7
Half-Sack Gets Tested
This was the calm before the storm. The meeting in the chapel was over and the doors hadn't yet been opened for visitors.
"Prospect!" Jax yelled.
He didn't bother looking for Half-Sack. As a prospect, it was one of a prospect's duties to always be alert to a member's calling out for him. Sack trotted up to Jax.
"No more alcohol or drugs for you tonight. I'm going to get very, very, very drunk. I'm not going to be able to ride. You are going to bring me home."
"In the van or the tow truck or a bike?"
"Do you think I would ride bitch with you? Or anyone?" Jax's blue eyes narrowed sternly. "Figure it out."
"I'll bring you to your house in the tow truck."
Jax frowned to keep from smiling. Terrorizing the prospects never got old. After all the shit he and Opie went through, he savored dishing out hell.
"Now, here's the hard part. Listen carefully. You are to keep my dick from any contact with a female."
"When you say contact does that mean . . ." Sack broke off when he saw a look of annoyance cross Jax's face.
"Contact means any contact. I better not pass out and wake up in the clubhouse draped in crow-eaters."
"I won't let that happen to you," Half-Sack said. "Am I supposed to be protecting you from them or them from you?"
"Why the hell would I want you to protect a girl from my dick?"
"Sorry," Sack said quickly.
"Think before you speak. You are also not to allow me to be alone with a girl in this clubhouse tonight."
"You will not wake up here and I am to block your cock."
Jax raised an eyebrow and frowned.
"Block?"
"Protect it from girls."
Jax nodded his head approvingly.
"Now you got it, prospect."
"You can count on me."
"Your patch depends on it."
Half-Sack had no idea why Jax didn't want his dick to come into contact with any females. It could be anything from a crusting issue, an infectious disease or an infestation of crabs. Or it could be Jax's way of testing him to see if he could depend on him to have his back.
The reason didn't matter. As a prospect, it was his job to carry out orders—just like the military and not to ask questions—also just like the military.
He didn't have any family except SAMCRO. The MC was everything to him. He had just over a hundred days left as a prospect. That patch was so close, but having to watch over Jax scared him shitless.
He reminded himself that he was tough. He'd survived Iraq. He'd had one of his balls blown off by an IED for God's sake. Watching Jax for a couple of hours should be a piece of cake. He was so screwed.
Worrying wasn't going to keep Jax's dick from falling into the clutches of a woman. Vigilance was mission critical. He needed some kind of plan to safeguard it. He thought furiously trying to come up with some tactic he could use if contact were imminent. Shit! Too late!
The flood was here. Three hang arounds Miles, Filthy Phil and Rat were the first ones through the door. While he was higher up on the MC food chain than the hang arounds, he didn't have any authority to order them around. He wouldn't be able to use them in carrying out his mission, but he might be able to use them to help watch over the guys so he could devote himself to his mission from Jax.
"Hey," Sack said motioning to the trio that he wanted to talk to them. "I need a favor. I'm helping Jax with something. I need your help with the other guys."
"When we're prospects, you have to go easy on us," Phil said.
"Deal."
He sized up the threats from the women who were in the clubhouse. There were two basic groups the porn stars from Cara Cara, the porn studio Lu-ann Otto's old lady ran and the crow-eaters. He identified Ima as the biggest threat in the porn group. She was always draping herself over Jax like she was his personal blanket. A dozen or so crow-eaters came next. Connie was the most physically aggressive. He would have to keep a close eye on her.
Jax was three deep in women and working on his fourth beer. He had already consumed multiple shots of whiskey, some moonshine stuff Bobby had got from a friend in Kentucky.
There was a new girl in the mix, Cherry a compact little brunette who was visiting a crow-eater friend. She was inching her way towards Jax and, by the predatory gleam in Jax's eyes, he might have to do some blocking at any second.
Every girl wanted to get with Jax. Obvious reasons aside, he was VP of the MC and that was a big deal. He also had some charm and he was the member with the biggest member.
There were rumors of a dick measuring contest that Jax naturally won. Girls told stories about their time with him. Sex with Jax gave a crow-eater some status among crow-eaters in addition to a quality sexual experience.
Jax had taken Cherry's hand in his and that's when Half-Sack was struck by a thought, not as bad as not getting patched, but still horrible. Suppose Jax put the girl's hand on his dick? Was he supposed to block that since Jax initiated the contact?
Sack thought back over to Jax's instructions and he had said any contact. Any contact meant any contact unless Jax didn't want it to mean that. Jax was smiling at her and was holding her hand against his abs. Just a few inches. Her hand began to move downward getting dangerously close to the D zone.
He was drinking Coke from a large glass packed with ice. It was full of life shortening amounts of sugar with none of that Stevia crap. He'd been blown up in Iraq. He did not fear sugar.
He walked over to Jax and Cherry, faked a trip over his feet and dumped his Coke all over Cherry. Not even a drop of Coke splashed on Jax.
"Sorry," he said to Cherry. "Tripped."
"I'm sticky," she complained.
"I could help you with that," Jax volunteered. "We've got a shower in an apartment in the clubhouse. I'll lather you up."
She wouldn't be the first girl Jax had lathered up. He didn't even need to use soap, but there was not going to be any lathering on his watch with or without soap.
"Clay's outside," he said. "He wanted the two of us to talk to him. Something important."
"Go to the bar and tell the tall big guy to give you a couple of towels and a Sons T-shirt. You can change your top and wash up in the bathroom," Jax said.
"Thanks," she said to Jax smiling. She frowned at Half-Sack and walked to the bar.
Jax and Sack walked out of the clubhouse.
"Clay's not really out here," Half-Sack said.
"No shit," Jax said. "He left twenty minutes ago. Damn, I could use a smoke."
"I could go and get you one from the clubhouse."
"And leave my dick unguarded?"
"No," Half-Sack said shaking his head quickly. "I wouldn't do that."
"Let's go back inside. I'm not nearly drunk enough."
Jax got to at least a good buzz after quickly downing four shots of Patron in rapid succession. Connie walked up to Jax, a smile on her face.
Connie was a tall curvy red head who was eager to increase her status among the crow-eaters with a night or even just a few minutes of sex with Jax.
The vomiting was starting early. Bobby had already thrown up near the pool table. Miles was cleaning it up. Tig was gagging. Any second he was going to erupt too.
Connie was getting close to Jax and starting to push up on him. He couldn't use the drink routine again, but he had to do something quickly. She was getting too close to his dick.
Time to act. He didn't have a great plan or even a very good one, but he would have to go with it because it was the best he could do at that moment.
"Hey, Connie!" Sack said. "Some guy outside said he needs to talk to you about one of your kids and child support."
Connie hesitated before being drawn outside by the lure of child support. Crow-eaters tended to not be very good at birth control. Most of them had an assortment of kids with different dads who almost all failed to pay child support.
"That was the best you could do?"
"Worked."
"More alcohol."
After another trio of shots, Jax was close to his goal of being very, very, very drunk. It was less about the quantity of alcohol and more about the speed in which it was consumed.
"Sack, get me a beer," Jax demanded.
Ima tottering on her clear plastic stripper heels bumped into Cherry who had cleaned herself up and was proudly wearing her Sons T-shirt.
"Watch it," Ima hissed. "You're in my way."
"You walked into me," Cherry said.
"You shouldn't even be here," Ima said.
Ima was the biggest porn star at Cara Cara and she was just throwing her weight around. Cherry didn't even have crow-eater status. Sack felt sorry for Cherry. Ima was a nasty tempered bitch.
Sack turned away from Jax briefly while he grabbed a beer mug and dispensed the beer from the keg. When he turned back, he couldn't believe his eyes. Jax and Ima were heading into the bathroom, Jax's hand on her ass.
If they got into the bathroom, it would be over for him. He would have failed Jax. His patch was hanging in the balance. He had to stop them. He left the beer mug and sprinted towards the couple with no plan at all. He wasn't sure if he shouted "No!" or if that was only in his head, but any hope he had of patching in was going to be gone if Jax and Ima got the bathroom door closed.
They were within a yard of the door. He had no choice. He would have to go airborne. He leaped into the air in a flying tackle, catching Ima around the waist and dragging her to the ground. Since she had been such a bitch to Cherry, he let her take the brunt of the impact of the tackle.
"What the hell!" Ima screamed. "You bastard!"
"What's going on?" Jax demanded, his voice very slurred now.
Sack thought fast.
"PTSD. Had a flashback. Thought she was a terrorist."
Jax laughed. Tig puked.
"Let's go, prospect. Time for me to go home."
Jax's words might have been heavily slurred but Sack had no problem understanding him. He was still a prospect. He had passed the test.
Happy April Fool's Day
This story appeared in a little different form in my other story, so I rewrote it to make it more of a stand alone story.
I'm mentioning this because in case someone notices, I don't want anyone to think that I was stealing the story.
The measuring contest appears in Strange Times for SAMCRO.