A/N: This is one of several in-progress fics that I have going. I decided to post what I have so far of all of them, mostly to gauge if there's even any interest in them before writing more. No promises on if or when I will continue any of them, but drop a review to let me know if you'd be interested in more.
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He'd been careful since going Nomad, not to run into her. He knows she plays clubhouses semi-regularly between her other gigs, brought in as a break from the same-old jukebox records, trusted ever since she'd been marked as a friend of the club.
Ever since HE'D marked her as a friend of the club.
That had been years ago. Back when he was barely out of the prospect stage, rockers still shiny and new, when he thought he was hot shit.
Hap hears her bike from his perch near the currently-empty boxing ring and knows he missed the memo somewhere before he even looks over. The club, overall, is less than accepting of women riding, but she has always been so unassuming and respectful about it that a lot of the guys seem to not even notice. She parks away from the club's bikes, never tries to be 'one of the guys' like she's in the club or anything, so the guys tend to forget she's riding at all after the first couple times of meeting her. He'd helped her build that bike what feels like a lifetime ago, and she's taken good care of it. He doesn't look directly over, but watches from the corners of his eyes as several guys perk up, Jimmy, the Chicago Secretary, ambling over to greet her.
She's staring at something intently, and a flick of Hap's gaze shows it to be the line of Sons bikes. He has a completely new one since they'd last seen each other, but he doesn't doubt she has identified his immediately. She could always do that.
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"Why are you doing that?" the youngish-sounding voice broke from the garage door.
Happy looks over to find a teenage girl standing there. She's cute, which isn't something he thinks much. She'll be a stunner in a few years, but for now, she's gangly; all arms and legs and barely-developing curves in cutoff jean shorts, a tank top, and flip flops, hands stuffed awkwardly in her pockets as she watches him with with dark eyes somewhat hidden behind a curtain of brown hair.
"Because there's a hole in the carburetor." Happy says gruffly.
Surprisingly, the girl seems to understand what that means. She rolls her eyes and reaches up to tuck her hair back behind her ear. "No shit. One of the heads is nearly shot, too. I mean why are you fixing it. Joe always says you only work on your own bike for free. Even if you're only a hangaround, if you're doing paid work for someone else, you should be at the garage, not here."
Happy's brow furrows, trying to figure out who Joe is, since this girl obviously knows the club. Unable to place the name, he asks. "Joe?"
She pauses, visibly checking herself. "You probably call him Bowie."
That would be the man whose garage he's in. "Test." Happy grunts out, going back to his work. He expects the girl to leave, but she instead wanders into the garage and pulls a milk crate to the other side of the bike, beginning to poke around before grabbing a wrench to start helping him dismantle the machine. Curious, he asks, "So, how'd you know it isn't my bike?"
She doesn't answer his question, but does meet his eyes over the frame of the bike briefly. The surprisingly sharp gaze gives him a once-over before she goes back to the task she has set herself. "Tattoo artist?"
Happy pauses. "Yeah?"
The girl smiles slightly. "You know what you're doing, but you obviously aren't a mechanic by trade. More like the guys from shop class. Lots of tattoos, but none more than 4 or 5 years old, I'm guessing from when you were about my age. You the guy that's doing that big piece on Bowie's back? You must've really impressed him if he's testing you for prospect sponsorship."
"How old are you?" Happy asks, forcing himself to get back to work as well, and not answering her question.
"I'll be 17 this winter."
He refrains from snapping that she should've just said 16. It's just turned fall, so that makes her closer to 17 than 16, and, at 22, he isn't so far off from it that he doesn't remember how important it feels at that age to appear older. He is surprised though. He would've said 14, 15, max.
Apparently, his surprise shows on his face, because she continues with, "Yeah, I know, I look, like, 14."
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There's something in the way Jimmy's holding himself that snaps Happy's attention from the past to where the other man is talking to the woman by her bike. Walking over there, he catches wind of the conversation that has turned tense.
"Whatya talkin' bout, sugar? I tolja, we got plenty o' room! We always put ya up when we have ya in!" Jimmy sounds exasperated. Happy knows the feeling. Arguing with her is like arguing with a brick wall.
Her eyes flick past Jimmy to Happy as he walks up. "You just seem extra crowded today, Jimmy, it's no big thing, I can get a motel room."
"Or you can stop being fuckin' stubborn." Happy butts into the conversation, taking out his keys. Flicking to the set he usually pretends he doesn't still carry around, he reaches past her and inserts the small key into the lock and twists to release her saddle bag from the mount, catching the handle to gently lower it to the ground and quickly doing the same for the one mounted over her rear fender and ignoring her growl and Jimmy's questioning look as he pockets his keys again and picks up both bags, turning to take them to his room.
Because they may not have seen each other in years, but, now that they're in the same clubhouse, he'll be damned if he isn't sleeping next to her tonight.
"You gonna make me come back and unload the guitar too?" he asks as he walks away. She growls again, but he hears her move around her bike and the slight jingle of keys before he's opening the clubhouse door, and he's satisfied that she's unlocking the custom metal and fiberglass guitar case that they had fabricated and mounted to the other side of her bike nearly a decade ago so she wasn't riding around with it strapped to her bitch seat at weird angles and half falling off.
In his room, he sets her bags down next to his own by the dresser. With the relative privacy, he lets himself crouch in front of them for a moment and run a hand over the supple, tooled leather. Held in shape by the metal frame that hooks to the bike mounts, the leather itself isn't nearly as stiff as when he'd gifted it to her, years on the road and regular conditioning having worn it down from the original shiny black finish to a soft matte one. Happy pushes himself up only to sit back on the bed, elbows on his knees and hands clasped loosely as he stares down at the bags in front of him.
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"Dude, you're gonna have to admit it one day." Koz says. He's halfway down the aisle of the leather shop they're in, looking at seats, while Happy stares at saddlebags.
"Admit what?" Happy asks distractedly.
"That she's your Old Lady." is the reply.
Happy rolls his eyes. They have this conversation about once a week, he's not surprised they're having it again when he's trying to pick out a present for her. "It ain't like that."
Koz snorts and walks over. "I guess. I mean, no other brother would ever let his Old Lady ride at all, forget build her her own fuckin' bike."
"She's buildin' her own bike, I'm just helping." Happy leaves out why she's building her own bike, and why he's helping, as he always does. Only he and Bowie know about why she hates being in cars so much, and it's going to stay that way unless she decides to make the knowledge public. It's no one else's business.
"Helping, and about to drop several hundred bucks on fancy locking-frame saddlebags." Koz says smugly, flicking the price tag next to the ones Happy has come back to several times, which he knows he'll probably be getting customized so they aren't so plain. "You practically live together. You haven't even looked at a sweetbutt, even on the road, since you been bangin' her. Fuck, she's met your mom, dude. She's your Old Lady. Why have you not slapped a crow on her ass yet?"
Koz is right. By Club standards, she's his Old Lady in every way but ink. Rubbing his face tiredly, he finally gives in and utters the words he's been refusing to tell his friend for months. "She don't want a crow."
"What?" This has seemingly drawn Kozik up short.
Happy shrugs a little helplessly. "Says she refuses to be branded as property."
"She's already marked as a friend to the Club. Fuck, she's done time for us, told us flat out she'd do it again." Koz says, confused.
Taking the bags he's been eyeing down off the display rack, Happy elaborates. "It's different. That marks her as an ally for something that she chose. She says the crow would take away her freedom to choose. That the Club would start forcing her to do things whether she wants to or not."
There's a few minutes of relative quiet while Happy pays for the bags and draws up a rough sketch of some lilies and music notes for the custom tooling he wants on them.
On their way out of the store, Koz picks the conversation back up. "You agree with her."
Happy swings his leg over his bike with a sigh, settling in and looking over at his brother. Carefully, he says, "There's a reason so few Old Ladies stick around, man. If the way for me to keep her is to not make it official…."
Koz gives a small, thoughtful nod as they both start up their bikes.
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Standing abruptly, Happy makes his way back out of his room and downstairs to the main clubhouse. The only stage area they have is reserved for the stripper pole in the far corner, so she's set up between the bar and the door outside, where the old jukebox usually is. It's been pushed outside for the evening, and the little basic sound system that most charters have on hand for events has been set up so she'll be heard over the din, one mic in front of her guitar and the other for her to sing into. Two barstools function as chair and table, and he sees she still doesn't drink - the 'table' barstool holds only 3 bottles of water-, and isn't surprised. The moment he'd heard her bike, he'd unthinkingly set down the beer he'd been holding and now he finds himself reaching into the cooler behind the bar for a bottle of Coke instead of barking at the prospect for his typical beer and whiskey.
They haven't set eyes on each other in 5 years, and, after less than 5 minutes of being in her presence, it's like they were never apart.
There's no grand announcement or introduction. Anyone who doesn't know who she is will ask and be filled in soon enough, not that most of the guys this far east *really* know who she is. She just starts playing, and, after the first song, she reaches back to make a couple adjustments on the small board to improve the sound mix before launching into the rest of the set. Happy vaguely recognizes most of the songs from the radio and doesn't know whether to be upset or relieved that she isn't playing any original music.
It's nearly 2 hours before she takes a break, and that's just to run into the bathroom and get fresh bottles of water. All night, Happy stays posted on the chair in the corner, getting up only to go to the bathroom or change out his empty soda bottle for a full water one, ignoring Brother and sweetbutt alike as they attempt to engage him. He knows it's rude and he catches a few conversations going on about his behavior as he simply sits and watches her, but he doesn't care. He's too enthralled watching the reaper on her shoulder ripple as she strums her guitar, just as he has always been.
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The Tacoma Charter is in Church. Things have been calm the last couple months, an almost startling change from the several previous, and there's only one real item of business on today's agenda.
Bowie isn't an officer, but he is a well-respected enforcer, and the SAA, Donut, has agreed to put forth the motion on his behalf. "This past July, those of us with hair were pulling it out trying to figure out how to deal with the Sheriff Situation."
The old sheriff had been content to live and let live so long as the club was somewhat discreet and kept hard drugs off the streets of Tacoma. After he'd retired, the new one had initially adopted the same attitude, until the nearby Mayan affiliate club had put him on their payroll, and he'd begun causing problems for the Sons. Lots of them.
Donut continues. "Now, we all know it was Bowie's little friend conveniently got us out of that pickle, but what most of you don't know is she came up with the plan and brought it to us, offering to put herself on the line to take care of it for us."
There's murmurs around the room. Everyone's passingly familiar with the girl; she's 8 or 9 years younger than Bowie and had lived next door to him her whole life - he considers her his unofficial little sister, so she'd been around enough to be a familiar face, if not very close to most. Happy, who is one of the few who knows her better than to say a passing hello, keeps his face as neutral as possible. He'd been dead-set against her hair-brained scheme to oust the idiot from his position as Sheriff, which would allow the deputy - who happened to be a long-time, if quiet, Sons ally - to step up into the position.
The plan had been simple, but she had executed it far better than the club had anticipated. She worked at a local diner, which the sheriff frequented. On one of her late shifts, it had been a simple matter of slipping something into his coffee, getting both of them to a cheap motel, and one of the guys helping make it look like solicitation of a minor gone violent. She'd played it perfectly, accepting the solicitation charge she had known she'd get stuck with and 90 days in a juvenile detention center, and the good sheriff, with his hand prints around her neck, DNA under her fingernails, and all the defensive wounds on her from 'his attack', is making friends with the violent sex offenders on nearby McNeil Island.
"She'll be getting out soon." Donuts voice cuts through the murmurs, "and I'd like to put forth a motion to make her a Friend of the Club."
There's a moment of contemplative silence before the VP, Blue speaks up. "Seconded."
"Let's open the table for discussion," Jonesy, the President, says.
"No offence to Bowie, but most of us don't know this girl for shit other than her gettin' us outta this one jam." someone speaks up. Tacoma's a big charter, making for a long and crowded table that's not always easy to catch who's talking if they aren't in your eyeline, but Hap's pretty sure it was Drew.
"If anything, that should be helpin' her case. She barely knows most of us, and she took a conviction, did time, and may or may not be able to get this wiped from her record, just to get us in the clear." someone else says, and Happy doesn't catch who it was.
Hap feels eyes on him and does a quick scan of the table to find Blue watching him. After several more minutes of back and forth about not knowing her versus her obvious loyalty to the Club, Blue cuts in. "Happy. You know her better than most of us. What do you think?"
If the man wasn't his VP, Hap would stand up and punch him right now. Everyone looks to him. He grinds out the simplest and most true answer he can. "She's a damn good friend to have." He doesn't know what this settles - he's only had his top rocker for 6 months, and, while he is apparently the fastest in Club history to receive an Unholy Ones patch, he's still working on gaining respect - but it seems to settle something for many.
Eventually, Jonesy calls it to vote, and it passes, 27 to 11.
Two weeks later, he has her sat in a chair in the middle of the clubhouse, inking over the stencil he'd made. He'd drawn up the reaper, trying to make it delicate and feminine, but it had ended up looking brittle and fragile. She had insisted it was perfect, not letting him re-draw it, so now it's going onto her shoulder and bicep to form a quarter-sleeve in shades of grey. The guys tried offering her liquor, and Hap had been unsurprised when she'd refused, asking for water instead. A few of the guys had also made bets on how soon she'd start crying once he was inking her, but she's almost 2 hours in and taking it like a champ. Hap had actually had to remind her to stay awake once.
Another hour and a half, and most have lost interest. The party simply goes on around them as Happy tapes her up and starts cleaning and packing away his gear, reminding himself that she's not 18 yet and he can't haul her up to his room like he wants to. When all his gear is packed up, he can tell she's tired, so he slings the backpack over her shoulders and leads her outside. She climbs onto his bike after him without prompting, clipping on her helmet when he hands it back to her from where it had been hanging off the handlebar opposite his, then wrapping her arms around his waist just enough to hold on without restricting his movement.
He pulls up to the curb in front of Bowie's house, and she climbs off, handing the backpack off to him, then surprising him by leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Thanks, Hap." she says, just as softly, before turning to head to her own house, hopping the fence instead of opening the squeaky gate so she doesn't risk waking her sleeping/passed out father.
"Sleep tight, Minnie." he calls just loud enough for her to hear, and he's rewarded with a quick flash of a smile as she slips in through the living room window that she had broken the lock on years ago.
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It's a little after 1 when a couple of the guys teasingly boot her off her "stage", helping her pack up the equipment and put it away. Hap is on his way over to take her and the guitar up to his room when Bucky, one of the young Chicago guys, beats him over to where she's standing.
"How 'bout we go upstairs and you give me a private encore?" Bucky asks, slapping her ass.
She shakes her head. "You really shouldn't'a done that." she says without looking at him.
"Why not, sweet cheeks?" the idiot asks.
From behind him, a voice that sounds like iced-over gravel says, "Hope you aren't too drunk to get in the ring, brother."
Bucky pales and turns slowly to find Happy glaring viciously at him.
"Prospect, put my stuff up in Hap's room," she says behind Bucky, leaning the guitar in it's soft case against the end of the bar and quickly unbuckling the wide canvas cuff that is almost always around her left wrist these days and shoving it in her pocket.
With her no longer playing and the jukebox only just getting slid back in the door, a decent portion of the people surrounding them have heard Hap call Bucky to the ring. Closest to the door, she leads the way, anxious to get it over with.
Most of the guys strip first then tape up their hands, but Hap had always liked her to prep him for a fight, especially when it's over her, and she can't do that when she's holding his leather, so she starts by gently pulling the few rings he's wearing off of his fingers, dropping them into her pocket, then quickly, tightly taping up his knuckles. Next she slides the leather of his kutte over his shoulders, hooking one of her arms through both arm holes, then smirking up at his smug face as she reaches for the hem of his tee shirt, pulling the fabric up without the usual grope to the still-very-toned muscles of his stomach like she would have several years before.
Nearby, Jimmy's jaw drops slightly as he watches Happy grab her left hand and pull it up to his face, laying a kiss on the thick lines of the smiley face tattooed on the inside of her wrist. He'd obviously figured out there was something up with these two hours ago, but this was much more serious than he'd suspected. He'd thought they'd had a fling once, or Hap had helped her with her bike and for some reason kept the spare keys. He'd never imagined something like… this.
She watches Happy climb into the ring and face his half-drunk and somewhat pale opponent. The guy is young and had no possible way of knowing she is Happy's - outside of Tacoma, very few know it, even among seasoned members - and she hopes she doesn't have to step in to keep it from being a total bloodbath. A member around Hap's age and nearly twice his size positions himself in the corner with the bell, obviously the ref for the match, and pulls the bell once to start.
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She stands next to the ring, clutching Happy's leather and shirt to her chest, watching Happy and Boo (what kind of dumb fucking nickname is Boo anyway?) circle each other.
Since she had become an official Friend of the Club, Joe and Happy had been dragging her to the clubhouse a lot more. Not that she's opposed to getting to know the guys, really, but Joe and Happy both know she doesn't like being around drunk people, drunk guys in particular. As such, she tends to stick pretty close to one of them. Typically Happy, because he doesn't drink at all when she's around. Joe keeps it to a few beers, but that's still alcohol. Boo had apparently noticed her tendency to stay close to Hap, and decided to fuck with her. She hadn't realized at first; he'd initially just sat down and started talking to her, like he wanted to get to know her. She was at one of the high-top tables while Happy was nearby playing pool.
After maybe 10 minutes of casual conversation, Boo had started asking about her and Happy. It had been teasingly, and she hadn't said much of anything, merely reiterating that they were friends. Boo's response had been to say, "Oh, good!" and grab her tits.
This had prompted Happy to break a pool cue over his back and the two men to start tussling in the middle of the clubhouse for a minute until a few others broke it up and hauled them outside to the boxing ring. She had been shuffled along with the crowd, still in shock from this man that she barely knows grabbing her, and found herself in this position, not really sure what's happening.
"Boo's one of the guys that voted against making you an official Friend." Joe's voice is low in her ear. He is close behind her, guarding her from the pushing crowd, but careful not to touch her, knowing she wouldn't take it well right now. "One of the real vocal guys about it. Sorry he did that to you to make this happen, sweetheart; he shoulda just taken it up with me, Hap, or Donut directly. Any one of us would've happily taken him to the mat if he'd'a manned up and said something."
By now, Boo and Happy are trading blows, and both men are bleeding. Boo is bleeding more heavily than Happy, but he's obviously got a chip on his shoulder that he isn't going to let go of until he's physically incapacitated.
She hugs Happy's things harder, getting a whiff of his aftershave off the shirt, unable to tear her eyes away.
She isn't sure how she feels about this. The crush that has been there since she'd lain eyes on the hangaround in Joe's garage nearly 2 years before has progressed into full-on feelings for the man (not that she's delusional enough to think he'll ever return them), and seeing him bare-chested and sweaty and bloody and fighting and so… primal…. is causing a throbbing between her legs that is completely at odds with the lingering sense of violation she feels at being casually assaulted in a place where she's supposed to be safe.
Happy gets Boo in a headlock, and she's pretty sure the guy acting as referee waits a little longer than he's strictly supposed to before tapping Happy's arm to indicate he needs to let the other man go. Boo scrambles to his corner to catch his breath and Happy comes to the one she and Joe are in, taking the bottle of water Joe hands up to him and taking a short pull, swishing it around his mouth and spitting the bloody water off to the side before taking a longer pull and drinking it down, tossing the bottle back to Joe and locking eyes with her before turning back to the ring and nodding to the ref, who waited for the same from Boo before hitting the bell to start the next round.
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Bucky taps out and concedes the match after one round, and she's disappointed. She'd been hoping Bucky'd give him a good fight so she wouldn't have to, but no such luck. They'd be going their full 3 rounds before she can go to sleep.
Well, at least she won't be sleeping alone.
Happy's still visibly agitated as he climbs out of the ring, and he guides her up to his room with a hand at her lower back. Her guitar is on the bed. After quickly folding Hap's things onto the top of the dresser, she moves the guitar to prop it up against the wall before leaning over her bags and rummaging around in one of them for a moment until she finds the small first aid kit.
When she turns to Happy, he's sitting on the bed watching her, hands resting casually in front of him. She pulls the small scissors from the kit and sets the rest beside him as she moves to stand between his legs. Grabbing up one hand, she gently cuts the tape off of his hand before repeating the process on the other, pulling the only slightly-bloody tape away, and not bothering to check his knuckles, knowing he'd barely had a chance to do any damage. The only shot he'd taken to the face had been weak and glancing, and the body shots had been half-hearted at best, so she steps back and drops the tape in the garbage can before collecting her kit, replacing the scissors, and putting it away again.
"He have some reason to think he was allowed to do that?" He's using his Club voice.
She shrugs a shoulder tiredly, not wanting to do this. "I don't think I've ever even talked to him before."
"Don't have to talk to someone to fuck 'em."
"Well, according to half the sweetbutts in the country, you're the authority on that." She doesn't WANT to do it, but the hurt feelings are there, so the cattiness comes through.
"YOU left ME." he says firmly.
"YOU broke THE RULES." She says with the same inflection.
"I was drunk!"
She scoffs turning and throwing a hand up. "Because THAT'S an excuse."
It isn't, least of all with her, and he's always known that, but it's all he's got. "I don't know what else you want me to say to you."
She grabs her shower kit from her bag and stands back up to look at him. "David, it's been 5 years and you haven't even once told me that you're sorry. It's kinda hard to forgive someone when they don't seem to remotely regret what they did." With a sigh and a shake of her head, she moves toward the bathroom, glad he's been put in one of the big rooms with a private one, and pulls the door shut behind her.
Happy stares at the closed door, trying to remember. That can't be right. Surely, in one of the many conversations-turned-one-sided-arguments they'd had before she left, he'd spat out those two basic words. He doesn't remember it but…. He has to concede - to himself - that, even if he had said them, there's no way in hell they'd been sincere, not back then, so he couldn't blame her for discounting them on the off chance they'd materialized.
Well, fuck.
It had been his fuckup that had pushed her away, and it had been his continued fuckup that had kept her there. And, as long as he's being honest with himself, it's not like he's tried to fix things. In fact, he's already admitted today to actively avoiding her since transferring to the Nomad charter.
The door opens again after only a handful of minutes and he automatically gets up to go take his shower, purposefully not looking at her wrapped in a towel and nothing else. He hates going to bed with stubble, so he shaves in the shower at night. They had long ago gotten into the habit of her showering first in the before-bed shower rotation, after she complained that he used all the hot water taking so long to shave his head. At first, he'd done it to shut her up, but it had taken only a few times before he admitted - again, to himself - that her less than 5 minute nighttime showers (just to rinse off the grime of the day) couldn't possibly use enough of the hot water to account for his being lukewarm at best by the time he's done, and he had ceased his grumbling and ignored her silently smug look.
When he emerges from the bathroom, the room is dark except the lamp on his side of the bed, and she's curled in a ball on her side, facing the other direction. He'd been hoping for more of a knock-down-drag-out, from both the idiot that had slapped her ass and her, but she'd pretty effectively shut down the argument he'd tried to start, and, at this point, he's mostly relieved she's staying in his bed at all. Draping his towel on the hook on the bathroom door, he drops his clothes somewhere in the vicinity of his bags before crawling into bed and flicking the light off. He hesitates briefly before thinking 'fuck it' and moving to curl around her, something in the basic, instinctual part of his brain pleased as their skin makes contact; some knot he didn't realize he had in his gut loosening ever so slightly as the familiar scent of her wraps around him.
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He's acknowledged that he's attracted to her for awhile, but over the last year and a bit since she'd turned 18, it had gotten harder and harder to not act on it.
He'd been right that day he met her; the cute kid had turned into a stunning woman. On top of it, she's smart as hell; sharp and observant, too. But she's the first female friend he's had since before he hit puberty, and he doesn't wanna screw it up by trying something when he has no idea if his interest is returned. Plus, she has some serious baggage that he isn't sure if he's prepared to help her handle.
But moments like this? Fuck. It's hard.
They're sitting on her beat up, thrift-store couch in her tiny apartment downtown, watching a movie. They both like horror movies, and when they both have an evening off that Hap also doesn't have Club shit, they do marathons. Happy's sitting sideways on the couch with one leg running the length of it, the other hanging off down on the floor, and she's between his legs, reclined back casually on his chest, knees bent up, giant bowl of popcorn on her stomach.
Her focus is intently on the old tv, but Happy's having a harder time paying attention to Bride of Frankenstein as she shifts slightly and another waft of her scent, mixed with the salty popcorn smell, hits him in the face and he has to stop himself from nuzzling down into her hair. She shivers slightly and tucks her toes under his leg, probably without even realizing it, and he shakes his head slightly before moving the popcorn onto the floor. She makes a small noise of protest before the worn quilt from the back of the couch settles over her and the popcorn is replaced. One of her hands finds his over the blanket, squeezing a thanks, but she doesn't move it after, and he doesn't say anything.
Just that tiny bit of skin-on-skin contact soothes something deep in his psyche that he hadn't known was riled, and it's that moment he realizes he's in trouble.
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In the morning, he's surprised she's still there; in the clubhouse, and, even more surprisingly, in bed with him, still wrapped up in his arms where they'd fallen asleep. Deciding to take advantage of his luck, he tightens his hold around her, pulling her tight to his chest and breathing in, deep and slow, through his nose where it's nestled against her neck. His morning wood is almost painfully hard trapped against her ass, but he doesn't push his luck THAT far. Honestly, he knows she'd probably do it, if only because morning sex is her favorite, but he would feel like a complete ass. There's a lot of groveling to be done and so much for them to talk about before he will no longer feel like he's taking advantage.
"I miss you so fucking much," he tells her lowly, knowing she's awake.
"I miss you, too," is the whispered reply. They stay like this for a few minutes before her hand moves to his wrist and squeezes gently, indicating she needs to get up, and he releases her, cracking his eyes open to watch her get up and walk into the bathroom, noting a couple new tattoos that he'll have to take a closer look at later.
By the time she's done her business, washed her hands, and walked back to the bed, Happy has turned onto his back and is staring at the ceiling, contemplating what to say. He gets his second surprise of the morning when she crawls back into bed with him, snuggling into his side and laying her head on his chest, instead of starting to get ready for the day. His arm automatically wraps around her shoulders, hand beginning to run through the loose, chocolate brown curls that hang down her back, gently teasing out any tangles he comes across.
"Amanda, I-" Happy's words are cut off by her fingers gently settling over his lips.
"I'm not ready to hear it yet, David," her words are soft. She removes her hand from Happy's mouth, going back to tracing random shapes on his chest. "It's been a long time. I think…. I think we need a little time to get to know each other again, first."
"Feels like nothing's changed," he responds idly, still playing with her hair.
Her hand stills briefly. "That's the problem. It's been 5 years. SOMETHING has to have changed. Until we know what it is…."
He sighs, getting what she means. "Yeah."
They're quiet for a few minutes as Happy works up the courage to ask the question he needs an answer to. "You obviously know that I…. well…. Sweetbutts…."
She tenses slightly but doesn't move. "Yeah." her tone is unhappy but accepting.
Happy swallows hard. It doesn't help so he does it again. "Was there…. Have you…."
Amanda's hand stills in it's pattern tracing again. This time, she lays her whole hand flat against his chest, and the tone is weirdly the same she used about him sleeping around - unhappy but accepting. "Yeah."
He's careful to remove his hand from her hair before his fist clenches almost against his will, and his jaw locks as his eyes fixate on some random speck on the ceiling. He'd known it was a possibility - a likelihood, even - but that didn't make it easy to hear. The only thing keeping him from freaking out entirely is the knowledge that she had been hearing about his indiscretions straight from the girls he had been with, in near real-time sometimes (if he knew she was rolling in, he sometimes left only a couple hours before she was due to arrive), and that had to be so much fucking worse.
Despite what he'd stupidly asked her the night before when trying to start a fight, he knows she'd never disrespect him by sleeping with another Son, or, probably, a member of any other MC either. The chances of him meeting any other guys she's been with are probably slim to none, and the odds of finding several of them casually comparing notes on her are nonexistent, which is not something that can be said about the chicks his dick's been in the past few years.
"You need to breathe," she says softly, and he pulls in a ragged breath.
They're interrupted by a pounding on the door. "Hap, you up?" a voice calls.
"Yeah!" he chokes out, thankfully sounding like he just woke up instead of like he's not sure if he wants to cry or go on a multi-state killing spree.
"Church in 30."
"Kay."
Footsteps retreat and they hear the same being repeated a couple rooms down with the next person still in bed.
"You stickin' around here?" Happy asks as they both get out of bed and begin to pull clothes out and get dressed.
Amanda shakes her head. "Gigs in Pittsburgh and Philly this week, then I'm doin' the New England Clubhouse circuit- Sons, Saints, and Rebels. After that, I'm goin' up to Toronto for a festival."
Happy grunts a response, not really knowing what to say, and they continue getting dressed, and Manda makes sure all her stuff is repacked. Once they're both ready, he grabs her saddle bags, leaving her to take the guitar, and they head downstairs. Jimmy is in the bar talking to a couple guys, and comes over to meet them once they appear from the stairwell, looking between the pair curiously as he hands Amanda an envelope with her payment for the night before and promises to call her in a few weeks to set up the next night for her to stop in.
With that, the pair continues outside and make short work of hooking her bags back to her bike. That done, there's an awkward moment where they don't know how to say goodbye, until Amanda steps forward and wraps her arms around Happy. He returns the hug, holding her for a long moment until she pulls away gently.
"Ride safe." He says with a smirk.
She smirks back at him. "Stealing my lines now?"
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Things have heated up for the Sons up and down the west coast as the Mayans try to wrest territory away from them, and Happy both is and isn't looking forward to this run to Santa Fe via Charming. On the one hand, it's good money, and he's looking forward to being on the road with his brothers, and Charming's always a blast. On the other hand, this is far from a fun run; they're going to have to be on a constant lookout for Mayan interference, ESPECIALLY around Charming.
Manda had been unable to get the morning off to see them off, so she'd stopped by the night before, giving him a long, hard hug that conveyed how worried she is about him going on this run, and a kiss on the cheek, before saying "Ride safe."
"You tell me that every time I ride out, like I plan on doing anything else." Happy said, thinking it's a somewhat silly thing for her to say.
The look she gives him makes him feel as though he's missing something obvious. After a sigh, she says, "Just…. Try and remember you have someone back here worrying about you before you do anything TOO reckless?"
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Happy intended to finish up this job in Chicago then meet up with her on the road, or see if she's hitting whatever clubhouse his next job will take him to, but that plan is interrupted by a call to Charming as soon as he's done in Chi-town. So, he settles for getting her cell number off Jimmy and texting her that he got called to the Motherland urgently.
Her response is to tell him to have fun with Tig, but be careful. She has no intention of driving his mother up to Chino to visit him.
Between cleaning up the issue they had been working on and Charming now being down both Opie and the Rat, Kyle, Clay requests that Happy hang around for awhile, and he and Quinn agree. Hap's not thrilled, but he's closer to his Ma than usual, and it's an honor to be regarded so highly by the Mother Charter. Through it all, he texts with Amanda, calling every couple days to check in. She listens to him vent, then makes him laugh, just as she always had, and they start talking more generally about the past several years to catch up and get comfortable with each other again.
He's been there for 5 weeks when things start to level out. That must have come through in his talks with her more than he realized, because she shows up at the clubhouse.
It's early afternoon, so most of the guys are working.
"Is… that a… chick?" Happy hears the hangaround, Juice, ask at the same time he hears the familiar pipes.
Tig is the only guy in Charming that knows Hap well enough, and far back enough, to recognize her, and he grins his crazy smile as guys stop what they're doing to watch as Gemma comes out of the office and moves towards the woman who has just pulled in and parked in one of the visitor spots.
Clay and Jax both converge a ways off, also moving that direction, and Happy leans casually against the roller for the bay door, idly wiping his hands on a shop rag.
"Here to get your man's bike serviced sweetheart?" Gemma asks with her usual disdain for other females, plus a little extra for one rolling in on a bike.
Amanda raises a brow, answering, "No, he keeps his bike running fine, and mine's in good shape too." patting her gas tank fondly as she hooks her helmet onto a handlebar.
From another direction, Clay's voice asks, "Well, then, you know where you are, honey?"
Looking over to him, and Jax at his side, she scans their kuttes quickly before her eyes dart to the men lining the shop and front of the clubhouse around them. After finding who she's looking for, she snaps her attention back to the men a few feet from her and reaches up to quickly unzip her leather riding jacket and pulling it off smoothly. "Yeah, I got a pretty good sense of direction."
"You sure abo-?" is Gemma's bitchy response.
Jax, in the best position to see, has eyes on her reaper, and cuts off his mother firmly, "Gemma."
Taking her cue, Amanda pushes herself up off her bike twisting to flash the ink at Clay and Gemma in the process. Clay immediately steps forward to examine it, suspicious. "This isn't new." he states.
"Nearly 12 years old." Amanda answers the unasked question.
Clay looks at her face. "Then why don't I know you?" His grip is hard just above her elbow and she's careful to not show that he's hurting her. In the corner of her eye, she sees Happy now standing straight, ready to intervene, instead of the casual observance he'd been at before.
"I usually only come to California to visit my mother-in-law." she answers the president in a level tone.
"Why you here now, then?" Clay asks, not letting up on his grip.
Happy has silently closed two-third of the gap between the garage and where they are standing, and he speaks up now. "Fucking Christ, Minnie, just show 'im."
She glares over at Happy. "I was made a Friend of the Club YEARS before that, why isn't being a Friend good enough?!"
Clay looks at Happy. "You know her?"
"He put the reaper on me." she answers before Happy can.
Happy closes the rest of the gap, grabbing her other arm and unbuckling the cuff that is perpetually there and holding up her wrist for Clay to see the big smiley face - nearly 3 inches across - with x's for eyes. "I put this on her, too." When Clay doesn't immediately release her, Happy stares at him hard for a moment before looking down at the fingers he can see digging into her arm and says. "Because she's mine." and looking back up to Clay's eyes.
Seeming to realize and process who he is now fucking with, Clay releases the girl and steps back, watching as she snatches the thick bracelet from Happy's hand and shoves it into one of the smaller bags strung between her handle bars and starts grumbling at him as Old Ladies are wont to do. "Friend of the Club for over a fuckin' decade and the only fuckin' thing that gets any fuckin' respect is being fuckin' property of a fuckin' man and you fuckin' wonder why I won't take a fuckin' crow." and unlocking her bags from her bike. Once they're off, she turns to Happy and says, "Well, you gonna show me where I'm sleeping?"
Happy smiles at her and takes the larger of the bags, saying, "I toldja how cute you are lately?" as he turns to lead her into the clubhouse.
Everyone else wanders back to what they were doing, moving slowly and gossiping about what they'd just witnessed.
In the office, Clay and Gemma both look contemplatively out the window towards the clubhouse.
"That what I think it was?" Gemma asks.
Clay sighs heavily. "If you think that was the Old Lady of the most brutal fucker in the whole club turnin' up outta the blue…. on a bike?..."
"Are we really calling her an Old Lady if she doesn't have a crow?" Gemma asks somewhat incredulously.
"She has a Happy face and a Reaper. And apparently, the Reaper came first. She said she only comes to Cali to visit her mother-in-law; Hap's Ma is down in Bakersfield. If YOU wanna try telling HIM she ain't his Old Lady, you go right ahead." Clay tells his wife.
Gemma rethinks that and says. "I'll pass, thanks." before going to sit back down at the desk and get back to the paperwork she'd abandoned.
In Happy's room, he's settled her bags next to his dresser and is looking at the angry red mark above her elbow from where Clay grabbed her, unhappy, but not really able to do much. "You *have* to mouth off the the President of SAMCRO?" he asks, knowing she isn't at fault, but she also should've known better.
"This Charter created the rules, including the ones for Friends, it's not my fault he doesn't respect shit that he helped set up. Every other clubhouse I've ever rolled up to, I have never been manhandled like that. Questioned, yes, borderline assaulted, no." is the irritated reply as she pulls her hair out of the braid it had been in and uses her fingers to pull out the worst of the tangles before starting to re-braid it. He's not surprised. Much as he'd prefer to have her hair down so he can run his hands through it, they aren't back to a place he can do that yet, much less request it, and she doesn't do well with hot weather, so she would want it off her face and neck. The only reason she'd be in this area of the country in the hot months at all is by his mother's special request; she'd been roped into going to his cousin's wedding last week that he'd been unable to get to due to Club business. And once his Ma had her down here, she'd been stuck for 'a real visit since I never get to see either of you any more'.
Happy sighs. She has a valid point, just like most of those she makes about some of the more fucked up things about the Club, but he can't say anything. She'd kinda been brought into it by accident, first by Bowie, then further by him, but, ultimately, it is the life they have both chosen. She hadn't really been part of the life since leaving him though, just skirting around the edges of it, so he's not surprised it's chafing her to be abruptly back in the middle of things. And it's going to be harder now. He'd done a lot of rising through the ranks in recent years, so the spotlight will be on her a lot more, as he's much better known throughout the whole of the club. Not even mentioning the sweetbutt situation. He hadn't touched any of them since arriving in Charming from Chicago, but it's not his first time here, so there had been questions about his changed ways, and there's a few still around that he'd fucked on past trips.
"How long you here for?" he abandons the previous topic, knowing there's nothing to be done about it right now.
Done with her hair, she hooks her thumbs in her front pockets and hunches her shoulders even as she shrugs a little. "Gotta be up in Tacoma this weekend for Joe's birthday thing. So, a couple days, if you'll have me."
Hap smirks and steps closer, reaching up to brush a few stray strands of hair off her face, and says, "You know I'll take you in my bed anytime." The smile she gives him is tense. "I gotta get back to work, then find out what my evening's looking like. If I ain't busy, come for a ride with me?"
The tension eases slightly, the smile coming easier. She loves going for rides with him - riding bitch on his bike, not them each going out on their own - and it had been their go-to way to just unwind together for as long as they'd been friends.
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Bowie had offered to sponsor him, but the club isn't voting in any new prospects until at least next spring, when one or two of the current ones have either dropped off or patched in, so he's been hanging around more, getting to know some of the guys better. Tonight, Bowie had had him and a handful of other guys over for pizza and to watch the game - Hap's never been very into football, but everyone around here is bananas for the Seahawks -, but Bowie had seemed distracted, glancing out the side window towards the house next door anytime he thought no one would notice. Hap, knowing by now that that's the house that the girl, Amanda, lives in, gets the sense he's keeping an eye out for something.
They'd talked several times in the almost 3 months since that day she'd found him in Bowie's garage, and he thinks she's pretty cool. Doesn't yammer about nothing the way he remembers teenage girls doing when he was in high school. And she's known Bowie basically all her life, and he's been in the club for 6 or so years, so she knows what's up, possibly better than Happy really does at this point. Hangarounds are only trusted so much, but he'd noticed in his time spent at the garage and clubhouse that people forget about kids bein' around most of the time, so she'd probably heard some stuff if she'd spent any amount of time around there.
After the other guys leave, lamenting the loss of the local team, Happy stays back, helping Bowie clean up the paper plates and empty beer bottles. "Somethin' goin' on with Amanda?" he asks the older guy.
Bowie looks up and examines him for a moment before saying, "Her pops ain't the best to begin with, but he needs keeping a closer eye on this time of year."
Hap pauses for a moment to absorb that, before slowly going back to shoving garbage in the bag he's holding. Bowie isn't helping anymore, but Happy doesn't complain. He knows this would be considered very light duty once he gets a prospect kutte.
"'Bout 10 years ago, maybe 11 now, her and her mom were drivin' home from picking up stuff for her birthday party and doin' some last minute Christmas shit. Some trucker, out o' his mind on speed, heading for the port, ran a red light, t-boned 'em." Happy is now fully stopped, attention on Bowie, while Bowie's is on the side window. "Truck crushed their Volvo like a soda can around a telephone pole. Nancy, her mom, bled out in Amanda's lap. With the anniversary and Manda's birthday and Christmas all jammed right up against each other, he hits the bottle even harder than normal this time o' year, likes to take it out on her….. I been worryin' since she hit puberty that one of these days, he ain't gonna stop at just smackin' her around. She's a spittin' image of her mom."
A chill goes down Happy's spine as he suddenly understands why the girl seems so mature for her age. She's about to turn 17, so she'd have held her dying mother in her arms at age 6 or 7, and lived with an abusive, alcoholic father since. One that Bowie's worried will…. Happy can't even think it. He'd run with a gang as a teenager down in Oakland, before his mom had moved them out to Bakersfield with his aunt, and the Sons ain't no choir boys, but he'd never tolerated that particular brand of violence. Neither did Sons, it's one of the things that had drawn him to them over other clubs - there's a very low tolerance for hard drugs and violence against women.
Bowie's voice cuts through the heavy thoughts. "Dump that bag in the can on your way out." Bowie's taking the box with the few remaining slices of pizza to the kitchen, and Hap registers that he'd gotten pretty much everything else. Tying it off, he grabs his leather jacket from where it's slung over the back of the couch and slides it on before grabbing the bag and getting out. Walking around the side of the house to put the bag of trash in the garbage can, he's pulled up short to find the object of the previous conversation just on the other side of said garbage can.
She's on the ground, leaned up against the side of the house, knees pulled up under her chin. It's hasn't been raining the past couple days, but it's icy-cold and windy, and he's sure she must be freezing in nothing but worn jeans, beat-up high-tops, and a long-sleeve tee shirt.
They make eye contact as he dumps the bag of trash and replaces the lid. "Hey." he greets, not really sure what else to say in this situation.
Amanda seems to evaluate him for a moment before asking a very unexpected question. "You got a bitch seat?"
"Yeah?" Happy responds, curious.
"Will you take me for a ride?" his eyebrows go up. "I need to get outta here for awhile."
"Alright." he says, watching her unfold herself and get up. His sportster is next to Bowie's in the driveway, and he opens his mouth to say something as she heads for Bowies instead, before she pulls up the bitch seat on Bowie's bike and pulls out a helmet from the storage compartment under it, which she immediately straps on. He hadn't even thought of that. Also from the storage compartment come leather-and-fleece gloves, which she slides on, reminding him that she'll be even colder on the bike, and he turns to grab his spare hoodie out of his saddle bag, handing it to her as she moves towards his bike after putting the seat back down on Bowie's.
It's a black, zip hoodie with a Harley logo, and she's swimming in it, but he's satisfied she won't completely freeze, so he swings his leg over and pushes his bike upright, flicking the kickstand up, ignoring the thought that she looks cute as she settles herself behind him quickly, in a manner that tells him she's used to riding; with Bowie, if the helmet is any indication.
As he takes off for the back roads outside of town, through the foothills, she's never stiff, moving familiarly with the bike behind him, but she does feel tense. It's nearly half an hour before he feels her begin to relax, heaving out a deep sigh that he senses more than feels or hears and adjusting slightly behind him so she's more comfortable, moving a little closer, but still not crowding him. They've been out for over 2 hours when he pulls into a 24-hour service station with a little diner next door off one of the local smaller highways.
Nodding towards the diner, he says "Get us a table and some coffee." She only hands him her helmet before she walks off, a little bow-legged but not too stiff or uncomfortable-looking, from where he's at by the gas pumps. A few minutes later, he's filled up and parked the bike, and slides into the booth across from her.
He drains half the cup of the hot, dark brew that's waiting for him, not caring that he's burning his mouth, before picking up one of the menus. The waitress appears a couple minutes later, as he's tipping the last of the coffee into his mouth, refilling both of them and taking their order. He gets a burger and fries, then frowns as she tells the waitress she doesn't want anything. Determined to make her eat something - he'd decided weeks ago that she's too skinny and his ma would have his head if he didn't at least try to fatten her up when he has the opportunity - he orders an extra side of fries before the waitress walks off to put in their order.
It's not exactly quiet in the diner, with a couple other tables hosting late-night occupants and some oldies station playing on the radio behind the counter, but it's peaceful, and they study each other over their coffee. Eventually, she breaks the silence. "Joe tell you about my dad?"
"A bit." is Happy's honest reply. "And your mom."
Amanda's gaze drops to her coffee. There's a few more minutes of silence, during which the food is brought over, and Happy adamantly sets the extra basket of fries in front of her. She sighs, but reaches for the ketchup and starts slowly munching while he digs into his burger. He's surprised when she speaks again a few minutes later.
"I didn't talk for almost a year after it happened, except to freak out and start screaming every time someone tried to put me in a car."
Happy thinks that that is perfectly reasonable for a child who was in a major accident and held their dying mother while trapped in said wrecked car, but he doesn't say anything, only continuing to eat and watching as she chews through a couple more fries before saying more.
"When Joe turned 16, his parents were gonna get him a used car, but he asked them for a bike instead. They refused for weeks, until he explained that it was so that he could take me the places I need to go - doctor's appointments and shit - without freaking out about riding in a car. Annie still wasn't thrilled, but she thought he was so sweet for it that she gave in and talked Tim around." She sighs and settles back against the seat, looking out over the small parking lot and the 2-lane highway beyond. "Dad would be out drinking til all hours, leaving me home alone, and Joe knew I wasn't sleeping because of nightmares - his room back then was right across from mine, so he could see into my window-, so he'd come over and get me all bundled up and take me out for night rides."
"So why'd you ask me tonight?" Happy's curious. She and Bowie are obviously close.
She snorts, and he can't tell if it's from frustration or amusement. "Since I turned 16 and he realized I had tits, he's been weird about it. He'll still gimme a lift if I have to go somewhere that's too far on my pedal bike, but rides just for riding are pretty rare these days."
Finishing off his burger, he nudges the fries in front of her to prompt her to eat more - she'd barely munched through a quarter of them - before starting on his own fries slowly, in no hurry. Evaluating her for a minute, he reaches into the jacket he'd thrown into the booth before him earlier, fishing out the little notepad and a pen that he keeps on him for quick sketches. Writing down his home number and the one for the tattoo shop he has a chair at several days a week, he tears out the page and slides it over to her, saying "Well, I can't start prospecting 'til spring at the earliest, so, until then, gimme a call when you need a night ride."
Amanda pulls the paper to her slowly, almost solemn as she looks up and says "Thank you, Happy."
He doesn't even know what his mouth is doing, but his brain is not in control as he says, "David." Only his ma and his aunt call him David anymore; he'd picked up Happy as a nickname in juvie at age 15 and had used it as his name ever since.
Whatever the reason he'd told her, he decides it's worth it as she gives him a small but genuine smile before folding up the paper and shifting to slide it into her jeans pocket, then goes back to eating her fries, this time with a little enthusiasm.
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"I have to make a couple calls, then I'll probably take a nap."
Happy nods. "Ma make you eat breakfast?"
"You know she did." she answers with an eye roll. "And, no, I'm not going to be able to eat again until it cools off for the day." Part of her aversion to hot weather - she overheats so easily that she's nauseous almost constantly during the day, only able to keep small portions of food down very first thing in the morning, or late in the evening after the sun is down and it's cooled off a bit. He'd learned the hard way not to push it, or she'll end up puking and dehydrating even more because she then can't even keep water down. The wedding had been a week and a half ago, so she'd been eating very little for while. He's not surprised she wants to nap.
"Kitchen's behind the bar, at least grab a couple water bottles before you fall asleep." Happy catches her around the waist as she moves to dig her cell phone from her bags. Gathering her to him, he enjoys just holding her for a minute as she leans into him, and he dips his head down to brush a kiss along her hairline. "I'm glad you stopped in." he tells her before letting her go. It's not as hot in here as outside, but it's not air conditioned either, and he doesn't want to make anything worse by cuddling her when she's already uncomfortably warm.
A playful shove on his stomach prompts him to move towards the door to get back to work.
Back in the garage, the questions begin almost immediately. "So, who's THAT?" Jax asks with a shit-eating grin.
"My Old Lady." Happy replies blankly as he leans back over the car he'd been working on.
"When the hell did tha' happen?" Chib's question is incredulous.
Having to stop and actually think about it, Hap answers after a moment. "Comin' up on 10 years." He'll have to make sure they're at least in the same city for their anniversary this fall, if they aren't living together again by then.
"And we've never heard word one about her because….?" Jackson asks from his spot in the next bay helping Tig with the engine he's rebuilding.
Happy looks over from his position bent under the hood of the Acura, catching Tig's understanding eye momentarily before moving onto Jax. "It was never any o' your business. Still isn't."
There's a sudden tension as Happy holds the young VP's gaze before going back to his work, broken only by Tig asking Jax to hand him something that's behind the younger man. Realizing Tig had been uncharacteristically silent since the woman had appeared, Jax quietly asks, "You've been pretty quiet since she got here. You know something?"
Just as quietly, Tig replies, "I know a lotta things, Jacky." Jackson's only response is to narrow his eyes at the dark haired man on the other side of the bench. Sighing, Tig continues, "He's one o' my best friends, man. It don't effect the club, it ain't anyone's business unless he decides to tell ya. Would you be spilling your guts willy-nilly about Opie and Donna to anyone that was curious?"
The young blond man blows out a sigh and lets the topic drop, knowing it's a valid point.
Happy clocks off at 6, making sure everything's organized for him to pick up in the morning and pulling his bay door shut before detouring to Manda's bike and unlocking the case to pull out her guitar in it's semi-soft case before relocking the shell. He knows it'll be secure in the lot, but she gets paranoid leaving it on the bike overnight, and will want it in the room.
"I was wonderin' what the hell that was." Bobby's voice says from the picnic tables as Hap approaches. "Not like any bags I've ever seen, knew it had to be custom for somethin'. Your girl a performer?"
Happy nods. "Yeah, she tours around doing small gigs; bars, clubhouses, occasional festival. We had the case fabricated when we built her bike years ago." He moves into the clubhouse before the older man can ask any further questions. It's Tuesday, so the place is more or less dead, only the guys that are here full time and the hangaround, Juice, who Chibs is seriously considering sponsoring, occupying the corner with the pool table now that work's done for the day.
Not wanting to socialize, he heads straight for his room. Knowing she's probably still asleep, taps a few times on his door, and waits several seconds before opening it. His brothers joke about not startling him awake or whoever does it will be shot or stabbed, but he'd actually picked that up from her as much as hard times with the club and time inside.
Growing up in a violent house had left it's marks on her, and that includes being a light sleeper who does not hesitate to attack if she's startled awake. She isn't as bad as when they first got together, but he still makes sure to make a noise to start pulling her from slumber if she's not expecting him to come in, especially now that she isn't used to him after being apart for years. He doesn't feel like using her guitar to fend off her half-asleep knife attack right now.
Inside the room, she's rubbing her eyes, but still laying in bed, on top of the covers, in a tank top and panties. She found a box fan somewhere and has set it up on the dresser facing her side of the bed. There's two water bottles on the nightstand on that side, one of which is empty while the other is halfway there, and he's glad she'd remembered.
By the time he's set down her guitar and gone into the attached bathroom to wash the grease off his hands and forearms, the only movement from Amanda has been for her to flip onto her stomach and burrow her head into the cavity created by her arms over her head but under the pillow. Deciding a nap sounds pretty good, Happy strips down to his boxers and climbs in the other side of the bed.
Knowing better than to try and snuggle with her, he instead settles on his back and rests the arm closest to her on her hip, hand cupping the deliciously round ass cheek. Setting an alarm on his phone for a couple hours later, when the sun will be starting to set, he drifts off quickly.
Later that night, they come out of his dorm, and he knows he can't avoid introducing her to at least a couple of the guys before they go. Not that he *would* avoid it, normally, but he's anxious to get out on the road for a couple hours then find somewhere quiet to talk.
Tig recently sold his house as part of his divorce settlement with Colleen, so he's one of the guys here. He smiles as the pair wanders over, opening his arms wide and exclaiming "MINNIE MOUSE!"
Manda returns the smile and does a little skippy dance the last few feet as she exclaims back "T-I-DOUBLE-GUH" and steps into his hug, proclaiming the "EERRRRRR" as he picks her up and spins her around once before letting go, not wanting to push his luck with Hap.
Happy is saved from introductions as Tig takes over immediately. "Guys, this is Hap's Old Lady, Minnie. Min, that's Jax, Chibs, and Frankie, and the hangaround we're callin' Juice."
"Hey, guys." she greets with a friendly smile that only Happy can tell is forced. She's trying not to hold Clay's earlier actions against the whole charter, but it had left a bad taste in her mouth about Redwood.
"Nice to meet ya, darlin'." Jax steps forward, hand extended. "Sorry about earlier, we can never be too careful about outsiders randomly poppin' up claimin' to be friends."
Happy cringes inwardly. He knows Jax had meant it as an actual apology, but the apology factor was effectively negated by calling her an outsider and saying she's 'claiming' to be a Friend. It's disrespectful to her, him, and the whole Tacoma charter, but there's nothing that either of them can do about it right now.
Thankfully, she understands the politics and doesn't call out the disrespect. He knows she'll definitely be talking to Blue about when she gets up to Tacoma on Friday, though. Now the President of the Tacoma charter, it'll be up to Blue to address how a Friend of Tacoma's has been treated by another charter, and he'll have to be exceptionally careful in how he handles it considering who the charter is. If it had been any other clubhouse, they'd be formally apologizing to her and Tacoma, but Clay isn't known for following rules unless it suits him, which has left some of the guys here with rather bad manners. Handled correctly, it could hurt his reputation with other charters. More than the damage he's done already, anyway. Jax, at the least, would get a very serious talking to. He might be a Teller and the VP of the Mother Charter, but Blue is a president and had been a member of the club almost as long as Jax had been alive, so he has rank, even if some around Charming are too far up their own asses to understand that. Hopefully, Blue can school Jax on some of the finer points of being an officer and how to talk to people before Jax starts making them more enemies.
"Of course," is the level, non-committal answer Manda gives. Seasoned members, Tig and Chibs exchange a quick look behind their VP's back as Jax looks pleased, obviously thinking that means the apology has been accepted. "It was nice meeting you boys, but we were heading out for a ride."
"How long you hanging around?" Tig asks.
"Few days. Headin' up to Tacoma this weekend for Bowie's birthday."
Tig nods happily. "Good, we'll catch up later. You two kids stay outta trouble, now!" he teases as Happy and Amanda turn to walk outside. Happy responds by flipping him off, getting a round of laughter from the guys.
Happy takes them out the back roads past Lodi, then further east and south, more than halfway to Yosemite, before turning back west. They're on the outskirts of Stockton when he pulls into a roadside greasy-spoon and checks his phone for messages only to find it's nearly midnight, and they've been riding for over 3 hours.
They settle into a booth away from the few other patrons and far enough from the kitchen that they don't have to worry about being overheard as long as they don't start yelling. Well, as long as Happy doesn't start yelling. If it gets to that point, Amanda goes icy cold.
Coffee for both of them, he orders a cheeseburger and smirks as she orders breakfast. It's her favorite classification of food, and he's pleased at the amount she orders. The ride must've cooled her off and settled her stomach.
After the waitress walks off, they stare at each other over their cups of coffee.
Happy breaks the silence. "I cheated on you." he admits quietly, actually taking responsibility for it for the first time.
*f*l*a*s*h*b*a*c*k*
His wife is out of town for the weekend, playing some festival somewhere in Colorado, and he has seized the opportunity to get rip-roaring drunk. Not that he *can't* do that when she's home, but if he does it when she's home, he's worried about scaring her if he goes home or if she's at the clubhouse with him, which means he doesn't enjoy it much. Her father is a raging, violent alcoholic, and, while she had become more comfortable being around people who are drinking over the years hanging around the clubhouse (and especially since moving out of her father's house), he knows she doesn't particularly enjoy it most of the time. So, he'll have a few drinks at the clubhouse if she isn't there, but he rarely gets drunk.
When the remaining people at the Saturday night party start shedding clothes, Happy takes his cue to stumble up to his room, barely registering that the sweetbutt that has been hanging off him all night comes with him. At least, he doesn't until he's being pushed back against his dorm room door and she's on her knees, pulling his pants and boxers down.
He stares down at the dark head of hair as the bitch strokes him into hardness then over-eagerly takes as much of him into her mouth as she can, part of his whiskey-soaked brain telling him something is wrong but not caring enough to override the rest of his brain that's really just focussed on getting his dick wet.
The blow job is mediocre at best, so he pulls her up and growls at her to strip as the tiny bit of sense he has left at this point forces him to step over to the nightstand, pull out a condom and roll it on. She tries to crawl into the bed and he stops her, spinning her back around so she's facing the door and kicking her feet, still in obnoxiously high heels, wide before shoving into her with no care whether she's ready or not. The club girls always are, or they take steps to make damn sure it appears that way.
It isn't good sex, and he tries not to think about it, instead slipping back into old habits from before… 'no don't think about her'... The sweetbutt is doing the fake pornstar moaning bullshit that most of them do, so he's surprised when she either actually cums or fakes it well enough for him to not be able to tell, the surprise and tightly pulsing pussy clenching around him pushing him over the edge.
A little of the alcohol has burned out of his system by now, and the guilt sets in immediately. Pulling out of her, he slides the condom off his still-half-hard dick and growls "Get out!" before tossing the rubber and stalking over to the dresser to pull out a towel and his shower kit, listening as the bitch pulls her dress back on and just grabs her panties before leaving with a huff, as if she had expected an invitation to stay. Once she's gone, he strips down to his boxers, righting those on his hips, and waits a couple minutes to make sure she'll be gone before emerging from his room to head down the hall to the communal bathrooms closest to his room, hoping at least one of them is unoccupied.
The Tacoma clubhouse is big, to accommodate the larger than average charter, with two levels of dorm rooms over the main bar, kitchen, and chapel. The top level of dorms are more like small apartments, larger, with their own tvs, chairs or sofas, bathrooms, mini-fridge, and microwave. They're reserved for the guys that live here full time, or long-term visitors if there happen to be any empty. Hap had given up his big room not long after he and Amanda had started dating, because he was spending 4 or 5 nights a week with her anyway. He'd officially moved in with her after 7 months, not long before they'd decided to get married. Now, he just has the smaller dorm on the second floor that's assigned to him for nights that he stays for whatever reason, if they don't need it for visitors.
One of the bathrooms is, thankfully, free, and he locks the door, setting the shower on the hottest setting he can handle and pulling the shit he needs from his shower kit before stepping in. There, hot water beating down on him, he feels his stomach sink to his knees.
Like most couples in this life, they have rules about sweetbutts. Satisfied with Manda, he's more accommodating than a lot of members are with their Old Ladies. The typical rule is 'What happens on the road stays on the road', and the women just have to deal with it, settle for the fact that their man isn't fucking around at home. Happy had actually been prepared to give up sweetbutts alltogether, and been surprised at the conditions she offered.
"Don't fuck them. I'd prefer you just wait to get home, but if you can't and your hand isn't gonna cut it, get your dick sucked. I don't want to hear about it, but if I ever ask for some reason, NEVER lie to me."
Now, a few months out from their 5th wedding anniversary, he'd royally fucked up. He's at the weird place between drunk and hungover that he knows, the moment he's sober again, he's going to fucking hate himself, but it hasn't really sunk in yet.
She gets back from Colorado the middle of the following week. After dropping her stuff at home, she heads to the clubhouse to find him, not knowing that he'd taken a shift to cover someone at the tattoo shop, only to overhear the sweetbutt he'd fucked bragging to a couple of the others. She would've written it off, but the girl said something about one of his tattoos - one she had requested he get in exchange for him putting his Smiley on her. A Minnie Mouse tattoo, low on his hip. That being her nickname around the club since even before Bowie had started bringing her around, she'd wanted him marked in the same way she was, and he'd done it happily, only smirking at her show of possessiveness.
The girl could've heard about it talking to girls from other clubhouses - she's never asked, but assumes he's taken advantage of the rules while out on runs - but she provided enough detail to the other two girls she's sitting with that Amanda isn't convinced. Turning on her heel, she gives up her search for her husband and ignores Kozik calling a greeting to her as he spots her while he walks out of the clubhouse, instead getting back on her bike and going straight back to the small house they rent to cry for awhile before figuring out what she's going to do. He'd seemed so fine with the rules, she'd never seriously considered the possibility of him breaking them.
That evening, Happy walks trepidatiously into their house. Koz had called him at the shop, warning him that she'd stopped by the clubhouse and, from what he could gather, heard the sweetbutt he'd nailed last weekend bragging. She's waiting for him at the kitchen table, two cups of coffee out, face blank in the way he has only seen when she's just been dealing with her father or is doing the club a favor and needs to keep a tight hold on her emotions.
Kicking off his boots and hanging up his kutte, he slowly moves into the kitchen from the front door and sits across from her, taking the cup of coffee she had poured as she heard him pull up. When he finally forces himself to meet her eyes, he knows she can see he feels guilty, and it's all the confirmation she needs.
After a sip of her own coffee, she says simply, "I don't know what to do." Neither of them seems to know what to say, so they finish their coffee in stony silence.
When she sleeps in the guest room that night, he understands, even if he isn't happy about it. After several days of them barely interacting, he starts lashing out at her, trying to just get a reaction. All he succeeds in doing is making her pull back more the more he argues at her, and he only gets more and more angry. Angry at himself, at what he did, about making her pull away, but he's taking it out on her, as if she has no right to be upset.
6 weeks later, she's just… gone. All the stuff that's *theirs* is still in the house, but her things just seem to evaporate one day while he's at work. He asks the club Intelligence Officer to run a trace, but all he comes up with is a newly-rented storage unit, paid for a year in advance on their joint account's debit card, and that she's prepaid her bike insurance for a year as well. She's in the wind for nearly 6 months, until the Missoula charter calls just after New Years to get confirmation of her Friend status, and he finds out she had shown up offering to entertain them for a night in exchange for a room. Apparently she'd had a gig scheduled at a bar somewhat-nearby that subsequently got cancelled, but they didn't tell her until she was there, and she didn't have the cash on hand for a motel room for the night, and didn't want to risk the potentially-icy roads at night riding back out.
It pisses Happy off all over again, because there's plenty in their joint checking account for her to get a room for months, but she won't touch it, now obviously considering it 'his' money instead of 'theirs'.
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"You did." is Amanda's reply.
"I hated myself for it and wanted to be punished so we could work shit out and move on, and when that didn't happen, I got frustrated, and started taking it out on you." he continues. He'd actually consulted someone about this part. Not trusting his mother to keep her trap shut faced with the possibility of them reconciling, he'd called Blue's Old Lady, Andi, who had advised that he own up to absolutely everything before apologizing. Her words ring through his head as he thinks about exactly what to say. 'Be honest, and specific. Half-ass apologies ain't gonna fix shit.' Taking a steeling gulp of the bitter liquid in front of him, he says, "You didn't deserve any of it, and I have felt like a complete asshole ever since."
Her expression shifts, but she stays quiet, and he knows she'd just physically stopped herself from saying something. "What?"
"It's nothing that's going to be helpful in fixing this," she says, dismissively.
Meeting her eyes, he pleads, "You used to tell me everything. Even if it isn't helpful, whatever it is is something about how you are feeling, and I need to know that, Manda."
She sighs, looking off to the side as she says, "You felt like an asshole, but not enough of one to keep you from plowing through every piece of willing pussy in North America."
Happy cringes, holding off on replying for a moment as the waitress comes over with their food and confirms they don't need anything else before walking off again. After they both have a few bites down, he responds. "I know it probably doesn't help, but it was all horrible, and didn't mean anything other than getting off." No, she's the only woman he'd ever had GOOD sex with, having been too young and impatient before moving up north, preferring to just get both of them off as quickly as possible without stopping to enjoy it, then getting caught up in the club culture where the bitches have no expectations about quality before they'd gotten together.
"I know the feeling." she says. It isn't blatant, but the reminder that she'd been out having sex with other dudes since leaving sits heavy in Happy's gut. She hadn't been a virgin when they'd hooked up, but she'd only been with a few guys, and none of them had gotten her off, so she can only be talking about newer experiences. He forces himself to keep eating.
They're both quiet as they finish their food and Happy pays the bill.
Back out at the bike, he intercepts her reaching for her helmet, standing in front of her, with his hand on her hips instead. When she looks up at him, he softly, finally, says, "I'm sorry."
She nods a little. "I know," she replies, just as softly before letting out a small sigh and he can almost see her organizing her thoughts. "It's not gonna happen right away."
"I know," he acknowledges. It's been 5 years and he hasn't forgiven himself, he can't expect her to in the space of a few weeks of phone calls and one meal. Letting her go, they both pull helmets back on and get back on the bike for the 30 minute ride up the freeway back to Charming.
The next morning, Happy simultaneously smacks off the alarm and registers that he's alone in bed. Sitting up, he blinks hard to focus his eyes in the muted light spilling through the blinds and sees her stuff is still here, but the guitar isn't, so she's probably just had a burst of needing to write and gone to find somewhere quiet. He pulls clothes on for the day and ducks into the bathroom before wandering out to the main bar area, spotting her immediately in the far corner, sitting on one of the couches, guitar in her lap and scribbling in a notebook.
Heading into the kitchen, he quickly starts the coffee pot - it's usually Bobby that does it, but Bobby won't be here for at least another half hour - and pulls some eggs out of the fridge, setting them by the stove and putting a pan on to get warm before turning to throw bread in the toaster. Ten minutes later, he's walking out of the kitchen, two paper plates in one hand and two cups of coffee in the other.
It's just egg sandwiches because he knows she needs to eat before it gets hot, but she smiles up at him brightly like he's done something extraordinary. As always, he's pleased that she's happy because of something he did and also a little sad, because her expectations are so low after basically raising herself that she's amazed by the most simple thoughtfulness directed at her. "Morning!" she chirps brightly.
"Mornin'," he grumbles back. Once he's been awake for awhile, he's good, but it takes a solid hour before he's remotely personable. Not that he's ever very personable to begin with.
Amanda's immune to his grumpiness, digging in to get the food down quickly, wanting it settled before the heat of the day sets in, then savoring her coffee, this being the only cup of her favorite drink she'll be able to have until nightfall. It's still gone inside 10 minutes, and she turns back to her notebook as Happy grabs her mug and discarded plate before walking back into the kitchen.
Tig's in there, pouring his own cup of coffee as Hap tosses the plates and washes the mug Amanda had used before taking the carafe from Tig and refilling his own. The men stand there for a minute, sipping coffee silently, before Tig asks, "You guys get things worked out?"
Happy lets out a big sigh. "We're getting there."
"Man you are so lucky she didn't just divorce your ass years ago," Tig says, mostly lamenting his own recent divorce.
"Nah," Hap responds, shaking his head, "she'd never do that to Ma." His mother had been so happy when she'd found out he had a girl that she'd taken her first real vacation in 20 years to come up to Tacoma for a few weeks to stay with him (Bowie had kindly offered him and his mom the two guest rooms in his house so she wouldn't be at the clubhouse). She had been pissed to not be at the wedding later that year, but they'd ensured it was video taped and mailed down. He hadn't found out that Amanda had kept in regular contact with Ma after leaving until more than a year after the fact.
"I still can't believe you used your wedding to prank the whole fucking charter." Tig says, chuckling into his mug.
*f*l*a*s*h*b*a*c*k*
Happy'd officially moved in with Amanda the beginning of September. Now, the second week of October, he knows that if he is ever going to marry a woman, it will be this one. He intends to just talk to her about the general possibility, but it turns quickly into them going 'well, you wanna marry me and I wanna marry you so why should we wait?'
It's her idea to not tell anyone. Well, almost anyone.
"Well, pretty much everyone either of us would invite is going to be at the club Halloween party anyway, what if we just tell Spanner to dress up as a priest, and I'll wear a wedding dress and you rent a tux and we roll up with everyone laughing because they've been calling us 'the newlyweds' anyway, then BAM wedding." Spanner is the Secretary, and had gotten ordained years ago to be able to do Club weddings rather than them calling in a priest every time.
Happy thinks that would be hilarious, and Spanner agrees when Happy pulls him aside before church the next day. After the meeting, he pulls Bird, the IO, aside asking him to bring his video camera to the party, telling him only that something will be happening that he wants to make sure to get on tape. Bird raises an eyebrow but agrees easily.
Andi and Jonesy's wife, Katie, are pissed about missing out on planning a proper wedding, but eventually concede the hilarity after the fact. They don't exchange rings, but get their tattoos the following week along with congratulations from his boss at the shop, Jeff.
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Happy joins in the chuckling, idly thinking that there's guys up in Tacoma now who don't even know the origin of the still-running joke at Church before every holiday blowout about starting a betting pool about who's getting hitched.
In short order, Chibs and Bobby both come into the kitchen, so Happy and Tig vacate it, Tig wandering back down the hall to get ready for the day while Happy goes back over to Amanda again. Standing next to her, he waits until she looks up at him to speak. "I'm scheduled to work all day, but that'll depend on how busy it is and if anything comes up for the club."
Amanda nods, saying, "I'll probably hide out in here most of the day. Head back to your room before it gets noisy out here."
"If you get bored, I keep extra cleaning shit under my sink."
She smiles up at him indulgently. His ma, Rosa, had drilled his clean and tidy habits into him since childhood, and she has always found it somewhat at odds with his nature. He's disciplined, but, if his life hadn't been just so, she has a feeling he'd be all kinds of messy and chaotic. The artist in him.
Tig emerges from the hallway, calling, "Let's get to WORK." as he strides towards the door.
"See you later." she says as Happy drains his coffee and walks off, leaving the cup on a table as he passes for someone else to pick up. She hasn't seen a Prospect around yet, but it had been mentioned that the hangaround from last night is looking to, so she imagines he'll be in to clean and kiss some ass soon. No one but Clay had seemed openly hostile towards her, but she's still leery of facing guys who *might* be without either of the two guys she knows immediately available to back her up, so she gathers her things and heads back to Happy's room, giving a quick smile to Bobby, who's coming out of the kitchen as she passes.
They're sitting around eating lunch when Gemma comments on not seeing his girl yet today.
"She was writing when I got up this mornin', probably still holed up in my room tryin' to finish a song." he says, not saying that it's equally as likely that she had gotten frustrated and decided to go back to sleep.
"Hey, is she the girl that's been making the rounds to clubhouses the past few years?" Bobby asks. As secretary for the mother charter, he talks to other charters more than almost anyone, so it's no surprise he's heard of her.
Happy nods as he finishes chewing the bite of sandwich he's just taken.
"She's good, too," Tig chimes in. "Haven't seen her play in a hot minute, we should get her to give us a show before she leaves."
Shrugging, Happy says, "Up to her. She's leaving Friday morning."
"So, how exactly is it tha' Tiggy knows 'er so well, an' the rest of us didn't even know she existed?" Chibs questions.
Tig answer for Happy. "Remember that time about 10 years ago I spent awhile up north? Got to know her then. Hap too, for that matter - you'd only been patched in, what, a couple years then? Anyway, I was at the wedding. Not that any of us knew it was a wedding at first. Started out with us just thinkin' that Spanner had dressed up as a preacher for Halloween. Then those two, they'd been hot and heavy for like 6 months since they finally started datin' and Hap had JUST moved out of the clubhouse and into her apartment, so everyone was teasin' 'em, callin' 'em 'the newlyweds'. They come down from his dorm room to the party and this guy's in a fuckin' tux and she's in a pretty white dress, and we all had a good laugh, then Spanner cuts the music and is like, 'OK fuckers, gather round!'." Tig and Happy both laugh again at the memory, several of the others joining in.
Gemma points at Jackson menacingly, "Don't you even fucking dare."
Still laughing, Jax puts his hands up in surrender, saying, "Don't worry, mom, when I get married, you can go nuts with the planning."
"How'd your mom take that, Hap? I'm guessin' part of the surprise meant not bringing her up." Bobby asks thoughtfully.
Happy shrugs a bit. "She wasn't thrilled to miss it, but we made sure it got on video and sent it to her, and she was just so fuckin' happy I was married at all that she got over it pretty quick. Ma adores Minnie."
"Married 10 years and no kids to give your Ma grandbabies?" Gemma asks, arching an eyebrow.
Happy's good humor evaporates. "No, and if I find out you have said ANYTHING like that to Minnie, we're gonna have fucking problems." With this, he stands and tosses his garbage in the empty takeout bag before going back to work.
Gemma stares after him, wondering if she should take that as a challenge like she would with any other member.
"Gem," Tig says quietly to pull her attention back. When she looks at him, he tells her, "I ain't tellin' you why, but I would strongly suggest not pushing on that." Gemma process that for a moment, noting that she had been right to feel like that wasn't a challenge, but a legit warning, from one of the few club members that actually scares her. The rest of the group is now subdued but still curious as they stuff their trash into the bag and move to go back to work.
*f*l*a*s*h*b*a*c*k*
Happy's sitting at the bar of the clubhouse, sipping a beer and staring at a full and sealed bottle of whiskey that he hasn't decided yet if he's going to crack or not. He knows he has his Killa face on, because his brothers had all left him well alone since he'd rolled up, and the Prospect had looked ready to piss himself getting Hap what he demanded.
So, he's surprised when Blue's Old Lady, Andi, settles on the stool next to him. The Prospect is quick about setting a gin and tonic in front of her and scampering off. Once he's gone, she says to Happy, "First big fight?"
Hap only grunts in the affirmative, taking another swig of his beer. He and Manda had been married for over 2 years, and this is their first major blowout. They argue about things, of course, but today is the first time he's ever gotten really upset with her to the point of yelling. The moment his voice had raised, she'd shut down completely, barely responding.
"I can't help ya if you don't give me somethin' to work with, hun," Andi says after a moment, when she realizes he's not going to talk on his own.
Sighing, he realizes he could actually use the older woman's take on it. At the least, it will probably be more helpful than whatever answers are waiting at the bottom of the bottle in front of him. "I want kids." he tells her quietly.
When no other explanation is forthcoming, Andi asks, "And she doesn't?"
Another swig of his beer. "Says she hasn't decided, and, if she did, it wouldn't be anytime soon."
"Well…" Andi starts, thinking for a minute as she sips on her drink. "She's only, what, 22? Makes sense. I mean, would you have been ready for kids at 22? You were a hangaround at that age, right?" He thinks about it for several moments before conceding the point. Yes, he had in fact just turned 22 when he'd met Manda in Bowie's garage. And no, he wouldn't have been ready for kids. Seeing him starting to relax a little, Andi continues, "Are you sure you're even really ready for them now? It's a massive responsibility. One that will fall more on her than you."
His eyes cut over to her and he grinds out, "I'd take care of my fuckin' family."
Andi nods. "Yeah, hun, but you have work at the tattoo shop, and work at the garage, and Club responsibilities that call you away at a moment's notice. I don't see you lettin' your rugrats go into daycare, so who do you think is going to have to drop their job and pretty much every other less-than-kid-friendly activity to get stuck at home changing diapers and getting covered in baby puke day in and day out?"
He's reluctant, but has to admit she's right. Manda makes decent money waitressing at a diner out by the port, but he makes much more between tattooing, pulling a couple shifts a week at the garage, and payouts for runs and various other club jobs. It would be her that quit her job, and she'd have to scale her gigs way back. Can't take a baby to bars just so she can play a set 3-4 nights a week.
Sensing she's getting through, Andi goes on. "Besides, what's the rush? You guys got plenty of time for kids. Women can have babies into their mid-30s these days. And houses and college ain't gettin' any cheaper. Enjoy being young, save up as much as you can, get yourselves real stable, then, when both of you are ready, talk about kids again."
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Andi had brought him around those years ago, and he had apologized to Manda, but it had remained a sensitive subject. Between his mom asking when she's getting grandbabies, and other club people who meant well teasing them, it was never an issue that got fully settled. Part of that is his fault, Happy knows. He'd tried not to pressure her, but Tacoma, being so big, has usually 1 or 2 kids getting popped out every year - one year there'd been 5. There was a certain amount of pressure to be like all the other couples, and he can admit to craving the acceptance as much as wanting the kids. He tried not to ask too often, but Manda could always see how he looked at the pregnant women and new parents showing off around the clubhouse, and felt bad despite holding to her convictions that she wasn't ready.
After so long, he'd actually kind of forgotten it was an issue until Gemma'd said something.
The garage is slow that afternoon, so Happy clocks out early around 3, and heads into the clubhouse. Bobby's got paperwork spread out at one of the tables, on the phone, and he doesn't see Manda anywhere, so he nods a greeting to the Secretary before heading back to his room. Tapping on the door before entering, he's unsurprised to find her napping, though, from the looks of it, she had at least gotten some things done before she laid down. Her cell phone is sitting on top of her day planner, so she'd probably been getting some gigs lined up. The small amount of dirty clothes are no longer on the floor, and the towels are folded and sitting in the bathroom when he goes in to wash his hands, so he'd bet that she'd found the little laundry room and run a load, not that either of them has much in the way of clothes with them.
He settles himself sitting up on the bed next to her, leaning back against the wall, and starts thinking hard.
Things are different now; she'd been right about that back in Chicago. While he'd never considered himself idealistic, he had once been a lot less jaded than he is now. The things he's seen and done for the club, what he's seen his brothers go through, what they drag their families through…. He's not nearly so sure he even wants kids anymore. If she does and says the word, he'll go with it with no regrets, but he's definitely past the point of actively pursuing them. He knows, if they're gonna happen, it'll be in the next couple years. She's 30 now, if they're gonna pop any out, they're running out of time.
And if they do? What then? He'd have to transfer back to a stationary charter, which he isn't opposed to, but where? He won't risk her health and happiness making her be in hot weather most of the year, so Charming is almost assuredly out, but it's the club closest to his Ma. Maybe he can get Ma to relocate up to Tacoma with them? She probably wouldn't fuss too much. If they have them, she'll go where her grandbabies are. Hell, she'd probably live with them, helping them raise the kids. And…. that would allow Manda more freedom to work or gig, which might be a point in favor for her. For both of them, really. Ma bein' there to help Manda if something happened to him would help ease his mind.
Next to him, Amanda stretches, and her eyes slowly blink open.
"Hey, sleeping beauty," he says, chuckling at how cute and disheveled she is just waking up.
"Hey," she croaks out as she pulls herself up to sit next to him against the wall. Leaning against his arm, she lays her head on his shoulder before saying, "You have thinking face."
Happy lets out a sigh, knowing he can't avoid it. She knows him too well, and he's not going to risk this tentative reconciliation. "Gemma brought up the kids thing." Manda doesn't say anything, so he continues. "I know it's early in this for us to be talking about it, but you aren't 22 anymore. We need to decide soonish."
"Yeah." she agrees. There's a beat of silence, then she says, "I have some gigs booked in Tacoma and Seattle, planning on staying up there for at least a couple weeks…. Did Bowie tell you my dad kicked it?" He nods, knowing she'll feel the movement. Bowie had called both of them about 8 months ago with the news that her father had had a massive heart attack and died. "I got the house. I still need to clean it out and move my stuff out of storage, was thinking of doing that and making it home base while I'm up there. Maybe just doing trips out of town like I used to?"
Happy's surprised and thrilled she's asking him for his thoughts on it. It means she's planning on keeping him included in her future. "Sounds like a plan. Bowie has the spare key to my storage unit. It's in the same place as yours." With this, he tells her he'd like for them to live together again. "He should have your updated debit card for the joint account, too. In case you need to get anything." Happy'd never taken her off his accounts, so she'd continued to get a new debit card every two years as the previous one expired. He'd picked up his new one last time he was in Tacoma a couple months ago, and activated hers before handing it off to Bowie for safekeeping, so she'll have a nearly brand-new one waiting for her.
"It'll be weird having a bank account again, instead of hiding cash in my saddlebags." is her nonchalant response.
His heart jumps thinking about what could have happened to her if anyone knew she had any amount of cash out on the road, but he swallows his comment.
She can sense what he's thinking, though. "Don't worry, it's never too much. Anytime I'm getting overloaded, I make a trip home and put it in my safe. I got it after I left, so it's near the front of my unit, and I'm careful about who sees me with money." He doesn't tell her that some people would kill her for $50 if that's all she had. He knows she's cautious, and good at taking care of herself. He'd made sure she knows how to use a gun long before they even got together, and she's pretty handy with a knife when she needs to be.
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Considering the Sons run guns, it's not hard to get her a couple unregistered ones. She lives on her own and is a known Friend of theirs around Tacoma, so Happy, worried, arranges for them, along with a decent stock of ammo, before taking her out to the shooting range outside of town and teaching her how to handle both the .9 mil Glock and the .38 Special.
He stands close behind the 18 year old girl, trying to ignore how good she smells, and how hot she is holding a gun, patiently correcting her stance and grip, explaining that she needs to hold the gun this way and not further up, or the slide will cut her hand up as the Glock reloads itself. The facility requires ear protection, which he'd rolled his eyes at, so she moves the plastic earmuffs into place the same time he does his, and he hits the button to send the target about 30 feet down the range.
By the end of the third clip and target, she's gotten the hang of aiming and moving with the recoil, and is hitting the right general areas of the man-shaped silhouette on the paper targets, so he pulls their ear muffs off and goes through the same process with the .38, which she seems more comfortable with. But that might just be because she's over the slight nervousness she'd had initially.
"You really think I'm going to need these?" she asks at one point.
Looking down at her, he considers his answer carefully. "I don't know. But I would rather you have them and know how to use them in case you ever do."
Back at her apartment later that evening, he puts the .38 in her backpack - she still rides her pedal bike or takes the bus pretty much everywhere, much to his displeasure, so a purse is impractical - and puts the Glock in a cheap nylon holster that he duct tapes to the back of her night stand, so she can reach it easily and silently from bed. He then walks around her little apartment, stashing other weapons for easy access; an aluminum baseball bat behind the front and bathroom doors, a new block with kitchen knives on the kitchen counter, combat knives in holsters taped to the bottom of the coffee and kitchen tables, cans of mace in the bed- and bathrooms.
"Happy, this is just overkill." Manda says as she sits on the couch and watches him.
He turns to look her in the eye and very seriously says, "I am not taking ANY chances with your safety."
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"Any idea how much longer you're in Charming for?" She asks, fiddling with his wallet chain.
"Not sure," Happy grumbles, "Probably a few more weeks, til shit gets settled and they get a prospect on." Charming's a notoriously small charter, so once they vote to bring on the hangaround, Juice, Happy being there as well would be overkill on the manpower front unless something bad pops up between now and then.
"Are you gonna stay Nomad?" is her next question. It would keep him away more often than not.
Happy considers the state of both the Nomad and Tacoma charters. He knows he's always got a spot in Tacoma, so he isn't worried about that, but the Nomads are more tricky. "Probably for a bit. Duke and Pinky were injured pretty bad on a job last month, I don't wanna leave Quinn short while they're recovering." Duke had taken bullets to the stomach and thigh, while Pinky had broken his leg. Duke would be back in the next couple weeks, but Pinky would be in a cast for at least 2 more months.
She nods, and he feels the old, familiar relief at having a girl who understands the club and doesn't fight it. "Keep me updated." Looking over at the little digital clock on the nightstand, she seems to be considering something. "You have anything going on tonight?"
"Meeting with the Grim Basterds up in Lodi around 7, then maybe church after, depending on how that goes," he relays the schedule Jax had given him earlier.
"Good," he's surprised when this is accompanied by her moving quickly to straddle his lap. "We have some time, then." she says, before curling one hand around the back of his neck while the other braces on his chest, and she leans forward to kiss him.
Happy's hands immediately move to grip her hips as he feels himself melt into the kiss. It's slow, and searching, and fuck he's missed kissing her so much. She seems to be feeling much the same as she lets out a breathy little moan against his mouth, and his hands slide under her shirt, up her back as she swipes her tongue against his bottom lip before nibbling on it. The continue to re-explore each other at a leisurely pace, only breaking apart long enough to pull their shirts off.
Her tits are still a perfect small handful, and she still gasps against his kiss as he palms one and twists her nipple between his rough fingers, her hips rolling slightly, searching for friction against him. Pulling her so her back arches, he dips his head down to take the other nipple in his mouth, sucking hard and relishing the little mewling sound that accompanies her nails dragging over his head and chest.
His phone starts vibrating in it's place on the nightstand, and they ignore it. Until it stops for a moment and starts again, and he knows he has to answer.
Resigned, he flips it open and barks "Yeah?" into it as he once again leans back against the wall, trying to focus on what Quinn is saying as Manda leans in and starts kissing and nibbling down his throat.
"Hey, brother, I know you have shit to do for Charming tonight, but I need you to ride out for OKC first thing in the morning." His president's voice is somewhat apologetic. "I already told Clay, he said they'll be good."
"What's the job?" Happy knows his voice is even rougher than normal, and tries to concentrate on the conversation instead of his wife sucking and biting the sensitive spot just over his collarbone, clearly leaving a hickey in the open space between inked letters.
Quinn's voice comes through the phone, "They've been having some problems with some local drug dealers that aren't getting the message about dealing to kids. Need your special brand of attention to make sure the issue is dealt with."
"Got it. I'll head out first thing in the morning." Happy says, really just wanting the phone call to be done.
"Sorry, brother, I know you got the little lady there," Quinn says, knowing what he's pulling Happy away from. Gossip travels faster around a MC than a middle school; he'd been aware, as Happy's president, that he had an Old Lady that he hadn't seen in years, but was still around the Club, so he'd immediately put 2 and 2 together when word had reached him weeks ago about the two meeting in Chicago, and Clay had questioned him when they'd spoken a bit ago about the woman that had shown up seemingly out of the blue yesterday. Quinn hadn't told him much other than to confirm that she's Hap's Old Lady.
"It's cool, prez. Once Duke and Pinky are back, I gotta talk to you about transferring back to Tacoma." Happy forces out around trying not to moan as Manda's hands move between them to start pulling his belt open.
"Yeah, I figured." Quinn sounds understanding. He's glad Hap's already planning on waiting for those 2 to get back, as he would've asked him to even if Hap wanted to transfer back immediately. Nomads are in a pretty good place right now as far as men go, but being down 3 would've added some strain. "I'm finishing up something in Atlanta, if nothing else pops up, I'll meet you in OKC next week, and we can talk."
"A'ight. See ya." Happy forces himself to wait for an answering sign off before he snaps the phone shut and drops it on the floor uncaringly.
In moments, he has them rearranged so Manda is laying on her back and he's hovering over her, one hand in her hair as he kisses her hard and the other hand moving to rub her through her panties, which are damp. Happy's just moved his lips down to her throat to give her a matching hickey and is about to slip his hand inside her panties when there's a pounding on the door and Jackson's voice calls "Hey, bro, change of plans, we're meeting the Basterds in a half hour."
Happy almost collapses on her in defeat. "Kay." he calls back before looking her over regretfully. She is fucking gorgeous laid out across the bed under him, legs spread open and lips swollen from his kisses, silky brown hair mussed.
She smiles softly at him, knowing they aren't going to get to finish this. "Go on, I'll be here when you get back." she tells him, before kissing him one more time and then pushing him away.
He groans, but complies, re-buckling his belt and pulling his shirt and kutte back on, barely taking his eyes off of her where she still lays spread out in his bed. Leaning over her, he steals one more kiss before slipping out of his dorm, still hard and very grumpy.
Tig spots the new red mark peeking out from under Happy's shirt immediately and looks half amused and half sorry as he catches Happy's eye when Happy exits the clubhouse and walks towards the group that's lingering waiting for him by the bikes. "You still got 2 more nights man," he says placatingly.
Hap shakes his head. "Quinn called. I'm heading to Oklahoma first thing in the morning."
Now Tig looks genuinely sorry. "Shit. Well, we'll try and get you tonight, at least." Happy doesn't respond, only moving to straddle his bike and clip on his helmet. It's only a minute before they're pulling out of the lot, and Happy has a sinking feeling that it's going to be a late night.
He's right. It's past midnight when they roll back into the clubhouse.
Manda's sitting in front of the tv in the corner watching some movie that's on late-night. She looks up as they come in, saying, "Hey, guys, there's some sandwiches keeping warm in the oven. I know y'all probably didn't eat."
"Thanks, sweetheart," Clay says tiredly before ordering the guys, "Everyone grab some food then go to Church." before leading the way into the kitchen with Bobby. In short order, everyone is unwrapping hot ham and roast beef sandwiches on thick hoagie rolls, layered with cheese, onions, and brown mustard, and chowing down.
The food disappears quickly and Amanda accepts the thanks from several guys as she moves to gather the discarded tin foil that the sandwiches had been in while they file into the chapel, Happy trailing at the end to stop and snag a kiss on his way.
She tells him quietly, "If I'm not still up, wake me when you come to bed." and accepts his nod as he closes the chapel doors behind him.
It's 1 before he's getting out of the shower after Church, and he dries off quickly before moving back out to the main part of his room, smirking as he sees that Manda had woken up while he was showering, and she's now laying in the middle of the bed, legs spread wide so he can see as she plays with her pussy while she waits for him. He's glad he'd stopped to admire the view for a moment as the blood rushes to his dick so fast he actually gets a little lightheaded for a moment. Wasting no more time, he crawls up the bed and removes her hand as he plants his face between her legs, licking all the way up her slit and fuck she still tastes delicious he thinks as he roughly sucks her clit into his mouth.
He grins against her pussy as her legs clamp on either side of his head and she lets out a sharp cry of pleasure. Knowing she's going to start bucking her hips soon, he adjusts so one arm is across her hips to hold her down, and glances up as he continues sucking and lapping at her to find her playing with her tits. After indulging himself tongue-fucking her slick channel for a couple minutes, he adjusts and uses his free hand to slide two fingers into her. As expected, she starts trying to move her hips to fuck herself on his hand, and he holds her down tighter as he goes back to attacking her clit with his mouth and starts moving his hand, brushing over her g-spot several times before adding a third finger, and the little whimpers she'd been letting out turn to full on moans as he stretches her.
Even still knowing her body so well, he's surprised at how fast she cums, moaning out his name. He'd happily stay down there until he drowns in her, but she wastes little time recovering before pulling him up her body and kissing him hard as her legs wrap around his waist. Happy slips inside her without ceremony, and their groans mix with their kiss. He thanks and curses his forethought in getting tested weeks ago when he'd arrived in Charming; it's fucking fantastic to be inside her, feeling everything, but he also knows he isn't going to last long, and a condom would've at least helped dull the sensation a little bit. Determined to feel her cumming around his dick, he pulls back and shifts his angle, setting a fast and hard pace that has her gasping and arching up into him as he looks down at her, searing the image into his brain as deep as he can to get him through to the next time he's able to get up to Tacoma to see her.
The instant she starts clenching around him, he tips over the edge with her, burying his face in her neck and moaning her name into it as she lets out a strangled 'oh fuck, David!' right into his ear that makes him pound harder into her even as he spasms his release.
He stays in her, laying little kisses over her shoulder and neck as they come down. When her shivering has almost stopped, he gently slips out of her, both wincing at their own sensitivity, and moves to grab his still-damp towel for them to clean up. Once they're both wiped off, lights get clicked off and they arrange themselves on the bed with Happy on his back and Amanda laying half on top of him across his chest.
"Did you set the alarm already?" she asks sleepily.
"No," Happy groans, fumbling on the little table until her finds his phone and flipping it open to set one for 9. He told Quinn he'd leave first thing, but it's 20 hours to Oklahoma City, if he pushes hard, and he isn't doing it on less than 7 hours of sleep. If he's on the road by 10, he can stop and get a few-hour nap in Santa Fe then be in OKC the following morning.
In what feels like no time at all, he's blindly smacking the table for his phone to shut the alarm off. Once the beeping stops, he relaxes back into the bed only to smile as Manda kicks the blankets down and straddles his hips, lining him up with her entrance and sinking down over his cock without ceremony. Half-asleep morning sex has always been her favorite.
30 minutes later, they're both making their way out, carrying bags. Once they're loaded up, they come back in to grab a bite before they go, Amanda whipping up a decent breakfast for Happy, but only taking an untoasted bagel and cream cheese for herself, and ignoring his frown with an offhand "I'll stop and eat on the road this evening."
Her 12-hour ride is shorter than his, and he forces himself to accept that she's actually been on the road full time longer and more frequently than him, and she knows her limits.
"You tell Bowie you're comin' up early?" he asks instead of pestering her.
Manda nods. "Texted him after you left yesterday. He hasn't moved the hide-a-key." Bowie is still in the same house his parents had signed over to him years ago when they decided to move to Florida for retirement, next door to what is now her house. She hasn't been to the Tacoma clubhouse since leaving Happy, so, when she's in town, she stays in one of Bowie's guest rooms. Happy has a brief flash of guilt knowing that she'll be back at the clubhouse for the first time, dealing with sweetbutts he's fucked and possibly some animosity from his brothers, without him. Not many people actually know what had really happened, only that she'd left him, but there's nothing he can do except hope that Bowie, Andi, Koz and the handful of others that know what went down will keep an eye out for her.
Once they're done eating, they head out again, getting catcalls from the open bay doors of the garage as Happy pulls her in for a searing kiss goodbye, and she eventually pulls back and tells him to ride safe, smiling as he rolls his eyes. Once she has strapped her cuff back onto her wrist - to protect her tattoo in case she has to lay the bike down, she tells him when he frowns at her covering it - they both start up their bikes and pull out of the lot.
They ride together as far as the 5, then split off in their separate directions.
Amanda rolls into Joe's driveway a little after 11, and isn't surprised that he isn't home. He told her when she'd texted the day before that he's on guard duty tonight so he wouldn't have to miss the monthly birthday party Saturday night. Being such a large charter, currently at 43 members and 3 prospects, birthdays are a near-constant, so they just have one grill-out/dinner and rager a month that is specifically to celebrate all the birthdays within a few weeks of it. Joe's actual birthday isn't for another week and a half.
The past several years, she has forgone the party (to avoid Happy and the clubhouse) and come in to visit with him for his actual birthday, but it's his 40th this year, so he'd asked her to come in for the real party even before she and Happy were speaking again.
Leaving her bike in the driveway for the moment, Amanda goes around the side of the house. Halfway back, there's a gate in the fence that goes around the back yard, which she goes through, making sure it's shut before turning to the corner of the fence and picking up the hard plastic, empty ashtray, flipping it over, and pushing in on the softer underside next to the seam of the plastic. Working the key out, she unlocks the side door to the garage and replaces the key before walking in and rolling the garage door up to pull her bike in next to the truck Joe uses for times he can't ride somewhere, leaving room for him to pull in beside her. Once it's in and the garage is locked up again, she moves to the toolbox, sliding out a drawer and grabbing the key to the door into the house.
After her bags are dropped in her usual room, she sends Happy and Joe each a text to let them know she's there before plugging her phone into the charger and grabbing her things to go shower, stopping on her way back to bed only to look at the two messages she's gotten in reply confirming the guys are both still alive and will see or talk to her in the morning.
Amanda wakes up around 9, and quietly makes her way downstairs. She'd woken up briefly when Joe had come in at 4, so she's going to let him sleep for another couple hours if he doesn't get up on his own.
In the kitchen, she shakes her head at the pitiful selection in his fridge. Lots of beer, some sad-looking carrots and stalks of celery, half an onion, and some chicken, aside from the various sauces and miscellany in the door shelves. He's very much a meat and potatoes kinda guy, so she's marginally impressed there's vegetables in there all, but they need to be used or they're going to start rotting. The pantry is better stocked, with boxes of pasta and canned sauces, and a 5-pound bag of potatoes, among other dry and canned foods that take little effort to prepare. The bread and butter are on the counter next to the toaster, so she grabs her favorite apricot jam from the fridge and makes herself toast for breakfast, knowing Happy would be trying to make her eat more.
After 2 pieces of toast are eaten, she pulls out the crock pot that's rarely used in the warm months. In the winter, he uses it frequently for chili and pot roasts, but, in the relatively warm part of the year, he prefers to throw everything on the fancy gas grill on the back porch. In short order, the pack of chicken thighs and sad veggies from the fridge are chopped up and in the crock pot with a few cans of chicken broth that she's surprised to find hiding at the back of the pantry, and working on becoming soup, which she'll throw noodles in later.
Unable to put it off any longer, she moves to the section of drawers at one end of the counter, next to the passage into the living room, pulling out the one with a Minnie Mouse sticker on it and emptying the contents onto the counter above. Below it is another drawer with a smiley face sticker, which houses Happy's stuff, but she leaves that for now. They've both been using this as their permanent address while on the road full time.
The next half hour is spent sorting through the buildup of mail, throwing out all but the most recent bank statements, utility bills, and all the stuff from the lawyers office about her father's will. All that's left from the drawer is an old Altoids tin with several keys in it, her old checkbook, and the debit card that Happy had promised would be there. Taking the haul into the living room, she settles on the couch and turns on one of the local stations to catch the last of the morning news while she sorts through everything.
The previous utility bills had had 'paid' written in Joe's chicken scratch on the envelopes, but the ones for this month don't, so she assumes he hasn't gone to retrieve money from her safe to pay them yet, so she writes checks, which are linked to her and Happy's joint account, and puts them in the return envelopes, making a note to run and get stamps later. The utilities are all for her house next door, and Joe had been paying them for her then retrieving cash to reimburse himself from her safe in storage, since she has plenty in there.
Next is looking at the bank statements; there's 5, 1 each for the joint accounts, for her father's normal accounts, and for the account that the law firm had set up in her name for her father's life insurance and pension from the longshoreman's union. There's very little activity on all of them, mostly deposits and accruing interest. The only outgoing items are automatic payments for Happy's bike insurance and the health insurance for him, his mother, and Amanda's now sure he had never removed her from it. Her mind boggles a little at the amount of money there is between all of the accounts.
They'd never been poor, but, after her mother died, her father had tightened the purse strings. Except for his liquor, he had refused to spend money on anything remotely frivolous. She'd worn second hand clothes, made her own lunches all the way through school instead of buying, and things like driver's ed or a car were completely out of the question. Looking at his savings, she has a new reason to be annoyed with him. He'd always made out like the money just wasn't there, denying her even the smallest of luxuries - like halfway decent shampoo - when he'd been making more than enough for them to live comfortably. She'd bet most of her mother's life insurance is even still in there. Apparently beating her hadn't been good enough, so he'd made sure she was tormented at school for being poor as well, when she shouldn't have been.
That's not even touching the accounts detailing her and Happy's finances. He'd always paid his accountant to wash his club earnings and make investments, and the man had apparently been doing his job very well for the past few years.
Laying all the statements side-by-side she does some mental math for a rough figure and realizes that, even not including cash in her and Happy's safes, the total is not far away from 7-figures. Jesus. She's almost tempted to grab a drink.
Unable to process that right now, she sets those aside and quickly skims through everything from the lawyers. Finding it's just copies of the paperwork she'd come into town specifically to sign several months ago, she stuffs it all back in it's big manila envelope and pulls out what she recognizes to be her father's keys from the tin, where there's just her spare storage locker key left, stuffing the tin and card in her back pocket as she stands and gathers the papers.
A minute later, she's staring at her front door, trying to force herself to stick the house key in the lock.
'Christ what are you waiting for, idiot. He's not in there anymore, just fucking go inside,' she berates herself, bringing her hand up to unlock the door.
Inside, there's a thin layer of dust on places like the coffee table that had been used regularly. The layer is much thicker on the various shelves and things. Once she'd moved out, he clearly hadn't kept up on some of the housekeeping duties he had always ridden her ass to get done. She slowly walks through the living room towards the kitchen, pushing away memories with everything she looks at.
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"THERE'S STILL DUST ON THE TOP SHELF" her father screams at 10-year-old Amanda
"But, dad, I can't rea-" she tries to tell him, but is cut off as he shoves her, hard, back into the bookcase in question, causing books to come raining down on her crumpled form.
"NOW LOOK WHAT YOU DID YOU LITTLE BITCH! CLEAN THIS SHIT UP!" he rails before storming out to his car, probably headed for the bar.
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'Stop 's over.' she tells herself, looking away from the case, but it's useless as another image comes just before she passes through to the kitchen, as she catches sight of an old dent in the plaster.
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She's hurrying to get the dishes washed after he's done eating. Just before she makes it to the kitchen, the glass that he'd still been drinking out of smashes against the wall a foot from her head, making her flinch and drop the plate, bowl, and cutlery.
"IF YOU'RE GOING TO TAKE THE DISHES, THEN TAKE ALL OF THEM, YOU USELESS LITTLE CUNT!"
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By the time she's in the kitchen, she knows that she's going to have to almost completely remodel before she'll have any hope of living here.
Leaving her papers on the kitchen counter, Amanda pulls out her seldom-used cell phone and hits the speed dial for Andi.
"Hey, you!" Andi's warm voice answers. "You back in town already?"
Amanda closes her eyes and pretends she's anywhere else. "Yeah, got in last night. Hey, you remember when you offered to help me clean out my dad's place? That offer still open?"
"Of course, sweetie," Andi's voice is compassionate.
"Thanks," Manda says, gratefully. "It's not super urgent, but I wanted to try and get started next week?"
"Sure, hun, I'll call a couple of the others, maybe commandeer a couple prospects, and we'll get you taken care of. You need help moving all yours and Happy's stuff from storage too?"
Amanda pauses before asking. "How'd you know Happy and I are back together?"
Andi's laugh tinkles on the other end of the line. "Who do you think he called for advice, sweetheart?"
She joins in with a chuckle. "Shoulda figured. Anyway, no, I think I'm gona to remodel first. Now, what do you need help with for the party?"
"Think you can make a couple sides and something sweet?" Andi asks.
"Sure thing."
"If you wanna come by around 3 and help set up, that'd be great too."
Amanda nods, despite knowing Andi can't see her. "Alright, see you then. Oh, hey, can you also let Blue know I need to talk to him?"
"Yeah. Everything alright?" Andi sounds worried now.
Manda looks down at the bruises on her arm from where Clay had grabbed her a few days previously. "It's just… something that happened down in Charming, I need to let him know about."
There's a pause on the other end of the line before Andi says. "I'm stopping at the garage in a bit, I'll pass that on."
They hang up and she opens her eyes again, looking around the kitchen and shaking herself before leaving the papers and turning on her heel to go back out the way she'd come in. Andi and whatever other Old Ladies aren't busy will be here in a few days to distract her and help, she'll deal with it then.
Walking back into Joe's house, she finds him sitting on the couch in nothing but a pair of basketball shorts, eating a massive bowl of Fruit Loops, and raises an eyebrow.
"What?" he asks innocently. "I'm a growing boy."
Manda rolls her eyes, dipping down to kiss his cheek as she walks by on her way into the kitchen to grab a pen and paper to make a shopping list. "You're such a bachelor. Andi wants me to do some cooking for the party, so I'm taking the truck." she informs him.
"'Kay," is the distracted reply as he goes back to the midday game shows he'd been watching.
She can be in cars for short periods of time now without freaking out, even better if she's the one driving, and she knows she won't be able to fit everything on her bike, so she resigns herself to taking his slightly beat-up F150 to go shopping and to transport the food the next day. She is, after all, making portions for a club of over 40, plus families, hangarounds, and croweaters. Once her list is made, she dumps a half a box of bowtie pasta from the pantry into the soup and grabs up the keys shouting "I'm going to Fred Meyer!" as she walks out to the garage.
At the grocery store, she runs into not 1, but 3 other Old Ladies, only 1 of whom she knows by anything other than the visible crows, who are getting ready to start prepping for tomorrow, and they coordinate so not everyone is making pasta and potato salad. After some thought, Amanda also makes a stop in the movie section of the department store for Joe's birthday gift, finding a Three Stooges box set she knows he'll like, and not bothering with a gift bag.
When she gets back, he helps her unload the massive amount of bags into the kitchen, and she rewards him by tossing the dvd set at him and saying "Happy early birthday" in a deadpan voice. He thanks her enthusiastically and hurries into the living room to put one on while she starts cooking.
She's never been so glad that he doesn't pay much attention, and hadn't noticed the bruises.
Her hope for that lasting is dashed a couple hours later as she hears a bike pull up. Joe answers the door only seconds after the knock sounds and welcomes his President in, and she listens as Blue asks where she is, and is ushered into the kitchen.
"There she is," is the warm greeting, and she wipes her hands before moving to get wrapped up in a hug. He's much more observant than Joe. As they pull apart, he gently lifts up her arm to look at the bruises, clearly in the shape of a hand wrapping around just above her elbow. "This what you needed to talk to me about?"
Joe looks down, noticing them. "The fuck?!"
Manda cuts him off. "Joe, can you give us a minute?"
"The hell I will, I wanna know who did that to you!" he snaps back.
She looks at the man who is, for every intent and purpose, her big brother. Sighing, she says, "If you need to know, I'm sure Blue will bring it up at church."
This seems to pull both of them up short, Joe's eyebrows knitting together while Blue's raise up. The men's eyes meet, and Joe concedes after a moment, heading out to the garage and shutting the door behind him.
Blue grabs a beer from the fridge asking, "Andi said this was about something that happened in Charming?"
Manda nods. "Hap was down there filling in for awhile while they were short men, and I was in Bako visiting his ma, decided to stop in and see him for a couple days before I came up for this weekend. When I rolled in Clay did that." she motions to her arm. "Hap stepped in before any actual threats were made, but Clay was pretty clear that he didn't believe I was a Friend and, well, you know the penalty for that. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have even called to confirm first, he was livid." Blue rubs a hand over his face before swigging his beer. "Then, later, Jackson gave me this shitty apology, during which he called me an outsider and also insinuated he still didn't really believe me, even after both Hap and Tig vouching."
Blue sighs heavily. "I'm so sorry, darlin'. You'd think the mother charter would be better about the rules, but…"
"I know." she tells him, well aware of the reputation Charming has. "Hap was pissed, but knew he couldn't do shit about it, so he left it to me to talk to you. I been on the road, hitting up clubhouses regularly for almost 5 years, and I've never been treated like that before. Questioned, kept outside until someone could call here and confirm, yeah, but that?" She watches him take another long drag off the bottle in his hand. "I know there's not much you can do, it being Charming and all, but you needed to at least know."
"Yeah, you always were good at knowing how to handle shit when you needed to." Blue's smile is a little forced, but she doesn't say anything about it. "So, stoppin' in to see Happy, huh?" the tone changes to teasing.
Smiling, she says, "We ran into each other in Chicago awhile back. We're working on things."
"That mean I'm calling a vote to bring him back here?" Blue asks.
Shrugging a little, she says, "Duke and Pinky are both out with major injuries, he told Quinn he'd stay at least until they're both back. But I can't possibly speak for what you and the club need to do about voting."
He chuckles. "Of course." Hugging her again, he says, "Thanks for looping me in on everything. See you at the party tomorrow." before dropping his empty bottle in the trash can and sauntering out to the garage to say goodbye to Joe.
After Blue is gone, Joe comes back in, shutting the door to the garage and leaning against is as he watches her double-check the food and pack it into the fridge to be taken to the party tomorrow. "You're really not gonna tell me?" he asks somewhat pitifully.
She sighs, not looking at him. "I know you wanna protect me, hurt anyone that hurts me, but this is a sensitive situation. Something that Blue needs to handle."
He scoffs, but doesn't dispute it. "Is there anything you CAN tell me about?"
"Hap and I are back together. Kinda. We're getting there." she says.
He's silent long enough to make her look over to him. He doesn't seem to know how to feel about that. "Oh." is all he can really come up with for a response.
"Andi and some of the girls are going to help me clean out the house next week. I want to remodel before I move in. You might be stuck with me for awhile." She continues, moving to stack the tin trays in the fridge before checking the cookies that are in the oven and adding a couple minutes to the timer.
"You know you always got a room here." he says, finally moving. "I'm going back to my Stooges marathon." with that he's passed through the kitchen and gone back to the living room.
Manda sighs heavily. He'd never taken well to not being allowed to help her. Pulling out her phone, she shoots a text off to Happy, telling him that she'd talked to Blue about what happened and gave him the heads up that Hap may or may not be asking to transfer back in soon. She doesn't get a response right away, so she knows he's busy, and turns her attention back to her baking, wanting to finish up and chow down on the chicken noodle soup that's been in the crock pot all day, then take a long shower and curl up in bed.
Arriving at the clubhouse the next day is weird.
Tacoma, being such a large charter, has a somewhat oddly large number of long-time Old Ladies. Amanda thinks it's because the group of men is so big that the pressure is spread around more, which makes things less stressful, subsequently making it somewhat easier to keep a relationship alive. If one of the guys needs to take a week or two off to focus on his family, there's always plenty of others there, ready and able to fill in.
With everyone running around getting things ready, she can't keep track of people to count, but she thinks there's between 15 and 20 Old Ladies, along with 7 or 8 ranking Croweaters. She'd made sure to leave her cuff at home, so the smiley face on her wrist flashes her identity as she cycles various hot dishes through the 3 industrial ovens in the kitchen and sets out food with the others. Those that don't know her get introduced on the fly, and, soon, the party is underway.
Reactions to her presence are mixed. Some greet her with hugs, others give her neutral nods and bland 'hey's, still others silently glare and glower with poorly-concealed suspicion or hostility. Manda tries not to let it get to her as she moves around, catching up with people and confirming - much to the croweaters' displeasure - that she and Hap are reconciling.
"Did you eat, hun?" Andi asks her as she wanders between groups, checking in.
*f*l*a*s*h*b*a*c*k*
"I'm not really hungry." Amanda answers the lady. She knows they've been introduced, but Amanda can't remember her name, just that she's someone important's Old Lady. Which is like, a wife, or something.
It's only Amanda's second time at a Sons function. Joe had just started prospecting for the club a few months previous. He doesn't bring her around much, because he's always busy doing bitch work (his words), but their monthly birthday thing is for families, so he brings her. Unfortunately, he's not, in any way, excused from said bitch work for the event, so she's been left to entertain herself.
It's harder than she thinks it should be. There's a decent amount of kids around, of varying ages. The older ones mostly keep the younger ones occupied. At 10 and a half, Amanda falls in a weird spot kinda in the middle between the two, where she doesn't need to be watched, but she's not old enough to be expected to watch the littler kids either. There's a couple other kids about her age - one boy is even in her class - but she's not really good at talking to kids her age. She feels like the stuff they talk about is just so…. Unimportant.
"Okay…. Why aren't you playing with the other kids?" the nice woman asks.
Amanda looks down at her lap, where her hands are folded, and finds that she'd started picking at her nails without meaning to again. She shrugs, not really knowing how to answer.
"What's your name, sweetie?" she asks, and Amanda's relieved that she isn't the only one that doesn't remember.
"Manda. But Joe calls me Minnie." she answers meekly.
"Like Minnie Mouse?" Amanda nods. "I like that nickname. My name's Andrea, but you can call me Andi, like everyone else around here. Have you ever played darts before?" Amanda shakes her head. "Well, me and a few of the other girls were going to start a game, would you like to learn?"
Amanda looks back up and evaluates the woman for a moment. Deciding she seems sincere, Amanda smiles and hops down off the bench she'd been sitting on, following Andi inside the clubhouse.
*e*n*d*f*l*a*s*h*b*a*c*k*
Manda's on her own at that moment, having just been talking to Spanner, who's son had pulled him away with a plea to come play. "A bit. It's still too warm for me to eat much." It's a solid 25 degrees cooler than California had been a few days ago, but July in Tacoma still means the mid-80's. "You know I shut down when it's over 70."
Andi laughs lightly. "Well, I talked to Katie, and we were thinking us two would come over on Monday and help you go through everything and start sorting for the dump or donation, then Tuesday, we'll get a few of the others and a couple prospects to pack everything up and cart it off."
"Sounds good." Manda nods. "Almost everything will be going. Might be some of my mom's stuff I want to keep, but I took pretty much everything else I cared about when I left." That everything else is just a bad memory remains unsaid, but Andi knows.
"I'll bring you the info for the contractor I used when we put on the extension to the house." The older woman tells her, prompting a grateful smile.
Mid-morning on Tuesday finds Manda pausing in packing up all the outdated kitchen appliances and old dishes to answer her phone. "Hey, handsome."
She can almost hear his smile. "'Sup, gorgeous?"
Amanda can see Drew's Old Lady, Sue, smiling over at her through the open passageway between the kitchen and living rooms. Sending her a playful glare back, Manda goes out the back door for a little privacy, idly noting that she needs to add 'rebuild back deck' to the already lengthy list of things she needs the contractor to do. She carefully walks around testing the different half-rotten boards as she talks. "Me, Andi, and a few of the girls are packing now. Prospects will be over this afternoon to start hauling stuff off."
"You end up keeping much?" Happy asks, knowing she hadn't been allowed to even look at most of her mother's things, so she hadn't been sure how much she'd want to hold onto.
"Not a ton." she answers, carefully pushing against the rickety banister before moving to lean back against the house instead. "Her jewelry, the family photos, a couple little knick-knacks, but that's about it." She hadn't even kept the frames for the photos that had been displayed, simply taken the paper from the old ones and stacked them carefully between the pages of the 2 photo albums from the bookshelf. "Some stuff is going to the clubhouse - dishes and shit - and some of the furniture is going to members. One of the younger guys, Crank, and his Old Lady just bought a house, so they're taking a lot of it. The rest is going to the Goodwill, or the dump. Andi and Blue are buying dad's Bronco for when Jason gets his license in a few months." Jason being their 16-year-old son.
Happy lets out a low chuckle. "Not a bike?"
"Andi says he has to get a job and buy his own if he wants a bike. Hell, she's making him pay his own insurance and shit on the car, too. Pretty sure the only reason she's buying it for him at all is mostly because she knows I don't want the fuckin' thing and it's convenient and cheap."
Happy grunts an acknowledgment before asking, "When's the contractor coming over for the consult?"
Manda picks idly at the peeling paint on the house siding. "Tomorrow. I just hope he can get it done relatively fast. I'm sick of looking at my childhood." There's a pause, and she knows he's refraining from asking how she's doing dealing with it. "Gutting the place isn't gonna be cheap, but the old asshole left me a small fortune, so I'm trying not to focus too much on that."
One the other end of the phone, she hears a voice calling for Hap. Sure enough, a moment later, he says, "I gotta go. Let me know if you need anything."
"Be safe." she says as they disconnect, before heading back in.
The next day, she's walking back in, marvelling at how much it helps just having the place empty. Soon, she's explaining to the contractor, who, thankfully, seems up for the rather large job.
"Basically, I want the place redone from the foundation and studs out. I was just going to gut the interior, knock out a couple walls, but yesterday I realized the siding needs, at the least, a good sanding and a new paint job, if not replacing, and new guttering, and next to that, the old shingles would look like shit - I'm sure they haven't been replaced since I was a kid, so it's probably coming up on 25 years, and they'll be due to be replaced anyway. And if I'm doing everything else, I may as well get all the electrical and plumbing updated while the place is gutted, and put in new insulation and windows; I'm pretty sure it's still all the original from when the house was built in the 50's."
They take a quick walk around for him to look at various things. "I'll have to hire sub-contractors to do some of it, but they're all local guys that I work with all the time. As long as we're basically rebuilding, do you want to make any changes to the floor plan?"
She does, and the guy, Mark, takes detailed notes about increasing the downstairs bath to a 3-quarter, and adding a second bathroom upstairs - a 3-quarter ensuite in the master bedroom - and taking out the wall between the kitchen and living rooms, and converting the unused dining room behind the garage into a 4th bedroom. She and Hap aren't prone to hosting parties, so a kitchen table will be more than enough, even for the occasions that they have a few people over, and it would be a good place for his mom if she ever came to visit or moved up, so she wasn't dealing with stairs every day. Next on the list is porches, and a fence, and there's more notes taken.
"Ok, well, my guys are finishing up on another job this week, but I can get some people over here to start gutting in the next couple days, and from there we can start shifting and removing walls and updating plumbing. I have a guy for electrical, but I'll have to call him to see about a schedule. Typically, I'd give you a quote on labor for the whole project, with a provisio that you'd pay for materials, but this is going to be such a massive one, that I'm not sure I could do that without possibly undercutting myself if anything goes wrong. How about we break it down into smaller projects that are easier to estimate time and materials, and I'll give you a quote to sign off on each section as they get started? I'd start with the demo as one, then have a look at the plumbing to see what all needs to be done, and give you the quote for that before we start."
They quickly negotiate labor and his projected costs for disposal, and Mark shakes her hand with a promise to have a contract drawn up the next day. She tells him she'll bring a check when she comes to his office to sign it.
By Thursday afternoon, there's 2 guys that barely look to be out of high school tearing out sections of drywall and carrying them out to the trailer attached to the truck they'd arrived in to be taken to the dump. They work until 7, then are back at 9am on Friday with two more guys to finish pulling down the drywall and start taking out carpets, cabinets, insulation, and fixtures. The guys work through Saturday, but are off on Sunday, and she wanders over to look at the progress. They're nearly done, with just the bathrooms and back deck left to take out, and little things here and there that they had either missed or not gotten to yet.
Manda only wishes that putting it all back together would go nearly as fast. She snaps a photo of the unobstructed view from the front door to the back and texts it to Happy.
Over the next weeks, she understands why Andi had recommended Mark to her. He stays on top of everything, and is great about keeping her updated about what's going on and when. Not that he could've avoided her if he wanted to, considering she's staying next door to where he and his crew are working, but she gets the feeling he would've been that way regardless.
After being home for nearly a month, Manda takes off again for some clubhouse gigs she has lined up through Montana and the Dakotas, before heading down to Salt Lake City, where she's surprised to find Happy waiting for her. He'd finished his job in New York and got a couple days off from Quinn to meet her there before he goes to Texas. She's also surprised to find out that Bobby, the Secretary from Charming, has also made the trip to see her.
He greets her with a half-hug, which she finds a little odd, given that they'd hardly spoken a few sentences to each other for the day and a half she'd been in Charming, but he seems like a nice enough guy. "Heard about you over the years, I was curious to see you, and it didn't sound like you were gonna be any closer anytime soon."
"Well, I hope you haven't wasted the trip." Manda replies awkwardly.
She's cheered up from the weird encounter while she's setting up to play for the night. There's a couple sweetbutts not far away that probably think they're being quiet, but she can hear them talking.
The one with fried-looking bleach-blonde hair says, "Seriously, I tried when he rolled in yesterday, and he just told me to get lost. What the hell? I thought I was his type. He always goes for the big-boob blondes. I've never had an issue getting him to fuck me before."
The other girl has fire-engine-red hair. "I talked to some girls at other clubhouses. Apparently he hasn't gone near any of them in months."
At this point, a third girl, another blonde, joins them. "Are you guys talking about Happy?" noises of affirmation. "Yeah, I guess he has an Old Lady now, or something? I don't know, no one seems to have any details."
The conversation goes on, but Amanda tunes them out. It's the best thing she's heard from sweetbutts about Happy in years, she doesn't want to spoil it by paying attention as they lament losing him.
Instead, after her set that night, she makes a show of dragging him up to the dorms by his belt, unfastening it the moment the door to their room is shut and kissing and nibbling on his neck as she pushes his jeans and boxers halfway down his thighs. Before he can either reciprocate or protest, she backs up to sit on the bed and pulls him to stand in front of her.
Wasting no time, one hand starts stroking his half-hard dick even as she leans forward and sucks one of his balls into her mouth. He lets out a long groan and gently tangles his fingers into her hair as she switches her attention to the other ball, his now completely hard cock starting to leak a few drops of slippery pre-cum. After a minute, she moves up to lick and suck a wet line up the underside of his cock, looking up to meet his eyes as she wraps her lips around the massive head, hoping she's not too out of practice for this.
Manda gags slightly when he hits the back of her throat, and he tugs at her hair to try and get her to move back, but she only does enough to suck in a deep breath and force her body to relax before leaning forward again and starting to work her throat further over his shaft, slowly but firmly stroking around the base. She's just over halfway when she looks up and catches his gaze again. His jaw is tightly clenched and she feels a telling shudder go through him, so she stops working him further into her, instead pulling back and setting a steady, wet, sloppy rhythm, knowing he isn't going to last much longer.
Almost as soon as he's done cumming, he shoves her back on the bed and makes quick work of getting her own jeans and underwear down to her knees before pushing her legs up to her chest and diving in to exact some very pleasurable revenge. He doesn't know what happened, but, over the next couple hours of them eventually shedding clothing and fucking like rabbits, she's louder than normal - not fake or exaggerating, but her enthusiasm prompts him to be louder as well. She manages to get 3 rounds out of him in about 2 hours, which he hasn't been able to do since he was a teenager, and she seems determined, for whatever reason, to let the whole clubhouse know how much she's enjoying herself.
After they've both showered, they are snuggled up in bed, her head on his shoulder while he plays with her hair.
"Not that I'm complaining, but what was that about?" Happy asks curiously. Her only answer is a small shrug. If it had been a matter of her just being horny and missing him, she'd have said so, so the response prompts him to keep digging. "What are you trying to prove?"
Manda sighs and rubs her face. "Nothing." She must feel his skepticism, because she continues after a minute. "Wasn't proving a point, so much as…. Rubbing it in."
Now Happy's really confused. "Huh?"
He can't see her face, but her can almost feel her roll her eyes as she explains. "The sweetbutts aren't exactly thrilled you've been keeping your hands to yourself lately." There's a pause, and she sounds self-conscious as she says the next part. "Is it bad that I want to rub their faces in the fact that I get you all to myself?"
He wraps both arms around her, squeezing her tight to him as he says, "Nah, girl. I get it." He's not going to apologize for fucking around, because they'd been separated, but his tone is apologetic all the same. And he does get it. If he knew there was even one other dude in the building that she'd fucked, he would've had her screaming his name until she was hoarse. If he'd managed to let the fucker live.
They both take off the next morning, him to El Paso to help Lone Star MC with something, her up to Bend, Oregon for a gig that night at the Grim Basterds charter there.
When Amanda gets back to Tacoma the day after that, she walks through the house, marvelling at the progress of the last week and a half that she'd been gone. The dark cherry-wood flooring had come in the day before she left, and is now installed everywhere but the bathrooms. All of the new bathroom fixtures are in, as well as the recessed lighting, and most of the rooms have drywall hung and mudded, and are just awaiting paint. The new kitchen island is built, and it looks like they knocked off halfway through putting in cabinets around the new, shiny black kitchen appliances.
Stepping out onto the new back deck, she loves that it's much bigger, now spanning the whole back of the house, going out 9 feet, and has a sloped roof covering 2-thirds of it from the house out. The rusty old chain-link fence around the back yard has also been replaced with 8-foot-high cedar-plank, except on the side that borders Joe's back yard, where there now is no fence separating them. Instead, there's a panel of fencing with a double-wide gate in the space between the 2 houses to make one big yard - after, of course, having a fresh coat of paint put on Joe's house without his input, so it didn't look dingy next to hers and the new fencing.
Needing to lock back up, Manda goes back out through the front, admiring the front porch as well. Before, it had been a very minimal covered stoop of about 3 square feet. Now, it's a low, covered porch that goes from the side of the garage to the edge of the house, in front of the windows into the living room. The siding had been replaced early on, and is painted a light, sky-blue, and all of the trim is a crisp, glossy black, along with the new, black door. In a small deference to Hap's security concerns, she had gotten a solid wood one without any windows, so no one standing outside could see they are behind the door and shoot through it. She'd found a metal shop that takes custom orders, and is waiting on the specially-designed Reaper door-knocker she'd commissioned.
Back over at Joe's, she makes herself a sandwich and scarfs it down over the sink instead of dirtying a plate, then decides to call Happy's mom. It's only 8, so she should still be up watching tv before bed.
"Hello?" the familiar, warm, slightly accented voice picks up.
"Hi, ma." Manda greets, getting comfortable on Joe's couch and flicking on the tv.
"Hija!" Rosa exclaims happily. "So lovely to hear your voice!"
"I thought I'd call and check in. Find out what color you want your room painted."
"My room?" Rosa asks, sounding amused.
Manda laughs lightly. "I have no use for a formal dining room, so I had it converted into another bedroom. You don't need to be going up and down stairs all day if you ever come up to visit, not with your bad knee." She and Happy had decided to not tell his mother they are back together until he's back in Tacoma permanently. "It's not very big, but there's a bathroom with a shower downstairs now, and it's just off the kitchen, overlooking the back yard."
"Oh, thank you, lovely girl." Rosa sounds a little teary as she says this. "You know my decorating style, I trust you to not make it hideous."
Laughing again, Manda continues, "Well, I at least need your input on the garden. I combined my yard with Joe's, and Andi and I are going to start digging up beds for flowers, and a vegetable patch. I need to start planning for autumn planting. It needs to be done before Halloween, we get our first frost around the end of November, mid December at the latest."
When they hang up half an hour later, Manda finds a text waiting from Tig, who had apparently gotten her number from Happy at some point. 'Christ. Dont u ever tell the blond fuck i said this but him & the other Tacoma guys r doin a great job of makin sure Clay & Jax know they r in the doghouse for bein rude 2 u.' The Tacoma charter makes a run down to Santa Fe to deliver guns every 6 weeks, with a stop in Charming each way, and Joe and Koz are both on this one. Joe may not be very observant, but he's far from stupid. As soon as he found out she'd come from visiting Happy in Charming, he'd figured out who had put those handprint bruises on her arm that she'd had to talk to Blue privately about. Apparently, he'd gotten word to at least the guys on the run.
They can't do anything overtly, which makes her curious about what exactly they ARE doing. 'Oh?' she sends back, knowing it won't take Chatterbox Tig much prompting.
She isn't disappointed. It's only a couple minutes before the response comes back. 'They all parked in guest spots instead of on the line with us. All sittin at the corner table, not talkin 2 any1 from Charming. Gettin their own drinks, even ignoring sweetbutts.'
That would definitely be a statement. Hell, in club terms, it's practically a boycott. All Sons have a home in any SOA clubhouse, but the Tacoma guys tend to be extra comfortable in other charter's clubhouses. Between being so close to the border and having a major port that a lot of the guys work at for day jobs, and having so much manpower to push it out to charters with less access, Tacoma guys visit other clubhouses frequently. It would've been unspeakably rude to turn down the regular and open offer of a place to stay in Charming, but to take it and then make it clear that they are not happy to be there, without actually being rude? Genius.
She hadn't expected the charter to back her so publically, and it gives her a case of the warm fuzzies for a minute. It makes sense, she supposes. It's less about her specifically and more about how a Friend of Tacoma's had been treated badly, and how that is essentially disrespecting the Tacoma charter as a whole.
Manda just hopes Clay can get past his own ego enough to make at least a token apology to Blue, because Tacoma and Charming entering a cold war would affect the club worldwide. Being the biggest charter in the club, that supports a lot of the flow of product west of the Mississippi, Tacoma would be in a prime position to be the ones to take over from Charming if it ever came to that point. And from some of the less than savory opinions she'd heard about Clay in her time travelling around clubhouses, if Charming doesn't get it's shit together, it's only a matter of time.
The next morning, she gets up early (for her) at 7, glad she'd pulled at least a couple bags of clothes from the storage unit as she pulls on some worn, cutoff jean shorts and ratty old high-tops instead of the normal thick jeans and combat boots, and bolts down a quick breakfast of eggs and toast before going out back to the shed that was in the back corner of Joe's garden until the fence got taken down, but which now sits slightly to his side of their shared yard. From it, she pulls the ancient lawn mower, making sure the tank is full before getting started on both the front and back yards for both houses, stopping periodically to empty the bag in the spot next to the shed where she'd decided compost would go.
She doesn't bother to get cleaned up after, only pouring the extra-strong coffee she'd made the night before and put in the fridge into a to-go cup with some milk. Right on time, Andi pulls up to the curb between the houses, and Manda is waiting for her in the driveway, leaning on the truck she'd already pulled out of the garage. They immediately pile into the truck and Manda drives them to the Home Depot just on the outside of the newer shopping district.
Manda's glad she'd closed all the accounts related to her father's estate and transferred the funds to her and Happy's accounts, because her debit card got a hell of a workout. Cinder blocks - SO MANY CINDER BLOCKS - for flower bed borders, to delineate the vegetable patch, and to make a fire pit in the middle of the yard; what felt like half the planters in the store - wide and shallow planters, half-barrel planters, hanging planters, long trough planters, terraced planters - and trellises, and benches, and tables, and that's before they even started on the actual gardening items. Most of the minimal garden tools between the 2 houses hadn't been used in over almost 15 years since Joe's mom had kept her small garden in the front yard, so new tools, gloves, extra-long hoses, and hose attachments get thrown in a cart, being actually small enough for them to take home right away. Along the way, they point out cute or funny things, picking up a couple garden gnomes, bird feeders, and other decorations, before telling the harried-looking clerk that had been helping them with the large items that they also need a whole pallet of soil and half a pallet of fertilizer and arranging delivery for that afternoon for the soil and everything that wasn't in the cart (which was most of their order).
The ladies' next stop is a nursery on the outskirts of town. This trip goes surprisingly fast. The worker doesn't try to be a salesman, and can tell she already knows more or less what she wants, just taking the pair around to see the plants they are asking about, or telling them he can order it if they don't have it on hand. In just over an hour, they're climbing back in the truck, which is now loaded with semi-established rose bushes in red, white, and yellow, bags of bulbs marked with what they are, bushes of hydrangea, pots of various perennial herbs and flowers - though none of them are blooming this late in the season -, and packets of seeds with notes about when to plant them. The couple things she'd ordered won't be in for between 2 and 6 weeks, but she's not really bothered. There's plenty to be getting on with in the meantime.
After stopping for a late lunch, the women pull back up to Joe's house at 1:30 and start unloading their haul into the space between the houses, keeping it neatly against the houses and swinging the gates open just in time for the box truck from Home Depot to pull up at the appointed time of 2.
Jogging up to the open window of the cab, Manda tells them to back right up between the houses, as close to the gate as they can, because everything's going into the back yard. Well, for now. The front is so much smaller, it'll be easier to carry stuff back out there than the opposite. The men doing the delivery are nice, unloading the pallets of cinder blocks, soil, and fertilizer in the middle of the yard where indicated, before offering to put the various pieces of heavy wood and/or wrought iron yard furniture at least more-or-less where Manda wants each piece to end up, and the same for the bigger planters.
It's 3:30 by the time the truck pulls away.
Andi looks around at all the piles of plants and yard crap and says, "What do you say we do the easy shit for today - set up smaller planters where you want 'em and stuff - and I'll drag at least one prospect down here tomorrow to do the worst of the heavy lifting?"
Already tired, Manda agrees, and they get to work bolting various types of hooks into the roof and railings of both the front and back porches, positioning different medium-sized planters along the outside edge of the back yard, some clustered with the big planters, others on their own or with smaller flower pots. Around 6, Manda waves Andi off to her car and pulls off her now extremely grubby shoes and socks before walking through her house to see the progress of the day - the last of the workers had left around 5.
The drywall had been completed that day, and it seems like there's more completed cabinetry in the kitchen, and 1 of the upstairs bathrooms is now half-tiled in the light grey slate she had selected for all 3 bathrooms. Satisfied, Amanda moves the bags of flower bulbs into her empty garage so they stay cool and out of the way, and secures the gates for the evening before grabbing her shoes and socks and trudging barefoot back over to Joe's house. Dropping the shoes inside the door, she locks it up and heads further in, dipping out briefly to the garage to chuck the stinky socks into the washer, and decides the first order of business is a shower to cool off before dinner.
After she's done showering, Amanda looks in the fridge to figure out what's for dinner, patting herself on the back for taking over the grocery shopping while she's staying here, since she actually has options other than beer and canned food. Deciding on easy, she pulls out one of the steaks from the pack that's in there, along with a bell pepper and a half an onion. Slicing it all up to make herself fajitas goes quickly, as does throwing them in a hot pan with some oil and taco seasoning to cook, and her mind is occupied planning what she needs to do to get her garden working.
In the old house they'd rented, she'd kept a little veggie patch and some flowers, but nothing on the scale of what she's planning on establishing now that she owns the place. It's not something she'd done much of as a kid, but, after helping Rosa with her garden when she'd gone down to visit the first spring she and Hap had been married, she had found she enjoyed it. It's something she's missed being on the road, though she does make time to stay at least a few days every spring and autumn with Rosa to help with planting or thinning out her flower beds.
*f*l*a*s*h*b*a*c*k*
It's March, and Happy and Amanda have been married for about 5 months. They take a week to go visit his mother, Rosa, before it gets too hot.
"Come." Rosa says after breakfast the second morning. "You will help me plant my annuals today." with this she takes Manda by the hand and leads her to the back garden. "David - dishes!" she calls over her shoulder at Happy, who is still sitting at the kitchen table.
"Yes, Ma," he calls back, sounding amused for some reason that Amanda doesn't know.
"Annuals?" she questions her mother-in-law, not really knowing what that means.
"Flowers that only last one year. You have to re-plant new ones every spring." Rosa explains, pulling a hand trowel and a little hand rake from a bucket by the back door, next to which are several short boxes full of some kind of flower in little plastic containers. "Grab a box." Rosa says, grabbing one herself and moving off to the side of the little yard where there's partially-bare flower beds lining the fence out to the front. Settling the box next to the point she chooses to start at, the woman gets down on her knees and says shortly "Now, watch." before using the little rake thingy to break up the dirt, and her hands to create a fist-sized hole. Dropping the tool, she grabs one of the plants from the box next to her, expertly wiggles the thin plastic pot off of the bottom, and breaks loose the tightly packed soil and roots before unceremoniously plopping it down in the hole and pushing the dirt back around the base to fill in the rest of the hole.
Amanda watches as Rosa repeats the process 5 or 6 inches to the right of the first hole, then again another 5 or 6 inches off of that one.
"Got it?" Rosa asks after the third.
"I think so?" Manda says, unsure, but she sets down her box and picks up the trowel, starting to work the opposite direction Rosa is going.
The next few hours until lunch is spent planting a multitude of different colors of pansies - as Manda eventually finds out the flowers in the boxes are called - with Rosa also talking about the other plants around the yard.
Amanda decides it's kind of fun. Her and Hap had just moved into a small rental house, maybe she'd plant some flowers when they get home.
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Manda's up early again the next morning, testing soil acidity and using her new garden claw to tear out the grass and break up the soil in the places the beds will be going in the front yard. It's very late in the season to be planting roses, and the wrong time of year entirely for hydrangeas, but she'd bought year-old plants for both in the hopes that the end of summer and the fall would be enough to establish the bushes before the first real frosts hit in early December. The first flower bed is loosened and the dirt moved to the center to set the blocks by the time Andi and 2 prospects show up.
With more hands, she and Andi use chalk-string to mark out the boundaries of where the beds should be dug while the boys set blocks in the one she'd already done.
"You boys ready for some real labor?" Manda teases, giving them a quick tutorial on how to twist and dig the claws of the tool into the ground, pull out the chunks of grass, and how far down to loosen the soil, reminding them to use a shovel to make room for the cinder blocks. Handing them each a claw, she leaves them each a bed to start with while she and Andi go in back and cut the plastic sheeting from around the soil and fertilizer. "You want to plant roses and peonies up front, or start mixing and prepping planters?"
Also a gardener, Andi evaluates the options for a moment before saying, "Eh, I'll take the planters, then grab the Weasel and start on the veggie patch. I know we're not actually planting much today, where do you want what?"
It takes all of that day and half of the next before all the beds are dug and bordered, and the spare blocks set in a 3-foot diameter circle, 2 high, to create a fire pit near the middle of the yard. Worst of the labor done, Manda laughs as she sends the miserable-looking prospects back to the clubhouse to be tortured in their normal manner instead of by hard labor. She'd bet anything they'll never complain about the relatively easy cleaning around the clubhouse again. Tacoma now traditionally onboards prospects in the late spring, so they'd only been at it for a few months. The complaining hadn't quite been worn out of them yet. A few more hours of her and Andi mixing soil and planting the few things that can be done right away, then Andi's taking off.
It's still working hours for the contractors, and Mark's on-site that day, so Manda goes in to check in with him.
"We're actually a little bit ahead of schedule, which NEVER happens, so I'm just holding my breath waiting for something to go wrong," Mark says, laughing.
Manda laughs along with the older man. He's in probably his late 50's, supervising and running his business more than doing actual work most days, but she can tell his employees all respect him. "Where's everything at?" she inquires.
"Tiling should be done tomorrow, maybe midday Saturday, and you can see we're just finishing up with the cabinets," he gestures towards the kitchen from where they are standing in the living room area. "Monday, I'll do a walk-thru and finish up any little things that the guys may have missed, then go get all your paint - you sure you haven't changed your mind on colors?" She nods to indicate she's sure and he continues. "Alright. The painters'll be in starting Tuesday, should be done Friday, and my guys'll be back Friday and Saturday to put in your baseboards, window sills, light switch covers, things like that. Unless there's some catastrophe, you should be good to move in starting that Sunday."
They chat for a few more minutes about plans for that weekend - it's Labor day weekend, and the nearby Puyallup fair has just opened this week, so he's planning on taking his grandkids - then say their goodbyes.
Joe's due home from his run to Santa Fe around dinnertime, so Manda showers and makes sure the house is clean before starting to cook a decent welcome-back dinner.
He hugs her as he comes in from the garage and she wrinkles her nose and leans away. "God, did you shower at all while you were gone?!" He only laughs in reply. "Go get cleaned up, dinner will be ready soon." she orders.
When he comes back downstairs, thankfully fresh out of the shower, he finds her setting plates on the table in the dining room. Their houses have the same layout, just mirrored, so the dining room is off the kitchen, behind the garage. He grabs the beer she's opened and set on the counter for him while she gathers forks and knives. They settle at the table and he examines his plate excitedly. "My favorites!" he says, sounding like a little kid.
"Well, I heard SAMTAC did a pretty epic job of icing out Redwood in their own clubhouse. Thought I'd say thanks." Manda says as they dig in to the pork chops with mushroom sauce, garlicky mashed potatoes with gravy, and cheesy bacon broccoli. "You also get apple-blueberry pie for dessert."
Joe looks thoughtful as he chews. After swallowing, he says, "Tig?"
She nods. "He doesn't want Kozik to know, but he was impressed with you guys." Tig had texted her again the night before, when the Tacoma boys were back again from Santa Fe, saying they were keeping up the frosty behavior.
Joe shrugs. "Well, if it gets some of them to pull their heads outta their asses, it was worth it." he says before digging back into dinner enthusiastically. She catches him up on the progress of the house and tells him stories of her and Andi torturing the prospects for a day and a half. "So I only get another week and a half of home cooked dinner?" he whines.
Manda rolls her eyes. "Like you aren't going to be over at my kitchen table at least a few nights a week for dinner." Taking both their empty plates to the sink, she moves to cut them each some pie, making sure Joe's piece is a double. "Besides, it'll be at least a little longer than that. I still have to go through both mine and Hap's storage units. Pretty sure almost all of our old shit is getting tossed or donated. Almost all of our kitchen stuff, and definitely all of our furniture, was second-hand. I'm going to be buying almost everything new. I don't even know what he kept from the house."
Joe digs into his pie as soon as the plate is set down in front of him. "Pretty sure he got rid of almost all the furniture. Not sure about the kitchen stuff. I know he kept some of it, cuz Tina tried to take that mixer home and he flipped out on her."
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Last year, he'd asked Andi for help picking out her birthday and Christmas gifts, and sworn never to do it again, telling her that from then on, she should just tell him what she wants. So, a couple weeks after Thanksgiving, she is flipping through the Sears catalogue that had come in the mail, mostly looking for inspiration. She stops on a certain page in the kitchenware section, thinking. She'd been baking a lot for the club functions lately.
Tearing out the page, she hunts up a Sharpie from the junk drawer and circles the stand mixer, writing 'Happy Birthday to MEEEE!' under it in big letters. Tossing the catalogue in the trash, she moves into their bedroom and leaves the page on his nightstand so she doesn't forget to give it to him.
Unsurprisingly, December 22nd (her birthday) rolls around, and she goes out to the kitchen to find a big box that says KITCHENAID on it sitting on the table. From that point on, there is almost always some fresh-baked good or another in the house. From-scratch bread every few days, muffins, cookies, cinnamon rolls. Hap had to start working out at the clubhouse most days after work, mildly envying his wife's seeming ability to eat anything and not gain weight, not realizing that she had started working out too.
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