Plan B

-Moira's POV-

"Hi, Seamus," I said, waving to the bouncer outside the front of the club. "Ya haven't been around in a while. How's life been treatin' ya?"

"Oh, very well, Bevin; my wife had the baby a couple weeks ago. We 'ave a beautiful little girl."

"Dat's wonderful," I exclaimed. "Congratulations! What did ya name 'er?"

"Deidra," he said, smiling from ear to ear.

"That's a pretty name for such a beautiful baby girl."

"You 'aven't even seen her," he chuckled, shaking his head.

"Ahh, your wife is gorgeous, and you're not so bad yerself; there's no way she isn't t'e most beautiful baby girl in da world," I replied, smiling. "Yer gonna hav'ta beat t'e boys off wit' a stick when she grows up."

Seamus laughed and shook his head again. "Go inside before you get inta trouble for bein' late."

I laughed and nodded. "You 'ave yourself a good night, Seamus."

"You as well, Bevin."

I waved and pulled the door open, walking into the darkly lit club. I went behind the bar and put my purse on the designated shelf under the countertop, pulling off my converse and grabbing my heels. I slipped them on and buckled them, standing up and throwing my coat on the rack at the end of the bar. I grabbed a rag out of the bleach water bucket and wrung it out before wiping the bar down. I went into the back and grabbed a crate of beer glasses, then I laid down a hand towel and stacked them next to the beer tap.

I finished up my prep duties, then stood behind the bar and waited for the first customer, waving to the girls as they walked in.

Six hours, numerous booze spills, and I-lost-count-because-there-were-so-many leers later, the club was empty, so I grabbed my bag and headed for the dressing area in the back of the club, snagging the face soap I had previously left at one of the girls' stations.

I turned on the faucet, wetting a clean rag I had put there earlier and applying a liberal amount of soap, rubbing the rag together to lather it up. I washed my face, careful not to get any soap in my hair, and rinsed the suds off my face, lightly scrubbing at my eye shadow.

After applying new eyeliner, mascara and concealer, I pulled my black V-neck out of my purse and pulled off my halter top; some of the girls cat-called, and I quickly pulled on my shirt, laughing. I yanked off my heels and slipped my converse back on, shoving my top and makeup in my bag.

"Bye, girls," I called, getting various responses as I walked back into the front of the club. I threw on my coat and flung my bag over my shoulder as I walked out the door.

"Have a nice night, Seamus; hope all's well wit' the baby," I said, waving over my shoulder.

"You too, Bev, and t'ank you for your well wishes."

I smiled and continued on my way.

After a few minutes, I started thinking about Murphy; then I noticed that I was getting more and more nervous the closer I got to the bar.

When I first saw the bar, I tripped over my own feet. "Damn!" This was not like me; I'd never gotten clumsy because of a guy. Nervous, sure. But clumsy?

I sighed and stopped in front of the door, taking a few deep breaths, then I pushed the door open and walked into the bar, scanning for Murphy as I hung my bag and coat up. I spotted him at the bar and smiled when he spotted me walking towards him.

"Ya made it," he said, a small smile on his face.

"Of course; I'm even a bit earlier den I expected," I replied, wrapping my arms around his neck when he leaned in for a quick kiss.

Murphy stepped back and pulled me toward the bar. "Do ya want a pint?"

"That'd be lovely," I grinned. Watching him as he ordered my Guinness, I remembered the kiss we had shared the night before, flushing as the feelings came rushing back. "A shot of Jameson 's well," I requested, leaning on the bar next to Murphy.

"Bad day?" He asked, concern in his eyes as he handed me my beer.

"No worse t'an usual," I shrugged, nicking my shot off the bar as soon as it was set down. "Let's grab a booth," I proposed, pointing at an empty one in a back corner of the bar.

Murphy smiled as I downed my shot, taking my hand once the shot glass was back on the bar and drawing me to the booth. I slid in, back to the wall, tugging Murphy into the booth with me. Pulling him closer, I put my legs across his lap and leaned on his shoulder.

"What's so bad about your job tha' a sho' is the first t'ing you drink?" Murphy asked, resting his arm over my legs.

"I work at a strip club called Plan B, so I 'ave to wear slightly revealing clothing, so t'e men dat come in usually give me perverted looks. It doesn' really bother me; I knew what the job entailed when I took it, and I get really good tips all de time."

Murphy nodded and took a drink of his beer. "Do the men ever make passes at ya?"

"Sometimes," I shrugged, "but mos'ly I jus' ge' looks; de t'ing dat bothers me most is tha' I always leave covered in alcohol 'cause the men always spill they're drinks. It splashes on t'e bar and splatters all over me."

"I was woderin' why ya smelt li'e whiskey," he laughed. "I'm rather enjoyin' it."

I giggled and took a swig of my pint. I set my glass down and looked back at Murphy, who was staring at my hair, twirling the black curls around his fingers. "What're ya thinkin' about?" I asked.

Murphy took a breath, then held it for a moment. "I love your hair," he murmured. "I don' know why, it jus'… catches my attention." He looked at me with an intensity that caught me by surprise. I looked right back at him, wondering at how lucky I was to have met him.