THE DEVIL'S BACKBONE

CHAPTER 1

Boston, MA

9:37 PM

MEGAN KAVANAUGH HEAVED A RELIEVED SIGH. Her apartment was finally unpacked and somewhat decorated – to her standards, anyway. It'd been a long few days of packing, cleaning, painting, and unpacking. Meg was equally excited and exhausted.

"What do you think, Da?" she asked, lifting the hem of her long shirt to wipe the sweat from her brow.

Her father, Quinn Kavanaugh, looked around the place one more time. As if he hadn't been there as long as she had. "I think yer room in my house is much nicer," he rumbled, causing Meg to roll her eyes. "But ye took a piece of shite and made it into a gem," Quinn continued, gesturing for her to sit down next to him on the little loveseat.

Megan flopped down heavily, leaning into her father as he wrapped an arm around her. "That was truly eloquent, Da," she teased.

Quinn kissed his daughter on the forehead. "Aye, that's because 'm not educated like you, mo ghrá. I was a farmer in Ireland, then a construction worker here. You, mo ghrá, are the first of our family to ever enter college, and ye'll be the first to graduate it. That is why we moved here, Meg. Yer mother and I wanted ye to be a scholar, not a laborer like us," he explained.

"And look at ye! Three years into Boston Uni! Top of yer class, no less!" Meg couldn't help but grin at her father's words and lean more into his embrace. His rough lips grazed her forehead.

Quinn Kavanaugh was mid-way through his forties but looked at least a decade older. The death of Megan's mother ten years ago had devastated Quinn, and his grief had aged him. But even with that, he was still a good-looking man. He was tall and fit from his lifelong years of manual labor, his hair salt and pepper, and if he took the time to style it, he looked quite dashing. He had lots of ladies lining up to hit on him – but he had never paid them any mind.

Quinn was far too devoted to his work and his children to even think of a woman in his life like that. He used to joke that the only ladies that he needed in his life were his mother, Siobhan, and Meg. Siobhan had come with them to America to help Quinn take care of eleven-year-old Megan and sixteen-year-old Billy.

Siobhan still lived with Quinn – nearing eighty – bickering with her son endlessly. She hated that Meg had moved out and was completely convinced that it would come to no good. Megan was sure it was only because her grandmother couldn't hover over her anymore.

Her older brother Billy, however, bounced from couch to couch working odd jobs here and there, getting trashed every night. Presently, Billy had literally just moved back in with their father and grandmother. Quinn had managed to get Billy a job at his construction company, since he was currently trying to straighten his life out for the third time this year.

Megan had lost all patience for her older brother. She couldn't stand to watch as he stole from their family and broke their hearts all over again for the hundredth time. She respected her father and grandmother for the unwavering love they showed both Meg and her brother. She just didn't think she could do it herself.

"It's getting late, Da. Maimeó is probably laying in wait for you," Meg suggested, making her father groan.

"Don't remind me! I have to get yer grandmother some good Irish whiskey for her coffee or she'll make me life miserable," Quinn complained.

"Doesn't she always make your life miserable?" she asked in a teasing tone.

Quinn rolled his eyes. "That's what mothers do," he quirked back with a laugh. He leaned down to press another kiss to his daughter's forehead before getting to his feet with a groan. "I will go. The sooner yer Maimeó gets her Irish coffee, the sooner she goes to sleep and stops nagging me," Quinn told her. Megan chuckled, standing to embrace her father. "And I think me girl here is ready to pass out on this very couch,"

She smiled up at her father, nodding and acknowledging his words. "I have work in the morning, and then I start at McGinty's tomorrow night," she confirmed.

"Then ye go to sleep, mo ghrá. Doc will be good to ya, he swore – well, as he swore," Quinn joked, chuckling at the look of disbelief on his daughter's face.

Quinn had frequented McGinty's as long as they'd lived in America and become quite friendly with Doc as a result. And as Megan was on summer break from school, she wanted to make a little more money while she had time. Doc had been more than willing to let her come in and help out for the summer.

"Oh, go on home, Da!" Megan ordered, pushing him towards the door.

Quinn laughed and did as he was told, stopping as he came face to face with the door and its flimsy lock. "Imma replace that," he told her. Megan just laughed again and pushed her father out the door. "Lock the door!" she could hear him shout through the closed door.

Obligingly, Meg locked the door and flopped back onto her couch. She looked around, grinning at her new home. She moved through the apartment, checking her windows to make sure they were locked, and drawing the blinds. She then turned out the lights in the living room and went into her bedroom.

The walls were a soft white. Before they had started moving her things in, Megan and Quinn had scrubbed the filthy walls and the landlord allowed them to paint. And it was a miracle what a coat of paint could do! As did the rugs covering the cracked and stained laminate all over the apartment. Megan's careful decorating made the crappy apartment actually look like something. There were no windows in the bedroom, her walls instead covered with pictures of her friends and family.

Megan flicked on the lamp beside her bed and then turned to her dresser, rifling through to find a pair of pajamas. She quickly changed into a t-shirt and shorts and then carried the discarded clothes to her hamper. At her dresser, she combed a brush through her short, curly dark hair hurriedly before scurrying back to her bed, diving under the covers and turning off the lamp.

As she tried to fall asleep, she could hear two voices through the thin wall. Two men, it seemed. She could hear the Irish accents, too, so thin were the walls. Her neighbors were scuffling around and arguing, but she wished they would just shut up.

It wasn't really so terribly late, Megan admitted, but she was tired and had much to do the next day.

She turned over and grabbed her other pillow to press it against her ear. With that, Megan managed to fall asleep.

X

2:50 PM

Megan Kavanaugh sat back on a stool behind her register, sighing audibly as her crabby customer finally walked away. Why was it always old people? Or soccer moms? Why was that always the demographic for rude customers?

She ran a hand through her shoulder length hair, fingers snagging on a curl. Her co-worker and good friend Tara nodded at her from her own register, unable to do anything more as she helped a customer herself.

"Hey, Meg! Time to punch out!" her boss, the owner of the small neighborhood grocery called out to her.

"Joe, I've still got ten minutes," Meg protested. She knew this because she'd been studiously watching the time.

"We're dead right now. I don't need a second checker," Joe told her.

Megan hopped off her stool and walked around the register to approach him. "Joe, you know I just moved out and I'm saving for college. I can't punch out early," she said pleadingly.

"Joe, what are you doing?" another voice called. The voice belonged to Joe's wife, Amelia – the true boss. She was a plump older woman with gray-streaked black hair and a warm heart.

"I've told Meg she can knock off early. That's all!" the old man justified.

Amelia waddled over, taking her husband's arm. "And she doesn't want to. So Meg will stay until she's scheduled to leave," she informed her husband. Joe wisely said nothing – instead cutting his eyes to Megan who averted her own. "Go back to work, Megan," Amelia ordered gently.

Megan nodded gratefully, scurrying back to her register. Tara made a silly face at her – her best attempt to cheer Meg with the bosses so nearby. Meg flashed a weak smile back in her direction. Joe stomped off towards the back office while Amelia winked at her employees before following after him.

And Megan waited idly at her register for precisely eight and a half minutes – until two customers – both laden with armfuls of groceries – came to her register. The two men dropped their load onto the counter haphazardly, flashing Megan matching grins full of charm.

While clearly brothers close to the same age, the two men were hardly identical. One was as dark as the other light. "'lo there, lassie, ya mind helping us out?" the dark-haired man requested. Megan smiled weakly in response, quickly leaping into action by beginning to scan up their groceries.

"That'll be 23.36, please," Megan requested as she tucked the last grocery into a bag. She turned back to the clearly Irish brothers – by the thick brogue of their accents and the fact that they had slipped into Gaelic a few moments ago. She hadn't hinted that she understood what they were saying – much less that she knew they were talking about her.

"Of course, love," the blond brother responded genially enough, pulling a cracked black leather wallet from his pocket. He handed her the right amount of money in wrinkled old bills and exact change. Megan swiftly counted through it as though she hadn't just watched him do the same and tucked it into the money drawer.

"Have a nice day," Megan said, handing them the receipt. She willed them to leave so that she could.

But the brothers didn't leave as quickly as she'd hoped, instead gathering their bags slowly, and trading a few quiet words. "So, lassie, we might have been wondering what plans ye might have later… after all, a pretty girl like ye couldn't – " the dark-haired brother began before Megan was forced to cut in.

"I'm sorry, but if I don't punch out right now, I'll get in trouble," Megan said, nodding past them to her boss. They glanced back, seeing the man watching from his office.

"Aye, aye, but if I was wondering if after – " the same brother began again.

Megan just shook her head. "I have another job to get to as soon as I can leave this one," she told him pointedly.

The man looked crestfallen but not all that discouraged, nodding after a moment. "Of course," he said finally.

Megan started around her register, heading for the back. "Sorry!" she called back, hurrying towards the punch clock.

Behind her, the lighter-haired of the two let out a great guffaw. "Aye, Murphy, I think she's real interested in ya," he teased his brother.

"Why don't ya shut it, Connor, it ain't like she were looking at you, either," Murphy muttered, swatting at him with a frown on his lips.

"Ah, don't ya worry about it, Murph, let's get these nice groceries home and then we'll hit McGinty's," Connor said as the two left.

The other cashier, Tara, grinned. She fidgeted anxiously at her register until Megan came rushing out from the back. "Meg! Meg!" Tara hissed urgently, motioning the other young woman over.

"What, what?" she asked idly, trying to stuff her smock into her purse.

"Those two Irish guys that were just here?" Tara referenced. Meg drew her eyebrows up, looking to her friend expectantly. The one had just tried to ask her out – that was somewhat memorable. "They might have mentioned they were heading to McGinty's," Tara informed her.

Megan let out a low groan, her shoulders slumping. "This is not what I need on my first day!" she complained.

Tara flashed her a sorry look. "Maybe it won't be so bad. They seemed like nice guys," she offered.

Megan huffed. "My da will be there for certain tonight. It won't make for a good first shift, that's all I'll say," she said, starting towards the door.

"Good luck!" Tara called after her. "Call me later!"

Meg just waved her hand over her shoulder as she pushed open the doors. The sudden bright sunshine had her squinting after having been shut inside all day. She started on the ten-block walk towards McGinty's, surprised at how calm she felt.

It wasn't as if she'd never been to McGinty's before – but not more than a handful of times, anyway. Her father had forced her there for her twenty-first birthday, though Meg had never really been interested in drinking anyway. She'd had exactly three drinks before Quinn had been satisfied – and had to take her home anyway.

It seemed three drinks was enough to get her quite tipsy, and he hadn't wanted to leave her in the hands of deviants. That's what he called the other bar patrons – his friends.

Which now apparently included two young, gorgeous Irishmen. The darker-haired one, the one who'd tried to flirt with her – was filled with a sultry sort of beauty that Meg couldn't deny she was drawn to. The other brother was attractive, too, in a more conventional way. They'd been polite and charming, and had accepted it when Meg had said no, which she appreciated to no end.

Megan was sure that the brothers wouldn't bother her, especially if her father happened to drop in tonight. Quinn had said he wouldn't, but Meg knew he would. When she had gotten her first job – at the same grocery store she still worked – her father had hung around the whole shift to keep an eye on her. He had almost gotten her fired, if it hadn't been for Amelia.

It had been Amelia who told Quinn that he could come in and keep an eye on Meg any time he liked, as long as he didn't disturb her from working. She'd also told him he didn't need to worry, that Amelia kept her girls safe. After five years of working there, Amelia had always kept her word. And so, Quinn's visits had trickled down to almost nothing – only dropping in to walk Meg home if she worked late – or to walk her there if she worked early.

Megan glanced at her watch as she saw McGinty's bar come into sight and slowed her steps. She was twenty minutes early. Once she reached the steps in front, Meg turned around and plopped down to sit. She closed her eyes and raised her face to the sun. For ten minutes, she breathed in the fresh air and basked in the warm sun. Then she got up and went inside.

There were only a few bar patrons for the moment, two sitting at a booth in the back, and one sitting at the bar. Her father wasn't there, yet. "Megan – lassie – " Doc called out, before breaking off into obscenities – gesturing her over with a wave of his arm.

Megan grinned, crossing the room towards the old man. She kissed him on the cheek the moment she reached him. "Good afternoon, Uncle Doc," she greeted.

Doc McGinty was a much-loved fixture in the Kavanaughs' lives. He had been the first to extend a hand of friendship to Quinn, right after they'd come to America and Quinn had still been grieving for his wife and their mother. In fact, Siobhan had once said that Quinn would have drank himself to death if it hadn't been for Doc.

The old man spent all his holidays with them, and every holiday he'd end up in a drinking contest with Siobhan. And most of the time, Meg's grandmother managed to drink Doc under the table. Quite an achievement, if you looked at the tiny woman.

"Where do you want me?" Megan asked.

"In the kitchen, fer now," Doc said. "You can put your – ASS! FUCK – things back there. Make up some – SHIT – sandwiches fer later," he instructed.

"You don't need me out here?" she asked in surprise.

"Not righ' now, lassie. SHIT! FUCK – most of these assholes pretty much serve themselves," Doc told her.

Megan shrugged. "Alright. Let me know if you need me, Uncle Doc," she said, giving a little wave as she headed for the kitchens.

X

4:38 PM

Murphy and Connor MacManus entered McGinty's just as it was starting to get busy. Half the bar shouted out when the twins entered – causing the two to make some outrageous gestures. They took their usual seats at the bar, yelling to get Doc's attention.

"Ah, ah, what do you bastards want?" Doc said teasingly, turning to two of his most loyal customers.

"Ya know what we want," Murphy retorted, watching as Doc was filling up two pints of cold Guinness.

"I thought ye were hiring someone on to help you out, Doc!" Connor said, gesturing to the slowly filling up bar.

"Meg's in the back – SHIT! FUCK – I haven't had a chance to ASS – her!" Doc told them.

"Well, I'll go 'ass' her," Murphy teased, sliding off his barstool and walking around the counter.

"Ya be nice to her, MacManus! SHIT!" the old man warned.

"When am I ever mean to a lady?" Murphy called back over his shoulder, a huge grin on his lips. He headed down the hallway that led towards the bathrooms and kitchen. He pushed open the swinging kitchen door and the smile dropped from his lips.

The pretty girl he'd hit on just a few hours ago at the grocery store was the new waitress at his favorite bar. The smile appeared back on Murphy's lips after a moment of surprise. This had to be God's work. It was the only explanation.

He hovered in the doorway for a few moments, quietly observing her. She hadn't noticed him yet. A stray, dark curl hung in her face as she packed up at least a dozen sandwiches in plastic wrap, and she persistently blew her breath up in hopes of dislodging the curl. Then she piled up the sandwiches in her arms and set them in the fridge there.

Murphy knocked on the doorframe then, startling the girl as she closed the fridge door.

She looked up sharply, looking a bit startled. But she didn't look surprised to see him. Murphy said as much.

She shrugged lightly, looking at ease. "You and the other man said you were coming here as you were leaving the store," she said. Her voice was soft and a little husky, with the faintest trace of an Irish accent that Murphy hadn't noticed before.

He could feel his cheeks go a little red, embarrassed at the thought of her being able to understand his and Connor's conversation in Gaelic – about her. His surprise was obvious. "The cashiers hear everything," she added, hinting that her coworker must have overheard him and his brother.

"Yer Meg, right? Doc was calling for ya," Murphy remarked, changing the subject. He gestured back towards the rowdy bar as she washed her hands at the kitchen sink.

"Oh. Thank you," she said, turning back towards Murphy with the intent of sidling by, but his figure filled the doorway.

"I'm Murphy MacManus," he said, holding out his hand to her.

She lifted an eyebrow. "Megan Kavanaugh," she replied, hesitantly shaking his hand. "You come here often?" Meg asked, finally pushing the man back with two fingers to the chest in order to sidle by.

"My brother Connor and I come in almost every night," he answered, nearly on the young woman's heels with his eagerness to speak with her.

"So does my Da," Meg said, glancing back at him with a cool expression. "You might know him. Quinn Kavanaugh," she told him, a subtle warning in her tone.

"Yer Quinn's girl? The way he talks about ye, I thought ye were a little girl," Murphy said, grinning over at her.

Megan merely shrugged. "He'll always see me that way," she responded, striding quickly through the hallway to re-enter the bar.

Murphy returned to his seat next to his twin brother reluctantly, knowing when he's been dismissed. He watched casually as Doc spoke lowly to the new barmaid, clearly giving instructions on what she was to do.

Connor stuck an elbow in Murphy's ribs. "And isn't that the girl from the grocery store?" he asked lowly, a shit-eating grin spreading over his lips.

Murphy grinned back at his brother. "God's lookin' out for me, Conn," he said, glancing back over to the pretty waitress, who had started to flit around the bar, a large tray of drinks balanced on her arm.

"Ye find out her name?" Connor asked.

Murphy nodded. "Megan. Quinn Kavanaugh's girl," he answered, crooking a finger towards the man seated at the opposite end of the bar. The older man's eyes followed his daughter's every movement protectively.

Connor let out a low whistle. "Of all the girls ye take a fancy to, it's Ol' Kavanaugh's girl. You've got luck, brother," he teased.

Murphy shrugged, returning his brother's smirk. "I choose to look at it this way, Con. The girl works at our favorite bar and our new favorite grocery. And I already know her da," he retorted, beginning to laugh at the expression that appeared on his twin's face.

edited/revised 10/11/19