The Fighting O'Keegans

by Aaron Kennedy

  Shorty had watched as they had talked about them in the darkness of the ship’s night, beside the never ending heat of the furnaces, passing the time and allowed each man to come to terms with their own fears and guilt.

  No man was immune to stupidity and weakness and each man over their short lives had done things that made them ashamed. Shorty knew the mirror that society normally held up to a person was dark and covered in soot in the boiler room, there were no guilty reflections or puritanical juries. They were all weak in their own way, they had all made stupid mistakes, they were all men.

  Their journey had created a group of people that thought of each other as a member of a family. It was if the trip across the Atlantic ocean had washed them clean of their shame, made new men of each of them, a trust among a group of men that had shared what they thought unshareable.

  Each man knew they would be fighting each other tonight, but it didn’t seem to matter to them. Family members in a playful fight with a crowd of paying punters urging them on. It was little more than sifting through the pack and ranking them according to their ability to give and take a punch, they were already almost sure how they would rank, the event would just make it clearer…and so what? None of these guys were afraid of those punches, from their stories it was clear to Shorty they had each received their unfair share of those over their lives and none of them considered that anyone in the group would do anything more than play it straight. They all knew that tomorrow morning would be seen through the odd black eye and tomorrow’s coffee cups would be raised by bruised and cut hands but they would still be together, would still be O’Keegan’s boys.

  The last few days had been crazy. They had gained and been shown more respect by the Boston locals that it was almost worth the odd knock, cut and bruise that was inevitable and now only a few hours away. They had become local celebrities and Shorty could tell that it felt good to all of them. A hell of a lot better than they were ever treated back home no matter what they did or didn’t do. Beyond all expectations, Shorty watched them as they laughed and joked with each other, the clock chugging closer to the raising of the curtain. A curtain that they almost welcomed, to the gladiators go the spoils and they were all now O’Keegan’s gladiators.

  Shorty pushed all of this aside, focusing back on making sure that everything for tonight’s event would go without a hitch. He had run around, talked to everyone that needed talking to and was sure that everyone knew the part they were to play.

  Shorty’s first focus had been making sure they made as much money as they could from this one off opportunity. Money from the door, from the drinks and from the bets that would be placed. The two youngest O’Keegan boys had been given the task of collecting cash from the crowd as they started to arrive. He had also found a local bar that was prepared to pay a crazy amount of money for one corner of the warehouse and after much haggling, discussing and proclamations of impending poverty on both side they had finally agreed on what would ordinarily be an outrageous fixed fee plus a decent percentage of their night’s take. But both Shorty and the Bar’s owner knew that this bar was going to take in what most bars made in a month. Every bar in Boston was closing their doors tonight and taking the night off, there was really only one place where everyone with any cash in Boston was going to be and that was in O’Keegan’s warehouse. So after the outrage of such crazy fees died down, they both admitted that this was a good deal, nodded in agreement and shook hands. The bar owner had secured himself a ransom’s worth of business and Shorty had secured O’Keegan more money than any of them had seen since arriving in Boston. They were all happy. Shorty had made a hard bargain but knew instinctively where the bar owners breaking point was, pushing against it to make sure he had squeezed out every available cent without encroaching on the good will that might come in useful at some other time.

  Shorty worked on all of this with a degree of detachment, as he thought through the main task that O’Keegan had given him, Alteri and O’Toole. As he thought, it came to him without beckoning, the two tasks he and they had been set by O’Keegan, they had described them as the most important things he had ever had to do, everything rested on Alteri, O’Toole and him. They knocked deeply on his mind demanding that Shorty take notice as his brain put all the pieces together like a mental jigsaw puzzle.

  He thought back to watching Meehan, Flannery and O’Keegan have their conversation in the car, sure that it wasn’t an amicable discussion, seeing again O’Keegan’s near finished cigar grinding into the leathered roof of Meehan’s prized possession. Yes, that was one act that underscored O’Keegan and Meehan were at each others throats, that there was no way out for any of them except a direct confrontation with Meehan. Shorty didn’t need to worry that he and the boys were being given up as a cheap sacrifice to get into Meehan’s good books. But there was one piece missing and it was tantalizingly irritating as he churned through all of the last few days happenings. The answer was right there, waiting, smiling and winking at him like a whore in London’s red light district.

  The last piece was there, it came to him, with a slight shimmy and a coy curtsy. Shorty remembered watching Meehan caressing his car outside his own warehouse not more than a day or so ago. Watching Meehan run his fingers over the glass-like paintwork, the deep breath Meehan took when he opened the back door and was once again hit with the fragrance from the new leather. As Shorty thought back to every movement and expression Meehan made, Shorty remembered the last, most important piece. He remembered Meehan’s look of secretive satisfaction, Meehan sharing a small joke with himself as he knocked with his knuckles on the car’s side windows. Almost as if he were testing the glass. Bullet-proof. That was it. That was the answer. Meehan had bullet-proof windows.

  Most people in this business relied upon moving fast and not being too routine in their daily lives. Trusting to the gods of chance and luck. A man like Meehan had more need of bullet-proof glass than any other man in Boston. But bullet-proof glass meant that Meehan would feel invincible in that car and that little piece of information was all he and O’Toole would need. Alteri would do his task with Shorty’s help, but the bullet-proof windows were the key to what O’Keegan had set for him and O’Toole. Now he needed to find O’Toole and figure out the plan.

  Chapter 42

  The crowd had already started to swell.

  It wasn’t what you could call a line, more a congregation, a swelling of bodies of all shapes and sizes outside of what looked like any other warehouse to the uninitiated and the uninformed.

  Not that there were many people in Boston that fell into that camp, it seemed like the whole city were either starting to wait outside the warehouse or were streaming on there way to do just that. The buzz was electric and constant as loud and quiet conversations alike joined together to create the hum of a human hive.

  Flannery and O’Keegan turned onto the warehouse street even they were surprised at the crowd that was gathering. It wasn’t that all the people were waiting apprehensively or pushing to be let in, to get a good place to stand, to get one of the few seats, they were happy where they were, this was all part of it, the canapés before the main course.

  Even the hanging around outside of the warehouse was part of what people where enjoying. The boundaries of class and profession had been silently set aside for the evening and as the days light disappeared, people found themselves standing beside people they would usually ignore, avoided or run away from and it didn’t seem to matter.

  The magic and underlying excitement had released them all from the mundane and as they mingled the conversation was shared among them, a common subject that none could help but talk about to anyone that was prepared to listen.

  The evening dressed mingled with the rag tagged, the little more than boys bantered with the old and established, talking through their inside ‘scoops’ on each of tonight’s soon-to-be participants as if they all held the one piece of information that could unlock the secret of who would be the winners and the lo
sers.

  They told, retold and repeated gossip that was thrown around like golden nuggets of insight and information on each of the combatants.

  Dusted off street stories that had been passed on and on so that each teller could claim some expertise to reinforce their standing to any that would listen and they all listened in a mutual sharing as they took turns to express and impress.

  This was the true melting pot that America talked so much about and it was rare. This was one of the occasions where the divided and stratified came sleepily and rubbing their eyes as they left the boxes of their social confines, waking up and coming together in the social hype and excitement of a few men prepared to put themselves and each other to the test. It’s true that some were there to seize any opportunities offered up, thinking that there must be a way to make money from this human carnival but even the thieves had decided to keep their wandering fingers in their pockets tonight.

  The well healed and no healed were all looking for opportunities to stop the revolving monotone record of their lives that each felt had become established on one slow, revolving speed.

  They were all looking for and finding a good time, placing a few bets and keeping at bay, for as many hours as they could, the nagging elements of their lives where the sparkle had lost its glint.

  No exceptions, no reprieve, they all looked for odd occasions that would allow them to briefly forget their lives imperfections.

  Chapter 43

  Flannery and O’Keegan were both noticed by the crowd as they neared its edge. The hum trebled and the bees moved more frantically, as elbows, nods and fingers pointed towards two of the combatants.

  Word had travelled fast.

  O’Keegan was appraised as the talk took a corner turn to arrive at the Meehan/O’Keegan battle that would end the night’s festivities. This was the caviar garnish that they would all be waiting for, the O’Keegan battle one of Boston’s own titans, the leader of Boston’s own Irish, Meehan.

  Many couldn’t believe that Meehan and O’Keegan would really be on the schedule.

  Would someone like Meehan really be prepared to step into the ring with someone so new, so unknown?

  Why?

  What was in it for him?

  The talk circulated and no one really believed it was anything more than more gossip, more exaggeration. The hum died almost magically as O’Keegan fully reached the crowd’s edge, making to pass through the human mass that blocked the warehouse entrance.

  As he reached out his hand to begin to move his way through, the wave broke and parted, a clear line of space cut through to the warehouse as they shuffled and eased back.

  A loud silence set across the crowd as they all watch O’Keegan confidently beginning to saunter down his pathway.

  But as he passed a hand reached out to O’Keegan and pulled on his jacket sleeve, stopping, O’Keegan followed the hand up to a wrist, an arm, a body and saw a fresh faced teen all teeth and peachy skin below a flat brown cap. The crowd waited, breath swallowed, wondering what next.

  ‘Hey Sonny, what can I do for you?’ O’Keegan asked the hand’s owner.

  ‘Is it true Mr. O’Keegan?’

  O’Keegan didn’t need to ask, he knew what he was being asked.

  ‘Yes, it’s true. Me and Meehan have a few things to settle and you can trust me that we’ll be settling them all tonight.’ O’Keegan put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a dollar, handing it to the youth.

  ‘Put a dollar on me kid, you’ll make some money tonight.’

  The crowd roared as the disbelieving reconfirmed to any who would listen that they knew all along O’Keegan and Meehan would be on the agenda.

  O’Keegan made his way through the crowd, receiving claps and hard pats on the back as they joined in the ceremony of wishing him well. As he followed O’Keegan through, Flannery watched how in that instant O’Keegan had won the crowd, he just hoped it wouldn’t be too fickle if there were any months or years to come. He wasn’t sure there would be, it all hinged on a few fists, a strong jaw and two men they had know for less than a month, O’Toole and Shorty.

  Chapter 44

  Despite the chaos outside, the warehouse was all quiet. Flannery looked around, seeing again the makeshift curtains and temporary bar from earlier looking a lot more put together now as three men in typical bar overalls made themselves busy organizing spirits and glasses against the back wall. They moved, stacking, cleaning, polishing in frantic preparation for what they probably rightly anticipated would be a thirst onslaught of enthusiastic customers.

  Two of their boys that had drawn straws to fight close to last had been given door duty and were standing either side of the single entry way waiting to be told when they could begin letting people in, two tables that had been left behind remnants of a once busy warehouse office created a funnel which would pass the audience into the warehouse’s main space.

  A large and lonely pail had been placed on one of the tables in anticipation of the entry fees that each of the throng would be obliged to pay. Shorty had set the ticket price at five dollars which had raised some eyebrows high on the rest of the boys foreheads.

  But Shorty had tested and retested the pulse of the street and knew full well that despite the price there would still be too many people pushing and shoving to get in.

  There were those in the crowd who had rarely paid five dollars for anything, but they had managed to pull together the cash, justifying it to themselves as a much deserved, not to be missed fee worth forgoing their next weeks booze or gambling. It wasn’t every day that you got a chance to see Meehan risk his Boston crown and step out fully from behind his people. It was worth five bucks to witness a Boston legend taking a few on the chin from a man straight off the boat, everyone was looking forward to it, the wiser ones sure it one more setup, one more rigged fight.

  They were prepared to wait and see the fists and the blood fly, to hear the bones break and cartilage snap, if this was legit then five dollars was a small price to pay.

  Flannery watched as O’Keegan took a quick look around, checking that all looked ready and then made straight for the enclosed fighters area, walking purposefully through the large white circle that had been daubed in the very centre of the floor.

  Flannery caught up with O’Keegan as he pushed his arm through the gap in the curtain, letting them both in to the fighter changing and waiting space. Ten men all looked around as Flannery and O’Keegan entered, their faces bright with a mix of excitement and humour. Flannery did the math and deducted the two men at the door, O’Toole and Shorty, arriving at the group of ten that would be tonight’s entertainment.

  The men waited, quiet, like a ball team waiting for the pre-game speech from the man that had as much claim to being their coach as any man ever had. O’Keegan looked each of them in the face, their smiles only matched by O’Keegan’s as he sought and instilled confidence in each of them.

  ‘Well boys, welcome to the circus, having fun yet?’

  They all managed to stretch their already smiling faces a little further outwards and backed it up with a string of ten nods.

  ‘Who would have thought we would be here…doing this, the talk of Boston when just a few weeks ago we were all shovelling shit into that son of a bitch boiler and wondering what America would have in store for us?’ He waited a few more moments letting how far they had come, so quickly, catch up with them all.

  ‘Here we all are, Boston’s finest, the centre of attention. I don’t think it’s just my good looks but I haven’t been able to walk down a street these past few days without someone recognizing me and wanting to say a few words. We’re celebrities, and we haven’t even needed to kill anyone to be the most talked about gang in Boston.’

  O’Keegan laughed and rest followed suit.

  ‘If you all do your best tonight then we have a real shot at making Boston not just our home but our playground. In a few short days we’ve made more of a name for ourselves than some of the other hoods who
have lived here all their lives. We’ve gain some respect from the people in this town and after tonight we’ll be all that people talk about. I know the journey to today hasn’t been exactly easy for you all but give it your best tonight, like I know you will, and the opportunities will fall into our hands like apples from a tree.’ They looked at each other, smiling, arms thrown around shoulders. O’Keegan continued,

  ‘And let me tell you one more thing, this is not just a night for you guys to take a few punches while me and Flannery sit back and count the cash…’ He threw his thumb at Flannery and himself. ‘…you all know we are not that kind of crew, we’re brothers here and will do whatever it takes for each other…only a brother would be prepared to risk his life for another brother…and I would risk my life for you guys, for each and every one of you…and I know you all would do the same for me.’ O’Keegan paused, his strong hand raised and rested on Flannery’s shoulder. ‘That’s our strength, that’s why people like Meehan will lose when they try it on with us, when he tries to push us back into the sea.’ Stepping fully into the circle of men, he slowly turned, making sure he looked into the face of each and every one of them.

  ‘Mr. Meehan has agreed to come down off his high horse and give me a shot at his title. I aim to show Mr. Meehan and these local boys that they’ve underestimated us foreigners. I aim to show them all just what we are made of…these guys have gone soft in their new city with their cars, their cigars, their booze and hookers, they don’t have half the grit that we have…well, we’ll show them we’re the new blood of this country, the ones who will make it greater than it is today’.

  The cheer was thrown out by each of them, taking its time to ebb before O’Keegan could get another word out.

  ‘But aside from me and Meehan, I want each of you to show them that we are the better men’. He waited a second or two before continuing.