A/N: This is the first in a series of one-shots covering events that were mentioned, but not fully explored in Charming's Worst Kept Secret. It is mostly detailed back story, and in a number of instances, incorporates some material that was initially deleted from the first story.
As always, your comments and reviews are important to me, so please don't hold back. I hope to post these one-shot stories at least twice a month, until their conclusion.
Enjoy!
Clay Morrow was having a pretty ordinary day. That is, until he received the phone call that would change his life forever.
It was business as usual at the T-M lot that late-Fall morning. The garage was teeming with mechanics working on several jobs that had to be completed before day's end. However, with an impromptu Church meeting called by their Club President, John "JT" Teller, all members of the Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club Redwood Original were on the lot as well.
An unexpected problem had put their next shipment of merch in jeopardy and JT wanted all hands on deck. He had spent most of the early morning locked in the Chapel with Clay, his VP, and they both agreed that the matter needed to be handled quickly and decisively. JT was putting Clay in charge to oversee the transport of the hardware, which was scheduled to arrive at the Oakland docks that afternoon as JT would not be around to see to it personally.
As they exited the Chapel, Clay clapped a meaty hand on JT's back. "I hope all goes well, brother. I know you're old lady must be excited."
JT nodded. "Thanks, Clay. Gem's over the moon to finally have Tommy home. He'll be discharged in a couple of hours, so we should have him settled in by the end of the day." JT headed for the Clubhouse exit. "Keep me posted on the transport."
"Don't worry. I'll make sure that everything goes as planned." Clay knew how concerned JT was that the shipment be delivered without a hitch. The NorCal gunrunning operation that JT had partnered with the True IRA to create wasn't the Club's sole means of earning, but it was the most lucrative. JT's share of the money from the sale of the Irish hardware went a long way when it came to making a dent in the huge medical bills incurred by his youngest son's failing health.
JT called over his shoulder. "And remember, we're expecting you over tomorrow for Sunday dinner to celebrate Tommy's homecoming."
"I wouldn't miss it, JT. Give your old lady my regards." Clay replied.
Clay always made an effort to be respectful of JT's woman. At 31, Gemma Teller was very beautiful and the epitome of what an old lady should be. She had been solely responsible for bringing SAMCRO to her hometown of Charming when the Club had been looking to settle down in a more permanent location in order to set up a base of operations. She was fiercely dedicated to her family, the Club, and only had eyes for her old man JT.
At 39, Clay Morrow was in the prime of his life. A tall, muscular man at 6'1 and 225 pounds with dark hair starting to go grey, he was a solid and forceful presence in the mother charter. A solitary man who had cut ties with his family back East, Clay had never seen the need for settling down with an old lady once he joined SAMCRO. He was content with using the croweaters and sweetbutts that were available to him at the Club and when he was on the road visiting other charters. Although the youngest of the First 9, the founding members of SAMCRO, Clay was quick to realize that women associated with the MC world were quick to throw up their skirts for any patch. As far as he was concerned, most were dirty whores and parasites, with very few having any virtues that amounted to anything worthwhile. However, he soon realized that Gemma Teller was the exception that proved the rule and, so far, the only woman he had met worthy of his respect.
Clay was about to head over to Bluebird to run a final check on the trucks making the trip to Oak-Town to pick up the Club's shipment when Bobby called him over to the bar. "Yo, Clay. You got a call."
He waved him off. "Take a message."
Bobby covered the receiver with one hand. "I've been trying to for the last five minutes, but this bitch is insistent. Says she's from Child Protective Services in Seattle."
"What the hell?" Clay glared at Bobby as he took the phone from him. "What's this about?" He barked.
"Am I speaking to Clarence Morrow?" A cool brisk voice replied.
"Yeah, you are. Who are you and what the hell do you want?" Clay demanded.
"My name is Miranda Brant. I'm with CPS in Seattle. I'm calling as I have an urgent matter that I need to discuss with you."
"And what would that be?"
"It's about your daughter."
For a moment, Clay thought he was hearing things. It took a full ten seconds for him to respond. "MY WHAT?" He practically roared into the phone.
"Your daughter, Mr. Morrow, and there's no need to shout. My hearing is quite fine."
"I don't know what kind of joke this is, but I ain't got no kid." Hearing Clay's reply, Bobby, who was perched on a bar stool eating a piece of warm banana bread, started choking. Kyle Hobart, a new patch, clapped his brother on the back as he himself gobbled down a slice of the banana bread with a shot of Johnny Walker Black.
"Well, it's no joke, I'm afraid. Six years ago on May 9, Valentina Robles gave birth to a female child at the Cook County Hospital in Seattle, Washington and your name appears on the birth certificate as the father."
Clay felt his legs give way as he sat down hard on a bar stool. Holy shit! Valentina Robles was a blast from the past. Clay hadn't heard that name or thought about that bitch in over seven years, and had been more than grateful not to, in case anyone was wondering.
Clay had been with a lot of women in his 39 years of hard living, but Valentina was probably one of the most beautiful he had ever had the privilege of banging and only after he was in over his head did Clay find out why. Valentina was a sex addict with a drug habit, a combination that afforded her the opportunity to use one to pay for the other and, as the saying goes, practice does indeed make perfect. Valentina had never met a dick she didn't like. Unfortunately, Valentina had been able to hide that side of herself from Clay for almost a year.
Clay had met her while he was on a run for the Club to Tacoma, where she had shown up at the SAMTAC Clubhouse ready to party. There had been something undeniably appealing about Valentina. With a lush body, a beautiful face, and her long dark hair, which strangely reminded him of someone else, he had found her to be sexy as hell. So when he made a move on her and she reciprocated, Clay thought that maybe settling down wasn't such a bad idea.
Over the next year, Clay made regular trips to see Valentina. He lavished her with money and gifts. She was like a drug to which he had become addicted to. It wasn't until he made an unannounced trip to Tacoma when Clay finally realized what he was really dealing with. Once the real Valentina had come out to play, Clay soon learned that not only was she fucking anything and everything with a penis, but she was the most demented, degenerate nutcase he had ever had the displeasure of coming across. He never told anyone, not even Bobby, but the bitch had torn his heart to shreds. He had loved her, and unnerved by how easily he had been fooled and manipulated by a pretty face and tight body, instead of getting her the help she needed, Clay had kicked her to the curb. After all, she was just another parasite, using her body to get what she wanted, and a junkie whore to boot.
Now, hearing that she had given birth to a child that she claimed was his nearly sent Clay into orbit.
"Just because some junkie bitch spread her legs for me doesn't mean that I'm the father. Why should I believe I'm this kid's sperm donor?" Clay said angrily.
"You don't have to believe it, Mr. Morrow. A simple DNA test can be performed and in a matter of weeks, we will know whether you are the father or not, and if you are, then you have a choice to make."
"And what choice would that be?"
"Ms. Robles has given up her parental rights to her daughter. Apparently, she is something of a problem child and Ms. Robles is either unable or unwilling to continue trying to raise her on her own. Also, there is some question about the child's health and well-being while under her mother's care. Now that the birth mother has given up custody, the burden now lands on you to raise her. You can even meet her prior to becoming her legal guardian."
Clay's mouth went dry. Raise a kid? Is she fuckin' nuts? However, before Clay could enlighten the CPS drone, she advised him that there was a second option.
Thank God. "And what's that?"
"You can give up your parental rights as well and the minor child will be placed in a foster home. She is still young enough that adoption might be a possibility, but we would have to act fast."
The second option sure as hell sounds a lot better to me than the first. "So what do I need to do to get this over with?"
"All you need to do is to provide me a mailing address. A DNA kit will be sent to you. Simply follow the instructions and return it. If you are the father, and you decide to raise her, then you get permanent custody. If you don't want custody, you sign some papers relinquishing your parental rights and you will never have to be concerned about her again."
"That's sounds good to me." Clay quickly provided his address at the Clubhouse while Brant took down the information.
Gripping the phone, Clay had one more question. "Do you have contact information for her mother?"
"Yes I do," Brant replied. "But is it really necessary for you to speak to her?"
"It is, and if you want to get this DNA test back, I suggest you cooperate. After all, it seems like the kid's got an expiration date. Clock's ticking." Clay replied silkily.
Grumbling under her breath, Brant gave Clay a phone number and address in Seattle where Valentina now lived.
As he was about to hang up the phone, he saw Bobby frantically waving and mouthing words at him. Rolling his eyes, Clay asked reluctantly, "By the way, does this kid have a name?"
Hearing papers being rattled over the phone, Brant finally replied. "Her name is Jolene."
Clay abruptly ended the call. Jolene? What kind of backwater country name is that?
Bobby clapped his hand on Clay's shoulder. "Congratulations." Bobby said cheekily. "So what's his name?"
"Her name is Jolene." Clay replied. "Can you believe this shit?"
"I can. Should have wrapped your junk, bro." Kyle replied as he helped himself to another slice of Bobby's banana bread. "And a girl, too? Man, she look anything like you, she's gotta be one ugly kid." He joked.
Bobby turned and glared at Kyle. "Why don't you shut the fuck up, you little piece of shit? Go get sucked off and leave the real men to talk."
Rolling his eyes, Kyle got up from the bar and strutted outside. After all, getting sucked off is not a bad idea.
Bobby shoved his friend into one of the chairs across from the bar. The heavy-set biker walked around the bar, grabbed two shot glasses and a bottle of Jack, and returned to the table.
Pouring two shots, Bobby raised his glass. "Mazel Tov! It's a girl."
Clay eyeballed his brother and knocked back his drink. "You know, why don't you follow that idiot and go get sucked off, too? I don't need jokes right now." He groused. "I can't believe this shit."
"Well, Kyle was right. You should have wrapped your junk, especially with that whore. I told you that was a high traffic zone you were ripping through." Bobby shot back. "But, obviously, you lost your head to that particular piece of pussy and now you got a kid."
Clay pointed a ringed index finger at his brother. "I might have a kid and, if I do, what the hell am I supposed to do about it?"
"Oh, I don't know," Bobby said rolling his eyes. "How 'bout raise her?"
"I don't know shit about raising children and I sure as hell don't know anything about six year old girls." Clay said grimly.
Bobby poured another round of shots. "Look, I'm a new father myself, and yeah, raising a kid is pretty overwhelming, but you need to seriously think about this before you do something you regret. SAMCRO will always be your family, but there's a chance this kid's got your blood pumping through her veins. Believe me, brother, nothing compares to the unconditional love you get from a child of your own. Think about it, brother." Bobby advised.
The party was swinging in the SAMTAC Clubhouse, but Clay wasn't in a party mood.
Sitting at a table in a dark corner of the Clubhouse with a bottle of Jack, Clay went over in his mind his recent encounter with Valentina. In the seven years since he had last set eyes on her, Valentina had aged some, no doubt a result of her current lifestyle choices. Surprised to see him, Valentina quickly attempted to seduce him in the hopes of scoring some cash. When Clay declined her proposition, the hellcat he had come to know made its ugly appearance.
Clay wasn't interested in Valentina's histrionics. Quickly coming to the point, he demanded to know why she hadn't contacted him about being the so-called father of her kid.
Lounging on a chair, smoking a cigarette, Valentina laughed in his face. She hadn't contacted him because she had been too busy trying to find somebody willing to abort the little brat. Unfortunately, in her constant need for sex and drugs, Valentina had failed to realize that she was pregnant until she was nearly five months along, which at that point was far too late to terminate the pregnancy. The only reason she didn't give up the little wretch when she was born was that the brat allowed her to get a big fat check from the government for keeping it.
Valentina whined about the brat placing too many demands on her time, being a problem child who had some serious mental issues, and with CPS constantly up her ass about its healthcare and education, she decided to finally give the kid up.
"I didn't think you'd want her as you were so quick to kick my ass to the curb." She retorted. "Besides, why waste your time anyway? She's a worthless piece of shit."
Clay backhanded Valentina so hard, she went flying off her chair. Surprised at himself by the sudden and disarming burst of overprotective rage that had overcome him, Clay stomped out of the tiny, filthy apartment and never looked back.
Clay had no feelings whatsoever about the kid prior to his run in with Valentina, but after hearing the strung up slut talk about her own child as she was no more than a piece of human waste and seeing the pitiful living conditions that the kid must have lived under, Clay had felt some small feelings of sympathy for the pathetic creature. Nobody should have to live under circumstances like that. It was obvious that Valentina had treated her child no better than an abandoned dog.
So heavy was Clay into his thoughts, he gave a start when Bobby sat down beside him. "Still thinking about that junkie whore, huh?"
Clay had confided in Bobby what had gone down with Valentina. Out of all of his brothers, it was Bobby that he found to be the one that he could confide in the most without feeling like a total pussy.
Lifting what was probably his four or fifth shot of Jack to his lips, Clay sighed. "Yeah."
"It sounds like you have a situation on your hands, brother." As Clay looked at Bobby with a quirked eyebrow, he continued. "I think you need to go see her."
"Who?" Clay tried to play stupid, but Bobby wasn't having it.
"Who'd ya think? Mother Theresa? I'm talking about Jolene."
Clay rubbed his hands over his face. "Bobby, what would be the point? Besides, I don't know her, she doesn't know me. She's probably not even my kid. The results aren't back."
"All I'm saying is that it won't hurt to take a look at the kid. Seattle is less than an hour from here. I'll go with you."
Clay looked into his brother's eyes for a long time. "It's just a look, right? I mean, it's not like I have to take her with me, right?"
"Exactly." Bobby nodded.
Clay Morrow was a hard man. Nobody knew this fact more than Bobby, but he also knew that Clay used that hardness as a shield to keep people from getting too close. Bobby realized that, in spite of his success within SAMCRO, there had been something lacking in his brother, almost like a big gaping hole where his heart should be.
Bobby smiled to himself. He had the feeling that Jolene Morrow could be the one thing to make a difference in the life of this cranky bachelor biker.
As Clay sat in the dingy waiting area of the Seattle Home for Children, he sighed heavily and he checked his watch for the fourth time.
"It's only been twenty minutes, Clay. Chill out." Bobby advised. "You're making yourself anxious."
"I'm not anxious, damn it!" Clay growled. "I've never been 'anxious' about a damn thing in my life."
"Okay, how's about nervous? Does nervous work for ya?" Bobby wisecracked.
Clay briefly contemplated putting one of his size fourteens straight up his brother's ass, but looking at the prim and wizened receptionist keeping an eye on them as if she was in fear of being raped, thought better of it.
Before Clay could come up with a snarky comment, the door to the waiting room opened to reveal a tall, bony middle-aged woman with graying blond hair. "Clarence Morrow?"
Both Clay and Bobby stood up. "I'm Clay Morrow," He replied.
"I'm Miranda Brant. We spoke on the telephone." She held out her hand for Clay to shake. "And this is?" Brant asked, nodding at Bobby.
"Bobby Munson." Bobby replied and shook her hand.
"Well, come this way, please." Brant turned and walked back through the door heading down the corridor.
The drab interior of state-run home for children was totally depressing. As Clay walked along its corridors, he passed by several rooms that held children of all shapes, sizes, colors, and ages.
They don't look too happy, Clay thought to himself. But how happy could they be—no family, nobody that cares about them. What a depressing place.
Looking over her shoulder, Brant said, "Mr. Morrow, I have to say that I was surprised to hear from you as we won't be getting the DNA results for another two days."
"Yeah," Clay replied, looking at Bobby, who gave him a shit-eating grin. "So was I."
Turning the corner, Brant stopped at a beige door. "Well, here we are. I'll take you in and introduce you. Mr. Munson, it's best if you come with me so that they can spend some one-on-one time together."
Clay was slightly panicked as he looked at Bobby. "Oh, I don't think that's necessary. Bobby can come along."
"I have to disagree. The first meeting is very important and neither of you should have any distractions. Follow me, please."
Clay hesitated briefly and then walked into the room.
The room, unlike the ones that he had passed in the corridor, was painted a cheerful yellow with colorful animated pictures on three of the walls, while the fourth sported what was obviously a large two-way mirror.
God, I feel like I'm in an interrogation room, Clay thought and for all intents and purposes he was.
At first, Clay thought there was no one in the room it was so quiet. Looking at a number of child-size seating areas that were scattered throughout the room, Clay's eyes finally fell on one Jolene Morrow.
The little girl was sitting at a table that was farthest away from the two-way mirror, with her back facing it. Immediately, Clay thought, smart kid. As Clay drew closer, the first thing he noticed was the wild and untamed heavy black curls that spilled over her thin shoulders. She was wearing a dark blue sweater that even he could see was too small for her very tiny frame, blue jeans, and a pair of worn Keds.
Brant spoke quite briskly and coldly. "Jolene, this is the gentleman I told you was coming to see you. Stand up and say hello."
The little girl sat still for a full ten seconds before she finally got up and turned around. Staring down at the child, Clay was startled when he was met with a blast of beautiful seafoam green eyes. As Clay's eyes ran over her face, he realized with a shock that she was the spitting image of her once-beautiful mother. Well, thank God she doesn't have my ugly mug, Clay thought. But what was even more amazing was the fact that even though he could see that she was scared, she was doing her best to hide it.
"Hello." Jolene barely parted her lips to speak.
"Uh, hi there." Clay blustered a little.
Brant headed for the door. "I'll leave you alone to talk for a while." The door closed with a sharp click which reverberated in the silence.
Now that the CPS drone—known among the young residents of the state-run facility as "Bone Face"—had left the room, Jolene shyly peeked through her shaggy bangs to get a good look at the tall man standing in front of her.
Wearing a blue flannel long-sleeve shirt, stonewashed jeans, black combat boots, a denim vest with patches, and a blue bandana tied around his forehead, Clay Morrow made an imposing figure.
Big. Huge. And a little scary.
Jolene had been a resident of the State for several months now. She had spent a couple of weeks in a hospital before she had been relocated to what the young residents called "Kid Prison." Jolene didn't like it here, but it was a hell of a lot better than living with her mother. The little girl shuddered slightly and tucked her hands into the pocket of her jeans, trying her best to not look like she was scared of the strange man standing before her.
It was very quiet in the room. Too quiet. Finally, Jolene got up the nerve to speak.
"What's your name?"
Clay, whose eyes had never moved from the small figure, replied. "It's Clay."
Jolene wrinkled her nose. "Like Play-Doh?" She queried.
Clay gave the girl a crooked smile. "Kind of, but not totally. It's short for Clarence."
Jolene considered both names. "I like Clay better." She said and gave him a tentative smile.
"So do I." He nodded over to the table. "You wanna sit down?"
Jolene cocked an eyebrow at him. "Okay, but sit over here." She walked around the table and pointed to a chair that had its back to the two-way mirror.
With a grin, Clay pulled out a ridiculously small chair and sat down gingerly. He was not surprised when Jolene picked out a seat right next to him so that they were both facing away from the mirror. In the adjacent room, an irritated Brant harrumphed loudly, while an amused Bobby looked on.
Shit, this is definitely Clay's kid.
Clay knew, but he just had to ask. "Why are we sitting in these chairs?"
Jolene motioned with her hand. Realizing that she wanted him to bend down, Clay complied.
Looking over her shoulder at the mirror, Jolene looked up at Clay. "Bone Face is watching." She whispered. As she realized what she said, she clapped her hand over her mouth.
"Bone Face, huh?" Clay smiled as he noted Jolene's reaction. "It's okay. You're right. She is a little on the bony side."
Jolene giggled softly. "She's nosy, too! Nobody likes her."
"I can see why." Clay commented. "You like it here?"
"Not really. It sucks ass, but at least there's food to eat. It's not very good though."
Raising his eyebrow at the profanity, Clay said, "You shouldn't say 'ass'."
"Why not?" Jolene said, resting a small fist on a cocked hip. "I called Miss Brant Bone Face. What's the difference?"
With a sheepish grin, Clay realized that he really couldn't come up with a good answer. "Never mind." Trying to refocus his mind on the conversation at hand, Clay asked, "There wasn't food to eat before you came here?"
"No." Jolene replied. "Valentina doesn't know how to cook and she didn't buy a lot of food."
My God, no wonder the child was so thin. She was being starved to death.
Clay's frown was intense and a little scary. "I'm sorry." Jolene said softly.
"What for?"
"You're mad."
Clay sighed. "Not at you, Jolene. At your mother." The piece of shit!
"Do you know her?"
"Yeah, I knew her a long time ago."
"Can I tell you something?"
"Sure."
"I'm mad at her, too."
I'll bet, Clay thought grimly.
"Well, you don't have to go back."
"Ever?"
"Ever." Clay moistened his lips. "How would you like to come stay with me?" Clay had not thought it possible, but Jolene's big eyes got even bigger.
"Leave KP?" She asked hopefully.
"What's KP?"
Jolene rolled her eyes. "Kid Prison."
Clay snorted. As he looked around, despite the cheery paint and pictures, Clay could see what Jolene meant.
"Yeah, this is a prison, and yeah, you could leave."
"Where would we go?"
"To be with my family. You see this?" Clay pointed to his denim cut. Jolene nodded. "This is very special. It means that I'm part of a special family, a brotherhood where we take care of each other."
"What's that on the back? It looks scary."
"That? That's the Reaper and it's nothing for you to be scared of. Anyone wearing the Reaper is family and they will always protect me and they'll protect you, too."
Jolene looked at the Clay's cut. Jolene whispered "It says 'Vice President.' Does that mean you're in charge?"
Clay grinned. "You read pretty good. It means that I'm second to the man in charge. We have a Clubhouse in a little town in California called Charming."
Jolene rolled her eyes again. "Like in a fairy tale?" She asked suspiciously.
"No, but it's a really good place to live."
"I don't believe in fairy tales." They never come true.
"You know, you're a really smart kid." Clay pointed a finger at her as Jolene beamed. "Princes and princesses and living happily ever after might sound like a good deal, but in the real world, you gotta make good things happen for yourself."
Jolene tugged on his cut and Clay got the message. Bending down even closer so that only he could hear, Jolene whispered. "Why do you want me to go with you?"
Clay looked down into those incredibly expressive green eyes and he just knew. "Because I'm your father." As Jolene's eyes widened, Clay whispered. "I didn't know that you were around. Your," Clay hesitated briefly. "Mother didn't tell me about you. If she had, I would have come for you sooner."
Jolene spent a long while looking into Clay's eyes and, apparently, she liked what she saw. With eyes flashing brightly, Jolene smiled hugely and stood up. "Okay. Let's go."
It didn't happen quite as fast as Jolene had hoped, but two weeks later, which seemed like a year to a child of six, Jolene was in a cage and on her way to Charming. During the one-and-a-half hour drive from Oakland International Airport, Jolene sat in the back seat of a 1985 Impala making Bobby dizzy as she nearly talked his ears off.
To say that Bobby was heart smitten was an understatement. At first, Jolene had been a little quiet, checking out the man with the large pot belly, wildly kinky hair, and denim cut just like her father's. But when Clay introduced him and gave him his seal of approval, it was as if the dam had burst open. Jolene had kept up a constant chatter, barely letting Bobby get a word in edgewise, asking question after question and keeping Bobby on his toes.
Bobby had never experienced being interrogated by a six year old girl before and, if the kid kept it up, she was bound to have a bright future as a trial lawyer. She would certainly save the MC a shitload of money, that's for sure. Jolene wanted to know everything there was to know about Bobby, so he told her all about himself, his second wife Precious, his son Milo, and his longtime love affair with the King, Elvis Presley.
When Jolene asked, "Who?", Bobby was quick to fill in the gaps in her sadly lacking musical education. Plugging in a CD, Bobby sang a montage of Elvis' greatest hits to Jolene's extreme amusement and Clay's rolling eyes.
Bobby quickly came to realize that Jolene Morrow, although young, was a smart little girl. Being that his firstborn, Milo, was only a year old, Bobby had no real experience with children of Jolene's age, but even he realized that there was something special about her.
Clay, who was doing the driving, would interject comments and, to Bobby's surprise, joked around with Jolene. It fascinated him just how quickly Clay was taking to the little girl with the huge green eyes. As a Son, Clay was most definitely a Man of Mayhem, but seeing him with what Clay had referred to as "The Kid", Bobby saw another, more gentler side of the seasoned outlaw that he had known for so many years.
Before the three of them knew it, Clay was pulling into the T-M lot. It was dusk and the garage was closed for the night, but there was some activity about the Clubhouse. A number of brothers were at the boxing ring, yelling out advice, cheering, and cracking on a fight currently in progress.
As the car pulled to a stop, an excited Jolene quickly released her seat belt and, before Bobby had been able to get out of the car, Jolene popped open the car door and leapt out. Standing in the shadows of the setting sun, Jolene stood huddled against the cold evening air in a thin winter coat and high water jeans. She slowly turned around, taking everything in.
"So, what do you think, kid?" Clay asked as he came around from the driver's side to stand next to his daughter.
Jolene looked sideways at her father. With a child's honesty, she replied, "Well, it's kind of a dump, but maybe it'll look better in the morning."
Bobby let out a belly laugh and affectionately tousled her hair. "Well, I see no moss grows on you, but you might want to keep that to yourself for a while."
Jolene nodded solemnly. Pointing over to the ring, Jolene turned to her father. "Why are they fighting?"
Picking her up, Clay smiled into her inquisitive eyes. "They're not fighting, baby girl. They're boxing."
"What's boxing?" She tilted her head and scrunched up her nose.
"Well, technically, it's fighting, but with a bunch of rules. Let's go take a look." With raised eyebrows, Bobby followed his VP to the ring.
The young Scotsman, Filip "Chibs" Telford, an ex-IRA soldier and the newest member of SAMCRO, courtesy of the Belfast charter, was currently in the ring. The Club was going to unleash what they hoped would be their brand new killing machine in a boxing match in Galt the following week. Chibs had been training day and night for the fight and was currently making mincemeat out of a new Prospect in the ring.
Holding Jolene in his arms, Clay introduced his daughter to the Sons watching the fight, including Lenny "The Pimp" Janowitz, the Sergeant-at-Arms, Piney Winston, co-founder of the Club, and a new patch, Big Otto Delaney.
Being held so securely by her father, Jolene was unafraid and cheerful when meeting all of her father's brothers. She remembered her father telling her that everyone wearing the Reaper would be her friend, so she felt safe, despite the loud and boisterous men who seemed so big and overwhelming.
Clay pointed at the ring, explaining what was happening to Jolene, while Bobby shook his head exasperatedly. The ring was no place for a little kid, never mind a girl, but Jolene didn't seem to be afraid of the violence she witnessed, instead staring intently at the fighter landing blows on the hapless Prospect.
Clay looked down at Jolene. "So, what do you think?" Nodding at the boxers in the ring.
Jolene watched intently and pointed to the Prospect. "Why doesn't he put his hands up? Then he wouldn't get hit so much."
The entire crowd erupted with howls of laughter, not the least of which was Chibs. "Lil luvvie here knows a hell of a lot more about fighting than you ever will, you shit-for-brains Prospect." Shoving the Prospect on his ass, Chibs walked over to the ropes and leaned on them. "And how do you know that, lil girl?"
Looking up at Chibs, Jolene replied, "Cause that's what I used to do when my mother would hit me."
Immediately, the crowd quieted down and at first no one knew what to say, not even Bobby.
Finally, Chibs crouched down. "Well, maybe one of these days, when you're a wee bit older, I'll give you some real lessons. I bet ya will do better than that sorry sack."
Jolene's eyes widened. "Promise?"
Chibs pulled off his glove and offered the little girl his pinky. Smiling from ear to ear, Jolene wrapped her tiny finger around his. "I swear."
Still carrying Jolene, Clay followed Bobby, who was lugging a battered suitcase containing Jolene's meager possessions, into the Clubhouse. Jolene's eyes roamed over the Main Room, quickly taking in the beautiful hardwood bar, the pool table, the doors that housed the Chapel, the kitchen, and the mug shots on the wall.
Seeing something that she didn't understand, Jolene reached out and grabbed her father's chin to turn his face in her direction. "What?"
Pointing to a platform on which stood a long, shiny pole, Jolene asked, "What's that?"
Clay's eyes widened in slight panic, so Bobby quickly replied. "Oh, that's just a dance floor, Kitten." Putting her suitcase down by the bar, he reached for Jolene, who quite willingly went into his arms. She seemed to enjoy being carried around and Bobby was not at all surprised.
The poor thing probably never had a decent cuddle in all her six years on this earth.
"How would you like me to make you some of my famous homemade Mac and Cheese for dinner?" Bobby asked.
"What's that?"
"You never had Mac and Cheese before?"
Jolene shook her head solemnly.
"Well, you are in for a treat, Kit. You just sit right here and watch me whip some up." Bobby walked over to the kitchen and sat Jolene down on a stool.
Looking over his shoulder at Clay, he said, "Maybe you should take Kit's suitcase to your dorm and get rid of anything else that you might not be prepared to explain." Bobby gave a slight nod to Jolene, who was currently checking out her surroundings.
Thank God there were no croweaters or sweetbutts around. Clay would have had a hard time explaining them.
Bobby had tried convincing Clay that he was going to have to think about getting an apartment and move out of the Clubhouse as it was certainly no place to raise a child, but Clay had poo-poohed the idea. As Clay hurried off to take care of business, Bobby could see that he might finally be getting through to the rough as a cob outlaw biker.
About an hour later, Jolene was sitting at a table in the Clubhouse with her father and the man she now called Uncle Elvis and was served her very first home-cooked meal. As Jolene bit into the creamy, cheesy pasta topped with buttery seasoned breadcrumbs, she smiled at both her daddy and her new uncle.
She knew that things were going to be all right from now on.
Over the next week, Jolene quickly adapted to her new surroundings and fell in love with her father, her Uncle, and her new SAMCRO family.
Spending her days exploring the Clubhouse, learning how to play pool from her father, and eating man-sized portions of the food that Uncle Elvis made for her every day was like a dream come true. And Jolene came to realize that her father was wrong after all—fairy tales do come true and he was her knight in shining armor.
The only dim spot on the horizon was the fact that soon they would be moving out of the Clubhouse and into a house. Clay had assured her that it was close by and that she would still be at the Clubhouse a lot, but Jolene had loved sleeping in her father's dorm.
Her first night in the Clubhouse had Jolene sleeping in a small trundle bed that Clay had bought secondhand from the thrift store next to Lumpy's Gym. Jolene had liked it well enough, but it had been cold in the room that first night and, in spite of the blanket she wrapped around herself, she had curled up into a little ball in an effort to keep warm. Not realizing that her teeth had been chattering from the cold, Jolene was surprised when the light came on in the room.
"What's going on over there?" Clay asked. Propping himself up on his bed, he looked over to see Jolene in a tight little ball. "You cold?"
At first, Jolene didn't want to tell him, thinking that he would be upset, but finally she nodded.
Clay sighed and then flipped back the covers on his bed. "Come on then."
Like a shot, Jolene hopped up and into the warm bed with her father. In the space of a minute, she was out like a light and for the next week, Jolene slept with her father every night.
Clay rolled over onto his back and laughed. I can see that having a kid is going to put a crimp in my efforts to get laid. Clay decided right then and there that, come morning, he would be hitting the streets to look for an apartment.
Instead, Clay had found a small two-bedroom house for rent only a few blocks away from the Clubhouse and the elementary school that Jolene would be starting soon. He and Bobby spent the day with Jolene shopping for furniture for their new home and, most importantly, clothes to replace Jolene's meager wardrobe.
Clay was still having a hard time accepting what had been done to Jolene and the guilt was twisting him up inside. He had seen the scars and the cigarette burns on her little body and his anger blazed each time he thought of the piece of shit woman who had brought her into the world. Clay was determined to try and make up for all of the pain and suffering that Jolene had suffered at her hands.
And the first order of business was to provide his baby girl with a new wardrobe.
Clay and Bobby stood in the children's department of Mervyns in complete shock. Surrounded by so much pink, Clay was about to pass out from the sugar shock of it all. A saleswoman had finally taken pity on the two bikers, who obviously had no clue when it came to shopping for little girls. Grateful for the reprieve, Clay informed her that money was not an issue and the saleswoman proceeded to outfit Jolene in the latest and greatest, including a pink princess nightgown, the first she would ever own.
Jolene was in awe as she watched the saleslady plunk armful after armful of clothes down at the register to ring them up. Seeing her father pay for them, it finally sunk in that they were really hers.
Now, wearing one of her new outfits, a pair of black corduroy pants, a red sweater, and a thick winter jacket, Jolene was being ushered into the Teller household for the first of many Sunday dinners to come and to meet the President of her father's Club and his family.
The Teller home was situated at the west end of Charming's city limits. The one-story, three bedroom house was cozily set between two houses that occupied a cul-de-sac. As Jolene walked into the house, she saw that it was already filled to capacity with members of SAMCRO and their families. There were a number of children running in and out of the house and there was loud and boisterous laughter of the men in the living room, while their old ladies occupied themselves with getting dinner on the table.
Jolene looked up as a tall man with long, dark hair and a beard approached her and her father. Slapping a hand on her father's back, the man said, "Clay, glad you made it." Looking at Jolene, JT smiled as he crouched down to eye level with her and held out his hand. "You must be Jolene. I've heard a lot about you." As Jolene shook his hand, Clay raised an eyebrow.
JT laughed as he straightened up. "It seems Chibs is determined to get your daughter in the ring one of these days. He thinks she'll do a better job than the Prospect." As both of the men laughed, JT looked over his shoulder as he heard someone approaching. "Gem, look who's here."
Jolene's eyes doubled in size as she got her first look at the Queen of Charming.
Gemma Teller made a regal entrance. Wearing tight leather pants with four-inch boots, a sexy red flared top with cut-out sleeves, and large silver hoops, Gemma's dark hair with platinum streaks shone brightly.
"Hello Clay, Bobby." Looking down Gemma's eyes met Jolene's. "And you must be Clay's daughter."
Jolene looked at the woman and suddenly her old shyness kicked in. Barely able to meet her eyes, Jolene wrapped her arms around her father's leg and replied in a soft voice. "Hello."
"Well, not much for words, huh?" Gemma said. "That's okay." She looked at Clay. "I'm sure she'll get used to us soon enough."
Before Clay could answer, a young boy dashed across the room, followed in hot pursuit, by another taller one. "Jax, Opie." Gemma called. "Come over and say hi."
And that was the moment Jolene Morrow had been introduced to the boy that would become the greatest love of her life, Jackson Teller.
Although he was standing next to another boy with reddish brown hair, who was at least a good head taller, Jolene only really saw the blond-headed boy of about ten with the bright blue eyes and easy smile.
"Jax, this is Clay's daughter Jolene. Why don't you take her out back, introduce her to the rest of the kids?" Gemma asked.
"Okay, Mom." Jax nodded his head at the little girl with huge green eyes. "This is Ope. Come on back."
Jolene looked up at her father, who nodded his approval, and then followed the two boys to the backyard.
"She's a cute little thing," JT said. "Quiet, though."
"Yeah, right. Just give her a minute to warm up. Then she'll talk your head right off your shoulders." Bobby replied, with a hint of pride gleaming in his eyes.
Jolene was having a good time. The food had been plentiful and delicious and everyone was surprised at just how much she could eat. They didn't know, but when you've spent days locked in a closet without food like she had, you learned to take advantage and eat your fill whenever it was available as you could never be sure when you'd get to eat again.
Now, feeling a little stuffed, Jolene headed towards the back of the house to use the bathroom. After washing her hands like Uncle Elvis taught her and closing the bathroom door behind her, she heard the loud thump of something falling on the floor. At the end of the hallway, Jolene saw a light shining through a door that was open just a crack.
Hesitant at first, Jolene crept towards the room and peeked into the room. She saw a small boy wearing Spider-Man pajamas, leaning over the bed as he tried to reach for the book that had fallen on the floor.
Jolene pushed the door open and ran towards the bed. "I'll get it." She bent down and picked up the book. It was actually a large comic book. Jolene handed it to the thin, blond-headed boy who was trying to catch his breath.
"Are you okay?" Jolene asked concerned.
The boy nodded, but it took a moment for him to speak. "Thanks. I'm okay. I just couldn't get my book."
Jolene looked at his face, which looked rather pale. "Maybe I should get somebody." She started to turn away, but the boy quickly stopped her.
"No, I'm okay. Really. If you tell, they'll make me go to the hospital again and I don't want to go back."
Jolene turned around. She could understand that. Having spent two weeks being poked and prodded in a hospital before going to Kid Prison, she knew the feeling.
"Okay." She replied. "I'm Jolene. What's your name?"
"I'm Tommy Teller."
Jolene nodded. "Are you too sick to come outside to play?"
"Yes. My mother won't let me play with my brother and Opie." At Jolene's confused look, Tommy said, "Jax is my big brother. He and Opie wanted to stay with me for a while, but Mom said I need to be quiet and still. That's why I was reading, but my eyes get tired."
Jolene looked at Tommy. "I can read. Do you want me to read it to you?"
Tommy's face brightened and he got a little color in his pale cheeks. "Yeah, sure." He patted the side of his bed. "Come here and sit next to me."
Jolene kicked off her sneakers and climbed up on the bed. "You might have to help me with some of the big words."
The two children lay against the headboard, with Tommy's head leaning on Jolene's small shoulder. Reading the exploits of Spider-Man vs. Dr. Octopus, neither of them noticed Gemma Teller standing in the doorway.
Gemma's eyes were moist as she saw her baby boy being cheered up by the newest addition to SAMCRO's family. Backing away slowly, Gemma closed the door.
That one is definitely a keeper.