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Chapter 27: Good Old Saint Patrick

Sometimes people have hidden parts, pieces of themselves that can't be seen even after months of 'getting-to-know' one another. I suspect that even after years together there would still be gaps, even with family. I don't think it is anyone's fault; it's just the way life is. No one is or can be a completely opened book, not even the people who consider themselves to be so. Everyone has information hidden away in various indexes, the reference section, or a particularly verbose paragraph that no one has ever read in its entirety but only skimmed. It might be a self-preservation mechanism, or a universal cowardice. It might just be forgetfulness or the deeming of certain facts as too useless to warrant speaking. But at the end of the day, a secret is still a secret and sometimes even what feels like the smallest secret can snowball.

"You're quite the fast learner, Mary."

I looked up from my bag towards the direction of the thick accent of my teacher, my charm snapping on immediately. "Well, your teaching makes it easy."

She gave me a subtle smile and leaned against the desk in front of my own. "So why did you feel like learning Russian? Planning a vacation?"

"Oh no." I shook my head and placed my now full bag onto the fake wood of the cheap desk. "I just felt the need to broaden my horizons, ya know?"

"Of course, of course. I just wish more people felt that way," she motioned to the near empty classroom. I personally was glad I was one of only six others in the area who decided to take this class. I'd been partial to small class sizes ever since I got my first detention. Smaller classes meant fewer distractions, which in turn meant I could actually learn something. She must've noticed the far-away look in my eyes, because she quickly changed the subject. "Are you doing anything fun for St. Paddy's day this weekend?"

"I don't think so," I shrugged as I pulled my coat on. "I've gotta work, and I haven't been feeling so hot lately." I wasn't lying. I'd been feeling under the weather for the last week. It was a first for me, but I figured that since everything else had been going so well: the boys, the bar, the brawls, the bucket loads of cash… what were a few mornings hunched over the toilet?

"I'm sorry to hear that." Her heavily accented words continued, "You work at that bar not far from here, McGinty's, right?"

"Yeah." I slung the bag over my shoulder next and pushed in my chair with a smile. "Love that place."

Her grin widened immensely. "Maybe I'll bring the old chain and ball out there for the evening." I couldn't help but chuckle a bit at her attempt at idioms. She was always trying to use them in conversation during class, but somehow they were always a little off. It didn't bother me, if anything it made it all more entertaining.

"You should." I took a step towards the door of the small room. "It's always nice to see familiar faces in there while I'm working. Helps break up the time on long nights."

"Then it's settled," she clapped her hands together, pushing off the desk. "Keep up the good work." She waved me off and returned to her things at the front of the classroom, calling over her shoulder just as I opened the door, "Maybe you'll be teaching this class next semester."

I don't know if I was what I'd consider fluent yet, but I could manage a child's level of understanding the language and that was all I'd really wanted. It had come in handy several times already; mostly when the boys were trading words they thought I couldn't understand, and a few times I caught Doc talking on the phone with the people who I assumed were muscling him out of the bar. In either case, nothing I heard was particularly useful. The boys were just being their usual weird selves and Doc's conversations never provided me with any names to go off of.

For all my work I was still more useless than I'd ever been.

At least I was trying though.

-o0o-

"It's so damn busy, Doc," I said while yanking on the tap. I hadn't had a moments rest since I got into work. As soon as I was through the door it was pour this or fix that. The only thing even close to a break was when I had to wipe down some spill on some table. Even if I were feeling fine it would have been horrible, but I had already spent the bulk of my morning hunched over my toilet praying it would be the last day and I could get back to my normal activities.

Doc slid a frothy glass to a waiting patron before he turned to me, "What'd you expect? It's the b-b-biggest drinking holiday of the year."

I wiped my forehead with the bottom of my apron, "I know, I know, I just thought I'd be feeling better by now." As he poured a round of shots for some eager-looking twenty-somethings I saw the distinct look of worry on his face. I cracked a smile as I poured the next guy's order, "I mean I have even been keeping away from whiskey to help speed things up."

He let out a laugh, "I t-thought that we were more s-stocked up on the stuff than n-normal."

Although I laughed with him it wasn't a total joke; we were more fully stocked on my favorites since my forced detox. And whiskey and beer weren't the only things I'd given up in my attempt to feel better. I also stopped smoking temporarily. I figured it would help get rid of whatever bug I had, that maybe more oxygen meant less dashes to the restroom to puke.

Soon we got back into our groove. The minutes flew by, as they normally did on our busy nights. I even saw my teacher take a seat, but Doc got to her before I could escape from the onslaught of orders. She must not have said anything about my classes, because Doc didn't say anything to me about my secret scholarly pursuits. He just occasionally looked over to me with that worried expression of his, which meant I had to try even harder to seem chipper.

Eventually there was a brief lull in the thirst of the customers. That pause gave me time to run out back for some fresh air.

As I stared at the brick wall of the building behind the bar I felt a rush of tears come to my eyes. I don't even know what had brought it on, but in seconds I was bawling into my hands as my shoulders shook with my sobs.

Then, as quickly as it had happened, I was fine again. Nothing in me wanted to cry, I just wanted to take a few breaths and finish the night so I could get some sleep.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

O'Dell is as good as new.

After I came back in from my break, I was only able to dole out a few orders before two familiar faces came strolling through the door. Doc nodded up to them as they took the empty seats in the middle of the bar. "Hello b-boys! The usual?"

"Sure thing, Doc."

Connor looked over to me. "Has Rocco been in yet?"

I shook my head as I took another moment to lean against the counter. The break didn't help nearly as much as I'd hoped it would. "Not yet."

"Still not feeling well enough to drink with us?" Murphy's jovial tone coupled with his smile helped a little, but not enough to warrant a drink.

"No," I sighed as I looked longingly towards the glasses Doc had just placed in front of them. "I wish I could though."

Connor grinned mischievously as he tilted his glass towards me. "But isn't that just what you need?"

"Some time with us?" Murphy added.

That was what I needed. Time with my boys. Time to not have to think.

Before I could agree with them, Doc cut in from the other side of the bar. "What she n-n-needs is to get s-some fucking sleep."

I let out a laugh as I started to pour a draft for a rather impatient man who was tapping his fingers on the dark wood. "It's a bit busy for that."

Doc nodded. "Once it's slowed a bit I'm s-sending ya home."

"I'd argue with ya." I winked over to him as I slid the beer to the customer, "But I think you're right about this one."

"D-D-Damn straight."

I looked back to my boys. "We still on for tomorrow night, Con?"

He gave a nod mid-swig, coming up for air to answer me. "Aye, if you're up for it?"

I gave him the strongest smile I could force, but it still felt weak to me.

"More incentive for you to get well," Murphy leaned over the bar, whispering loud enough for his brother to hear. "Or at least be better by next Friday."

My hand shot over and ruffled his hair. "I will, I will. I just need some good sleep, I promise."

-o0o-

I woke up to a pounding in my head and an all too familiar lurch in my stomach.

Jerking up for a split second, I rolled over and ran straight to the bathroom, then proceeded to unload whatever contents remained in my stomach from last night's soup dinner. I knelt there for a solid minute, waiting for my guts to settle long enough for me to gain the strength to pull myself up to the sink. Once I'd wiped off my mouth, put some toothpaste on my toothbrush and ran it under the water, I started brushing off the bile from my teeth.

Then I realized something.

The pounding wasn't coming from inside my head.

There was someone at the door.

There was someone knocking violently at my door.

Toothbrush still in my mouth, I ran to the dresser and pulled open the bottom drawer, cocking the gun I'd grabbed in a fluid motion as I made my way to the door.

I swung it open, pistol pointing directly at the source of the disturbance.

"Jesus Christ, O'Dell," Rocco's hands flew up. "It's just me."

I lowered the gun and went back to brushing my teeth. My words came out garbled along with general drool oozing from my lower lip. "W-ll, y-a wurr kn-ckin ike it wuz th- -econd c-ming o-t th-r. Wha'd y-a ex-pect fro-me?" I stepped aside and let him in, noticing the weird look on his face. "Wha app-ned?"

His voice was nervous as his eyes darted around my apartment. "The boys."

I immediately ceased my brushing and stared at him. "What happened?"

"The Russians came last night after you left." As the words spilled out of him, I could feel my stomach turning over as the nausea returned. I wanted to tell him to stop, but I couldn't get the words out before he continued. "There was a fight and they found two bodies in an alley nearby."

My eyes went straight to my right hand: the gun. Whoever did this would pay; they would pay dearly. A flood of tears threatened to burst down my face, and the toothbrush fell to the ground. "Who?" I could feel my knees shaking so I reached towards the wall behind me to steady myself.

Rocco shook his head and held up what looked like a gift bag. "Hold on, don't freak!"

My eyebrows furrowed together. "What?"

"It wasn't them. They're at the police station." He was laughing now, somewhat hysterically. "I was heading over there with their stuff, I thought you'd want to come with."

A million different scenarios flew through my mind of what had happened to the twins, each more outlandish than the last. I looked from the tile floor back up to Rocco. "They in trouble?"

He shook his head, smiling at me through his sunglasses. "I don't think so. Fucking lucky bastards." I could feel the corner of my mouth curve up as I picked the toothbrush off of the ground. I saw Rocco drop into one of the chairs in my 'kitchen' and pull out a cigarette, "Hurry up, they're waiting."

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