Free The Carnival at Bray by Jessie Ann Foley Page B

the chorus into the Bulmers bottle she was using for a microphone. Colm stood near the door with his arms crossed, his lips tight with disapproval. The rows of older men standing at the bar with Kevin ogled Maggie’s mother with the kind of detached fascination they might display watching strippers, wondering what it would be like to screw her while at the same time being thankful that she wasn’t
their
wife. They nudged each other as she sashayed around the bar grinding into their backs, stumbling into the counter until finally Kevin got up, yanked her arm, and whispered something fiercely into her ear. Her singing stopped abruptly.
    â€œGet your fuckin’ hands off me,” Laura screeched, shaking her arm from Kevin’s grasp. He said something in a low voice, his forehead creased with fury.
    â€œLike you should talk!” she screamed, and flung the contents of her pint glass in his face. The pub fell into a different kind of silence now. Kevin wiped his eyes slowly with the back of his sleeve.
    â€œGet your drunk ass out of this bar and into the truck,” he said, jabbing a finger centimeters from her nose.
    â€œI’d appreciate it if you took your fuckin’ finger out of my wife’s face.” Colm had put down his own drink now and placed himself between Laura and Kevin, inches from Kevin’s face. “And watch how you talk to her while you’re at it.”
    â€œI’ll talk to her however I want when she acts like a drunk fuckin’ slob,” Kevin said. “What are you gonna say about it?”
    â€œYou’ve been warned now,” Colm said slowly. “You’ve been warned.”
    Kevin stepped away from Colm and turned his back. A sigh was felt in the room, half relief and half disappointment—it didn’t look like there would be a fight after all. Kevin stood still, his shoulders tensing. He seemed to be considering something.Then, suddenly, he extended a long, white arm and swung. He connected with Colm’s jaw with a clean smack that sent Colm’s head snapping back. He stumbled backward and crashed against the counter, his arm breaking glasses. A thread of blood pooled beneath his nostril. He wiped it away and grinned at Kevin, a grin tinged with relief, because all was out in the open now. They could finally hate each other freely.
    The two men squared up.
    â€œTake it outside if you’re gonna fight,” Rosie Horan yelled, flapping her bar rag at them. But they were already upon each other. Kevin swung again and Colm ducked, barreling into Kevin’s chest with his bulldog head, and both men fell to the ground, kicking down stools and sending bottles skittering and shattering across the stone floor. The men at the counter yelled encouragement while the women shrieked at them to stop. Kevin was sallow and skinny to the point of emaciation, and Colm outweighed him by at least fifty pounds of thick muscle. It would have been a quick fight, except for the fact that Kevin was as vicious and tenacious as a rat. They grappled and rolled across the floor until finally, Colm was able to knock Kevin to the ground and straddle him, his big thighs clenching Kevin’s ribs, while Kevin’s legs thrashed beneath him. Blood poured from his crumpled nose, his knuckles scraped against the rough floor, and still he flailed and swung, clawing long, pink scratches across the pale, hairless meat of Colm’s inner forearms.
    â€œAre you finished?” Colm yelled, ducking the weak punches easily and holding Kevin’s face down with a splayed hand. “Give up, will you, before I fuckin’ kill you!” He lifted his hand away. Kevin was panting and silent. The rest of the bar began to relax. But Maggie knew better. Kevin never would give up, not until he or Colm was dead. She heard a gurgling in his throat, and then he bucked his hips forward and hocked a white wad of spit into Colm’s face. It hung from Colm’s