He found none of it strange until today. Nothing felt wrong, or at least, a tad bit off. He had felt honor and pride, among other emotions when it was bestowed upon him. He knew his responsibilities, and what needed to be done. He did not rethink anything. Not when it was handed to him, not when he was sitting at home, cigarette between his lips, glasses on the bridge of his nose, pulling a large needle and thick thread through his cut. It had not felt real until he fulfilled the tasks in front of him, and now stood in the Chapel, hands that normally grasped guns and handlebars, now gripping the back of the wooden chair and a bit of normality. He had not realized how strange it would be to stand at the head of the table—a table that had seen it all and heard so much more. A chair in a position he had never imagined he would sit in. He felt honored, but he feared it. His mentors had sat here. His enemies had sat here. He had never led before, but the bodies ready to take their seats to his right and left knew he could do it better. They had complete faith in him. He was different than the Teller men, because he was not Teller blood. He was not even American blood, for that matter. Nevertheless, he was smart. He had the clearest head. He had more to live for, and had the club's reputation never been soiled, then no one would have deserved the honor more. Regardless, he had fulfilled his promises to the club as their new President, and the members could not feel more proud of Chibs Telford.
Tig Trager, new Vice President of the Sons of Anarchy, walked up to his spot to Chibs' right and clapped a hand on the President's shoulder. Chibs broke himself of his thoughts and glanced up at the blue-eyed man beside him.
"Hey," Tig said, giving him a crooked smile, "It's all yours, man. Sit."
Chibs' eyes flickered from the Vice President to the gavel on the table. Happy Lowman, their Sergeant at Arms, stood to Chibs' left and nodded respectfully. Juice Ortiz, newly reinstated and forgiven after learning of former President Jax Teller's lies and manipulation, and his confession about Gemma Teller, Jax's mother, murdering Jax's wife, Tara Knowles. Chibs, knowing the boy's complicated life, decided to swipe his slate. His explanation?
"Ya fuck up under me, and I'll blow your fuckin' head off, Juicy."
Juice was more than willing to rejoin the club with his mentor, and promised he would make things right, including a routine check and paperwork from a clinic proving his blood work was clean. Anything to make Chibs trust him. He had redeemed himself in the eyes of the club, and was now slowly becoming a respected member.
Quinn and Ratboy finished the table, Quinn to Juice's left and Ratboy to Tig's right. Chibs looked across the once full table. They were missing Allesandro Montez and T.O. Cross, who were currently working at Teller-Morrow Automotive in place of the Tellers and Clay Morrow, and Jax Teller, who had bestowed the title of President to Chibs and had walked away with his children, Abel and Thomas, to live the life he had promised his late wife they would have, as well has mend some broken pieces with ex-wife Wendy Case. Business with TM was currently being sorted by club friend, Nero Padilla.
The members of SAMCRO waited, standing behind their chairs with eager eyes on Chibs. His eyes met each members'. Happy gave him a slight nod, Juice, a boyish smile, and Quinn, Ratboy, and Tig, watched him with anticipation. Chibs pulled the chair where his mentor had sat, and where the little brother had once sat, and without hesitation, took the throne. Chuck Marstein, the club's bookkeeper, entered just in time to see Chibs take a seat, a tray of Jack and five shot glasses balanced on one hand. As soon as Chibs was seated, the crew erupted in loud clapping and hollering, and Chibs gave them a sideways smile. Tig clapped and looked over to Chuck, who was smiling as well.
"Chucky, bring that shit over here!" he hollered.
Chuck obeyed without response and walked in between the VP and Ratboy, setting the tray on the table and proceeding to pour the shots. Tig helped and they passed the shots around.
"Give me the goddamn bottle, will ya?" Chibs asked.
Tig laughed and passed the bottle to the President. The boys held their glasses up as Tig began the toast.
"Alright," he said loudly, then looked down at Chibs, "To you, you lucky asshole."
Chibs laughed.
"To Chibs!" the others declared, and they toasted their glasses to Chibs' bottle before downing their drinks and slamming the glasses on the wooden table top.
Chibs chugged the Jack before letting out a contented "Ah!" and setting the bottle down.
"Someone take that away from me," he said.
Happy took the bottle and passed it back to Chuck.
"We're proud of you, man," Juice spoke up.
Tig lightly punched Chibs shoulder as the crew began to sit down.
"Yeah, brother," he agreed, "We owe ya big time."
Chibs shrugged.
"Just doin' what shoulda been done a long time ago," he replied.
"Damn straight!" Happy agreed.
Chibs smiled at that.
"Chucky, take this shit out of here, will ya?" Tig asked.
Chuck nodded, gathered the glasses and the bottle of Jack Daniels, and Tig patted his back as he left the room, leaving the remaining members of SAMCRO to their meeting.
"As much as I would like to get the hell outta here and get drunk, we have some business to attend to," Chibs announced.
The boys settled down and their attention went to the President.
"As ya all know, I've been workin' my fuckin' fingers bone to set shit straight. I think, as of today, everythin' is clear. Juicy Boy, what do ya got on the Feds? ATF? All that bullshit?"
Juice sat forward.
"As far as I can tell, we're all good. I went through their databases, and from the looks of it, they have no suspicions. No claims. We're good," he replied.
The men shouted in victory. Chibs nodded.
"How about the Mayans and Diosa?" he asked.
"Everything's settled," Happy replied.
Chibs looked to Tig.
"We're out of drugs. Out of the dirty. SAMCRO's relations with everyone else is golden, bro," he said.
Chibs nodded.
"Well, as far as the Kings go, we're clear," he said, "We have Red Woody. No more shit between anyone. As of today, SAMCRO is the green."
They shouted again.
"The only issue on our plates seems to be new recruits. We need to expand the table. Strengthen the club," he continued.
"Yeah," Tig agreed, "No fucking Nomads either."
Chibs shook his head.
"No, we need fresh meat," Happy said, with a sickening smile that made Tig's lip curl and Chibs shoot the Sergeant at Arms a glare, an eyebrow raised.
"Raise 'em as Prospects?" Juice asked, breaking the tension.
"No shit!" Tig popped off.
"Aye, Juice," Chibs replied.
"I know a couple of kids. Clean kids. Just motorcycle enthusiasts," Quinn spoke up.
Chibs nodded.
"Get 'em here, and we'll see what we have to work with," he said.
Quinn nodded.
"I don't know of any freshies," Tig said.
"We'll find 'em," Chibs replied, "But in the meantime, who wants to go get hammered?"
The men loudly agreed. Chibs smiled.
"Let's go!" he said excitedly, and slammed the gavel down, ending the meeting.
He braced himself to stand when Tig reached out and touched his chest to stop him from moving any further.
"Nah-ah! Not so fast!" he said.
Chibs was momentarily confused.
"We're not letting you get away that easily. Not on our brother's birthday," he said lowly.
Chibs unceremoniously sat back down.
"Ah, for Christ's sake!" he exclaimed.
Chibs was never one for attention, and on his birthday, all he ever wanted to do was have a nice, semi-normal, drunken night. Of course, there was a time or two where the boys would buy each other rounds or take one or the other out to shoot targets. Race their bikes. Gemma used to bake them cakes before shit hit the fan. They were good times, but Chibs craved a pleasant, slow night this time. Tig, and apparently the entire crew, had other plans for their brother.
"Oh, come on! None of that!" Tig scolded, "Let's head down to Diosa. Get you some birthday pussy. Come on! It's on me."
Chibs rolled his eyes, but found himself laughing.
"I appreciate the gesture," he began.
Tig held his arms out, a smirk on his face.
"What are friends for, man?"
Chibs smiled and shook his head.
"I have a better idea," he said.
Tig stared at him in shock.
"What's better than free pussy?" he asked, genuinely appalled that Chibs would turn down an appointment at Diosa.
It was Chibs' turn to smirk.
"Let's all just jump on our bikes and hit the road," he replied.
"Where to?" Juice asked.
Chibs shrugged.
"Wherever the road takes us," he replied.
Tig scoffed.
"You would rather ride than go to Diosa?" he asked.
Chibs nodded. Tig let out a small grunt.
"What the fuck? Man, I heard they got this girl. Killer, most mind-blowing, fuckin' blow—"
"Man, I just want one night of just bikes and the road," Chibs interrupted, "Our first night of freedom. Let's all just go hit the road. Do what we love the most."
Tig weighed his options.
"Ya can pay for my gas. That can be my birthday present," Chibs said.
Tig nodded. Hitting the road, winding down and forgetting the world did sound like a good idea.
"'Kay. I'm in," he said.
"Us, too, brother," Happy agreed.
Tig clapped loudly and jumped from his seat.
"Then, let's go! Oh wait! We can't go too far. I have a date," he announced.
The crew stood up. Chibs pushed his chair in and shot his right-hand man a look.
"A date?" he questioned.
Tig shrugged.
"With Venus," he replied, eyes wide and innocent.
Chibs smiled and rolled his eyes.
"Oh, Tiggy," he sighed, then threw an arm around Tig's shoulders as they followed the crew out the door.
"Hey! You're the crazy one. I offer to buy you a good time. You must be gettin' old, man," Tig complained.
Chibs just laughed.
"Whatever. I still love ya, man," Tig said, then kissed Chibs on the cheek.
Chibs laughed and shoved the slightly taller man away.
"Get on your damn bike. Let's go!" Chibs shouted.
It wasn't that he did not like Diosa, but the road was calling him. It was just something he felt like he needed. However, he did not know that the cravings he was having for a late-night ride through the rural areas outside of Charming would play out in the cards tonight.