ashes - michael gray

seven

By now, John and Esme had disappeared to go to the restroom to "destress," the remaining Shelby brothers were playing poker, Polly had gone home to check on the kids, and Isiah and Michael were having a conversation.

Now I see what people feel when they're drunk. Maeve thought. She had switched from gin to whiskey a few drinks ago, but didn't want to show that she was feeling the liquor and chose silence.

"Maevey?" Isiah's voice cut into Maeve's thoughts. She looked over at them.

"I'm sorry what did you say?" she asked.

"I said do you want to go with Mickey and I to the O'Connells pub? It's only a short walk."

"Oh, right. Sure," Maeve smiled. Michael helped her stand up as the three began to leave.

"Where you off to?" Finn asked.

"O'Connells. I want a little bird to take home tonight. They'll be back." Isiah laughed. Tommy and Arthur smirked at each other.

"Maeve, you don't have to go if you don't want to." Michael whispered to her.

"Now it's alright. I want to see Birmingham." She gave Michael a reassuring look. He gave her a look of concern, then draped his jacket over her shoulders. Maeve looped her arm through Michael's, to which he gave a small laugh.

* * *

The environment was much different in O'Connells. There were prostitutes doing their business with men in the open and a lot more Irishmen. Women even drank alone.

"Mickey, if you'll excuse me," Isiah smiled, walking away whilst wiggling his eyebrows.

"Fuckin' Isiah," laughed Michael. "Let's have a drink then."

Maeve and Michael took a seat at the bar.

"Two whiskeys, please," asked Michael.

After that whiskey and another half, there was no denying that Maeve was drunk. She now was blubbering off about random topics as Michael laughed in amusement. Michael had tried playing it cool earlier, but he definitely started to feel it. Maeve was talking half in Romani and half in English, then sometimes even bits of Gaelic.

"Teach me," Michael laughed.

"What?" Maeve giggled.

"Romani. I want to learn so that I know when you're talking to our children about me," Michael laughed.

Maeve choked on her drink. "Michael, are you saying we're going to have children?"

Michael rolled his eyes. "In the future, Maeve. Teach me."

"My fiancee is the most beautiful person in the world," Maeve said cheekily. "That means, I would like to have a cigarette."

"My fiancee is the most beautiful person in the world," Michael repeated.

Maeve threw her head back in laughter. "Yes, now tell that to Tommy next time you see him. He'll be impressed."

"Okay," Michael laughed back. He began reciting it in his head.

Suddenly, two girls came to the other side of Michael.

"'ello mister, where's your jacket? It's cold out here. We can warm you up," the redhead giggled as she touched his chest. Michael awkwardly pushed her hand away and cleared his throat. Maeve had not even known her fiancee for a day, but something about the audacity of these girls to approach him while she was standing with him upset her.

"He's with me," Maeve said, throwing back the last of her whiskey. Michael whistled for Isiah who was too occupied with boobs in his face to hear.

The shorter girl next to the redhead laughed. "Yous look like you came from a bloody stable."

"You look like you've came from a whorehouse," Maeve shot back. Michael began coughing and the corner of his lips were being pulled upwards. Michael would never admit it, but seeing her like this made him proud.

The girls looked at each other with anger written all over their faces. Maeve pondered in her drunken state and thought how one looked like a tomato and the other like a cinnamon stick.

"The fuck did 'ou just say to me?" Stick said, moving around Michael to get closer to her. Michael protectively turned around and leaned against the bar as he lit himself a cigarette.

"I said, you look like a whor-" Maeve said, before the girls lurched forward only to be stopped by Michael's body.

"Leave," he said huskily.

"Sista, is this pikey botherin' you?" A voice said from behind her. Michael turned to see a group of Irishmen beginning to stand up. Michael didn't respond and took a long draw of his cigarette.

"Oh for fucks sake, Mickey!" Isiah yelled from afar, annoyed that the commotion was beginning to ruin his snogging session.

"Who the fuck are you calling a pikey?" Maeve shot back.

"You and your whore need to fuckin' leave," the man said, walking closer with his men.

As soon as the word 'whore' left the man's lips, Michael was ready to kill someone.

"I'll be right back," Isiah said, kissing the woman once more, then kissing each of her tits, before standing up to back his friend. Isiah knew once the bloke had called Maeve a whore there was going to be a fight.

Michael took one last drag of his cigarette before tossing it away. He took off his watch and slid it into his back pocket.

"Ironic coming from a fuckin' potato picker," Michael taunted.

"Póg mo thóin," Maeve said from behind him in Gaelic. Michael raised an eyebrow, but assumed it was some sort of insult to Irish people. Although, ironically both he and Maeve were somewhat Irish."The fuck did you just say?" The man growled. Isiah stood next to Michael, finishing Michael's drink to prepare for what was about to happen. "And you've got a (insert very bad slur) with ya?"

"A black man can't find a girl here in peace," Isiah complained.

Michael and Isiah looked at each other, before starting the fight together.