No Timeouts - Page 5

“Another round a’ Guinness with shots a’ Bushmills for the troops!” Denny shouts down the crowded bar at Mooney’s in Arthur Square as Thin Lizzie’s “Whiskey in the Jar” blasts from the corner jukebox. The popular pub is teeming with a lively mix of locals and visitors alike, all buoyed in high spirits and well on their way to drunken good cheer. And plenty of single women scattered about, some alone and others in groups – Mooney’s being a well-known pickup joint in the heart of Belfast City Centre.

“Here y’are, fellas!” Denny screams over the loud music and crowd noise, his face breaking into a wide grin as he hands a round of pints and shots to his crew. Tonight, this group includes his younger brother Bobby. At just nineteen and a student at Queen’s University, Bobby is three to four years younger than the others – John Murphy, John’s younger brother Lenny, and William Moore, who works with Denny at Woodvale Meats on the Shankill Road.

Bobby likes Willie Moore, a good-natured chap who doesn’t say much but is well-liked and respected by the others. The Murphy brothers, however, paint a stark contrast. Though younger than John, Lenny is the clear leader of the two. Released a year ago from a two-year stint at Crumlin Road Jail, and still just twenty-two, Lenny’s already a UVF officer notorious in West Belfast for a degree of violence and brutality that’s extreme even by Ulster paramilitary standards. His toothy uneven grin and wild psychotic eyes are terrifying even to those who know him well – especially after a night of boozing and snorting coke, a regular affair for the Murphys. Unlike Moore, who goes out of his way to include Bobby, the Murphy brothers treat Bobby with indifference, only tolerating his presence out of their respect for his older brother.

When Denny rushes off to greet a few friends he spots across the bar, Bobby overhears Lenny ask his brother John, “Why’d Kehan have to bring the college boy out tonight? Lad’s a fuckin’ wanker.” His words slice through the air like a knife, making Bobby feel small and exposed.

Shortly before midnight, after Denny returns and buys another round for the crew, Lenny turns to him and William. “Pub’s gettin’ too packed for me an’ Johnny, we’re headin’ back to the Shankill. We’ll be at the Lawnbrook or Brown Bear if you two muckers wanna join us later.” John chimes in, shifting his eyes down the bar. “If, that is, you lads aren’t occupied with those two birds down the bar that’ve been sizin’ up Denny-boy like a Christmas ham!”

The others follow John’s gaze to see two young women in their early twenties holding cocktail glasses, engaged in animated conversation while stealing occasional glances at the men. One a brunette, the other a blonde, both are very attractive and relishing the attention from the young men. The brunette flashes a quick smile at Denny before she turns back to her friend, who leans in closer, a smile of her own dancing on her lips as the brunette whispers something to her.

“They look like a couple a’ fuckin’ taigs to me,” Lenny says, eyes narrowing as he studies the women closely. “You lads best be careful; Provos’ve been settin’ their honeytraps all over the City Centre lately.”

“Stop your worryin’, Len,” Denny says dismissively. “I’m here all the time. Only Proddies in this pub. An’ the honeytrappin’ stopped two years ago.”

“I’m just tellin’ ya to be careful,” Lenny says, his voice low and serious as he grabs John by the arm to leave. For the first time that night, he turns to acknowledge Bobby. “If ya wanna make yourself useful tonight, college boy, then watch out for your brother and Willie here while we head back to the Shankill.”

Standing next to Lenny, John nods in agreement. “Maybe not as many girls over there, but at least we don’t need to worry about gettin’ shot if we leave the pub with ’em.”

After the Murphy brothers leave, Denny leans in close to say something to William over the crowd noise. William nods with a grin and casts a sly look over at the two women, who are now giving him and Denny their full attention, watching them expectantly. Denny and William walk over toward the women and wave for Bobby to follow.

With Denny’s irresistible charm and the affable William as his wingman, the girls are soon glowing with smiles and laughter. The brunette, Gracie, glances over at Bobby from time to time with a flirtatious smile. Finally, she waves him over to join them. “C’mon over, little brother, we don’t wanna leave out the best-lookin’ lad in the pub.”

Bobby blushes, then moves his stool next to hers, feeling the heat of her gaze.

Gracie studies him closely, then raises the back of her hand to her forehead, pretending to swoon. “Will ya look at those eyes, Mo?” she exclaims. “They’re green as Connemara marble!” Her friend, Maureen, perched on the stool next to her, nods quickly while fanning herself with both hands. “Good lord, whatcha doin’ over there by your lonesome, Bobby? Those Queen’s girls must be faintin’ over ya.”

Denny chimes in. “I tell ’im the same all the time, ladies. But our Bobby’s a shy one; with his nose always buried in a book, he don’t even notice the girls starin’ at ’im.”

William leans over with a twinkle in his eye. “Well, at least one of the Kehan brothers is livin’ the straight life while the other one’s out trollin’ the pubs every night.”

Denny turns to William with a mock scowl and gentle slug to the arm. “Hey now, Willie, we don’t want these lovely young lasses thinkin’ I’m—”

Before Denny can finish, Gracie hops off her stool, grabs his hand and pulls him out toward the crowded dance floor where couples sway to “Killer Queen” booming from the jukebox. With Denny in tow, she glances back at Maureen and William. “C’mon, you two, let’s go dance!” William looks at Maureen with a shrug, then extends his hand to her. “Well, I guess we’ve got no choice now, do we?” Maureen accepts his hand with a laugh. “We most certainly do not, sir. Ya never say no to Gracie!” The two of them follow Gracie and Denny out to the dance floor, leaving Bobby alone at the bar.

Feeling awkward and self-conscious by himself, Bobby dips his head and takes a long sip from his pint. He watches the two couples dance, lost in their own world. Then his gaze drifts slowly around the bar, finally resting on the burly red-headed bartender who’s been serving them all night. The bartender wipes out the inside of a pint glass, staring intently at the same two jubilant couples on the dance floor; there’s no cheer or humor in his eyes as he watches them closely, subtly shaking his head. He turns and walks down the bar toward Bobby. His eyes, dead serious, are fixed directly on Bobby. But before he can reach Bobby, the other bartender grabs him by the arm, diverting his attention to a task on the other side of the bar.

A few minutes later, feeling uncomfortable and out of place, Bobby stands up and leaves the pub without telling his brother or William. As he steps out into the cool night air, he doesn’t think twice about the bartender’s odd behavior and unmistakable intent to speak to him. At least not until the next day.

And then he’ll never forget.