Page 93 of Alfie: Part One
There was no use in speaking, so we exchanged nods and handshakes, and it was so beyond bizarre. Here I was, shaking hands with Finnegan O’Shea, the Sons of Munster’s very young boss. He was, what, a year or two older than Alfie?
Emilia and the man called…Shan? They appeared the nicest. Emilia was all but beaming when she shook my hand, and Shan offered a polite smile—but the rest were clearly assessing me. Especially Finnegan and Liam.
“Okay, we’ve waited long enough!” Alfie yelled to Colm. “You gonna hit the stage or what?”
The air shifted, and Finnegan and Kellan raised their glasses and hollered their agreement with Alfie. And Colm didn’t seem to mind; he grinned and jumped to his feet.
Within seconds, he was walking through the crowd on his way to the stage, and he had everyone stomping their feet and shouting his name.
“YouknowI brought your whistles, baby!” Emilia grinned at Finnegan, who seemed to groan and laugh at the same time. “You promised!”
We were evidently going to the stage, so I let Alfie lead the way until we were standing a bit to the side, but still close to the little platform that was packed with instruments.
“Colm, Colm, Colm, Colm!”
Alfie shot me a grin and clinked his beer bottle with my glass, and then he reached up and got close.
“I’m glad you came!”
I smiled and mustered a nod. To be honest, the jury was still out, but I was always too happy to be near Alfie.
As musicians joined Colm on the stage, the music died, and everyone huddled closer.
“Drunken Sailor!” someone yelled.
“An Irish Pub Song!” another shouted.
“Considering they’re the only ones he knows, he’ll do both, you fuckers!” Kellan hollered back at the crowd.
I chugged my Guinness, because one thing was clear. If I was going to enjoy myself tonight, I had to loosen up.
Next, I took advantage of the lower volume—which was still too loud—and asked Alfie where Colby was.
He smirked. “He’s having fun with kids his own age out back. Don’t worry about him.”
I wasn’t…worried. I was curious.
When Finnegan and Emilia appeared close to us, someone came over and set down a bar table—actually two. Two bar tables created a barrier between us and the crowd that looked ready to make my fears come true. There was going to be a mosh pit, wasn’t there?
Alcohol followed—a lot of it—and two guys positioned themselves as security guards to make sure no one knocked into the tables. Two bottles of whiskey, stout in glasses, lager in bottles, shot glasses, vodka, and a few mixers ended up right in front of Alfie and me.
Shan and Liam joined us on this side, while Kellan disappeared into the crowd.
Alfie looked tempted.
I nudged him and nodded toward Kellan. “Don’t hold back on my account.”
The soundcheck appeared to be over, and Colm spoke into the mic about traditions and staying connected to the “home country.” His accent revealed he wasn’t from here originally. He was definitely from Ireland.
Alfie had made his decision. He poured himself a shot, threw it back, grimaced, and then touched my arm.
“Drink liberally and generously, West. That way, I’ll sound better when I sing later.” With that said, he was gone.
My eyebrows flew up.Hewas singing?
Granted, I knew he had a lovely voice. He used to sing to our children—and maybe he still did. But I presumed he wouldn’t be performing lullabies here.
“Oi! Pipe down!” Colm yelled into the mic. I winced and figured I might as well pour myself a shot or two too. I’d already been prepared to pick up my car in the morning. “The boss will sit this one out but has promised to join us with the whistle later.”