Luck of The Irish (Getting Lucky)

Chapter 1

Aiden

"That's all you got?" I said to the punk kid. He was swinging wildly at me and missing every time.

"Feck you," he spat, wiping the blood on his top tip before getting up. "You're dead. You think you can mess with us, and nothin' will happen to you?"

"I told you and your feckin' mates that if I ever see you makin' trouble around here, there would be consequences." I waved my fists in his face, and said "Lefty and righty."

"Sean owes us. He needs to pay his debts," the kid spat."

"Sean's works at my gym now. He doesn't owe you shit. You get back to Seamus, and you tell him that he and his aren't welcome here."

"This isn't over," the kid spat.

I saw red. I lifted the little shit off the ground by the collar and held him up. His skinny legs dangled in the air and peddled as his eyes rounded with fear. "It's over. Seamus knows not to come around here, and so should you."

The kid's body shook, yet his fists were still formed. The little runt had a lot of fight in him. He reminded me of myself at that age. Angry at the world and thinking I knew way more than I actually did.

"You know you could come to help out at the gym, too," I said. He blinked a few times, the shadows of shock visible on his face.

"You'd want me to work here?" he asked.

'"If you leave the clan," I said.

"I can't do that," he said, shaking his head, "Seamus would kill me."

"You let me deal with Seamus."

"No."

"Have it your way," I said, putting the kid back on his feet," just give him the message. He and his aren't allowed near me or mine."

When the kid didn't answer, I bent down so that I would be directly in his face, "GOT IT?" I hollered. The kid visibly startled, nodded his head before running off. I watched him go before turning to the other kid who he'd rightfully scared to death. I was pretty sure the one left standing before me now was about to wet his pants.

"What's your name, lad?"

"Liam," he said.

"Liam, you messed up with those lads?" I asked, helping the boy to his feet.

"No, Sir," he stammered, shaking his head.

"You've got some manners. Between that and your accent, I'd wager you aren't from these parts."

"No," he said, "I'm visiting my sister. She moved her a month back and…" his voice lowered before he stopped mid-sentence.

"Cat got your tongue, boy? Spit it out!"

"Things aren't really that great in the States. I needed to get away, and Erin, my sister, offered me a place to stay. She's going to kill me."

"Why, you've got yourself messed in some trouble?"

"Me?" he asked, his index finger pointing to his frail chest. "No sir, that kid just ran into me and tried to steal my money. He pulled a knife on me."

"What were you doing in this part of town anyway?"

"Looking for a job," he said.

"A job? You’re lookin’ to stay?"

"I want to stay. Erin said I could as long as I enrol in school and get a job."

"So what kind of skills do you got?"

"Skills?"

"Aye boy, don't be daft. What can you do? You said you're looking for work, right?."

"Not much."

"Can you use a mop and bucket," I asked.

The boy looked up at me, his floppy hair covering his eyes. I waited for him to say something, but all I heard was silence.

"You are daft, aren't cha?"

"I-I can clean. Pretty well, actually. My mom wasn't able to, so I got really good at it."

"Great, I can give you work three times a week. Two nights a week and Saturday. But I expect you to work for your money, no dilly-dallying about."

"Great, one form of servitude to the next," the kid mumbled under his breath.

"There's a difference between working for someone and being owned by them."

"I'm not sure if that's true," he said.

"You've got a lot to learn, Lad, but today isn't the day I'm going to teach you. Let's call your sister."

"No," he said, grabbing me by the shirt. "You can't tell her. Erin is so damn uptight. She'd lose her damn mind and ship me back. I can't go back."