The Aftermath

by R. J. Prescott

  “Hey, Evelyn,” Liam said to her. “You seen your brother round lately? I don’t have his number, and I was looking for his help with a job.”

  “I haven’t seen him for a couple weeks but I can give you his number, if you like,” she replied. They made small talk while she programmed her number into Liam’s phone. When she caught sight of Tommy and Amy, she took in their intimate position and her expression became completely stone-faced. By the time anything resembling hello came out of Tommy’s mouth, she was gone. When he realized that she’d seen him with his arms around another girl, Tommy looked devastated.

  “Hello, love,” Em said, bouncing toward me.

  “Still think it’s the best birthday ever?” I asked.

  “Absolutely,” she agreed. “I can think of something that would make it even better though,” she said with a cheeky grin, then leaned over to whisper something erotic in my ear. I had us both in a cab home less than ten minutes later.

  Chapter 9

  Slumped in the chair, I folded my arms and tried not to laugh as the newest member of Danny’s dream team got comfortable.

  “Can I help you, Father Pat?” I asked him as he messed around with a load of papers.

  “Well, now that you mention it, Cormac, I could use a nice cup of tea,” he replied as he unloaded his old leather satchel while he searched for whatever it was he was looking for. By the time I placed his tea down in front of him, he was ready.

  “Now, did Danny explain why I’m here?” he asked me.

  “Not really,” I answered.

  “Well, Danny is concerned about your difficulty controlling your temper in certain situations, so I’m here to help you talk through those issues.”

  “Kind of like a therapist,” I clarified.

  “Exactly!” he said, as he smiled broadly.

  “But you’re our parish priest. I don’t mean to be rude but why does Danny think you can help?” I asked, intrigued and a little shell-shocked about what he might want me to do in this makeshift therapy.

  “Well son, let me ask you. Would you ever lose your temper at me?”

  “It’s doubtful, Father,” I responded.

  “And if I asked you a question, would you give me an honest answer?”

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “Well, how is it any different from confession then? What you tell me stays between us and God, and you have someone to speak to if you ever want to talk to someone other than Em.”

  “I don’t mean to be rude, Father, but why does Danny think you’ll be better than an actual psychologist?” I asked him curiously.

  “Because you’ll actually talk to me and I’ll know when you’re lying. With a psychologist, Danny thinks you’d either tell him what you think he needs to hear or not speak to him at all.”

  “Don’t you think being angry is a good thing when you’re getting in the ring?” I asked him. He put down his papers and looked at me in a way that made me feel like a clueless little kid.

  “Holding on to your anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die,” he told me.

  “That’s a bit deep, isn’t it?”

  “Well, Buddha knows his stuff.”

  I let what he’d said sink in for a moment before making my first confession. “I’m not sure I know how to fight without the anger.”

  “As long as I’ve known you, it’s been a big part of who you are. But you went from a good fighter to a great fighter the day you met Em, and that tells me it’s the love that fuels you more than the hate.” I never thought of it like that but maybe he had a point.

  “Now,” he said shuffling his papers as he put on his reading glasses.

  “Think about the last time you reacted in an unhealthy or negative way to anger. What happened right before you got angry?” He read the question out slowly like the font was too small to read but he looked up expectantly when he was done.

  I glanced down at his lap and there were several pages of questions to answer. “Father, where did you get all these questions from?”

  “That Google is brilliant isn’t it? Kieran sorted me out with a laptop when he got Danny that satellite TV. I tell you, I have email and Twitter and everything. Absolutely marvelous contraption it is.”

  “You’ve got a Twitter account?” I asked skeptically. I didn’t even have email, and my parish priest-slash-anger management counsellor had a Twitter account.

  “Oh yes. I have over three hundred followers.”

  “You’re kidding?” I was stunned.

  “It appears to be mostly ladies following me, which I put down to the picture of me as a younger man wearing my kilt that I tweeted. Fine set of legs I had back then so I can’t say I blame them.”

  “But you’re a priest!” I blurted out, horrified at the idea of Father Pat with his harem of Twitter followers.

  “Aye,” he said as he leaned over to wink at me conspiratorially. “But that’s what makes me attractive, you see. I’m unattainable. They all want what they can’t have.” There were absolutely no words to respond to that.

  “Next question. What is the one behavior you most want to avoid when you experience anger?” He read out the question slowly again, and I closed my eyes with a groan knowing that this was going to be very long and painful.

  * * *

  “Which one of you fuckers shot me?” Tommy whined like a little girl. Kieran sniggered next to me, making me smile. Turns out that my session with Father Pat had made me feel better. Like confession, it was cathartic, and it did me good to off load. Of course, it wasn’t nearly as good therapy as shooting Tommy in the arse with a pink paintball. When Kieran came up with the idea to welcome Earnshaw to the gym, I was skeptical. Now that I’d hit Tommy, I thought it was a brilliant idea. We were split into two teams with me, Kier, and Earnshaw on one side and Liam, Tommy, and John, a friend of Kier’s looking to join Driscoll’s, on the other.

  “What’s the plan?” whispered Earnshaw. He held his weapon tightly as he surveyed the forest ahead. You’d think he was in training for the special forces given how seriously he was taking this thing.

  “I need to shoot you,” I told him, and he scrambled away from me looking alarmed. Kier just about pissed himself laughing. Rolling my eyes, I explained. “The whole way here you’ve been stressing about how much getting shot hurts. You’re so wound up now you’re about ready to snap. If I shoot you, you’ll know how much pain to expect, and you won’t be so upright anymore.” I could see by the look on his face that he knew I was right.

  “Where are you going do it?” he asked.

  “Pretty much everywhere hurts,” I explained. “But it’s more painful the closer you get.”

  “I don’t know, back maybe?” he suggested, nervously. Sucking in breath, Kier winced exaggeratedly.

  “I wouldn’t do that either, my friend. You won’t sleep for a week if you can’t lie down.”

  “Chest then?” Earnshaw suggested. I wasn’t known for my patience so, while he was making up his mind, I shot him in the thigh.

  “Fuck!” he whispered harshly, but to his credit, he didn’t scream soprano like Tommy had. “That fucking hurt,” he complained.

  “Of course it did. You’re getting shot. What did you expect?”

  “I don’t know. It’s paint. I didn’t expect it to hurt this bad.”

  “Best try not to get shot again then,” Kier told him gravely. His expression neutral, Earnshaw didn’t give away anything about what he was going to do next when he shot Kier in the leg.

  “Motherfucker,” Kier muttered. “What d’you do that for?”

  “Fucking hurts, doesn’t it?” Earnshaw told him with a smirk. Kier let it go, knowing they were even.

  “We’re supposed to be on the same team, you know,” I pointed out.

  “Well you started it,” Earnshaw complained. “So what really is the game plan?”

  “Draw them out and shoot Tommy as many times as you can,” Kier told him.

  “Why
Tommy?” he asked.

  “Because it’s fun,” Kier and I both said together.

  “Besides, Liam and Big Joe don’t even flinch when they get shot. Tommy screams,” Kieran said. Earnshaw looked a little unsure about the plan so I leaned over to whisper to him. “Your sister get home okay the other night then?” Kier grinned, seeing what I was doing, while Earnshaw grimaced.

  “Yes, thanks,” he replied through gritted teeth.

  “You know I saw him and your sister swapping numbers along with saliva the other night. They could even be dating already,” Kieran informed him. Of course it was all total bollocks. As far as I knew, they hadn’t spoken since that night when we’d all bumped into Evelyn.

  “She only met him five minutes ago, and she needs to be focusing on her new job. They are not dating,” he informed us emphatically.

  “If you say so,” Kieran said in a tone suggesting he didn’t believe a word of it.

  “You know you could do worse for a brother-in-law. I’m sure he’d behave himself if she ever brought him to the US to meet your parents,” I added. We could see the wheels in Earnshaw’s head turning as he envisioned his sister married to Tommy, and I was surprised he didn’t crack the gun because he held onto it so tight.

  “How do we flush him out?” he asked us, and I fist-bumped Kieran behind Tom’s back. Our work here was done. Tommy was so getting shot in the arse again.

  “I’ll go round to the left and push him toward you as you come round on the right. He’s quick. So once you got a shot, you have to be fast.” We nodded and moved stealthily through the woods as we followed Kier’s directions. I could just about see the top of Liam’s head behind a bush. Knowing him and Big Joe, they were probably waiting for Tommy to get taken out, so we’d expose ourselves before they made their move. Poor Tom was always the bait without even realizing it. As far as he was concerned, the SAS were missing out on his skills big time.

  “Tommy?” Kier called out in a singsong voice in the distance. “Come and get me, Tommy. You know you want to shoot me!” Kier taunted him for a few minutes but Tommy wasn’t biting.

  Finally after a few minutes of quiet, Kieran called out to him again. “Listen Tom. If you’ve got your hands full now with Earnshaw’s sister, you mind if I take Evelyn out on a date? That’s one fine-looking Irish woman I wouldn’t mind taking home to meet me ma. Shame she doesn’t want you now she knows about your STDs.”

  “Keep your filthy fucking hands off Evelyn, and for the last time, I don’t have any fucking STDs!” Tommy shouted indignantly.

  “Bingo” I whispered as the three of us opened fire at the bush where Tommy’s call had come from. He screamed like he was being murdered, and even getting shot by Liam and Joe was worth it. Today was turning into a good day, even if we’d probably have to carry Tommy home. Maybe I needed to buy one of them guns so every time he flirted with Em I could shoot him in the arse again. The idea was tempting.

  Chapter 10

  “Look at the state of you!” Em shrieked when she saw Tommy’s back. Of course the little fecker had to come into the office without his top on.

  “We got shot too!” complained Kieran but Em tutted, knowing Tommy had probably taken most of the hits and why. She fussed over him and mothered him as she made him a cup of tea. Of course Tom really didn’t help himself by giving us the finger the minute Em’s back was turned.

  “Some people never learn,” Kier said with a sigh. He was probably dreaming up some more ways he could torture him. Tommy was sitting in Danny’s seat again so Kieran and I sat there expectantly, waiting for the fallout as the old man shuffled in through the door. Preempting him, Em handed him a steaming hot cup of coffee, and he graced her with a rare and loving smile, before turning his scowl on the rest of us.

  “Heath’s got some good news about Con’s next fight so I want you all to listen up. Tommy get out of my feckin’ seat. Now!” he demanded.

  “But, Danny,” he whined, “I’m really badly injured!” He turned his downtrodden expression toward Danny, who was the least sympathetic person I had ever met.

  “I don’t give a feck if you’re actually bloody dying. Unless you’re planning on donating one of those organs to me, get out of me feckin’ chair.” Looking like Danny had kicked him, he made it out of the chair to stand next to Kier. Em brought the rest of us cups of tea, and I patted my knee when she was done, loving that all the seats were taken so that she’d sit on my lap. I wrapped my arm around her tiny waist, pulling her in close, and inhaled her vanilla scent. The door opened and closed as an excited Earnshaw bounded in. Heath was cautious, reserved, and stoic most of the time so to see him excited was quite funny.

  “I’d just like to announce that I’m an absolute genius,” he told us. Danny rolled his eyes and glared at us, like we’d somehow infected Earnshaw with our self-confidence.

  “All right, genius, want to tell us why?” I asked.

  “I’ve got you a title fight with Rico Temple.”

  “The same Rico Temple who kicked Con’s arse and swore he’d never give him a title shot?” Tommy asked.

  “You know any other Rico Temples?” Earnshaw responded. I grinned at Kieran because this was my chance for redemption. The exhibition against Temple had been an absolute travesty. This time I would show Danny what I was really made of.

  “That’s good news, Heath,” Kier congratulated him. “How d’you get him to agree to it?”

  “Pretty much the same way Kieran got us to shoot Tommy,” he answered, and he and Kieran smiled conspiratorially. “It’s only fair to warn you though, Con,” he told me. “You fuck up this fight, and you won’t get another chance at Temple. His star is on the rise, and he’s telling everyone who’ll listen that he’s already knocked you out. You were just too stupid to go down.”

  “That right?” I said smiling. There’s nothing like going into a fight as the underdog. Temple thought he knew me, knew my play because he’d seen me on a bad day. I was going to bring his whole world crashing down around him. Danny looked stern and not too happy at all. “What’s wrong, Danny?” I asked him.

  “Not sure if your head is in the right place yet. Physically you’ll be fine but one sort of goes hand in hand with the other.”

  “We’ll make sure he’s ready,” Kieran reassured him, and it was pretty obvious how much he wanted me to take on this fight.

  “When’s all this meant to be going down anyway?” Liam asked.

  “December tenth,” Earnshaw answered, and the whole room went quiet.

  “We can’t take the fight,” I told him, my voice echoing in the silence.

  “Why not?” he said, alarmed.

  “The trial for Em’s stepfather Frank starts a month before,” I told him.

  “Fuck,” Earnshaw muttered. “What’re the chances of Temple changing the date?” Kieran asked, knowing there was no way I could do that to Em.

  “Zero. This is it. Take it or leave it. You’ll get another chance at the title again but you can kiss it good-bye for another three or four years.”

  “Shit,” I added, trying to remember all the stuff that Father Pat had told me as I started losing hold of my temper. Finally, after counting to fifty in my head, I made a decision. “Then we wait three or four years. Nothing is more important than Em.”

  * * *

  Four weeks to the day that we made an offer, the run-down, ramshackle shit hole that we’d fallen in love with became officially ours. It had been torn down and beat up but I intended to rebuild it, and Em would give it a soul. The irony that the house mirrored our own situation was not lost on me.

  After picking up the keys from the agent we walked toward the house through the park. When we got to the bench, Em tugged on my hand as she sat, pulling me down next to her. Without needing to be asked, she cuddled her body into mine and rested her head on my chest. Watching her as she listened to my heartbeat, I felt safe. Is that odd? For a woman to make a man feel safe?

  I don’t mean to say that I wa
s afraid of the people around me. I could take care of myself well enough that the prospect of ever getting mugged or jumped didn’t bother me. Most of the time my only fear was of losing Em. She was the beating heart of me that walked around outside my body. She was my greatest strength and my Achilles’ heel. The only way to hurt me was to hurt her.

  “You know you need this fight so why are you procrastinating?” she asked me. “Procrastinating means putting it off, I take it?” I queried with a raised eyebrow.

  “Yes, love,” she said with a smile, “That’s exactly what it means.” She slid her fingers back and forth between mine, and I watched her tiny, pale hands, against the contrast of my own dark, callused hand. My ring was missing from her finger and she wouldn’t let me replace it, but truthfully I’d lost hope of ever getting it back. It amazed me every day that someone so small and fragile could be so strong and brave and I couldn’t find the words to explain that I wasn’t giving up. I was standing my ground to stay and protect what was mine.

  “I know why you don’t want to take the fight,” she told me. “I know, but you’re making the wrong decision. This trial could be adjourned or it could be over in a couple of days, and then what? You’ve thrown away your shot at the title for nothing.”

  “And what if the trial goes ahead. What kind of man am I to leave his wife to go through that alone? The fact that I couldn’t protect you once is something I have to live with for the rest of my life. But to let you stand there and face him by yourself is something I won’t ever do. So please, baby, please don’t ask.”

  “But I’m not alone, O’Connell. Neither of us are. We both have enough family that I’ll practically have an army behind me. It doesn’t matter what Frank did because I will be in the front of that courtroom making sure that he never gets the chance to do it ever again. And when I’m done, I’m going to be exactly where I should have been last time. In the front row, ringside, watching my husband raise his title belt.”