Stony winced. "Was he Irish?"

"I dunno."

"What'll you be havin', boys?" The waitress stood over them. Her long, black hair hung down her back. Her eyes were crystal blue.

"Tequila," Stony mumbled.

"We don't have tequila." Her brogue was thick as stew.

"Give us two shots of Jameson's." Chubby winked. She left. "Tequila!? Where you think you are, Tijuana?"

She brought two filled shot glasses and left again.

Chubby leaned across the table and whispered to Stony, "Lemme give you some advice. Don't ever fuck around with an Irish woman."

"Temper?"

"Temper nothin'. They don't know their ass from their elbow in bed. That fuckin' church thing got 'em so uptight. They all got twenny-nine priests as brothers. When I was a kid I had an Irish girlfriend. Kathy Conroy. She useta think eating out meant not having any dishes to wash. The first time we fucked she complained of having this weird feeling all over. She went to the doctor. He told her it was an orgasm." Chubby laughed. He noticed the knuckles on Stony's right hand were scraped. He nodded at Stony. "Hey, what'd you do to that guy? He looked like he got hit in the face with a bag a nickels."

"I went berserk ... ah dunno." Stony lowered his head to the edge of the table again. Chubby stared at him for a while before reaching over and slapping him on the shoulder.

"Ah, yer all right, kid, yer all right, you take after yer uncle. You ever hear what I did with Phyllis once? Two months after we was married I walked into the house an' she's siltin' on the couch with this guy I never seen before. I take one look at both a them and I grab this clown by the front of his shirt. I'm just about to put him through the wall and Phyllis says, 'Chubby, I'd like you to meet my brother Larry.'" Chubby downed the shot of whiskey and smacked his lips. A liquor-scented belch reached Stony's side of the table. "The cat néver visited us again. You know, there ain't nothin' like jealousy to get the ol'juices flowin'."

"I think it sucks." Stony took a sip of whiskey and shuddered.

"Granted it ain't the most divine feelin' in the world, but let me ask you something, an' I want you to answer me straight. When you belted that guy tonight"—he finished off Stony's shot—"when you smacked that clown tonight, didn't you feel jus' a little good?" Chubby held up his thumb and index finger slightly apart. "Be honest."

"Nah, whatta' you kiddin'?"

"Nah, whatta' you kiddin'?" Chubby mimicked.

"Well..." Stony shrugged, fighting back a smile.

"Yeah, just a little, right?" Chubby eyed him slyly.

"A little." Stony smiled.

"Lemme tell you somethin'...when you're gettin' ready to break some joker's legs 'cause he's been fuckin' around with Mary Lou, you feel like fuckin' King Kong and John Wayne. God's on your side an' everything. You feel like a man. Am I right or am I right?"