AN: May I introduce to you all, Ms. Harlie Morrow. This is her story. This is a revamp of a story I wrote under the same title. I hope everyone who has read the original loves this one just as much. And if you're new to this story, you can check out the older version on my profile! Just a warning that this story will contain alcohol/drug use by a teenager(17.) Also, this will involved sexual situation involving a younger woman and older men. If that doesn't float your fancy, please exit now!
Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy, they belong to Kurt Sutter and FX. I do own Harlie and Krys.
"C'mon, little girl… I know how ya can hit harder than that." Chibs Telford's words went in one ear and right back out the other as he caught her fist in his left hand. "Where's ya head at?"
Harlie Grace loved to fight. That was nothing new. The adrenaline rush was enough to keep her high for hours. Sticks and stones would break her bones, but a fist to the mouth would heal. That's what her father always told her, but this time… She was exhausted. The old boxing ring out behind Teller-Morrow was like a second home. Full of her hard earned blood, sweat, and tears. The only daughter of Clay Morrow wasn't going to go around not being able to defend herself. Not his baby.
Rolling around in the ring was a-okay, but one little fight at school was enough to her thrown out for the rest of the week. It would've been longer if her mom hadn't put the fear of God into that shit excuse for a principal…
"C'mon, Scotty... Give the girl a break." Jax Teller's melodic laughter rang out from the picnic table. "Heard you beat some poor girl's ass earlier today, kid."
"Bet that fight was hot.." The smirk was evident in Juice's voice, but his tone changed as he caught Clay's disapproving eye.
"You talk a lot of shit for someone with that haircut." Harlie narrowed her eyes down at him. "Poor girl? Poor girl my fuckin' ass." She pant ed, stepping down from the ring.
"Language, please?" Clay's burly arm came down to loop around his daughter's shoulders.
"Ha, sure. Whatever, Dad." Harlie kissed his cheek. "You're the adult here."
"If you plan on hanging out here all week, you're gonna work. I'm sure your mom wouldn't mind letting you take over for a day." He grinned. "You ain't gettin' off that easy. I also need someone to pick up cigarette butts and it looks like you're the right one for the job."
"Let the kid have some fun." Tig laughed, trapping Harlie in a headlock.
"Goddamnit, Tig!" Harlie squirmed, trying to push him away to no avail. Without a second thought, she dug her sharp nails between two of his ribs. He dropped his arm with a yelp.
"So.. What did she do to piss you off so bad?" Jax smirked.
"Talked shit about my family," she paused. "Called me a biker whore." She caught Juice's guilty gaze, anger flashing behind those green eyes.
"Still doesn't make it okay." Clay rolled his eyes.
"Okay, seriously?" She huffed in annoyance. "This is what I get from defending the club's honor?"
Juice spoke up. "So.. What all happened? What's the damage?" He grinned. Juice was her doofy superman, but today she wanted nothing to do with him. This whole thing was his fault anyway. 'Never fight over a man unless you're his old lady.' Her mother's wise words resonated in the back of her mind.
"Oh, nothing too bad. Just a busted nose and a fat lip." Harlie shrugged her shoulders, tipping back her gallon jug full of water.
"Her parents pressing charges?" Tig hopped up to take a seat on the rickety picnic table.
"Against SAMCRO? Yeah, right.." Smoke slipped from between the VP's lips as he lit up another cigarette.
"Eh, just a scuffle.." Tig waved his hand in dismissal. "No big deal, Clay. At least she's not dead."
"Don't joke around about that shit, shithead." Chibs stepped up beside his favorite girl and threw his arms around her.
"Okay! Get off, please? I'm sweaty and gross." Harlie stepped away, laughing. "I'm going to use Jax's shower. I have clothes in my bag."
"You stayin' for the party tonight, darlin'?" Chibs asked.
"Duh. Bobby's comin' home. How could i miss that?" Harlie's full pink lips turned up into a grin. "Can't wait! When's Tacoma gettin' here?" Bobby had been in prison for the past few months for the murder of state official Brennan Hephner, but when the witness went missing, ATF's case again SAMCRO went out the window.
"Hap called about a little while ago and they're about an hour out." Clay looked over at Harlie. She'd grown up so much in the past few years. She stood at solid five foot seven, her mother made over. Everything from her mess of blonde curls to her emerald eyes. Just like he feared, he'd catch a few of the guys staring at her from time to time and always seemed to swallow the urge to kill them. She was his wild child. She would never be tamed and he knew that.
"Sweet! I'm gonna go get ready.. See you guys later.." Harlie disappeared into the clubhoue
Juice was sat comfortably up at the bar watching as Tig and Chibs argued over a game of pool that Tig was apparently losing. His thoughts wandered to Harlie Grace, still perplexed as to why she would barely talk to him. Or look at him. Hell, he didn't have to wonder. He already knew. He knew that girl would come back to bite him in the ass somehow. He could taste the regret on her lips and see it in that sickly sweet smile that drew him in. How he chose her Harlie, he would never knew. He had to make it right somehow.
He downed the rest of his Corona before moseying on down the long hallway. He came to a stop in front Jax's room, his hand hovering over the door knob. With a few internal words of encouragement and a deep breath, he pushed the door open. Steam creeped out from under the bathroom door, the shower still running. His feet were like cinder blocks, but somehow he managed to trudge across the old carpet.
"Harlie?" Juice's brow furrowed as he rapped twice on the door before stepped inside. His eyes were drawn to her pile of clothes on the floor, the pastel pink lace of her thong laying right on top. Like a cherry on a sundae. His nostrils flared at the thought of the soft lace in his hands… Her scent invading his nostrils, but his grave was already deep enough. No need to dig any deeper.
"What the fuck?" Her sigh echoed in the small bathroom. "What are you doing in here?"
"I just wanted to talk." Juice pressed his back against the door.
"You couldn't have waited? Not even ten minutes?" She grumbled under her breath.
"What's up with you today?" He rolled his eyes. He scolded himself mentally. He knew exactly what was wrong. There was no point in asking. '
"Well, my day's been pretty shitty so far." She snapped. "Hand me my towel?"
"Not until you talk to me." He slung it over his shoulder.
"What do you want me to say?" She pushed her sopping wet curls back away from her eyes.
"Why aren't you talking to me?" He asked, staring at the floor.
"You know exactly why. Don't play dumb with me, Juan." Harlie stepped out of the shower, not giving a damn dripping wet and naked. One hand rested on her the curve of her hip.
Shit. Juice's body tightened. Her body seemed to bed for his attention, but now was not the time. She was perfect. She had the perfect curves, the perfect tits. Goddamn. He looked away out of respect. "Enlighten me.." He managed to croak out.
"You fucked her!" Her harsh words were laced with venom. "She wanted to throw that in my face. You wouldn't fuck me because I'm too young, but you'll fuck her."
"Harlie, that's different.." He ran a hand over his head.
"How? Tell me?" Tears welled up in her eyes, but she wouldn't let herself cry in front of him.
"I don't give a damn about those girls, Harlie.." Juice reached forward to grab her arm. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was, but he couldn't find the words. Apologies were never his forte.
"Don't. Get out. Get out before I call my dad." Harlie warned, jerking her towel from his shoulder. "Just leave me alone, Juice." She patted her legs dry, one at time before reaching for her lotion she kept stored in Jax's bathroom cabinet.
"I fucking care about you.." He placed his on her shoulders, praying her eyes would meet his, but they didn't.
"Bullshit.. You only care about getting your dick wet." With a forceful shove, his back smacked the thin wooden door.
Even though he liked his dick attached to his body, what she said wasn't true. "Listen to me, damnit."
"No, get out!" Harlie Grace warned him for the last time, reaching for her cell phone on the counter.
Juice shoulder's slumped forward in defeat. "Fine. Text me later, I guess..." While she wasn't looking, he bent down and snatched the pink from the floor before dipping out of Jax's bathroom.
"Hey! That was my favorite pair!" Her voice called after him.
He just smirked to himself and kept going.
The partied at the SAMCRO clubhouse were always over the top. That's how they rolled. Strippers, fights, the whole nine. Slowly, but surely Clay was beginning to realize there was no point in shielding Harlie from the harsh reality of club life… starting with the parties. He knew she was going to smoke and drink even if he wasn't around so he figured it was better if she did it in a familiar environment. As a parent, he always played the good cop leaving her mother to play the bad if needed. Telling that kid no was something he never grew accustomed to.
"You havin' fun, Princess?" Clay spoke up, an arm sneaking around her shoulder.
"Yeah, feels good to blow off some steam." Harlie let the thick smoke escape, passing the joint back to Clay. The heavy weight from the day was finally lifted from her shoulders, but Juice kept crawling into the back of her mind. His doofy smile and the way he held her in his arms… All the things she wanted to put behind her. As if on queue, her phone vibrated in her back pocket. Juice's name flashed on the screen.
'U look hot tonight.'
He was right. She did look hot in ripped skinny jeans. The way they hugged her her hips as if they were afraid to let go. Not to forget her favorite stiletto boots and, of course, a Property of SAMCRO t-shirt to tie it all together. Her sinful red lips were painted a sinful shade of red, but goddamnit. No. She was mad at him. Before she could respond, a black Mercedes rolled casually into the parking lot of Teller-Morrow.
"You stay back, got it?" Clay warned as he stepped forward. A man dressed in a white shirt and black slacks emerged from the driver's side of the car. Something about the man made her uncomfortable. Between the way he sized her up and his threatening demeanor, her stomach turned. Another man dressed in a crisped dark suit with gray hair stepped out of the back.
"The garage is closed."A few guys stepped out from the other side of the car. They were covered in Aryan ink from head to toe. Darby's guys.
"We're not here for car repairs." The gray-haired man said, approaching Clay. "I understand you're a Camacho fan." The stranger presented Clay with a box of cigars.
"Who are ya?" CLay questioned with an amused smirk. All of SAMCRO began to gather around, Tig instantly going for Clay's side.
"Just dropping by to give you some friendly advice." The man dressed in black and white handed Clay a business card. Harlie observed the way he stood behind the mysterious man in the suit. His piercing gaze caught hers again and hse stomach dropped.
"And what advice would that be?" Clay almost laughed.
"We feel it would be best for all concerns if you stopped dealing arms to the One-Niners and the Mayans." The other said, nodding. He was definitely the one in charge
Clay glanced back over his shoulders as laughter emitted from the gathering crowd. "I don't know what you're talkin' about. We're just mechanics and Harley lovers." He laughed, shaking his head.
"That's one of Darby guy's back there.." Tig pointed out with a whisper.
"Mr. Darby is one of our supporters.." The gray haired man spoke up again.
"Expensive car.." Clay took a step forward, observing his surroundings. "Hell of a suit. All your teeth. Must be the top of the Aryan food chain, huh?"
"What you do for a living is between you and your maker. I'm not here to adjust your moral compass. This is just a reality check. You're a criminal and you're done selling guns to color." The ring leader responded with a tone of clear warning. Tig reached for the pistol at his side.
"Are you going to shoot me, Mr. Trager? With all these witnesses?" The man raised an eyebrow.
"Look, uhh.. I dunno what Darby told ya and I dunno what your angle is, but let me be real clear nobody threatens SAMCRO. And nobody can tell us what we can and can't do. Black. Brown. Or white." Clay eyed them carefully.. "So why don't ya climb back into your German clown car and drive back to Nazi town? 'Cause next time you piss all over my shoes, he'll kill ya. And, I don't give a shit how many witnesses there are." He spat.
"My shop.. Opens in a few weeks. Until then.." He placed the box of cigars at Clay's feet. "Enjoy.."
The sidekick motioned for all the clowns to squish back into the Mercedes.
As Harlie stepped forward towards her father, she found herself blocked. "Sorry, ma'am." His sick smirk sent shivers down her spine.
Clay handed the business card to Juice. "I wanna know everything."
"You got it." Juice hurried off with a stiff nod.
A moment later, Clay was approached by both his wife and his daughter. As if he needed the two of them getting in the middle of things right now.
"What the hell was that?" Krys hissed under her breath.
"Just a friend of Darby's." Clay shrugged. "Don't worry about it."
"Hey, what did he say to you?" Happy's gruff voice pulled Harlie from her thoughts. She was frozen in place, eyes glued to the spot where the mysterious man stood.
"Oh, nothing. He, uh.. He apologized for stepping in front of me." She shook her head. "No big deal."
"You keep an eye out." Happy's hand came down on her shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. It'd been less than three weeks since he last saw her, but still something about her was different. She carried herself with a new air of confidence and frankness that he admired. A new flame burned in her eyes.
"I'll be fine, Hap. Don't be so serious." Despite the lighthearted giggle and Happy's tight smirk, some nagging feeling told her something was off. The feeling of unease melted away the moment she set foot in the clubhouse. Familiar territory. Home.
The clubhouse was so full, it was practically bursting at the seams. Crow Eaters, club members, hang arounds. The heavy scent of marijuana, pussy, and stale beer lingered in the air. The speakers were blaring Highway to Hell by AC/DC and the song seemed to fit the true ambience Club Reaper. Her eyes scanning through the hazy room, searching out Bobby Elvis who wasn't hard to find. There he was, face down between the open legs of a normal hang around. Her name was something like Carmen.
"Forget all about your favorite girl in prison?" She grinned.
Bobby forced himself away from the task at hand and stood up. He threw his arms around her, almost knocking her to the ground. "Good to see ya, Princess. Missed ya."
"I missed you too, Bobby." Harlie laughed, wrapping her arms around to his neck. "You better get back to your desert. I'll see ya later." Her footsteps still echoed in the empty hallway despite the buzzing of the music. Her mother told her she learned to walk in these hallways. She took her first steps in the parking lot of Teller-Morrow. Crying for her father not to leave on a run. As she crept down the length of the hall, she noticed Juice's door cracked open.
"Hey, you." She poked her head inside. Though she couldn't tell if it was her nerves or that last beer.
"Oh, hey." Juice looked up at her, then back to his computer.
She slid inside and flicked the lock on the door. "Club shit?"
He nodded, closing his laptop. "Come sit with me." He grinned.
Harlie sat down on the edge of the bed, kicking off her boots one by one. "Don't ruin the moment. Stop talking."
"C'mere." A raspy chuckle escaped Juice's lips, his smile meeting his dark eyes. One hand reached out, searching for hers. "Why don't you wear these jeans more often? I like them."
"Just to make you ask questions, Juan Carlos." Harlie swatted away his wandering hand. "I'm still mad at you."
Juice tossed the business card and his laptop in the top drawer of his dresser before flopping down next to her on the creaky old mattress. "You ever gonna tell me what I can do to get back in your good graces, Your Highness?"
"First off you can star-" Her phone's obnoxious ringtone cut her off before she could finish her sentence. "Son of a bitch." She cursed, digginer her phone from her back pocket.
Gemma.
"Hey, Gem!" SHe answered cheerfully, slapping away Juice's curious hands once again.
"You comin' over to watch Abel, baby?" Gemma always seemed to know when she was catching the young woman in the worst situations. Harlie called it spying. Gemma called it mother's intuition. Gemma wasn't her biological mother, but sometimes it sure felt like it.
"Oh, shit.. Yeah. Sorry. I was just catching up with Bobby." Harlie was up on her feet with a quickness, digging around on the old carpet for her mother's stiletto boots
"Sure ya were, baby. You tell Juice I said hello, okay? I'll see you with a few." The phone call ended with a click.
"Well, Gemma says hello." Harlie snorted, snatching Juice's Reaper Crew hoodie from the back of his computer chair. "If you wanna get back in my good graces, you can start by letting me borrow this hoodie."
"Take it. It's yours." Juice propped himself up on his elbow. "You okay to drive, little girl?"
"I'll be fine. I'm just going to watch Abel." Harlie winked before disappearing off down the hallway. She admit to herself that Juice's concern was quite flattering, but she didn't need him to worry about her. She was going to be just fine.
"What do we do?" Weston killed the engine in the black Mercedes and cast a curious glance towards his boss.
"We shake their foundation." Zobelle stated with a shrug.. "Simple as that."
"Mrs. Morrow?" Weston raised an eyebrow.
"No, no. We got after the daughter. If we crack the sweet, little princes the rest of the kingdom will crumble around her feet." Zobelle said quietly and stepped from the car. "I'll leave you to it, Mr. Weston."
AN: So... Here it is. The first chapter revamp of Monster's! I hope you all enjoy!