Page 92 of Alfie: Part One

There was only one name on there.

I let out a chuckle and nodded with a dip of my chin.

The UP had arrived.

The guy opened the door for me, and the music poured out, along with laughter, yelling, and horrible singing.

There had to be at least fifty or sixty people here.

The bar divided the place into a seating area in the back and a bar area with high tables and a stage in the front. But given how everyone was moving, slapping each other on the back, greeting one another, clinking glasses, and bobbing their heads to the beat, the front was more like a mosh pit.

I was only forty-five minutes late, and yet it looked like these men had been at it for hours.

Not seeing Alfie anywhere, I headed to the bar and ordered a quick warm-up. Because I sensed I needed it. One whiskey, one beer—both had to disappear fast. I had to yell to one of the two bartenders for him to hear me, but my drinks arrived quickly.

When I handed over my card, the bartender merely shook his head and moved on.

All right, then. Was that wise? An open bar with a bunch of Irishmen? I could imagine companies had gone under for far less.

I threw back the shot and chased it down with half the beer.

A round of laughter rose above the din, and I glanced toward the booths that lined the wall toward the back.There.I saw him. Fuck me, I saw him. Another guy had an arm around hisshoulders, and they were laughing hard at something. The two were standing by the booth, where another five were seated. Beer and cocktails filled the table, and two of them were actually smoking. Indoors.

One of the men had a woman on his lap, and I was sure I recognized him. It had to be Finnegan O’Shea. I recognized Kellan across from him too, and the man my age—or possibly a few years older—could be Kellan’s husband.

When Alfie checked his watch, I was pathetic enough to hope he was wondering where I was.

He was sucked into their conversation again, and he laughed at what O’Shea said. Whatever it was made the guy with his arm around Alfie’s shoulders crack up and turn his head enough so I got a look at his face. And the resemblance was definitely there. It was Alfie’s…brother. He had a brother. A big brother.

They were dressed similarly, and I wondered if he’d inspired Alfie to buy new clothes.

Either way, I’d never seen Alfie so animated andinvolved.

Moving lights flashed over the table, and the deep hue of Alfie’s burgundy shirt became more pronounced. He wore it with a dark-blue vest and matching pants, each item hugging his body perfectly.

He reached over and stole Kellan’s cigarette, and he took two quick pulls before returning it. He checked his watch again, then looked toward me. Scratch that, toward the door. He was waiting for me, wasn’t he? Did I just go over there? If he was busy with the boss of the whole organization, I’d rather wait here until he saw me.

I finished my beer and ordered a Guinness next, and then a new song started and caused an ear-deafening roar of approval. It was Dropkick Murphys. Alfie loved that band.

I used to say the most Irish thing about him was his taste in music, but maybe he’d kept things locked up within.

My own heritage was so muddled that I had nothing interesting to cling to. Like so many others in this country, I was a WASP with zero connection to my history. And Alfie… With his mother, he’d leaned more toward his Puerto Rican and Italian heritage, though he’d always been quick to mention the Irish too. Truth be told, when I thought about it, it was as if he’d been waiting for something. Or searching. Searching for that Irish place to call home.

I’d say he’d found it.

Oh, screw it. If I wanted a place in his world, I had to enter it. I couldn’t stand on the sidelines and wait for him to visit.

I braced myself and walked over, and he spotted me when I was a few feet away.

The way he lit up brought me more relief than was appropriate. Fuck, I was too attached.

“At fuckin’ last!” He closed the distance between us. “You’re late!”

I didn’t want to shout over the music, so I dipped down and spoke in his ear. “Traffic. But I’m ready to meet your mobster buddies now.”

He laughed and grabbed my arm, quick to usher me over to a group of Irishmen watching me curiously.

“Everyone, this is West!” He addressed me next and pointed to the others as he introduced them. “Colm, Kellan, Shan, Finn, Emilia—and this is Liam.”