loved women too much and they loved him. He was wonderful when you were with him, but he was never with any woman very long. To the best of my knowledge, I was the only one he’d ever been with in this fashion. Most others he was with for a short time, but that was it. Once he was done, he didn’t go back for more. Maybe in another life, things would have been different for us. But mine was littered with blood, violence, and duty. His path meandered along lazily with the occasional twist and sharp turn, as evidenced by his scars. He told me he got them in a house fire in Ireland and left it at that. He doesn’t speak of it and I don’t ask. I don’t need the story. I can see it in his eyes when he stares into the fire in the winter. Some things are best left alone and not dragged screaming into the light. The darkness is home to a multitude of secrets.
****
Jordon sat back down at the same table he was at when they had arrived, nursing his new whiskey and watching Bea with the bartender. They were comfortable and familiar with each other in a way that caused envy to stab at his gut. Like she had said, this needed to be done between them. Nothing could ever come of it. In just over two days, they would be deep in Colombia, relying only on each other. There was no room for more. Duty and honor would bind, them but nothing more. He knocked back the last of his whiskey and stopped ignoring the smile of the brunette across the bar. Standing, he made his way over to her, putting a strut into his walk and his killer smile on. Both felt fake, but had the expected effect. She tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled. Reaching her, he pulled up a chair, asked if he could sit, and turned his back on Mic for good.
