Hello everyone! Originally I resided at "ThenAndNow3434" but I forgot all my information and I was forced to create a new account. All those stories are still min however and I am going to use this account to redo them. So….Without further ado…HAPPY BOY.
Charming, California
Teller-Morrow
Why the fuck am I doing this? Was the only thought that ran through my head, as I ambled my old Chevy Impala into the farthest parking space from the garage doors. My heart was racing, beating rapidly from within the confines of my bony chest. Why the fuck am I doing this? That thought wouldn't escape me.
Sighing, I extracted the keys from the ignition and laid my head against the worn leather steering wheel. It was warm to the touch, a welcome change against my clammy skin. Beads of sweat fell from my forehead, gathering together to dampen the collar of my T-Shirt. Head, still laid against the wheel, I allowed my eyes to wonder to the garage.
People, of all different colors and shapes, wondered in and out of the large building. Soccer moms, perpetually frazzled, chased their children around the parking lot in a desperate attempt to corral them into their newly repaired minivans. Just outside what I assumed to be the front office, an older blonde woman shook hands with a mechanic...my thoughts automatically went to my mother.
Stop doing this to yourself! My inner dialogue never ceased and at this moment I didn't mind. I couldn't afford an emotional breakdown now. That would have to wait for later.
Slowly but surely, I slipped from my stuffy car and let my worn converse touch the cracked concrete sidewalk. The California sun was relentless, beating down on my pale skin. It was nice to feel warm for a change though, opposed to the deathly cold I've become accustomed to. Warm meant I'm alive and that's supposed to be a good thing. Right?
My hands began to shake halfway across the parking lot, so I shoved them deep in my jeans pockets. When I reached a small side office, they had stopped shaking, but I didn't want to risk taking them out. So I entered, hands in my pants…a great first impression.
The dingy white walls were plastered with pictures of half-naked woman, which I didn't mind in the least, and ten or so filing cabinets pressed against one of the walls. In the middle of all the chaos, there sat alone mahogany desk. Papers sat in neat stacks atop it and a sleek black computer was perched in the opposite corner.
"Nice setup." I whispered, generally impressed with the computer alone. My best friend Squints had taught me quite a lot about computers and I knew this one had to have cost a fortune.
"I thought little boys weren't supposed to wonder away from their mommies?" Her voice was a unique mixture of humor and cynicism. Turning, ever so slowly, I came face to face with the scariest woman I have ever seen.
Standing at a solid 5'8 in heels, Gemma Teller-Morrow wasn't a woman to be messed with. I however, quick to offend, wasn't privy to this fact. After standing there, staring at each other for what seemed like hours, she finally spoke again.
"Well," The HBIC, head bitch in charge, prodded me with the uplift of her eyebrow, "Are you going to tell me what you came here for or what?"
Her blood red lips were twisted into a scowl when I failed, yet again, to answer her question. Running a perfectly manicured hand through her hair, she cocked a hip and waited.
"I-I-I..." As a child I had a stammering problem and it seemed to be rearing its ugly head again.
"Are you retarded or something hun?" She asked and I tried to suppress the laughter that was rising in my throat.
"No maim," I began with a serious tone, which quickly morphed into a snarky one, "That's not what's wrong with me but thanks for being so concerned." I placed my best shit eating grin on my face.
She stared at me with the coldest eyes I had ever seen. Cold blue orbs, shrouded with wisdom that only came with knowledge and time, looked hard into my very soul.
"Jackson! Juice!" She shouted into the air, demanding to be heard, "I need you to escort someone out!"
Fuck. Was the only thought that ran through my head as two men entered the room, both heavily dressed in leather and metal. Their eyes focused on me and I knew I was screwed. When in doubt, make them laugh.
"Either this going to get really erotic" I put my hands up and began to back away slowly, "Or really bad fast. Either way I'm getting fucked."
The blonde man kept his face placid but the one with the tattoos on his head began to chuckle. He was quickly silenced when the woman slapped him on the back of the head, receiving the same look I had been given moments earlier.
"Just escort him to his stroller please." She hissed, plopping down in the roller chair behind the desk. She dropped her face into her hands and sighed. She was tired, I understood that.
The blonde man stepped forward and grasped me by the back of my shirt, causing me to let out a very unmanly yelp.
"Come on kid lets go." He rasped, balancing a cigarette between his lips.
I didn't come all the way from Texas to be thrown out on my ass. Regaining what little strength I had, I began to fight back and stated my purpose for being there.
"I need to see John Lowman!" I shouted, trying to pry his hand away from my neck. It was getting hard to breathe. The tattoo man grabbed my legs and haled me into the parking lot.
"Believe me when I tell you this kid," Juice said seriously, "You do not want to see Happy Lowman."
Happy? Was that his nickname?
We were about five feet from the dropping point when I couldn't hold it in anymore.
"He's my father!" I struggled against them as I shouted, "I need to see him!"
In the end, I was dropped anyway. I could have gone along for the ride but nope…I had to be difficult.
They stared at me as I lay on the concrete, wiping my bloodied hands against my jean clad legs. I heard them whispering to each other, marveling at how preposterous it was that I could be Happy's kid. That's when it hit me, the overwhelming feeling of not being able to breathe. Digging deep into my pocket I extracted my inhaler and took three quick puffs. When I looked up they were staring at me, as perusal for this group of people.
"So," I rose to my unsteady feet and deposited the inhaler back into my pocket, "Are you going to take me to see Happy or what?" I was beginning to get agitated and you won't like me when I get agitated.
"He's got those killing eyes." Jax drawled as he brought his cigarette to his lips, taking in a great amount of smoke. Juice's eyes narrowed at me before nodding in agreement.
In all my seventeen years of life, besides on Call of Duty and maybe a squirrel, I have never killed a single living thing. The squirrel was an accident and I was ten…so that automatically doesn't count.
"He's running some errands," Jax chuckled at some inside joke I wasn't privy to before flicking out his cigarette, "Should be back by tonight though."
Well shit!
Jax and Juice began to walk away and I figured I would have to go looking for a hotel room. Just as I was about to leave, Juice called out to me.
"Are you coming or what kid?!"
Turning, I saw them waiting for me at a large set of doors marked SOA. The woman from earlier stood scowling at me from the office window.
Without I word, I hustled over and through the doors…completely unaware of the world I was stepping into.