Chapter Text
Molly Malone’s is a run down bar that plays host to some of The Town’s most unsavoury characters. They sell cheap liquor that’s been stolen in bulk thefts from warehouses and cigarettes underneath the counter, of course sourced in the same way as the alcohol. If rumours are to be believed, it isn’t only cheap alcohol and stolen cigarettes that cross over the bar, but drugs as well and even though the authorities knew of the goings ons in the bar, it was never acted upon. Unless people were killing people or committing serious crimes, nobody really cared and everyone who belonged to The Town know the unwritten rules.
A cheesy eighties pop song plays from the recently refurbished jukebox and most of the tables are taken, the bar steadily cluttered with thirsty customers. Laughter erupts from a table in the corner, furthest away from the door, but close enough to the bar. Three men, all Townie’s through and through are throwing back shots of tequila and killing the battery acid taste with beer. They are amused by something, probably the two scantily-clad women who are literally begging strange guys to buy them drinks and use their charming methods of seduction to get what they want.
Jem Coughlin heads off to the bar, checking out the two women and shaking his head at how desperate they seem to be for a drink, how they are throwing themselves at anyone and everyone. He leans against the bar on one elbow, his blue eyes watching the door as he waits to get served. He’s always aware of his surroundings, never letting his guard down even in comfortable situations because he only trusts a select few, those who he’s known for a number of years or people who have earned his respect.
"What can I get you, Jem?" Beth, the girl behind the bar asks.
Without looking at her, his eyes focussing on the man who has just entered the bar, his good friend and brother, Doug MacRay.
"Four buds and four Jameson’s." He answers, peeling off two twenties from a bundle of notes.
Anyone watching Jem Coughlin would say that he’s just been paid from a job and they would be right, if Jem actually had a job. Everyone knows how Jem makes his money and they don’t care, preferring to keep their mouths shut if they valued having both their kneecaps and their internal organs in the right places. Of course, the rest of the clientele hardly stayed on the right side of the law and no one expected any less of them.
Beth waves her hand in front of Jem’s face to bring him back to reality and he looks at her with a confused expression.
"Your drinks and your change" She says, slapping down the money on the bar.
"Thanks, sweetheart"
Jem grabs the tray of drinks and retreats to his table, completely oblivious that Beth, the girl who had just served him is checking out his butt. She’s worked at Molly’s for a total of four months and never has the infamous Jem Coughlin has thanked her or called her sweetheart or even acknowledged her.
Beth continues serving the other customers and casts a glance over at Jem’s table. She would be lying if she said that she didn’t find him attractive, but a guy like him certainly wasn’t going to be interested in a girl like her.
Back at the table, Jem sucks down his beer like it’s his first ever drink and chuckles at something Gloansy says.
"That Beth chick is checking you out, man" Des points out, laughing with Doug.
"So?" Jem shrugs with a laugh.
"You tryin’ to tell me you ain’t noticed the hooters on her?"
Gloansy says with a grin.”If I wasn’t married I’d take her outside and get acquainted with her”
Doug shakes his head and finishes his soda water and lime and says a quick goodbye to his friends and leaves the bar, the days of getting completely shitfaced are long gone and he prefers his life this way; uncomplicated. However, Gloansy, Des and Jem are more than happy to make up for Doug’s sobriety and make the most of their binge session on alcohol and drugs.
Two Months Later
Jem slides his shot glass back over the recently polished bar and Beth, who is stuck on the afternoon shift that’s practically hosting a graveyard, walks over to him with the bottle of Jameson’s.
She watches him as he knocks back another shot and she watches as the muscles in his throat works it down, burning as it goes.
"Rough day?" She asks, setting the bottle down next to him.
"Somethin’ like that." He says, finally glancing up at her and he notices the black eye and the split lip, the heavier than usual make-up that’s trying to conceal a nasty bruise on her cheek."You okay?"
"What?"
Jem taps his cheek and looks at her, waiting.
"Oh, I fell over my own feet and face planted the floor" She replies with an exaggerated giggle.
"I ain’t buyin’ that, sweetheart. How ‘bout I buy you a drink and you tell me all about it?"
Beth sighs and looks around the empty bar and nods, grabbing a glass from the shelf and placing it on the bar. She watches Jem as he fills the two glasses and hands her one and as she throws it back, she almost chokes.
"So, how’d ya get those bruises?"
"I told you, I fell" she replies
"Bullshit" He counters, looking her
in the eye.”I told ya, I ain’t buyin’ it. So, ya better come clean ‘cause I know when someone’s put their fist in someone’s face”
"I don’t want to talk about it"
Jem scoffs and shakes his head.
"What’s it gonna take for ya to realise that the piece of shit whose doing that to ya, is gonna end up burying ya"
"Why does it matter to you anyway?" She asks, becoming irritated that he or anyone else is questioning her like she’s a police suspect.
"Well, I don’t like seein’ women get beat up"
"I’m not a damsel in distress that needs rescuing!" Beth continues to defend her situation and feels the onset of tears sting her eyes, but she won’t let him or anyone else see her cry.
"I never said ya was, sweetheart." He replies in a low voice."But think about it."
Beth glares at Jem as he peels off two twenties and slaps them down on the bar, thanking her for her company and disappearing. She is so mad she could scream and she pities anyone who over steps the mark with her, because there will be hell to pay.
Later that night, while pulling a second shift until midnight, Beth’s stomach churns when she sees Jem Coughlin enter the bar for the second time that day. She tries to avoid looking at him by serving the rowdy bunch of customers at the top end of the bar and dread knots in her stomach as she walks towards Jem.
"The usual?" She asks and is more than relieved that her nervousness hasn’t broken through.
"Yeah"
Jem watches Beth from behind as she uncaps three beers and pours three shots of Jameson, not even bothering to look at him or anybody else in the mirror behind the bar that’s lined with bottles of alcohol.
For the rest of the night, Jem watches Beth as she interacts with the customers and staff and he can see that she was just being funny with him and not everyone else. He doesn’t know why and he shouldn’t care, but he does. Since that night he was told she was checking him out, he had felt drawn to her like a magnet. She makes him curious and he knows she has a dangerous side, but she won’t release it on the asshole whose beating her up.
An argument starts between a drunk guy and one of the other barmaids, Stacey, the big-breasted timid girl who wouldn’t say boo to a goose.
She’s refusing to sell any more alcohol to the guy and he doesn’t like being told no.
Out of nowhere, Beth grabs the guy by the scruff of the neck and marches him outside and when she returns, everyone applauds.
Jem smirks as he sips on his beer, knowing that she had it in her to deal with an asshole. She just needed to deal with her own asshole.