Zachary crossed his arms observing the pathetic mess of his chief engineer. “What machinery have you bungled during your intoxicated sojourn?”
O’Reilly waved a feeble hand. “The asperity in your voice could file an iron beam.”
“You are drunker than a skunk.”
“No, sir. It’s the Irish flu.” He slumped, lying flat on the floor, his nose the color of burgundy, his eyes open to a skylight.
“What do you think, Chen?”
“Just like a table with three legs. No balance.”
Zachary crouched down. “What’s going on with you, O’Reilly?”
“With me? In heaven there is no beer; that’s why we Irish drink ours here.” He hiccuped. “Drink is the curse of the land. It makes you fight with your neighbor. It makes you shoot at your landlord, and it makes you miss him.”
“I’m sure it has nothing to do with a landlord since you are living with the Fitzgeralds.”
“I’m Irish and Catholic,” he wailed. “My picture is in the dictionary next to the word guilt.”
Zachary pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why the guilt?”
Scrubbing his hands over his face, O’Reilly said, “Fiona and I had a fight. A bad one. She doesn’t want to see me ever again.”
Zachary let out a loud breath. He couldn’t blame the Irishman. Wasn’t he in the same turmoil as O’Reilly? “I doubt that. She’s in love with you.”
“She’s out of love with me. It is only a matter of time before that Mick of a brother of hers comes to kill me, and I’ll welcome it.”
“Her Mick of a brother is standing over you now.”
O’Reilly looked up to where Maguire’s gigantic figure shadowed him. O’Reilly crossed himself. “Make it quick, for I cannot live without Fiona.”
“Why in the devil am I getting involved with this?” said Maguire between gritted teeth. “Get up like a man.”
Zachary rose and, with Chen, created a protective barrier between Maguire and O’Reilly. “We want no trouble,” said Zachary.
“The devil there’s trouble. I come home and find my sister crying. I’ll kill the bastard and punish him for every tear. Then she attacked me! Can you imagine? My sister pounced on me. My ears are bleeding from her shouts. So now, I’ve come to fetch the brute because Fiona told me it was all her fault.” He pushed through Zachary, picked up O’Reilly and threw the big man over his shoulder like he was thistledown. “Phew! You smell like Dewey’s Bar at the waterfront before they clean out the latrines.”
“Fiona? She wants to keep me? I feel a fluttering in my belly.”
Maguire started shouting. “I don’t understand women. Personally, I think Fiona is thick as two short planks, but she’smy sister, and I’ll move heaven and earth for anything she wants.”
“Bless you,” said O’Reilly. “May the Lord keep you in His hand and never close His fist…too tight.”
“I should kill you, instead, for all the bother,” said Maguire.
O’Reilly vomited down the thug’s back. “I guess that was the fluttering in my stomach.”
“Christ Almighty,” swore Maguire.
“What if Fiona heard you say the Lord’s name in vain? May you live to be a hundred years, with one extra year to repent.”
“And now you’re giving me penances?” Maguire cocked his head, dropping his shoulder and allowing O’Reilly to slip a bit.
“Careful, Lad. I’m going to be the father of a dozen of your nieces and nephews. Think of an army of O’Reilly’s crawling over your lap.”
Maguire dropped him.
O’Reilly rubbed his head. “What did you do that for?”
