hadn’t worked out either. And then I’d been on the dole forever and when my check went up the old fiasco spout I’d really had no choice. Les promised she could get me a job as a brickie like her brother-in-law (and we’d all done a bit of that when on the double), but Sunshine didn’t need brickies. So it was the other side of the law. The operation wasn’t as big as I’d been expecting, though. Darkey basically ran two rackets, Union and Protection, and with only mild intimidation they pretty much ran themselves. There was some loan-sharking too, but only to the very latest immigrant Micks, and this business was not so important. In fact, I supposed that none of this was that important to Darkey now that he had successfully diversified his portfolio into other areas.
I was dreaming. Darkey was speaking:
So it seems that Scotchy took the initiative and settled things in a way that made clear our position. Shovel is in the same hospital as poor Andy, but from what the doctors tell us Andy will probably be up and around in a couple of days. Shovel will be lucky to be out before Christmas. A job well done, Scotchy.
There were nods and murmurs of contentment. Darkey continued:
And if anyone thought about visiting young Andrew, I’m sure all of his friends would consider this as a nice gesture. I have been to see him already and he’s a brave one.
Darkey smiled.
He was a middle-aged man with lots of worries, but I had to admit he looked well. He was pudgy, but he worked out and dyed his hair, and he had a slightly corrupt state senator sort of cast about him. He had blue, almost black eyes. He was lightly tanned, and you couldn’t tell him, but he didn’t look Irish at all. Arabic, I would have guessed. Scotchy, extremely drunk, sells a story that Darkey’s father was in fact some Portuguese boy and not Darkey’s father at all, which is just typical Scotchy talk, but you can see where he’s coming from. The nickname was inevitable since his last name was White. Hs real name is Terence, but everyone in his presence calls him either Darkey or Mr. White. For a minute, as I was sitting there, I wondered what Bridget called him at home.
He was still speaking. Loved the sound of his own voice:
But once again to that fucker who did him. Excellent job. I heard you in particular performed wonders, Michael. When you want the cream, Sunshine, you have to look to where the pasture is greenest, and Michael, you and Scotchy are two of my very best, Darkey said warmly.
I was, despite myself, glowing with pride, and Scotchy up at the other end of the table turned and winked at me.
Thank you very much, Mr. White, we both said.
Sunshine gave us an appreciative nod too, and Big Bob muttered something like “Well done.” It was true that Scotchy, Fergal, and myself were the only real Irish at the table, all of us from the North too, and despite our lowly positions in the hierarchy, being from Northern Ireland did give us a certain cachet. Scotchy typically played his up to the hilt, of course, talking about his teenage scrapes and how to make nail bombs, booby traps, and other crap, but I liked to keep quiet about it, and I think that worked even more effectively.
Darkey’s spiel was done and Sunshine took over, telling us about a few wee boring things. Darkey then began again with a bit of talk about some local union election, but I’d long since stopped paying attention. There was some further housekeeping after that, but Sunshine didn’t like to burden us with details. The only thing that really stuck in my head was the meeting with Dermot we’d had to postpone from yesterday, Sunshine saying that he would go with us in a few days to impress the serious nature of the situation on the young scallywag.
There was nothing much left, and after a while Fergal, myself, Sean, and Mikey Price were dismissed downstairs. Bob came with us to use the bathroom, gave us a pissed-off look, and went back up.
The bar was pretty
I was dreaming. Darkey was speaking:
So it seems that Scotchy took the initiative and settled things in a way that made clear our position. Shovel is in the same hospital as poor Andy, but from what the doctors tell us Andy will probably be up and around in a couple of days. Shovel will be lucky to be out before Christmas. A job well done, Scotchy.
There were nods and murmurs of contentment. Darkey continued:
And if anyone thought about visiting young Andrew, I’m sure all of his friends would consider this as a nice gesture. I have been to see him already and he’s a brave one.
Darkey smiled.
He was a middle-aged man with lots of worries, but I had to admit he looked well. He was pudgy, but he worked out and dyed his hair, and he had a slightly corrupt state senator sort of cast about him. He had blue, almost black eyes. He was lightly tanned, and you couldn’t tell him, but he didn’t look Irish at all. Arabic, I would have guessed. Scotchy, extremely drunk, sells a story that Darkey’s father was in fact some Portuguese boy and not Darkey’s father at all, which is just typical Scotchy talk, but you can see where he’s coming from. The nickname was inevitable since his last name was White. Hs real name is Terence, but everyone in his presence calls him either Darkey or Mr. White. For a minute, as I was sitting there, I wondered what Bridget called him at home.
He was still speaking. Loved the sound of his own voice:
But once again to that fucker who did him. Excellent job. I heard you in particular performed wonders, Michael. When you want the cream, Sunshine, you have to look to where the pasture is greenest, and Michael, you and Scotchy are two of my very best, Darkey said warmly.
I was, despite myself, glowing with pride, and Scotchy up at the other end of the table turned and winked at me.
Thank you very much, Mr. White, we both said.
Sunshine gave us an appreciative nod too, and Big Bob muttered something like “Well done.” It was true that Scotchy, Fergal, and myself were the only real Irish at the table, all of us from the North too, and despite our lowly positions in the hierarchy, being from Northern Ireland did give us a certain cachet. Scotchy typically played his up to the hilt, of course, talking about his teenage scrapes and how to make nail bombs, booby traps, and other crap, but I liked to keep quiet about it, and I think that worked even more effectively.
Darkey’s spiel was done and Sunshine took over, telling us about a few wee boring things. Darkey then began again with a bit of talk about some local union election, but I’d long since stopped paying attention. There was some further housekeeping after that, but Sunshine didn’t like to burden us with details. The only thing that really stuck in my head was the meeting with Dermot we’d had to postpone from yesterday, Sunshine saying that he would go with us in a few days to impress the serious nature of the situation on the young scallywag.
There was nothing much left, and after a while Fergal, myself, Sean, and Mikey Price were dismissed downstairs. Bob came with us to use the bathroom, gave us a pissed-off look, and went back up.
The bar was pretty
Similar Books
