Page 4 of Paddy

“Jesus Paddy, the fuck is that smell?” Bellamy asked, joining me in rolling the lifeless body in the tarp.

“He fucking shat himself. But he was easier than the last one, so dealing with the smell of shite is a decent trade off,” I said, as we carried the body over to the prepared grave Bell had already dug.

“Let's make this one shallow. This one has to be found. His family's livelihood depends on it,” I said, replanting some of the soil back into the grave.

“Look who suddenly has a heart. Not used to the tin man actually feeling something,” he jabbed.

“You know I don't give a fuck about women, but the kids don't deserve being left with nothing. Especially since he was offering one of them up like a fucking coward. I gotsomesort of code.”

We didn't deal in people and we didn't deal in harming kids. I didn't always show it, but when you served your country, you did it so even fucks likethiscould enjoy life with freedoms not offered to other countries.

It's just a shame how freedom is often wasted on lowlifes like him.

Opting to help instead of chastise, Bellamy picked up a shovel and aided in redistributing the dirt to make it shallow. “Any plans after this?” I asked, trying to take my mind off the smell with light conversation.

“Once I rid myself of the smell of shite, I plan to go see my main girl. So, it'll be a vigorous Wednesday night,” he bragged. Bellamy didn't do relationships. Main girl was just the nickname he gave to the hooker he saw the most.

I was more like Tadhg in that regards. He and I had more discipline than Bell or Cilly. Cillian had become a father of four in less than three years. Take it from someone who'd been forced to stay in the spare bedroom next to theirs during the holidays, that man couldn't keep his hands off that wife of his. But the headcount in that house showed how obvious it was that he couldn't live without sex, just as much as Bellamy.

Don't get me wrong, I loved sex. But I’d learned the darkness I inherited with my Sullivan’s curse could more than satisfy me when I didn't get it. Sex was easy. But getting to show my degenerate side was liberating. Good as any nut if you ask me.

“Why what were your plans?” Bellamy following up to return the question.

“Got a letter from a mate. Since they'll be in town, we'll probably go for drinks.”

“Oh, is this a lass type of friend?” Bellamy raised a suspicious eyebrow.

“More like a brother from another mother.”

“Hey,I'myour fucking brother,” Bellamy defended, interrupting.

“Calm down. He's one of the men I served with. We've been through hell together. Honestly wouldn't be standing here if it wasn't for him. You can thank him for that.”

My brothers, close as we were, didn't have the trauma of serving, so I couldn't talk to them about it without misunderstandings. I was honorably discharged because I got injured, but the road to recovery hadn't been easy. Once I'd gotten home, no one liked seeing me as weak as I’d become, so I just chose not to talk about it.

Having a brother in arms felt comforting somehow, proving I hadn’t gone through it alone. I hadn't seen my army brother in years, so it'd just be nice to catch up.

“In you go,” Bellamy announced, as we hoisted the corpse into the hole, covering the body with the remaining soil, as my stomach growled, disturbing the silence.

“Burying a body sure works of an appetite. Could go for Darragh’s.” I looked to Bellamy for validation.

“Hey, I was just waiting onyouto suggest it.”

***

Nursing my first stout, I patiently waited at an empty booth in Rebel City, Tadhg’s main location of operations. Let me tell you, it wasn't exactly hard to spot a man you hadn’t seen in years when they were the only Black man walking into an Irish establishment.

Identifying him forced me out of my seat, to ensure he didn’t feel out of place.

“Moore, you fucking eejit. Get in here,” I greeted, aggressively pulling him in to give him a proper embrace. “I’m a hugger now.”

“Oh, so you're a hugger now?” He joked with me, as I led him to the booth and ordered us beers.

“Life’s too short not to show up for the people you care about,” I admitted.

“You know, when you said you wanted to meet at your brother's pub, I was imagining some hole in the wall. You must be doing well,” he said, with a quick scan of the joint. Moore knew my family’s line of work wasn’t necessarilyhonestwork, but never judged me for sticking by my family.

“Well, business is spread out. I keep most of what I make from contract work. But yeah, we do all right,” I downplayed.

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