California highways were always the best for long drives, especially to motorcyclists. The long stretch of road seemed endless, the wind playing across the rider's face and tangling poorly prepared hair. The power of the bike vibrating through the very fiber of their being, there is no losing the sense of danger that teases at them flirtatiously as they ride faster, harder, and on more twists and turns than they ever dared before. Unless it was a drive to clear one's mind, you'll find a smile hidden behind the eyes of any rider, unless they have shades on to hide their joy from you. Hidden behind the badass biker scowl there is always a joy for the ride.
At least that was the feeling for the woman, her brother and her friend. Two of whom were trapped in a van that held their bikes along with supplies belonging to the third boldly speeding ahead of them on his own Dyna. Both girls glared at him, wanting to have the cool night air skim across their skin and not deal with the stuffy rental that smelled of gas station sushi and the aftermath of such bad decisions. They had been in the car for so long that they'd gotten used to it, but every pit stop they were slapped with the putrid odor while Tank rode freely, his wavy, shoulder length hair billowing behind them as he stupidly rode sans a helmet. A further insult to the girls and how they were trapped.
"We better get there soon." The passenger grumbled, her youthful, pixie-like face hardening with her frown and her pool water blue eyes hardening at the tanned figure in front of them. "Or I'm stealing his Dyna at the next stop."
A brief and rough snort escaped the driver's throat as she tried to imagine it. "I'd pay money to see that, not gonna lie. You know Tank won't go easy on you because you're a girl."
"I can take him." Came the defense with a seemingly indifferent bob of the shoulders.
"Ren, he's got a foot and I'm pretty sure a little more than a hundred-fifty pounds on you." A fuller bottom lip pushed past it's top lip in a concern pout. "He also has, ya know… a rep when it comes to fist fights."
"You say that like we don't either." Thin lips pulled upwards mischievously, Siren's voice still unaffected. "Besides, I was our Sergeant at Arms, wasn't I? Thanks for The lack of faith, Vix."
Vixen Tirado let out a tired sigh, running her hand through a mess of chestnut brown hair. She new perfectly well how capable the raven haired girl was. Her rail-rod thin frame mixed with her youthful face and short stature made it easy for people to underestimate her. No, Vix knew better, but she also knew her brother; he wasn't named 'Tank' for no reason. After a moment of careful thought, not wanting to insult the only female she'd opened up to, she let out a small sigh with an airier laugh this time.
"I mean he does lack the agility and reflexes that you do." She offered a sidelong glance at the girl smirking next to her. "But if anybody is gonna knock my bro on his ass, it's gonna be me."
Both women laughed at that, Siren fully aware of the sibling rivalry that was known to get physical. Vix was never a tomboy, nor was she a girly girl, but she refused to live up to the Old Lady Example of her mother or any of the sweetbutts that she was subsequently raised by. No, she was going to ride on her own, and made sure she found women that felt the same way. Her brother, though sometimes concerned about what other men would say, always supported her in this, and taught her everything their dad taught him. Thus begat the never ending competition.
"Okay, that's fair." Siren nodded, turning to look out at the span of desert around them. "When he invited us to join him on his run Charming I thought I was gonna get a decent ride in. Not this delivery bullshit."
"Yeah, or that he'd have a brother or two," Vix grumbled, amber eyes checking her mirrors for what felt like the millionth time this trip. "But no, he tricked us into this fuckery. They must be using up all the prospects for something else."
"And here I thought it was that SAMRO finally decided to go Co-ed. Or that a certain Tacoma resident was missing you." A pale hand went to cover a doll-like face that held no real innocence in the mock expression. "Oh shit, did I say both of those out loud?"
Vix let out a snort, shaking her head at her friend's eccentric ways, doing her best to. "You know you did, 'mana."
"Oh, I must have struck a nerve! The spanglish begins." Though Siren new that her friend was simply calling her a sister, she needed to live up to the name. "I mean, it's great that you are bilingual, it helps me to understand your tolerance level."
Her response was a nod coupled with a small hum of affirmation, leaving the other girl to turn on the radio and sing along with the music. Siren was known to babble at times, leaving Vixen to quietly listen and add to the conversations as she saw fit. She knew that her friend didn't have a lot of people to talk to, and though Vix didn't say much, what she did have to say usually helped to sort all the noise in Siren's head.
About eight songs later, they both straightened up at the redwood sign coming up to the right of Tank. They both turned to each other with smiles on their faces in spite of their previous complaints. The small town of Charming opened up to them, small shops lining the streets, and giving way to houses and more business related real estate. Free of commercial real estate, the whole town was full of small businesses and family stores that have been around forever. Their town slogan wasn't wrong, the name did adequately say it all. Vix was sure there was more to the town that met the eye, based on her business here, but the look of the town was quaint and homey. Siren seemed more than a little excited about it while Vix prefered being back in Tacoma with the long runs to go shopping and the open air around everything.
They soon pulled up to Teller-Morrow Automotive Repair, turning into the open gate with ease. Vix jumped out of the cab as soon as she took the keys out the ignition, stalking her way over to Tank so quickly, her hair came up in down in a ripple of waves around her shoulders. She waited for him to back his bike into the line of other bikes, with her hand held out expectantly.
"Have a nice drive?" He smirked, his hardened face opening up with the expression.
"I had a drive." She responded, looking pointedly at her empty palm. "I'll have a better one when my Harley is free from being stuck with whatever we brought here."
Tank gave out a deep, but jovial laugh, keeping the keys she was looking for tucked away in his kutte. When she ground her teeth at him in annoyance, otherwise not moving, he let out a sigh, a tired hand running through wind-tangled strands. Stepping around the bike, he wrapped a burly arm around her lean frame, squeezing her close for a second before releasing her.
"Gotta talk to the Prez and the SAMTAC contact first, Cyn." The timbre of his voice meant to be more calming than his normal gruff tone, but it set her on edge even more. "Can't have you two opening the truck without them. Already took a chance bringing you here."
"Right, and I'm sure it had nothing to do with the fact that Koz was away and you had no one to babysit us." Vix punched him in the shoulder. " Which is really not needed given that we are only a couple years younger. Also, cut it out with the real name shit, I have an alias for a reason."
"You and I both know that Melly would have ended up needing you to bail her out, or you'd get into a fight after drinking too much, and without any Sons to have your back…" He sighed. "Look, I get that you miss your charter, I do, but they've been patched over by a group you didn't like, so you left. You need to start following our rules again."
"I didn't even get to wear the full rocker, Tank." She crossed her arms, not liking to be reminded of that. "Stupid Steel Sirens stole away my chance."
"They also would have taken Melly's name away from her if she stayed, so don't act like you're the only one who gets to be angry." A large hand gripped her shoulder briefly. "But come on, she's staying by the truck, talking to their prospect it looks like, let's get this done and we can figure out accommodations."
"Great, another thing I could have done had I gotten a chance to ride."
The woman's grumbling was akin to a teenager, not someone twice as old, but Tank took it in stride, letting out another chuckle as he lead his sister toward the clubhouse. The lounge opened up to a gameroom with a bar to the side, and a set of large double doors closing anyone who didn't belong to the club out of church. In it sat the redwood table that the Sons of this charter sat at for votes and important meetings. His sister would never see the inside of that room, no matter how much she wished she could. It was a big part of their old man's life, having been one of the first Nine before moving to Tacoma to start off the Washington charter.
He felt his sister stop next to him, her body rigid and full of tension. He held back the need to hold her, knowing that it would only make things worse. They haven't been to Charming before, or if they have, they were too young for her to remember anybody, so it confused Tank as he watched her reaction. When he followed her gaze he instantly new why, and cursed himself for not asking who it was.
Standing at the bar, a shot in his hand, stood his brother in club as well as charter. Baggy jeans rested on his hips, his knife holstered where it should be, and a gun on the other side. He wore a grey reaper crew t-shirt under his kutte, with his patches sewn in place with care in spite of their dirty state. Around his bald head coiled an inked Snake, one that she'd done herself, giving him two pairs of dark eyes to look at her.
They both stood unmoving, the mostly empty room becoming tense. To anyone observing they looked relaxed enough, but Tank knew them both far too well to let it stay how it stood. Moving his hand to clear his throat, he was saved by Siren bursting through the door with Clay in tow. How the small girl knew who to find, he'd never know, though his guess was that she fluttered her eyelashes at the prospect who was close behind them. Pointing to Tank, she smiled and whispered something to Clay before breaking into a skip and stealing the SAMTAC member's shot.
"Heya TK," She greeted, downing the shot with a grin. "How's Cali treatin' ya?"
And just like that, whatever hold they had on each other broke. Vixen's body relaxed a fraction of an inch, and moved to introduce herself to the Prospect (Half-Sack he heard him introduce himself as) and Clay. Tank let out a sigh, moving to his brother, and wrapping an arm around his surrogate sister thankfully. As he reached them, they were in relaxed conversation.
"That was the last of the good stuff, Kid." There was a frown stretched across his features before he turned to Tank. "'Sup Killa?"
Tank clasped arms with Happy Lowman, giving his brother a friendly pat against the back. "Wishin' I'd asked Koz who they sent down here before agreeing to this. Would have brought different company." It wasn't quite an apology, he didn't need to give one, but he hated to see his two families collide like this. "Or given out proper warnings."
"Can't avoid each other forever." Hap shrugged. "Haven't really talked since the patch over."
"That's because you've been more Nomad than SAMTAC." Siren said. A fresh bottle of tequila in her hand. "Found more of what you call the good stuff for ya, Hap."
"Whose side you on, Reddy? Cuz honestly I just got mixed signals." Tank joked, accepting a shot glass from the petite woman.
"She's on the side of whoever helps her at the time." Hap smirked, taking the bottle from her and pouring drinks. "Or she's jus' good at the whole neutral thing."
"To quote something Vix taught me…" the girl said, looking to her friend for a second her eyes the only indicator of her worry. "¿Porque no los dos?" (Why not Both?)
"Yeah, yeah" The boys laughed her smug comment away, before Hap ruffled her hair and they followed Clay into Chapel. The doors closed behind them, and Siren moved towards her friend.
"You good? I know I made a joke about it, but I honestly didn't know he was here." She bit her lip, and looked into the amber and olive tones that swirled dangerously in Vix's eyes. "Judging by the conversation I just heard, I know that Tank wasn't trying to pull one over on you either."
Vix nodded slowly, blinking as she turned away from the closed doors and started to move outside. "Well, it's like you both said, He's been more nomad than anything, but we can't avoid each other forever, can we?"
Siren paused for a second, simultaneously shocked and guilty that she had heard it. After recovering, she trotted after her, wishing that just this once her friend would open up and talk to her. "It doesn't mean you have to be okay with it, or that this Club business has to force you into it."
Vix laughed at that, opening the truck door and pulling her old kutte around her shoulders. She always took pride in the life, and dressed the part, something that earned her respect among the boys, and jealousy from all the sweetbutts. She'd pulled most of the club official things from it, the Daring Divas of Tacoma- hell as far as they knew even the Daughters of Chaos- no longer existing. She kept her charter patch on though, as well as her Daughters of Discord one that proudly marked her as a woman who's killed for her club before. The back no longer bore the rockers, but instead was a collage of biking and other patches, the two on her left breast the only thing that showed her old loyalties. One the right there was an embroidered fox that's tale wound around her biking name.
All the other girls would see it as her asserting dominance, or pretending to be someone who was more than just a hang around, but Siren new better; This was Cynthia Tirado's armor just as much as it was a second skin. The other girl pulled her hair out from under the collar and walked up to her friend, pulling a pack of smokes out and a lighter.
"Care for a Cig?" She offered, nodding her head towards the picnic table that sat outside the clubhouse doors. "I know I could use one after that drive."
"Somehow, I doubt your sudden craving of the Nicc is just from that ride." The paler girl mused, following in her footsteps anyway."
"It would just be the ride if you and Tank would stop poking the bear."
Vixen spoke plainly, wrapping her lips around her cigarette, taking a long and heavy drag from it the second it was lit. She sighed out the smoke, stepping onto the bench and sitting at the table. She offered Siren the box and lighter, knowing that she'd take one. The brunette wasn't much of a tobacco smoker, but she always kept a box around for social situations or ones like this where she didn't have a joint on her. The two sat in silence, Siren clearly wanting an elaboration on the comment, and Vix tried to figure out what that was. Relying on the calming qualities of the cancerous stick, she blew the most recent drag's smoke to the side, turning to face her friend.
"Hap and I are fine; have been for years now."
"Oh, yeah." Ren droned, puffing out a smoke with a look stating she didn't believe her. "Sure is easy to say that when you've both spend the past five years apart. Him going Nomad right after it all and you throwing yourselves into prospecting into the daughters. And the two of you doing your tattooing shit, and random hookups with people you both pretend are the other."
The final thing was said with a knowing smirk, making Vixen groan out. She wasn't one to openly talk about things, let alone her complicated past with the Tacoma Killer, but Siren was too goddamn observant for her own good. She took a few puffs before stamping out the quickly killed cigarette in the ashtray next to her hip. Vix talked about very few things, but the Happy case was a thick file tucked in a small cabinet along with her daddy issues and emotional detachment. They were red tapped as confidential until a yet to be determined date.
"We all have have our coping methods." She said, feeling her skin prickle around her shoulders uncomfortably.
"Doesn't always make them good or effective." Siren stamped her own cig out, a small frown pulling at her delicate features. "Listen, Cyn all joking and banter aside you know you can always-"
"Talk to you about my deep seeded issues and relationship related trauma," Vix finished for her, having heard the speech too many times. "I know, Ren. I just can't."
"You say that, do you really-"
"Enough Ren."
This time the comment was snapped, ending the train of conversation. She ficked her lighter on, dancing her fingers back and forth across the flame. She waited out the various faces her friend made, and the stammered attempts to restart the conversation, her face devoid of motion as she took in her surroundings. The lot at this point was mostly empty; two or three non club bikers and the prospect working in the garage and more than the people they'd seen worth of bikes lined up in a row. Vix wanted hers out of the back of the truck along with whatever the hell her brother was delivering to the mother charter.
Her eyebrows perked up as a Caddy rolled in and an older looking woman jump out before the vehicle had fully stopped. The men came out, including the owners of the rest of the bikes, meeting her halfway. The conversation was hushed and quick, but there was an urgency in all of their forms. Tank turned to the girls at the table, muttering something to a blonde with a clasp of the shoulder. As the group disbanded, the older Tirado made his way toward them, his face taking on the more dangerous look of something serious happening around him. Vix stood up to meet him halfway, tucking her things into her kutte and her hands into her back pocket.
"That looked more important than an emergency car repair." She stated watching the woman and the blonde take off. "Those the rest of Morrow's family?"
"Jax never took Clay's name, and Gemma tacked it on to the Teller, but yes on both accounts." He jerked his thumb to the warehouse. "You and Melly hang out here for a bit. I gotta take the cargo straight to the customers, and then meet up with Jax at St. Thomas if he needs anything. Gonna be a longer stay than I thought."
"Oh good thing I packed my saddle bags then." She nodded. "You better take care of my goddamn bike. I'll behave up here as that mandate is followed."
"Wouldn't have it any other way, Sis." He smirked, dropping a kiss to her temple before hugging Siren. He muttered the next into her hair, but Vix still heard it. "Make sure she doesn't cause trouble, yeah? Fuckin' trip is gonna be long enough without her making things worse."
"Course." She chirped, earning a glare from the other woman. "I'll even make sure she doesn't hussle the people here too hard."
"Great, first I'm places under club arrest by my brother, and now getting all possible fun ripped away by my sister." She spun on her heel with a frown, marching off towards the club house door. "Guess I'll just drink myself into a coma or something equally as boring."
"Love you Vix!" Tank called out, laughter clearly in his voice.
"Fuck you too, Tank."