"Got ya a fuckin job baby brother, ta sort a make up for fuckin up yer last one." Merle told him tossing their shared track phone at him. Daryl Caught his phone since Merle never payed for anything and stuffed it into his pocket roughly.
"Good, 'cause after ya fucked my boss and forgot her fuckin' name I sure as shit ain't gettin a good referance." Daryl growled, Merle just snorted remembering that hot milf tossing him out on his ass.
"Like you ain't ever forgot a womans name. Fuck ya remember that blond you was gonna fuck before ya went screamin about the damn chupicabra!?" Merle laughed remembering him blasting through the woods in just his fucking skivies yelling about how he had to kill it. That blond came stumbling out of the woods naked as the day she was born.
That girl had a fine rack, just swinging in the breaze her big nipples tight against the cold. What could Merle do but comfort her? Daryl groaned punching him in the shoulder hard.
"Ya, cause ya put fuckin shrooms in my God damn jerky, ya fuck head! Her name was Vicky!" Daryl snarled, Merle laughed thinking back over Daryl's short list of conquests.
"Wasn't that first one married?" Merle pushed, Daryl's anger fell to a blank look that warned Merle he'd gone too far.
"Ya gonna tell me about the fuckin job or what?" He asked his tone even, Merle schooled his expression.
"Right, ya remember Jim?" Merle asked, Daryl didn't bother to answer Merle knew he didn't.
"Well his cousin's wife's grama or some shit had her house burn down, so Jim recomended Skeet's brother Trick's construction company. As pay back for gettin him the Job Trick's willin to hire ya on, so long as ya don't fuck up he'll keep ya around." Merle told him, Daryl sighed. He liked construction well enough, but Skeeter was a piece of shit, so he wasn't sure his brother would be any better.
"Ya couldn't a just said it's fuckin construction and given me a damn adress to show up at?" Daryl asked, Merle shook his head handing him a post-it.
"Don't be so fuckin ungreatful, ya start tomorrow." Mere told him, Daryl recognized the adress, it was out in the sticks by the town over. Real big colonial style house, which he guessed was why Trick could aford to hire him on for this.
======) ))))======)
Carol pulled herself up off the floor, she just couldn't believe he'd really hit her. He'd yanked her around before when he was mad, cut on her even as calm punishment but he'd really hit her in anger. She needed to talk to her Grama Sophie. She was sick, and in her heart Carol knew she didn't have long, not since Grampa Howe had passed.
Still she gave the best advice, and she was all Carol had. The last of her family, and since Ed she wasn't allowed friends. She might be in too deep already. She'd always liked shy broken men, but it lead to a lot of heart break, so when she met Ed his possesivness had made her feel like the only woman in the world.
Now she was terrorfied, she was supposed to go help her grama talk with the construction men anyway, what with the reconstruction of her old house and all. She had a hefty insurance policy that was paying for the whole thing, but she was stuck in her little camper in the yard until it was finished.
Carol went to the bathroom lifting the side of her shirt to see the blooming purple welt on her side. It wasn't that bad, and she had spilled his beer, maybe she'd deserved it... maybe it was her. Why else would every other man she'd ever been with have ended up hating her?
*~†~*
Daryl yawned throwing his beat up truck into park in the long driveway of a what was now hardly more then a pile of ashy rubble. Tough luck, the house burning to cinders, but good for him he supposed.
Damn sun was only just painting the horizon that pale blue of sunrise. As soon as he forced himself out of his truck nursing a thermous of thick, strong coffee a tall broad shouldered man about Merle's size with a shaven head and a well groomed beard came over to him.
"Must be Daryl, I'm Turlough, but most folks call me Trick. I want ya to know right off I ain't givin ya any special fuckin treatment, Skeeter's my half brother, but he's hardly worth scrapin off yer boot. I owed one to Jim, that's the only damn reason yer here, if ya work hard and proove ya ain't as worthless as my brother ya can stay on. The Mason house is a big fuckin job for me though, so I ain't gonna hesitate to fire yer ass if I gotta. Ya get me?" Trick asked, Daryl blinked a few time swallowing a mouth full of coffee before he spoke.
"Works just fine for me, where ya want me?" He asked, Trick smiled stepping to the side and pointing to a huge dumpster.
"Fer today we're just clearin this shit out, T's on the back hoe, so you and the boys are just shovlein up the shit he can't scoop up." Trick explained, Daryl nodded heading towards the other men.
))))=======)
Carol sat on the little swinging love seat in her grama's garden while she talked to Turlough. Her grama was small and very old, but she was far from frail. She had this confidance she envied, no her thin frame came from the other side of her family. She soothed her long silver braid moving slowly to sit next to Carol.
"So... what is it that has your aura all blotted with this sickly grey?" She asked, Carol sighed, that was the only thing they differed on. Carol had been raised a devout christian, and it had never let her down, but Sophie was a firm douest.
"I... Ed he... I spilled his beer and he... he hit me, not hard, I mean I guess I kind of deserved it, but..." She started, Sophie poked her in the side causing Carol to whince and hold her side.
"Not hard hu? I don't know how you got it in your head that you're worth so little. I won't stand by while my sweet grand daughter is abused. No I'm going to pay one of these fine men to take you in their fine trucks and pick up some of your things, then you're moving in with me, and getting a devorce from that man who never deserved you!" She said firmly despite her wisended features, and brittle sickly hue there would be no fighting this.
"Grama I can't just..." She started, Sophie stopped her with the soft touch of her boney finger to her lips.
"No, Carol Anne Mason, Ed peltier is a bad man, he will hurt you until the day he dies if you don't do this right now. I'm begging you, please don't go back to him!" Sophie pleaded, and Carol was powerless to deny this sweet brittle old woman who'd been her closest family as long as she could remember. It didn't help that she was right.
"Fine, but you have to talk to Turlough about using one of his workers to help me move now. If Ed is home I can't do it." Carol told her caving to the demands of the older woman, like Carol aways did.
"Come then." She said, walking towards the large bald bearded man.
*~*†*~*
Daryl dumped another load of rubble, this shit could take a week all on it's own. Despite the sun having only risen less then half an hour ago Daryl had already sweat through his worn thin sleevless flannel. Most of them had stripped out of their shirts in this damn muggy summer heat.
Daryl took another slug of water knowing he wouldn't join them. He had too many damn scars. He caught a flicker of movement shielding his eyes so he could see who it was. Mrs. Mason was a sturdy woman, strong, but obviously on her last leg, but now a little slip of a woman was walking with her.
She had a fresh little pixie cut to her auburn curls, not much for curves, but she was slim, and well built for a woman of her size. She had her arms wrapped around herself protectively, she just looked so fragile. He shook his head going back to his work.
He could recognize that kind a broken from a mile off, he was already cracked enough, he sure as shit didn't need to get into that. He looked up again as Trick's loud laugh boomed over the empty space between them.
"Dixon, get yer ass over here!" Trick yelled, Daryl gladly dropped his shovel into his wheelbarrow and hustled over to him sucking down a gulp of ice water as he went.
"Ya?" He asked trying not to take in that frail woman's soft features, or her tragic green eyes.
"Sophie here wants to know if yer lookin to make an extra hundred bucks." Trick told him, he looked over at the old woman for a moment.
"Ya, alright." He said, Sophie smiled, Carol couldn't tear her eyes off of "Dixon" his shirt clung to him like a second skin. He was tan and nothing but hard plains of wirey muscle. This man was practically sex on a stick.
"Good man, yer gonna drive this here philly out to her place, help her load up her shit, and bring it back." Trick told him, he finally looked over at her. Their eyes met blue on green, and she was taken in by his hunter's gaze closed against the sun, but still sharp as a hawk like he could see right through her.
"Come on then woman." He mumbled, he would have liked to shoot this down, but he needed the cash, and to make a decent impression for once. He'd just keep his mouth shut, and hope she did the same.
Carol followed him to an old, beat up, dirt covered, blue truck. He opened the passanger side door tossing his lunch into the middle and leaving the door open. He didn't wait to close it, but she didn't miss the fact that he'd opened it for her.
They drove in scilence for a while both purposefully not looking at each other. She shifted listening to quiet music, a mixed tape of country and southern rock while his open window helped finally cool him off.
"I'm Carol." She said as he pulled up to the stop sign at the end of the long dirt road her granma lived on.
"Daryl... where am I headed?" He asked, Carol pointed, and he turned his truck shuddering as he shifted gears. It was an old vehicle, but he obviously took as decent a care of it as he could.
"Thank you for doing this." She whispered still looking out the window with her arms wrapped around herself.
"Ain't no big thing, yer payin me fer it." He mumbled, gratitude always embarassed him. Her hand went to a little gold cross around her neck.
"Still." She mumbled pointing as they aproached another turn off. They didn't speak again until they got to a little trailer. He stayed outside leaning against his truck as she hurried inside. She set a suite case outside the door, and Daryl went over taking it and loading it into his truck. She had four boxes of books, and a set of four folding chairs and a hammock.
It wasn't nearly a hundred dollars worth of work, hell he hadn't done a damn thing. Fuck, he couldn't take money for this shit. It was hardly even a favor. Maybe ten for gas, but even that was pushing it.
"This it?" He asked, she looked back at the trailer biting her lip. She had other things, but most of them were furneture, and she didn't know where she'd keep it.
"Ya, everything worth taking." She told him, he tossed the hammock up into the truck opening her door again, and going around. The drive back was even quieter then the drive there, but not uncomfortable. It was nice to be around someone who didn't want something from them; Peaceful.
"I can unload it." Carol said as he turned his truck off, he looked over at her frowning.
"I got it, were ya want all of it?" He asked, she didn't really know, which is why she wanted to do it.
"You can set them by camper, I'll have to sort them out later." She told him, he nodded getting to it, Carol sighed watching the strain of his muscles as he carried her hastely packed boxes of books two at a time.
))))========)
She sighed going to the camper where Sophie was happily braiding dried herbs slowly to hang. Carol went to the little cupboard and pulled out the largest pitchure. She figured she should do something since she was here.
"You're back already? That was quick." Sophie said setting her herbs down.
"I don't have that much Grama, besides Daryl was very helpful." She told her, Sophie smiled in that way that said she knew more then Carol could ever hope to.
"I like that boy, a very pure aura." She told Carol, Carol just laughed looking out the little window seeing him set the last box down.
"That man is anything but pure." She mumbled to herself, but Sophie laughed, which turned to a fit of coughing. Carol hurried over handing her a handkerchief. She whiped the blood from her lips with a sigh.
"Grama where's your medication?" Carol asked, Sophie waved her hand dismissively.
"Those poisons are no help, no I have my herbs, and that's all I need. When it's my time so be it. I miss my Howey any how." The last part was a whisper more for her own benefit. Carol sighed putting her hand on her grandma's shoulder.
"I wish you would take your medacine." She said knowing that she wouldn't.
"My sweet, sweet Carol. When you find the kind of love I had you'll understand why I'm in no hurry to prolong my life now that he's gone." Sophie told her, Carol smiled wishing she believed she would find that.
"I really don't think they make 'em like you and grampa anymore." She mumbled, Sophie pulled the curtain open revealing Daryl as he wiped his brow on the red rag he kept in his back pocket before slinging more rubble into his wheelbarrow.
"Sure they do sweety, ya just gotta be patient." Sophie said dropping her home carved cane from the curtain obscuring Carol's view.
"If you say so, I'm gonna make them boys some sweet tea." She told her getting back up since she knew she'd never convince Sophie she was right. Sophie just smiled, so Carol stirred up her pitchure and grabbed a stack of clear plastic glasses. She went over to Daryl first since he'd been so nice to her.
"Made some ice tea if ya want." Carol said holding the glasses out to him. He stopped what he was doing, and so did anyone else who heard.
"Thanks." He said pulling a glass off the stack as people started filing over. She filled up his cup happily and waited to fill the rest. Daryl sucked down his glass of tea in just two long drafts. He was soaked.
"Thank ya kindly." Trick said swiping his ice cold glass across his forehead. Daryl looked longingly at his empty glass.
"Here." She said so quiet he might not have noticed, he didn't know when she got so close, but she poured the last of her tea into his glass.
"Thanks." He said looking up at her, fuck she looked like a damn angel with the sun baking down on her giving them soft curls a damn halo. He swallowed hard looking away before he could say something stupid.
"I'll make you boys some more for later." Carol offered to no one in particular, there was a resounding cheer from the sweat dreanch sun baked men.
Carol made another pitchure and pulled out one of her folding campfire chairs. She found a good book and planted herself over by a shade tree to read with a big ol' glass of sweet ice tea. She could admit to herself it was more to watch the parade of muscular shirtless men at work then because that camper heated up like an oven in the summer sun. It was the first time in years she could look without fear. She brought out four more pitchures of tea before they finished up.