Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble

Trouble been doggin' my soul since the day I was born

Worry

Worry, worry, worry, worry

Worry just will not seem to leave my mind alone

We'll I've been

Saved by a woman

I've been

Saved by a woman

I've been

Saved by a woman

She won't let me go

She won't let me go now

She won't let me go

She won't let me go now

"The fuck we doing here, Merle?!" hissed Daryl through clenched teeth.

Merle shifted in his seat, a red leather tub chair and rolled his eyes, "Relax, little brother. We're gettin' us on the payroll here. Just let me do the talkin'. Like always." He puffed out his chest and grinned.

Daryl sighed, shook his head to himself and began to chew on the thumbnail of his right hand. How had he ended up sitting in an identical chair to his brother, in the swanky office of the town's newest nightclub? The douche bag sitting next to him was the answer. Merle's left leg began twitching up and down, probably restless for the next hit of meth or a sip of whiskey.

"Now, boy," Merle began, seemingly oblivious to his moving limb. "When he gets in here, we tread carefully. I've heard he's a fucking psycho. He's into some big shit."

Daryl dropped his hand from his mouth, this guy must be crazy if even his brother thought it, "Then let's just get the fuck outta here. I can get work on a construction site or in an auto shop or somethin'. You get caught up in anythin', you know you're going back to jail."

Merle grimaced, "Yeah, but jobs like that ain't gonna pay enough. Can't be waitin' on no minimum wage shit. I need cash, lots of it and fast. The guys I owe it to are worse than this guy. They don't fuck around."

"Jesus, Merle," Daryl rubbed his eyes with the fingers of his right hand. "Wish I hadn't answered my cell, you fuckin' sack o'shit." His anger, already simmering, flared . "Where the fuck is this asshole, anyways?!"

Merle sucked at his teeth, "He's a busy man, it's early yet. You got a hot date or somethin'?"

"Fuck, no," Daryl snapped, "Jus' don't see why we're sittin' here like we're waitin' on the school fuckin' principal."

He clenched his jaw and remembered back to last week, when he had been living his life as usual before he'd answered a call from Merle. His older brother had tangled with the wrong people and he'd begged for Daryl's help. They hadn't seen each other for twelve years, the younger Dixon having moved to Florida and assembled a life there, renting an apartment, and working as a mechanic.

Merle owed money to the type of people who didn't offer affordable payment plans, and Daryl had agreed to pack up and move to this sleepy backwater after his brother begged for his help.

Woodbury, Georgia was a town which belonged in some made for TV movie, it looked the picture perfect small American town, he'd marvelled at how his big brother had come to live here. Merle had gotten a job with a guy named Philip Blake, who effectively ran the town with his money and influence.

Then Blake had mysteriously disappeared whilst mountaineering in the Rockies. Though his body had never been found, he'd been presumed dead for eighteen months. Merle then found himself unemployed from his well paying role as a supervisor in Blake's construction business.

As the bleakness settled over him, he descended down the dark and familiar path of drink, drugs and debt. This path led to the humiliating step of contacting his estranged brother in desperation. Merle Dixon did not want to meet an untimely death, nor did he want to return to prison although he had more than enough enemies in that world who would be very happy to see him.

So here they sat in Lucille's, the only nightclub in town. It had originally been a warehouse on the outskirts of town but now after millions of dollars worth of renovations, it was an ultra modern, two floored venue for partying and had the capacity to host music gigs. The manager's office had steel grey walls, adorned with modern art prints, a plasma TV screen hanging along one wall. Another wall was a floor to ceiling window which looked down onto the street below and offered views of the town beyond. The desk in front of them was a heavy wooden one in dark oak, the wing backed chair behind it, the same shade of red leather as their seats.

Daryl's decision to abandon his life in Florida had come relatively easily. He had a job and a place to live, but he had no family there, no kids or wife and his main friends were barely more than acquaintances and drinking buddies. He had often allowed his mind to travel back to his brother, who he had last seen in the trailer they had shared in a different, less quaint, dead-end town in Virginia. Daryl had been twenty five, no hope and very tired.

Tired of following Merle around from one scheme or disaster to another, lying, sneaking and hiding from responsibilities. They drank too much, fought anyone who glanced at them the wrong way and frequented the cells at the local police station more than they did their own home. Enough had become enough, one of them or both would end up dead or indefinitely imprisoned. Daryl had longed to break out on his own since he had graduated high school, not long after their father had drunk himself into an oblivion.

One March morning, after his brother had been missing in action for three days, he had pulled out an ageing map of the States and stuck a pin in it. Florida. He had packed the few possessions he cared about and informed Merle, nine years his senior of his plans. Half expecting his older brother to tag along, Daryl had been surprised at how well Merle had reacted, although he had just inhaled the most potent weed he'd ever laid hands on.

Now here he was, fast approaching forty, holed up in a town in the backside of nowhere, jobless, running out of cash and living with his older brother in yet another trailer. He sighed, their father had always maintained that they'd amount to nothing. Daryl had nothing to show for his life, even after leaving his brother behind and he'd barely bid goodbye to anyone he'd left down south.

The only thing he missed was the beach, despite being terrified of water during his youth after an incident at the local lake involving his asshole brother, he had learned to swim in the ocean and had mastered the art of surfing on the open waves. The sea expected nothing of him; the waves didn't ask him to work overtime, they didn't want him to go out drinking every weekend, nor did they care if he got laid regularly, chasing any piece of ass, taking up notches on the bedpost and they certainly didn't want marriage or kids. He just had to remember to stay afloat or kick up to the surface or swim for shore.

Merle chuckled, "Maybe you need to find yourself a good fuck buddy. Work some'a that tension off of you." He raised an eyebrow. "Let ol'Merle introduce ya to some real friendly types."

"I don't need no fuck buddy. And if I did, I'd go get one on my own."

"Sure ya would, Darlina," smirked Merle reverting back to his favoured nickname for his brother, "You always had a pretty face but struggled in sealin' the deal. You could learn a thing or two from me."

Daryl turned and glared, "Yeah, well, I been doin' jus' fine all these years. With all your shit, I don't need no shit of the female variety right now. Ok?"

Merle smiled, his leg ceased jiggling and he folded his arms, regarding his brother. "Spoken like a true Dixon. Feelin's and relationships ain't worth shit. Women are only good for one thing. You let one of 'em in here," He tapped his temple with a meaty finger, "an' you is fucked up for good. We don't need nobody. Ain't nobody there for you 'cept me, don't you ever forget that."

Daryl opened his mouth to reply when the door to the office burst open.

"Gentlemen!" boomed the voice of the man before them.

Negan Miller grinned and shut the door behind him with a jerk of his foot. He looked to be in his mid forties, handsome, with an air of extreme confidence. His black hair was shaved short at the sides, but longer on top and like his beard, was peppered with grey. He wore a short sleeved black dress shirt which exposed the tattoos running up his arms and black slacks with black cowboy boots on his feet. He had the healthy glow of having enough money to look after himself but his brown eyes glimmered with a dangerous edge.

Daryl felt his heart sink, he already disliked this person, just from the man's notable swagger. This was not uncommon, Daryl Dixon disliked most people, although occasionally there were a few he managed to tolerate. First impressions of this swaggering, smug man did not bode well. Merle smiled at the owner of Lucille's and his potential new employer before giving Daryl a look which reiterated that the elder Dixon should lead the conversation.

"I'm sorry to keep you waitin'. Had a little situation to take care of," declared Negan, moving around the desk and seating himself in his chair. He leaned against the back of it, placed his left arm on the arm rest and studied each of them. "What can I do for you? Simon informed me you have a proposition?"

Simon Gardner was Negan's second in command, whom Merle had befriended over the past few weeks with the aim of gaining employment. Simon had gradually revealed the specifics of Negan's businesses and the nature of his organisation, including how well it paid. Once Daryl had agreed to move to Woodbury, Merle had set about arranging to meet Negan to offer their services.

Merle relaxed and began his pitch, "My brother and I were hoping to offer our services to you. Simon thought you could use our expertise, he said a coupl'a guys had moved on and you were short of muscle. Now, I ain't no stranger to getting' my hands dirty and we're both more than able to work without drawin' attention to ourselves. Goes without sayin' that we work with the utmost confidentiality."

Negan frowned and rubbed his chin, studying the man before him, "You're Merle Dixon, right? Used to work for Blake?"

"That's right." Merle nodded, "Daryl just moved here after livin' down in Florida. I been here for a while, used to work as supervisor at Blake construction, amongst other things."

"Hmm," Negan narrowed his eyes, "Its true, I am struggling with being two guys light. It's a pain the ass, right now, I can tell ya. And Simon recommended you, I mean, I trust that guy like he was my own brother," he looked from Merle to Daryl. He took a deep breath and his face instantly became menancing, "You both prepared to do whatever I fucking ask, whenever I fucking ask?"

"No question," Merle nodded, side eyeing his brother. Daryl nodded.

"Ok," Negan sat forward and placed his forearms on the desk, threading his fingers together. "I'll give you a month's trial. Got a job for you, Merle," he reached behind the desk and opened a drawer, "Need you to go pay a visit to Shane Walsh."

"The cop?" asked Merle, sitting up in his seat.

"That's right," Negan smiled and produced a small brown envelope. "Need you to go deliver this to him," he pushed the envelope across the desk to Merle "Here," he said, producing a cell phone from the same drawer. "This cell is to be used for work purposes, I will contact both of you on that whenever I got a job come up. Walsh's address is in there. This is a regular arrangement, he knows to expect it so there shouldn't be any problem. Any fuck ups, though, and, well, you get punished. Both of you. There are rules and you will both play by those fucking rules. My rules." He slid the cell phone across the desk and leaned back once again in his chair. "You understand?"

"Yes," replied the Dixon brother simultaneously. Daryl realised his jaw hurt from clenching it so tightly.

Negan grinned, "Good!" he declared, "I like a smooth working relationship, hate having to iron out any issues. Now, Dixon number two. You got a job to do for me too."

Daryl clenched his jaw again, ignoring the ache and stared at the man before him.

Throwing his head back, Negan laughed, "You got a don't-fuck-with-me attitude, I like it! But pin your ears back and listen to your instructions." He turned to Merle, "You came across Simon in Jimmy's Bar, yes?"

Merle nodded, unsure of what was coming.

"Ok, Daryl? Was that your name?" asked Negan, a grin curling at the corners of his mouth.

Daryl replied, "Yes."

Negan studied the brothers again. Merle looked like your average redneck rogue, buzz cut, stubble, leather vest and jeans, tattooed meaty arms, burned red from exposure to the Georgia summer sun, around the same age as Negan himself.

The younger one was handsome, his light brown hair longer at the front, swept across his forehead to avoid his eyes, the back of his hair brushed the collar of the sleeveless black denim shirt he wore. His face was naturally closed off, his eyes cold, and looked as ready to snarl as he was to smile. Those blue eyes narrowed slightly now, defiantly staring at Negan as he crossed his muscular tanned arms across his broad chest. Negan was used to people offering to work for him, but these two appeared to have an air about them which could prove to be exactly what he needed.

"I need to give you some background first, listen up," Negan stood and crossed to a filing cabinet. "Can I get either of you a drink?" He turned back to them, brandishing a bottle of Jack Daniel's.

Merle perked up, "Yes please," he replied.

"Naw," answered Daryl, arms still folded.

Negan snorted, produced three whiskey glasses and poured three fingers worth of the amber liquid into each. He handed one to Merle who immediately took a sip, like he'd been dying of thirst. Daryl accepted his reluctantly, holding it in his hand and watching their new boss. Negan threw his whiskey back and poured himself another before taking his seat again.

"Either of you guys married?" he asked, concentrating on his glass and swirling the liquid around it. He looked up as both Dixons shook their heads. "Very wise. Very fucking wise indeed." Negan glanced up and focussed on Daryl, "You are to go to Jimmy's bar and get yourself employed there as a bartender. They're advertising for one."

Daryl looked confused and turned to look at his brother who was draining his drink. He looked back to Negan, "What?"

Negan smiled, standing up to take centre stage while recounting his story, "Jimmy's used to be mine. The woman who claims to own it now is my wife. Well, ex wife. She fucked me over in more ways than one almost a year ago. I want that bar back. So, I want you, Daryl, to go work there, observe what goes on day to day, who she's friendly with, how much that place takes, any plans she has for the business and so on. I want to know who she's fucking too, I want you to be my man on the inside. I'm gonna take it back. All of it."

"Does she know you want that place back? Won't she be suspicious?" Daryl was not at all keen on the idea of this job. It sounded ridiculous.

Negan grinned wolfishly, "She's smart, she's as sharp as a fucking razor blade. I've tried to get to her before in other ways, of course. This just came to me, like a flash of fucking inspiration! And you being a stranger in this shit town is fucking perfect. Simon usually drinks in there, keeping an eye on things, but he ain't gonna get far, she knows him. You're a new face, entirely fucking plausible and you're looking for a job. Plus, I'll pay ya, she'll pay ya. Think of it as double time. What do ya say?"

Merle caught Daryl's eye and nodded his head slightly.

Daryl took a deep breath. "So what exactly do you want to know?"

"Everything," Negan spread his hands and smiled, "Get close to her, not too close, obviously, or you'll lose that pretty face of yours," his smile dropped and his eyes became hard, "I know Walsh is sniffing around her. If he knows what's good for him, he'll back the fuck off. Gain her confidence, Daryl. Learn the business, her schedule. I want regular updates. She's my girl but she's gotta learn, she ain't fucking with me publicly like she has without serious consequences."

Merle cleared his throat, "I'm already a regular in there. Now I know your connection to the place, I can keep my eyes open and ear to the ground for ya too."

Negan slapped the desk with his hand, "Now that's what I like to hear!" he bellowed, "Taking the fucking initiative. I think you guys will be a valuable addition to my team! Now, if I were you Daryl, I'd get yourself along to Jimmy's and enquire about that job as soon as. I'll text you on that cell in a few days, see how you're getting on." He glanced at his expensive watch, "Come back here, Monday afternoon at five, Simon will sort out the money side of things. It's almost opening time, got to get on. Hope you fellas don't mind wrapping this meeting up?"

Merle stood, "No sir," he held out his hand, "Thank you for givin' us this opportunity. We won't let ya down."

Negan shook Merle's hand then reached for Daryl's, who had raised himself from his seat, "You'll learn the hard way, if you do." the older man warned, giving Daryl a steely look. He kept hold of the younger man's arm and leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "Whatever she tells you, however she acts, do not be fooled. She's not to be trusted, she's a goddamn force of nature."

Daryl regarded Negan and pulled his hand away, remaining silent and his expression was neutral.

Merle headed out of the office followed by his brother. They left by a narrow carpeted corridor which led to a stairwell with the back door at the bottom. A young boy in his very early twenties stood with the door open at his back, smoking a cigarette. He nodded politely to the brothers as they passed him, heading for Daryl's truck.

Once there, Merle grabbed Daryl's arm. "Listen, ima go deliver this shit on foot. You take the truck back home, then I'll meet ya in Jimmy's in an hour."

Daryl scuffed his boot against the gravelled parking bay. "What the fuck have I just got into, Merle? Spyin' on some woman? I ain't gonna be no good at it."

"Listen, brother, all you gotta do is make sure you get that bar tender job. No one knows you here, you can be whoever you like, so pretend you're Prince Charmin' and get the girl to fall under your spell. Tell the boss what she tells you. Don't overthink it. Just remember whose side we is on."

Daryl kicked the gravel, "What the fuck are we even thinkin'?! Let's just go, get our shit and find some other shitty town to fuck up in."

Merle sighed, leaned against the truck and lit a cigarette. He offered one to his brother who accepted. "Look," the elder Dixon began, taking a drag, "I skip town, the trouble I'm in will catch up to me ten-fold. I ain't ever been against running when the shit hits the fan but now we agreed to work for the Godfather in there, if we disappear, we can add him onto the list of pissed off psychopaths who want me dead." The elder Dixon expelled smoke through his nose, "You see the local paper yesterday?! The poor asshole they dredged up from the lake? That was the last guy who tried to cross Negan. Used to work for him. We're in too deep now, little brother. Sold out souls to the big bad." He took another deep drag on his cigarette.

Exhaling a stream of smoke, Daryl shuffled around and leaned against the vehicle beside his brother. There was a feeling that Merle was holding something back, some other reason why he hadn't just left when the going got tough. Daryl watched as the kid who had been smoking in the doorway, threw the butt to the floor amongst a thousand identical stubs and pulled the heavy door closed behind him with a bang.

"You know who this ex is?" he asked, folding his arms while checking the time on his watch. 7:30pm. The night was young but it held no promise now he had to contemplate taking part in this ridiculous charade for money.

Merle shrugged, "Ain't never really paid no attention. I heard of Negan's reputation around town for years. He never got along with my old boss. Heard on the grapevine, they was havin' some kind of turf war or somethin'. Never knew Negan was married til the local jungle drums started beatin' but I ain't interested in that shit. There was some scandal from what I can remember but it was months and months ago and I don't know nothin' bout that."

"But you go to that bar on the regular?"

"I only started goin' in coupl'a months back to get talkin' to Simon. Find out what his boss was into, see if I could get into it. Don't even know what the wife looks like, there are a few ladies work the bar." Merle rubbed his chin, "They're all fine pieces of ass too, least you'll have somethin' to look at if she's one o'them. Almost jealous I ain't got the job." He chuckled slightly.

"You do it then," Daryl snapped, dreading the thought of the task ahead. If this ex wife of Negan's was attractive, he'd fall apart. He could barely interact with other people as it was, a beautiful woman would render him mute and bashful.

"Can't," replied Merle, finishing his smoke, "You heard the boss. You're the new guy in town and pretty enough to look trustworthy to boot. You just gotta work on the charm offensive."

Daryl sighed, "Why the fuck is he so bothered if they've been divorced best part of a year? If she's so fucked up, he's best rid of her."

"Pride, brother," explained Merle, "Met dozens of guys like him over the years. Man like that is used to gettin' what the fuck he wants, when the fuck he wants it. If she left his ass and took his business, he loses face. Not just with the assholes that work for him, but his enemies too. He won't like the humiliation of bein' dumped neither. Can probably get any pussy he wants, but there's no way any chick is walking away from him without any comeback. Guys like that can't take rejection." Merle reached across and patted his brother on the shoulder, "Don't overthink this shit. Just do what he asked ya. We need the money. This works out, I'll pay the fuckers chewin' at my heels sooner and you'll be able to take off again. Now, get in the truck and I'll meet ya at Jimmy's"

Daryl nodded reluctantly. He climbed into the cab and watched his brother set off on foot on the road leading to the new housing development in town. He had the feeling they had just signed their souls away to the devil.