A/N- Hey anyone who is reading this. Thanks for checking it out. If you've read my other story 'Born Into Anarchy', don't worry I'm not giving up on it or anything. I've had some family issues, and other shit going on, that are blocking me. I will return to working on it, hopefully soon. i have no problem with working on 2 stories at once, so it's all good. Now this story isn't at all related to that one, the whole idea just came to me while i was trying to sleep...
So Skylar's a 16 yr old girl, who is thrown into meeting her Dad for the first time. Things will be rough, raw, sad, angry, violent, and all around tough. There will be romance, it just won't happen for a little bit, and I'm not telling you guys who her Son will be! But you guys are all free to guess, although it doesn't mean I'll tell you just yet. I'll probably do pictures for this story later on, but not just yet. This is AU, but set somewhere within the first season, i haven't actually decided where yet. So the season is just kinda a reference, not really a guide, if that makes sense.
WARNING- If you can't handle a shit ton of swearing, and all forms of violence, then step the fuck off. Because there will be lots of both. And i don't understand why anyone would read SOA fanfiction if you can't handle those things. Because it isn't SOA without those things!
Big shout out to Lauren (Bad Company), who helps me with all my insanity. We share a mutual love for SOA, and she makes sure that you all can understand my work.
Lauren actually suggested this title to me. It's from 'Patchover', when Jax reads the quote about anarchy that his dad mentioned in his book. I really liked it, and thought it fit with the ideas I have for this story, so i used it.
I own nothing you recognize. I just like to play with the world that Kurt Sutter created... GENIUS!
Chapter 1- Introductions
I didn't want to know my father.
Sure when I was little, I wondered why all the other kids had a Dad, but not me. I was jealous, as all children are of others who have something they don't. But did I have that driving desire to know the man who helped to create me? Did I crave to know what he looked like? Or what his voice sounded like? No.
I guess that should tip anyone off that I wasn't your typically sweet little girl. Oh no, not me. I wasn't the little girl who brought Valentine's Day cards for everyone in the class. I was the little girl who brought a squirt gun to school instead and shot everyone wearing red with water. I was what was considered, Trouble.
Case in point, when told to share my pack of gum with my classmates. I scoffed at my teacher, and quickly told her if she thought I was passing my pack around she was clearly fucking delusional. Those were my exact words, I was five and it was my first day of school. So while everyone else was making finger paintings or whatever, I was sitting in the principal's office.
You know how when they ask you in first grade, what you want to be when you grow up? There's always the typical, Doctor, lawyer, vet, astronaut answer. Then there are the weird kids who say dinosaur or something equally ridiculous. Well my answer was simple. I looked straight at my teacher, and said to him, "When I'm older, I'll be me." He had frowned at me, and clarified that he wanted to know what job I wanted to have when I was older.
I had glared at him, and told him, "I'm not a fucking retard! I know what you asked. But I'm six, how the hell do I know what I'll be doing?" He told me to watch my language, and yelled at me for not cooperating with the class. So I batted my little eyelashes, and sweetly said. "I'm sorry, would you like me to answer your question?" After making it known that he'd appreciate it, I answered him. "What's it called when you get to sit around all day, not really doing anything and ask dumb questions? Oh I know, a teacher." Well guess where I ended up? Yeah that's right, the principal's office.
Through out my whole academic career, I was in the principal's office more than my classrooms. Whether it was for being a wise ass, or for getting into fights, you could always count on seeing me sitting there looking bored and annoyed. You wonder what my problem was. Now, I have a shit load of problems, but then? Nothing really.
Yeah, I didn't have a dad. But I had an amazing mom who was fun and cool, that I love more than anything. We had an apartment, not a house, but I didn't care. I always figured that I had a bed to myself, what more did I really need. We lived in a good neighborhood, there wasn't any bad crimes going on around us. I was just me, a smart ass little girl who didn't like to be treated like a little girl.
If you want to get technical, I guess you should blame my mom. Don't get me wrong she wasn't perfect, because no one is, but she was as close as you can get. She taught me how to cook. We baked cookies and cakes together. We drew and painted together, although my stuff looked like shit, while her's looked like it belonged in a museum. She never talked down to me; she explained things to me like she would to another adult. She believed that in order to raise a responsible adult that you should start with the obvious, talking to them like an adult.
She was a hippie. Not all tie dye and peace signs. More like a rocker hippie. She enjoyed everything, saw the fun to be had and pushed that fun even farther. She wanted that fun, but she wasn't crazy enough to think that life is all fun and games, and that's where the rocker part came in. She loved to blast any and all rock music, especially Nirvana, which was her favorite. She actually told me that had I been a boy, my name would have been Cobain. Seriously, she wanted my first name to be Cobain, like Skylar isn't bad enough.
Don't get me wrong here, I love my name, it's cute. But that's also the problem, it's cute. When someone says Skylar, I think of a girl with very blonde curls, probably pulled up into pig tails, carrying around a stuffed animal under her arm. There's nothing wrong with that picture, like I said, it's cute. But I'm not cute.
I don't wear skirts, or make up. I wear men's shirts that are huge on me. The shirts don't come from guys; I actually went to the men's section and bought them, for me. My jeans are all women's, because men's jeans don't work when you're 5'4", and they're tight but you can't see the wide flare of my hips because of my baggy shirts. Occasionally I'll paint my nails black, or silver. I don't wear jewelry, except for my piercings, which go all the way up both ears and a little stud in my nose. Anything else would be too enticing for the unwanted guys.
My hair's not blonde; it's long, straight and so deep brown that it's almost black. My eyes are light blue, and kind of big, but not dramatically. I have curves, but they aren't noticeable because of the wardrobe, and that's the way I like it. I look like my mom, but I can't really know for sure, since I've never seen my dad.
"Next stop, in thirty minutes." The bus driver says over the speaker, interrupting my musings. I sigh and glance out my window.
Nope, I never wanted to know my dad, but I was about too. I don't resent or hate him. I don't blame him for my shitty life, I just don't care.
See my mom has told me the story of how they met, about a million times. She was living in California, and being all rocker hippie-ish, when she met this guy on a motorcycle. Apparently their 'aura's we in sync', and they had a couple fun weeks together. It was nothing serious; she assured me that they both knew it was just for fun and to pass the time. Well around nine months later, yours truly popped out to greet the world.
A few years back, shortly after our life started to shatter, she asked me why I didn't want to talk to my dad, or see him. She pointed out that I knew his name, and where he'd be. But I explained to her, that I didn't want to be in someone's life that clearly didn't want me. My mom had started crying then, full on sobs with lots of tears. I had never seen her like that and it freaked me out.
After I helped calm her down, she explained that my dad doesn't know about me. That she never called or went over to see him and tell him she was pregnant. I was surprised by that, because my mom was always so straight up honest with me, and that seemed like a huge thing to leave out. It didn't change anything though; I still didn't think finding dear old dad was important.
Now here I sit, four years later, on a bus to Charming California to find and tell him he's a dad. Some would be nervous, or excited. I don't feel anything, no butterflies in my stomach, no anxiousness. I feel vaguely nauseous, but that's what happens when you haven't slept for a couple days, and the last sleep you got wasn't sleep but from being knocked unconscious.
To anyone looking at me, I'm sure I look like some kid who skipped school and ran away, what with being just me and my backpack. They'd be half right, I am running away. I'm sixteen, so technically I should be in school, but I fucked up and graduated early. Yeah, that's right; I fucked up and graduated high school early. How, you might ask, well it's a long, complicated and dirty story.
The bus rolls to a stop, and I grip the strap to my book bag harder. Glancing out the window, I see a bunch of store fronts, but not your usual Wal-Mart, Target, or Home Depot. These all look old fashioned. I frown and look around more while staying seated, knowing damn well I can't hide in a town where the population has to be really fucking tiny.
After a few people get off the bus, I slowly stand up from my seat in the way back, and swallow the wince and hiss that wants to escape me. After putting my book bag on my back, I make my way up the aisle to the driver, a heavy man who should really invest in some deodorant.
"Is…" I trail off and clear my throat. "Is this Charming, California?" I ask while looking out the windshield.
The driver looks completely shocked, and then looks at my face before looking down at my body.
Can't see shit, can ya perv? I think, before clearing my throat roughly, to get him to look at my face. "Is this Charming?" I ask again, but this time letting my bitch out.
He looks out the open door, and nods. "Yeah, this is it." He says pointing
I bite my lip, as I stare out the window at the few people walking down the sidewalk. I'm not sure what to do, because there is no blending in small towns, because everyone knows everyone and gossip spreads like wild fire. After debating with myself over what to do, I sigh and walk off the bus.
The sun burns my eyes, so I pull the hood on my head even further down, and look down both sides of the sidewalk. I can feel the heat beating on me through my triple XL men's black hoodie, but I pull my sleeves down to cover even more of my hands, before sticking them in the front pocket pouch. When I feel reassured that my knife is still there, and I have a firm grip on it, I shrug at myself and turn left to start my search.
After walking for a while, I stop and lean against a brick wall. While this town isn't very big, and I haven't even gotten far, I'm drained of both energy and strength. I tilt my head down, so that my chin's resting on my chest, and take a few deep breaths. My body starts to sag on the wall, and I blink rapidly, trying to make myself more alert. It doesn't seem to be working, and I can feel my mind and body start to loosen.
"Kid, no loitering." Says a male voice, that's wavering with old age.
I don't move, but I look at him. He can't see my eyes because the hood is so far down, but I have the perfect angle to check everything out around me without being seen completely. He's nothing but old, short and balding. And of course it's my luck to get a cop on my ass, in some small town right after I get here.
"Move your ass off the wall, and go where you're goin." He says with a little more force.
I still don't move, so he takes a step closer, and my whole body tenses to fight. So what that this guy's a cop, and old enough to be my grandpa, hell he might actually be my grandpa, but I don't give a shit about either of those things. If he moves on me, I'll make use of my knife and then be out.
Copper doesn't move closer to me, but straightens his back and shoulders. "Get the fuck outta here before I throw you in a cell." His voice is rougher than earlier, since I've clearly offend his precious little badge.
I roll my eyes, "Seriously? You got nothing better to do then throw innoc… people in jail, for standing outside?" I had started to say innocent people, but stopped when I realized that if this guy knew what I'd done, that he'd definitely come at me.
"You're…. You're a girl?" he asks incredulously
You won't get the chance to find out. I think at him in my head, letting a small snarl escape my lips, as it looks like he's going to try and come closer to me.
He holds his hands up and takes a step back; as I notice his shirt says 'Chief'. I snort, because of course it's not just any cop, it's the fucking top cop chief.
Chief Bald cocks his head. "I've never seen you around before. You lost, Honey?" His voice is gentler than all the times before, but I can hear the slight suspicion and his authority peeking out.
My body tenses more, because I know he hasn't just turned into some concerned gentle cop. Add to that, that he called me 'honey', and I'm more than ready to attack him.
"What's with old guys? They always think that they can softly lure girls in." I had meant to just think that, but I realize I said it out loud, when he drops his hands and frowns.
"I'm a cop; I'm not gonna do anything that'll hurt you." He says more calmly
I snort, "Riiight, like I haven't heard that before."
His frown deepens. "I'm Chief Unser, what's your name?"
I cock my head and study him. His tone is calm and curious, and even though he introduced himself as the chief, it wasn't with any strength or authority behind it. I feel my defenses start to shake and weaken a little bit.
Unser sighs, "Ok, no name for you. How about you let me help you get to where you're goin?"
I bite my lip and look away from him for the first time. I look around, what must be Main Street. I have two options here. One, I can go out on a limb, and let him help me. Or two, I can keep wandering around this town, for who knows how long, searching for someone I'm not even sure is here anymore, or even alive.
If I go with him, and he tries something, then I'll have to defend myself. And since he's the Chief, I'll probably have to kill him since the whole department; even though it's probably five guys, they'll still be after me, and I really don't need that shit.
Then again if I don't go with him, I might pass the hell out in the middle of the road, and who knows who will find me. Since I don't really have the drive to get where I'm going, plus I'm really tired, and I just have a slight determination to get to my father, because it's what my mother wanted.
I squeeze my eyes shut, and take a deep breath before looking back at the chief. "You know where…Shit what's it called…I don't know, but it's a garage. You know what I'm sayin?"
Unser looks at me surprised, and then motions to my clothes. "You aren't their type sweetheart. And honestly, you should stay away from them."
I stand up fully, and glare at him. It's ineffective because he can't see my eyes, but whatever. "I'm not your sweetheart, or your honey, so cut that shit out." I spit at him, and he looks surprised. "I'll decide who will come near me, not you old man. So you know where the fuck the garage is?" I almost shout.
Unser nods, "Alright, I'll drive you over swee…" he trails off and clears his throat
"Drive? No, I'll walk." I say adamantly, not about to get in the car with him.
"It's about five miles." He tells me
I shake my head, "Fuck, a bus?"
"No buses today, sorry."
"Fuckin small ass town, Charming my ass." I grumble
Unser chuckles lightly, "Come on, I'll drive you over, and if you decide to leave I'll bring you right back." He says sweeping his hand towards the opposite side of the street.
I follow his hand motion and scowl, as I wonder why I would decide to leave. Across the street is not only his cop car, but the police station. With a bunch of uniformed cops standing out front, watching us. Actually watching me.
I sigh really hating this. "I'm riding up front." And if you even try to touch me I'll beat the fuck outta you, grandpa or not.
Unser raises his eyebrows, "Grandpa?"
I ignore him, acting like my filter isn't all kinds of fucked and give him a wide birth as I walk to the edge of the sidewalk, before walking across the street. My knee gives out as I'm about half way across, and I almost fall on my face. I can feel the chief's body heat, which tells me he's far to close. So I suck it up, and keep walking, only faster this time. When I reach his cruiser, I grab the passenger door handle to open it, only to bite my lip so hard I immediately taste blood, as a sharp shooting pain flares and burns up my arm.
"You alright? You look really pale." Unser says from the front of the car.
"Fine." I say through gritted teeth, as I motion with my other hand for him to open the doors.
After Unser opens his door and sits in the drivers' seat, he opens my door from the inside. I stand there leaning my weight on the door, delaying getting in with him. I look up and down the street, and see some random people watching me. I sigh roughly, before slowly crouching down, and slipping into the passenger seat. I quickly close and lock the door behind me, before putting my back to it, and watching Unser, with a hand hidden in my pocket holding my knife.
He looks at me sadly, "Nothing is gonna happen, I'm not gonna hurt you."
I don't acknowledge his words, or the sincerity that goes with them, I just keep staring at him, with my hood covering my eyes. I'm focused on his whole body, waiting for any signal that he might switch from a do-gooder police chief to a creepy old man who only wants one thing.
Unser sighs and it's a sad sound, before starting the car and driving off. I don't put my seat belt on, and he doesn't seem to have an issue with it. The only noise in the car is the occasion word and static on the police radio, but I tune that out and focus on his breaths, because if he gets excited suddenly his breathing will be that first clue.
My whole body is wound tightly, with aches and pains slowly making themselves known. I ignore it though, because there's no time to dwell. If I take my eye of the situation, it could cost me.
Unser suddenly moves his hand and I push my body back hard against the door, ignoring the flare of pain, and pull the knife out.
"Teller-Morrow Automotive." He says while flourishing his hand around.
It's then that I notice that the car is stopped, and I quickly tuck my knife out of sight. I'm not sure if he saw it or not, since he wasn't watching me, but looking out the window. I quickly notice that there's really no way for me to safely get out of the car.
If I turn and open the door, then I chance exposing my back to him. And if I just put my hand behind my back for the handle, I'd be dropping my knife. I can probably over power him, since he's a small guy and old, but I'm not certain. I'm scrappy, and I fight very dirty. So I take the chance, drop my knife in my pocket, and slip my wrist that doesn't burn, behind me and pull the handle quickly.
I barely catch myself, as I fall backwards out of the car. I stumble to my feet as I quickly wrap my hand back around my knife, then tilt my head down and shake my hood into place. I stand there trying to catch my breath, as my eyes roam around the lot.
There are a lot of motorcycles, and they're all lined up off to the side, shining proudly in the sunlight. I quickly spot the garage, with the bay doors open, and I can just make out a few guys working on different vehicles. There's even more bikes and cars parked off in the distance behind the garage. They look cared for, just not as much so as the ones over to my left.
A little bit behind those sparkly bikes, is another building, but I'm not sure what it is. There's a sign that says 'Son's Of Anarchy, Motorcycle Club.' I cock my head and look at this little building, as I remember my mom telling me my dad is a motorcycle enthusiast. I feel the urge to snort, at how much of an understatement that is. Because this 'Teller-Morrow' whatever the fuck, is obviously the home of a biker gang.
"Hey chief, what's up?" I hear a male voice say close by. The voice isn't very deep, or rough like some guys, it's more laid back and almost kind. I turn my head, to look at the speaker and narrow my eyes at him,
Greasy blonde, almost shoulder length hair, and electric blue eyes are staring at me. I immediately glare at his curious look, which is lost on him since my hood is covering most of my face. I size him up, at maybe six feet tall, and it's hard to get a read on his body type because of his baggy clothes. He's either muscular and trying to hide it, or he's more skinny with less muscle and trying to look tougher.
He's wearing a mechanics shirt, that's light blue and says Jax, on one side. I'm willing to bet, that he has some type of weapon on him. I'm not sure why I think this, since there are no obvious signs that he's carrying. Something just screams false sense of security to me. He looks and seems like an ok and nice guy, yet I don't want him near me.
"I just came through to give this one a lift." Unser answers while tilting his head at me.
I'm watching this Jax guy, and at Unser's words, the already sparked curiosity of his amplifies. I tense a bit and clench my knife.
"Oh really?" Jax says with raised eyebrows. "So what'd this little shit do, and why'd you bring the little prick to us?"
My upper lip curls at him, but I don't say anything, as we're in a stare down, although he doesn't really know it.
"I uh, don't actually know why we're here." Unser says and turns to look at me.
Jax turns to the cop, "How do you not know?" he asks confused
I roll my eyes at how stupid this all seems. "Because it isn't his business." I tell them both.
Jax snaps his head over to look at me. "You brought a chick here?" he asks incredulously, while taking a step towards me. I tense, and take a step back before stopping my self. Jax stops and cocks his head at me. He licks his lips, and smiles. "So what can I help ya with, darlin'?"
I sneer at him, not missing his little flirting tactics. "Sorry, I ain't here for you, Blondie."
Jax frowns, "I-."
I cut him off, "I'm looking for Alex Trager, you know him?" I ask civilly
"Alex?" he ask confused, "Oh, you mean Tig?"
I cock my head, "Tig? What the fuck is a Tig?" I say without thinking
Jax smirks at me and shakes his head. "Look, Sweetheart, if you hooked up with Tig, and are thinkin of big dreams and wedding plans, you should just leave now and save yourself the embarrassment."
I cock my head even further, and my hood slips back a bit, so I tilt my head back so it falls completely.
"Jesus Christ, are you even legal? I swear to fuckin god, man, Tig and his fuckin weird ass fetishes. I mean damn, I've seen and heard him talk about crazy shit, but me and Clay both told him no underage girls that can come back and hurt the club!" Jax rants pointing at me.
I roll my eyes, "Is Alex, I mean Tig, is he here then?" I ask annoyed that Jax is obviously younger than my dad, yet he thinks he has some authority to tell him what to do. I mean who does this asshole think he is?
Jax looks at me like I'm an idiot, before looking at Unser, who shrugs and stares back at him.
"Hello!" I say to get their attention, and once I have it I continue. "If you won't go get him, then I'll just go and look for him myself. Although I don't know what he looks like." I add as an after thought with a slight frown.
"Kinky sex games with Tig? Darlin you could do a lot better. I'm not sure how old you are but you look anywhere from barely legal, in your late teens or maybe even early twenties. It's funny 'cause I can usually tell right off." Jax says frowning
I sigh roughly, feeling beyond exhausted. "I need to talk to him, it's very important."
"A'ight." Jax says with a shrug before walking away.
"How old are you?" Unser asks me a few minutes later, as I act like I'm staring down at my black leather boots, which are mostly hidden under my long jeans, but I'm really watching the lot.
I shake my head and sigh, not answering him.
Unser sighs, "Right, its best I don't know, because I don't need to arrest one of the club's guys."
"Who's getting arrested?" I hear a deep voice ask, as I smell smoke. I look up to see an older guy, with blondish gray hair, with sun glasses on, smoking a cigar. "What's with the girl?"
There's a woman with him, she has brown hair and thick blonde highlights, showing off her body in a tight top and tighter jeans. Both of them are smoking, and looking at me.
I suppress the urge to squirm under the attention, as I start to really wish I hadn't come here. "Mistake." I mumble, as I pull my hood up with my right hand, before turning on my heel.
Just as I'm about to walk away I hear a Scottish accent call out loudly. "Yo, Jackie-Boy, what's goin on?"
"Some bitch is here to see me." A rough voice answers back, but it's definitely not Jax, who I can only assume is 'Jackie-Boy'. I freeze, and spin back around, only this time I can't see because my hood is to far down. I take a deep breath before lifting my hood completely.
I blink, unsure of which one is Tig. Since there are two guys with dark brown hair standing near the smoking couple, and they both have sun glasses on. "Wh…." I trail off as my voice is barely a whisper. I look at these two guys again, wondering which one is my dad. It'd be easier if they were wearing work shirts like Jax, but they're both wearing black leather vests, with patches on them. They look like they could be brothers.
"Darlin' you wanted to see Tig and here he is." Jax says sweeping his hand towards the two dark haired guys, as another guy jogs over.
"What's going on?" the new guy asks. He has a Mohawk, with tattoos on each side of it. There is another guy with him, he has sandy blonde hair and looks younger than me.
"We were about to find out if your retarded ass didn't come and interrupt." The rough voice says, but I miss who spoke, as I was looking at the two younger guys.
I clear my throat as I turn my attention back to the two guys, only to see some other guy near them. This one has a pot belly and very curly hair. I shake my head. "Which one of you is Tig?" I ask calmly as I feel my body start to shake.
"Goddamnit Tig!" The older guy with the cigar spits, pointing at the two guys. "What did I tell you about underage pussy? Huh? How many times do I gotta tell you to cover your fuckin tracks with that shit." He shakes his head. "And Juice gets the rap for being a retard." He says pointing at the young guys.
I turn my head to look at them, as I now know that Mohawk is really Juice. It's nice to know some names to the faces so I can try and straighten this shit all out.
"She looks familiar, but I don't know." I hear Tig's rough voice say.
I snap my head over to the two guys, but can't tell which spoke and which didn't. I sigh as my head starts pounding, as I lift my hand to rub my forehead I hear a throat clear, and open my eyes that I didn't realize were shut.
One of the dark haired guys is holding a gun at his side. "Put the fuckin knife down."
I blink, "Tig?" I ask the guy with the gun; wanting to be sure it was really him saying that.
"Put the knife down." He says roughly.
"What?" I ask, totally confused
"The knife, put it the fuck down, now." Tig says tilting his head at mine.
I cock my head as I pull my eyes away from his face, and look up. Sure enough, in my hand that's rubbing my forehead is not only my sleeve, but my knife. I didn't even notice I pulled it. "I can't." I say looking at him.
Tig lifts the gun and points it at my face before cocking it, but I don't even blink. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Bitch? Don't you see the gun, don't you get that I'm gonna shoot you?" he says confused and angry.
"So?" I say before I can stop myself, with a shrug. Everyone's eyes focus on me, confused by my reaction. I lower my arm, and put the knife in my pocket, but Tig steps up to me.
"Nope, hand it over." He says hold his free hand out.
"Tig, back off and leave her alone." Jax says, but Tig doesn't listen.
"So you're Alex Trager?" I ask
Tig still has his shades on, but I can tell he's pissed, aside from the gun. It's in his posture. "Who wants to know?"
"I do." I say lifting my chin, not scared of his gruff tone, or his gun.
Tig pushes his sunglasses up his forehead into his hair, as he takes a step closer. "And who the fuck are you?" he grounds out, while glaring at me.
"I'm your daughter." I say confidently
His glare slips and he blinks a few times, but doesn't drop the gun.
"A little over seventeen years ago-." I start
"Nope, no, no." Tig says shaking his head and finger at me, as he puts the gun away. "I don't have any kids."
I raise my eyebrows, "Yeah, you do."
"No, I don't. And if you're so sure I'm your daddy, then where's your mommy to confirm this shit?" He asks
I can see everyone around us, studying my face then Tig's looking for similarities. But there really isn't any, except the eyes and the hair color.
"A little over seventeen years ago, you met Cassie, at a concert. She loved your bike, and you liked how much fun she was. The two of you spent a few weeks together, before splitting ways. Nine months later, she gave birth to me, your daughter." I explain, while Tig looks at me confused.
I roll my eyes, "My mom's hair is blonde. Lighter than Jax's, and pin straight. She has big chocolate brown eyes. She's all about having fun, making the simplest shit entertaining. And when you two were together, she got a tattoo on the inside of her wrist…" I trail off as I feel my emotions wanting to run the show.
"A bird that she created and colored blue…" Tig says but trails off looking at me oddly. "She called it a Trager."
"She called it a Trager." We both say at the same time, while staring at each other.
"Tig's a dad? He has a Daughter?" someone says amused and disbelieving, breaking us from our stare after a few minutes.
Tig blinks, and shakes his head. "No, I don't."
"You wanna do a DNA test? That's fine but it'll just be a waste, and tell you what I already did." I say with a shrug
"We don't need a DNA test, there's no way your mine." He says to me
I cock my head at him. "No way I'm yours? Are you trying to say you don't know my mom? Because I'm pretty sure you just proved that you do."
Tig's narrows his eyes at me. "I didn't say I didn't know her. But just because I fucked her back then don't make me shit to you." He says aggressively
"I said that you're my father. I didn't say that meant shit, now did I?" I say raising my eyebrows at him.
A throat clears, "Darlin' you don't look a thing like Tig." Jax points out
"Yeah, you look sweet and cute." I hear to my left, seeing Juice's mouth move with the words
"Maybe your mom was mistaken." Jax finishes with a shrug.
I look down and take a deep breath, "Mistaken? Fuckin mistaken?" I ask before looking back up at all of them pissed off. "My mom wasn't mistaken; she was a hippie not a fuckin whore." I hiss at them
I had heard some gasps as I looked up but I don't know what for. And now everyone's staring at me intrigued. I don't really care what their issues are, but I'm not going to let them talk shit about my mom.
Tig glares and takes another step closer to me. "You sure about that? Because as I remember, your mom loved to be fucked, especially when-"
I take a step closer, and cut him off. "Would you like to be able to remember what it feels like to get your ass kicked by your own daughter?" I ask venomously
Tig steps right into my face. "Feel free to try, 'cause I got no problem beatin your ass, and you ain't my kid." He snarls.
I don't move a muscle, or even blink. I just keep glaring right back at the bastard. Not backing down, but standing my ground, unfazed.
I hear a loud snort. "Like hell she ain't yer kid." The Scottish guy says
Tig makes a rough noise in his throat, "Stay outta this, Chibs."
Another snort, "Leave ye alone to fight yer daughter? I don't think so Brother."
"She ain't mine." Tig grounds out.
An arm is slung around Tig's shoulders, "Aye she is brother, and if ye just take a good look ya'd see it."
I adjust my stance so I can be ready if it's some sort of trick and both of them are going to jump me. The other dark haired guy with the Scottish accent, Chibs, is standing next to Tig with what looks like a solid hold on his shoulders. Although Tig isn't trying to move, yet.
Tig snorts now. "I'm lookin and I don't see anything different." He says while looking at my face.
Chibs sighs as he pushes his sunglasses up high on his head, making his hair stick up and look crazy. "Look at her eyes." He says and Tig squints his eyes studying mine, while I dare him to make a move, with my eyes.
Tig suddenly shakes his head sharply, "Fuck no." he says and takes a step back, Or tries to, as Chibs pulls him back into place.
"Aye ya stubborn asshole, that glare looks mighty familiar now doesn't it?" Chibs says to him. "I've always wanted to say this..." he removes his arm from Tig's shoulders. "Tig ya ARE the father." Chibs says as he acts like he opens an envelope. Then he laughs, and a few others join in.
Chibs' laughter dies down, but he smiles as he turns to me. "Sorry Darlin', looks like yer right, and this is yer ol' man." He says motioning to a disbelieving Tig.
I blink as I see Chibs' face, for really the first time. "I bet he's from Glasgow." I think to myself, but end up saying out loud.
Chibs nods, "Aye, I am. An' they loved me so much they gave me a gift." He says running his thumb over his scars.
"I didn-." I start but get cut off as Tig comes back into my face.
"What do you want? Money?" He questions, aggressively curious.
"I don't want anything."
He narrows his eyes, "Like fuck you don't. Why are you here?"
"My mom told me to come to you." I say, hating that my voice sounds wobbly.
His eyes sharpen clearly spotting a weakness. "And why would she tell you to come to me after… how ever many years?"
"She said…" I clear my throat. "She said that if it got… uh that I should find you." I say, as I feel my emotions trying to crawl out of their box.
"If what got… what?" he asks me
"That's enough, Tig." I hear a strong feminine voice say. "Let's all go inside." She continues, as she steps up to Tig and I.
"She's not going in there." Tig says to her, pointing at me.
She raises her eyebrows, "You gonna stop me from walkin in there with her? Nah, I didn't think so." She says to him, before turning to me. "Hi sweetheart, I'm Gemma. And you are…?"
I look at Tig before looking back at her. "Skylar Trager."
"Fuckin' bullshit." Tig says before turning and walking away.
I sigh and shake my head. See what happens when you're forced to meet your father.
A/N- So that's chapter 1, and I'm very curious and eager to know what anyone thinks? And if you thought it was Tig who's her dad. I love reviews, since they keep me motivated. So review and let me know what you think...