"I am the sum total of everything that went before me, of all I have been seen done, of everything done-to-me. I am everyone everything whose being-in-the-world affected was affected by mine. I am anything that happens after I'm gone which would not have happened if I had not come."

― Salman Rushdie, Midnight's Children

She really did not think she was being a bitch. In the grand scheme of things she was a nobody. And she knew this without someone feeling the need to tell her that everyday. If you examined the circumstances of her life she knew there was nothing spectacular about her existence. She was born, raised, and had never left her hometown. The product of a checked out truck driver father who never knew how to really relate to the two girls who lived under his roof and a former beauty queen whose official resume included titles such as secretary, receptionist, and administrative assistant but unofficially was just a gold digging adulteress who blamed her family for her never having amounted to anything in life- at least until she left on her youngest's thirteenth birthday. And in the ten plus years since, she'd only heard from the woman who gave birth to her a handful of times.

She graduated high school with a B minus GPA and had tried to hack it out at junior college before her father had a stroke, brought about by the constant late nights of poker he played with himself, the Jack Daniels bottles he hid throughout their small house, and the pack a day attitude he maintained. As gruff and grumpy as her father was she couldn't just let her older sister bear that weight. They were family and Dana had learned early on in life that her sister was pretty much the only person in the world she could depend on. Besides she didn't think it would be for the rest of her life. She had plenty of time to go back to school. And she had been telling herself that for almost five years.

Then her brother-in-law got sent to prison and Dana found herself and her father living in the suddenly tight three bedroom Winston home. She helped around the house, with money, and the kids as best she could but both Lerner sisters had to be honest that if it hadn't been for Gemma Teller-Morrow and her son Jax they probably never would've made it. She would admit there were times when she felt like the Club was responsible for the mess her elder sister was into but if truth be told, Opie was a grown man. And he had made his choice to be outlaw. She might not like the decision but she respected it because she knew that pass the kutte Opie Winston was a good man who loved the hell out of his wife and kids.

She had once asked Donna how she put up with it all. Her older sister had simply shrugged and said, "When Ope asked me to be his old lady Gemma told me the best piece of advice I've ever gotten. She said that if you love the man you learn to love the club. I've held on to that forever. And despite the dark edges and the rough times, the Club provides some sort of stability- even with Ope on the inside. SAMCRO still is and will always be SAMCRO. I can trust that." And Donna's words had been proven true. From the family dinners that offered some sort of comfort, the occasional Friday night party to blow off some steam, Gemma's meatloaf, and Jax's regular routine of maintaining kitchen sinks and old truck transmissions. Even with Ope on the inside- the Club provided the same sort of stability. She almost couldn't believe it- but SAMCRO had become their ray of sunshine in hard times.

But she knew her sister was counting down to the days until her old man could walk in their front door. Thankfully it wouldn't be too much longer because in a week Opie was being released from prison. She could feel the hype in the house- not so much from her father, who despite his health still went on the occasional bender- but from Donna, Kenny, Ellie, Jax, the club members who came around. Things were starting to look up which was why for the first time in five years Dana could honestly say she was in a perpetual state of joy- and this group of assholes just had to walk into the diner and ruin it.

It's why she hated the summer time. All these entitled frat boys rolled into Lodi- home for the school, wound up, and looking for trouble. She had dealt with her fair share of losers over her time waiting tables but after working a double shift because Lana Jenkins couldn't dain to show up for work and spending all that time in these fucking skates the last thing she felt like doing was being hit on by a bunch of inept boys. And like the idiotic morons they were, it was like they thought 24 hour diner with girls in high waisted shorts and red lipstick automatically meant some ass. So when she had demanded these guys quit jerking off and order some food she really didn't think she was acting like the goddamned Queen of England. But that's exactly how they took it.

"Why do you have to be such a bitch," the short and stocky blond kid with the backwards baseball cap spewed out, his arm thrown over the booth and looking at her with an expression like she was the dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

"Hey Trav man, calm down. I guess the lady is just tired of being on those skates all day. And now she had to deal with some prime meat rolling into her place of business at one in the morning asking for a slice of her pie. I mean I'd be pissed too if a bunch of hot girls were hitting on me. Oh wait, no I wouldn't," said the dark haired ringleader in a black polo and a pair of tight fitting jeans. Really- who wore jeans that tight?

She rolled her eyes and walked away. It was nights like these when she really hated her boss Dany. Somehow on the nights when all the heckling jackasses rolled in, he left before nine. Now it was just her, the blonde bombshell Maggie, two fry cooks who together weighed about one hundred eighty pounds sopping wet, and the new kid Andy who was a pimply squeaky voiced sixteen year old who was standing in the corner trembling at the four guys sharing a booth built like linebackers.

"These asshats are going to cause trouble Dana," Maggie said from behind the counter, "I'm thinking we should call the cops."

"Don't be such a Barbie Mags. Listen, I'm thinking we should close up early. It's a Tuesday no one's pulling in between now and six tomorrow. Plus I'm beat and I got to lock up. As soon as I so much as threaten to call the cops then these clowns are going to beat feet out of here," Dana explained, rolling her eyes and leaning over the counter on her elbows.

"You sure," Maggie asked raising one perfectly waxed eyebrow and biting nervously on her lower lip, "I mean if you're not going to call the cops don't you wanna call somebody else? Like just in case?"

Dana rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time that night. And knew what she was getting at. She was so not taking that bait but Maggie simply wouldn't let the subject drop. Granted not that it should surprise her, she had been going on and on about it ever since Dana had told her one night while they were sharing a late shift a lot like tonight.

"C'mon D. You know he'd be here in like two seconds."

Barely winning the battle not to roll her eyes again, the brunette leaned off the countertop and crossed her arms over her chest, unconsciously moving her feet apart. When Maggie took in the posture of her best friend she knew she had lost the battle. But couldn't help pressing anyhow- at least just to get a rise.

"Honestly Mags just because we slept together doesn't mean he's hopelessly devoted to me. It was one time."

And that was what Dana had been telling herself since it happened. When Donna had started dating Opie when she was seventeen, Dana had been fourteen. And like any other fourteen year old girl she got all fluttery on the inside whenever he entered a room. Over the years the fluttering had simply distilled to a wintry sigh that might've reached her eyes but never her face. And honestly- even she knew that one time had been a mistake. They were drunk and if it hadn't been for her waking up naked and sore she might not have even remembered that it happened. Or so she told herself.

"No, it was one night and then you skipped out in the morning like the cynical sarcastic bitch that you are. I can guarantee you that has never happened to Jax Teller."

"I'm not a bitch," she gasped but Dana felt herself flinch a little bit at his name. Both in disgust and apprehension. It had been a rough night for her- as her boyfriend of six months had broken up with her claiming that she was emotionally unavailable. So like the stubborn ass she was, she simply got out of his car- while he was driving- and begin to walk the few miles home. And then the asshole had left her there- granted she told him that she didn't need his help because she was "emotionally unavailable" and could figure it out on her own. So in a fire engine red wrap dress and some ankle breaking stilettos she had proceeded on her walk- until she spotted a light and heard the rumble of a familiar engine.

Jax had pulled over with a smile on his face, not bothering to hide his slow assessment of Dana's outfit. She chuckled and crossed her arms over her chest before casually asking if he would give her a ride home or not. She hadn't expected the burning arousal that had come from wrapping her arms around his hard taut body or the detour he took to the clubhouse or how he snuck her in through the backdoor. An empty shared bottle of Jack later, she only knew that she didn't protest when he began to unwrap her dress from her body and groan appreciately at the leather scraps she was wearing called underwear. They didn't talk that night- not that they really needed words. They had both gotten their point across. He was horny. She was pissed which had easily morphed into horny. And they were drunk.

They had taken advantage of the opportunity but now it was just weird. Because whenever they were in the same room they shared what she liked to call the Mona Lisa Smile simply because they knew what the other one looked like naked and people were starting to notice the smoldering eyes, the occasional winks, the lustful glances, and those damned smiles. They didn't have a thing so to speak but Dana knew that if she fucked Jax Teller again, there would be no getting it out of her system. But now here was Mags- pretty much her best friend besides her sister suggesting close contact. As if.

"Mags, I don't care about Jax Teller. What I care about is some much needed sleep," she expressed before walking towards the sign on the door and switching it to CLOSED, not bothering to let Mags comment on the situation, "Listen up American Pie," she called to the group of guys who were suddenly looking at her with quizzical expressions as she stood by the front door with fists on her hips and a stern but smartass look on her face, "I'm going to call the police in about five seconds if you don't get your asses out of here."

The words spoke magic as three of them turned to look at the blond in the baseball cap, who noticeably paled a bit. Looks like she hit a nerve. Maybe frat boys weren't so innocent after all? Slowly they all stood up and made their way out the door but not before they all gave her looks that made her feel like she needed a shower and mumbling about pretentious ass waitresses and teasing bitches. Looking towards Andy in the corner she offered him a small smile before watching the team of douchebags climb into a big black SUV and pull out of the parking lot. She let out a breath she hadn't realized that she'd been holding.

"Well, now that that's over- we're closing up for the night. Lady and gentlemen this concludes our final act at the Round the Clock diner ," she announced before taking a slight bow.

"But, won't, like, won't Danny be like mad or something," Andy sputtered, gripping tight to the mop in his hand. Dana clucked and shook her head at his response.

"Andy you have so much to learn. Go home kid. You've got to be here at nine. Get some sleep because Mags is training you. Which means it will be part showing you the ropes part groping you."

"Hey, I am not-," but stopped mid sentence at the look Dana pinned her with, "I'm not into jailbait. Besides he's so not my type."

"Penis is your type Mags," came the voice of Anthony as he made his way out of the kitchen with his cousin Johnny on his tail, swinging his key ring around on one finger and offering the two grown women in front of him a smile that Dana was sure dropped panties. Maggie didn't offer a retort but simply crossed her arms over her ample chest and frowned before rolling her eyes.

"Whatever guys. I'm going home," she said reaching down behind the counter to grab her bag and keys. Dana pretended not to notice all three guys eyes zooming right towards her ass. It had been like that for forever. Mags had always been able to stop traffic- but not just with her body. The girl had a personality that was simply infectious. But Dana- she was too closed off, to critical and skeptical, too...emotionally unavailable. "I'll call you later bitch," her best friend called over her shoulder before strutting out the door.

"Slut," Dana called back.

Johnny shook his head before grabbing his backpack from the same spot Mag's purse had been in, "I will never understand how girls talk to each other? You need us to stay behind while you lock up?"

"Please. I'll do more damage to any nefarious character without you guys in my way," she said on a chuckle as Antonio slapped Andy on the back, who occasionally bummed rides from the two.

She made quick work of bussing the place down, not that it took much as most of everything had been done before those group of guys came in. She wasn't kidding when she said it had been a slow night. She locked the doors before putting in her earbuds. If her life had taught her anything- it was that she definitely needed to lock the door. She shuddered at the thought then tucked it away to where it had escaped from as she closed up. The last thing she did was take off her skates. She didn't know why she always did that last but she couldn't express the feeling she got when her feet slid into a pair of beaten and worn Converses. She didn't even bother tying the laces. Grabbing her bag from the back room and popping one earbud out she made her way out the front door to her dad's beat up old Ford truck. Sure, it gave her problems but she loved it.

Except on night like tonight when it was damn two in the morning and it wouldn't start. She let her forehead hit the steering wheel with an inaudible thud before groaning and throwing open the door and popping the hood. Unlike her sister who didn't know how to change a flat tire if her life depended on it, Dana had grew up pestering her father about his truck. He hadn't cared for it but eventually he let her hang around and she learned how to hold her on with any piece of auto machinery. It was the earbud in her ear and her frustration with the truck and the overall fatigue where she would later lay the blame on why she didn't hear them. But she sure as hell felt it.

It was like being hit with a semi truck. Her ribs collided with the grill of the truck with no mercy and her eyes immediately upon impact brimmed with water. Someone grabbed her by her arm roughly and spun her around, nearly pulling her arm out of socket. It was the blond in the baseball cap. And he looked way past sinister.