Title taken from Hozier's "Work Song." If you don't think that's one of the sexiest damn songs...you're wrong. Thank you to my wonderful talented rude beta, MollyMayhem84, for telling me this didn't suck.
Earl's bar was slower than usual for a Saturday night.
Daryl stared down at his empty beer bottle, remembering what his brother had told him.
"Ray, baby brother," Merle'd said as he sat on Daryl's Lazyboy and stared at the ceiling in silence, sweating through his shirt and stinking something fierce. A girl Daryl had never seen before was sleeping on his couch, and the whole place smelled like stale air and vomit. He'd probably have to replace the entire damn couch to get rid of the stench, as if he had the money for it. "His name is Ray."
That had been the most he'd been able to get out of him. Didn't matter. He knew the guy just by reputation. Daryl didn't want to go, didn't like to help Merle on his drug runs when he was too fucked up to go himself. But his brother was with him at home, at least, instead of in some other shithole, and if Daryl didn't get him what he wanted he might move onto more brown and dead pastures.
So here he fucking was, sitting at the bar a few stools down from everyone else. He had finished his beer a while ago, but the girl working the bar had been doing a shitty job keeping up with orders. Where the hell were the real bartenders? They were at least familiar with his order, and would've had Daryl well on his way to getting hammered.
But instead he was dealing with this blonde girl, one he definitely didn't recognize. She was new, that much was clear, nervous hands with a nervous smile. She stuck out like a sore thumb, a young little thing. He wasn't even sure she looked old enough to work here. Maybe she was someone's sister, a daughter. She'd been screwing up all night, mixing up drinks, giving wrong change. More than once she'd had to ask people to explain what they wanted. She didn't belong here. Hadn't stopped people from filling up her tip bowl, though. Must've been enjoying the new blood.
Whatever. Earl's new hires weren't his business. He just needed to get Merle's shit done and get out before things had a chance to go south. At least he could avoid a fight, which was more than he could say for his brother. Bender Merle had been on these past couple days hadn't been a gentle one. Daryl's busted up table was proof of that. Didn't have the money to fix that, either.
Still didn't know why this had to happen at a bar he actually liked, though. With his luck, the whole deal would turn out to be a set up and he would end the night in jail and banned from here for causing trouble. He wasn't even sure Merle still had his cell phone, or even if he did if he would answer it to bail his brother out.
He held his bottle tighter. Family shit never failed to screw him over, and bad.
Blondie finally came back to his half of the bar, and he nodded her over to him. He was going to need something stronger than this if he was going to get through the night.
"Sorry 'bout the wait. Can I get you somethin'?" she asked, her pretty face still nervous and her voice hitting a high, girlish pitch.
"Double o'Jameson, neat," he said, but then remembered the lack of bills in his wallet and frowned. "Best make it a single," he corrected, but as he spoke she took out a little notebook and pen from a pocket in her apron and wrote down what he was saying. "Really need to get that down?" he asked her, bemused.
She blushed bright red, tapping the pen against the pad. "I've been mucking up some people's orders, so I thought I -" she stopped explaining herself when she looked at his face, quickly shaking her head. "Anythin' else?"
"No," he said, and slid his empty beer bottle across the bar to her.
She didn't even make a move to catch it, and the glass crashed to the floor, shattering with a noise that caught the attention of half the bar.
"Oh!" she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand and flashing even brighter red.
He had a feeling he was looking at her like she was crazy, but he couldn't help it. "You ever work at a bar before, Blondie?"
She looked like she was about to cry as she glanced around at the broken glass around her. Everyone else started to turn back to their business, quickly forgetting, but she stood dead still, seeming lost as to what to do. "No," she said miserably. "Lemme - I'll get ya your drink," she said, turning around and stepping over the glass. She waved a hand over all the bottles, indecisive before landing on a bottle of tequila. She looked back at him, the question all over face.
Christ. Girl didn't even know her liquor. He shook his head no, gesturing with one finger for her to go to her right. She touched the top of one bottle, then the next, landing on each one until he nodded his head that she had guessed correctly.
"This is my first night," she apologized as she brought the bottle over, reaching underneath for a clean glass. "I don't got it all down just yet. Neat means no ice, right?"
"Yeah," he grunted, taking a quick peek around the bar to make sure he hadn't missed Ray's entrance. He looked back at the girl when he was sure he hadn't. "Just you here now?"
"No. One of the older girls tried trainin' me this mornin'. She's just been on break," she said, pointing back towards the door that read 'Employees Only'. "A really long break," she said under her breath, glancing at the door.
He grunted again in response, only half listening as he heard the bell above the door tingle, signaling someone else had come in. He looked over his shoulder, trying to be discrete, and sure enough he saw Ray had finally arrived.
Christ. He would've been able to pin this guy as a dealer even if he hadn't known him. His skin was pale, even though it was the dead of summer, his watery eyes sunken into a face with too much skin. He took his sweet time walking through the bar, stopping here and there to talk to who Daryl guessed were more of his customers before stepping up onto the stool next to him.
The girl had finished pouring his drink by now, and he took a sip, grateful to have something to put in his mouth besides his foot. He'd done this for Merle before, but each time was different. He risked bringing up old unsettled scores, pissing the wrong people off, upping the price of whatever he was buying. He'd learned it was best just to let these guys talk themselves out.
He stared straight ahead, not acknowledging the dealer as he slid onto the seat next to Daryl.
"Long time, no see," he said, way too friendly. "Where's my favorite Dixon tonight?" he asked, not looking at him as he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, revealing track marks all up his arms. Blondie had obviously seen them too, taking one look at him and heading to customers at the other end of the bar without taking his order.
Exactly where you put him, jackass, Daryl thought, but didn't say it out loud. He just shrugged, giving Ray a sideways glance and an attempt at a smile that probably came out as more of a smirk. "Couldn't make it."
"Shame, that's just a shame," Ray said, shaking his head. His whole body was shaking, his hands tapping on his bouncing thighs. Needing a fix.
That just set Daryl more on edge. A dealer that was also an addict. Merle was fucking scraping the bottom of the bucket with this trash. He was stiff just having to sit next to him, and no matter how much he tried to relax his muscles they stayed clenched so tight he was worried about breaking the glass in his hand. This guy was bound to notice if he didn't calm down.
One of the other girls - he thought her name might be Cindy - finally came out from the back. She took one look at Ray and turned away to go visit the booths, her eyebrows raised to her hairline, leaving Blondie alone at the bar.
Ray called his attention back, nudging Daryl's shoulder. "That's the kind of help I like to see, eh?" he said, nodding towards Blondie and looking her up and down crudely.
Daryl could tell she had heard him, her body stiffening as she fumbled with a customer's change, dropping coins all over the ground.
"Beth," Cindy chastised from the booths, looking over with crossed arms at the girl who was on her hands and knees trying to pick up coins.
Beth. Blondie had a name. Daryl racked his brain, trying to think if he had heard it before, but he was coming up blank.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the girl apologized, standing back up again and looking queasy as she dropped the change in the customer's waiting hand.
Ray whistled at her, loud and obnoxious, and she reluctantly walked over to where they were sitting, taking her little notebook back out of her pocket.
"How can I help you?" she asked, and then, looking more nervous than ever, she added a "sir" onto the end of it.
Ray laughed at that, too loud and too long. Daryl was feeling sorry for the girl, who couldn't seem to not make a mistake. She had a look about her that just screamed sheltered, but it suited her. Didn't need to learn reality in a place like this from a goddamn drug dealer.
"Get him the same as me," Daryl told her, giving her an out.
She looked at him gratefully, but before she could go, Ray held out his hand, a twenty dollar bill between his fingers in offering. She hesitated before taking it, but as soon as she had he grabbed her hand, pulling her closer. "Keep 'em coming, sweetheart."
Daryl shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the urge to push the dealer back and away from Beth. She was going to have to get used to people like this if she was working here, but that didn't help Daryl not want to punch him any less.
But the girl wrinkled her nose at him in distaste, yanking her arm from his grip and turning away.
Huh. Gone better than expected. Girl had surprised him.
Ray didn't seem to notice the rejection, turning back to Daryl, his body all jitters. "Where were we?"
"I'm just here for Merle," he said, watching the girl's back as she pulled back out the right bottle this time. "Dunno 'bout anythin' else."
"Wish he had shown up," Ray sniffed, knocking his knuckles against the wood of the bar. "He uh," he said, shooting Daryl a smile that revealed yellow teeth. "We've got some unfinished business."
Fuck. Merle hadn't paid this guy yet? "How much?"
"One fifty."
Daryl's stomach dropped. How much fucking shit was Merle on to owe him so much? He had $15 on him right now. He should've guessed Merle would have sent him in blind like this. He looked down at his glass, shaking the whiskey around, trying to think of what to say. He couldn't go home empty handed. "I don't got it."
"That's a problem," Ray said, smiling at Beth as she tentatively gave him his drink and making a quick exit.
"Gimme a week," he said. He hated asking for favors. It set him off to his core, pulling him way outside of his zone of comfort. No fucking way did he want to be indebted to this guy, but he didn't seem to have another choice.
"Hmmm," he said, still tap-tap-tapping his fingers against his thigh.
He wanted to punch him so damn bad. He could walk out. He could leave this dick before he had a chance to say anything else. But then where would Merle go? And would he find his way back?
Beth was looking at him from the corner of her eye, her concern clear. That didn't make what he was about to say any easier.
He turned his head towards Ray, not quite able to make himself meet his eye. "Please," he said, his whole body revolting, his jaw clenched to the point of teeth breaking. His goddamn fucking brother.
"Why the hell not?" Ray finally said, but Daryl still didn't let himself relax. "I'll give you the week."
He reached out his hand for Daryl to shake, and he took it, feeling the little baggy of pills pressing against his palm. He made a fist, catching the bag between his fingers, nodding once at Ray and then starting to swivel back around in his chair, hoping that would be the end of it.
But Ray caught his hand just like he had the girls, making him meet him in the eye. "A week. Then I'll have to deal with your brother more directly."
The threat was there, plain as day. Daryl's muscles twitched. He could take this guy. He could take this guy so easy. Wouldn't even be a fight.
But then he let go, hopping down from the stool like nothing had happened. Daryl's fist thudded on the table, jarring his drink and making the carton of glasses shake.
Beth had been watching them both, her brow drawn in concern. When she saw Daryl had caught her staring, she quickly turned away, but only managed to keep it up for a second, looking back at the hand Daryl still had clenched tight.
Ray stood behind him, clasping Daryl on his shoulder. "You tell your brother I said hello."
He nodded, not looking at him, not even moving as he waited.
Beth looked more scared than ever. "Who was he?" she asked, her eyes wide as they tracked him leaving the bar, not looking at Daryl until the door was shut.
"No one," he told her once he was sure he was gone, and he hoped that was the truth.
"Didn't look like you should be talkin' to him," she said, and even though she wasn't looking at him now, he thought he could hear disapproval in her windchime voice.
"Don't look like you should be here at all," he said. He didn't know why he was talking to her, but he wanted to hear her answer.
She looked him in the eye at that, squaring her shoulders and clearing her throat. "Doesn't look like you should be tellin' me where to be," she said airily, reaching for an abandoned glass and a rag.
He raised his eyebrows, amused by her defiance. He had said something to piss her off. "That so?" he asked, leaning forward on his elbows.
"Yep," she said, but just as quickly as the fierceness had come it had gone again, and her shoulders fell. "Sorry. You're right."
"Why're you here?" he asked, his curiosity finally getting the best of him. "You Earl's girlfriend's kid or sumtin'?" he guessed, sizing her up and down. Definitely didn't share any resemblance to the balding man he knew.
"No," she said, looking down as she rubbed at the glass that wasn't getting any cleaner. "Apparently," she said, her voice filled with a bitterness that hadn't been there seconds ago, "my daddy knew the owner pretty well."
He wasn't sure what that meant, but it sounded like a whole can of worms that he didn't want to open. Instead of answering, he downed the rest of his drink, swallowing loudly as he finished it in a few gulps. She watched him with wide eyes.
"Did you want another one?" she said hesitantly, like she wasn't sure she was supposed to be asking.
"No," he said, taking out his tattered wallet and throwing the last of his fives on the bar before hopping off the stool. "Keep the change."
She gave him a gentle smile. "Thanks," she said, raising her hand to wave goodbye before blushing and opting instead to wipe her hands on her apron.
He almost smiled back, but instead he turned around and walked out, taking care not to look back.
Pretty blonde girls in bars weren't his business.
I have a general idea of where this story is going, and it will be by no means a slow burn. But I've not done a story quite like this one before, so tell me what you think as we all get aboard the Bethyl train.