Thanks for being so supportive already, guys! It definitely put a smile on my face knowing that people like where this is headed. I'm trying to come out with chapters as often as I can! Feedback always helps me figure out what you do and don't like. So please, don't be silent! :)

Ariadne

I groan, clutching my head and pulling my covers up. I always feel like shit after I get cross-faded. I glance over at the red numbers on the digital clock next to me, 1:30 PM. "Shit," I croak. I hear footsteps come towards my room from down the hall, and Christopher's head pokes out from behind the doorframe. "Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey! About time you're up, sleeping beauty!" he says, chuckling. I try to think of a witty remark but resort to a simple "Yeah, whatever," instead. "So I'm taking it you had a good night last night?" he sits on the foot of my bed, seemingly uncomfortable. I nod, "Yeah, but I'm taking it you think I had too good of a night?" He just sighs in response, finding a sudden interest in my comforter. "You're my sister, Ari. And no matter how old you get, you will always be my little sister. Even a few years ago, it was so difficult for me to come to terms with you moving states away for four years." He pauses, running his fingers through his almost blond hair, "I know you're a big girl, and you can do whatever you want. But don't expect it to be easy for me to just go along with. You know how much I love you," he glances up at me with a sad smile. I sit up, taking his hand, "I know, I love you too. And I really do appreciate your need to look out for me," I give him a genuine smile, squeezing his hand. "Are you still up for dinner tonight?" I ask, and he retracts his hand, getting up from the bed. "Yeah! I was thinking we could go to San Francisco, actually." I grin from ear-to-ear, already having a pretty clear idea where he's planning on taking me. "Is the restaurant by the ocean?" I ask in a singsong voice. He smiles, nodding, "Clever, clever girl."

I can't stop smiling; I feel incredibly giddy. "How'd you get reservations on such short notice?" He smiles cockily at me, "I just called Rover. Reminded him of who we are and who our dad was. He offered his condolences and got us a table right by the windows for 8 o'clock. Just the way we always like it." Back when my dad was still alive, he could call his friends at the Cliff House and get a table that night, even on the busiest nights of the year. It was one of the perks of him being the ex-banquet manager there – one that everyone loved, mind you. He passed while I was in my second year at UPenn from lung cancer. When he was diagnosed, I almost moved back home. They had caught it late and given him a low probability of survival. I tried so hard to move back to California, but Chris would not let me. Said that dad would never want me to give up my education at an Ivy League school. Anyways, since my dad passed, I'm sure it would be difficult for Chris to score reservations that quickly since no one really knew him. I, on the other hand, practically grew up in that restaurant. Since I was a kid, my dad would bring me to work with him at least twice a week. Since he had his own office, no one really minded. I would just spend all day in his office, sipping hot chocolate and drawing things on napkins. Mark Rover was the guy who took my dad's job after he passed. I only met him once – it was short and awkward. The windows were always where we wanted to sit, especially at night, when you could see the sunset over the Pacific. I hadn't been there in ages.

"Should we get all dressy, or are you going to be wearing your cut to a fine-dining restaurant?" I shoot him a look. I know they all wore their cuts everywhere, but was he really going to go to the Sutro's in the Cliff House, a formal restaurant, in jeans and a leather vest? He smiles, "I'm sure I can lose the cut for one night. I'll probably just wear a SAMCRO sweater under a blazer, matched with a nice watch. That's formal enough, right?" I nod; it was a good enough compromise. "You, on the other hand, should wear a dress. It's been ages since anyone's seen you, and you like to impress," he says, laughing. "You know me oh-so-well, brother dearest." I climb out from under the covers, stretching my arms over my head. "I'll go get my make-up done then," I smile. He grabs my shoulder as I turn around, "Ari, listen," I feel an uncertain and anxious sensation rise in the pit of my stomach just from the look he's giving me, "I called mom. We're going to meet her there. She sounded like she was looking forward to seeing you." I look down at the ground, "Oh. Yeah, okay." I grab my purse to head out into Modesto to get my makeup done. I head out to my car and sit in the drivers seat for a few minutes, rummaging through my purse for my phone. I was going to call an old friend; she'd been begging me to see her when I got back. She has gone to beauty school and always offered to do my make-up for me. I always asked her because she was damn good at it. I unlock my phone and dial the number I had known by heart since I was 14.

"Hey, Satan!" she says after a few rings. She had called me that throughout high school, and I never quite knew why.
"Are you going to call me that forever?" I say with a laugh.
"Maybe. What's up?"
"I was actually wondering what you were up to today? I'm going out to dinner tonight and am in dire need of someone who knows how to apply eye-shadow."
"Yeah, of course! I'm free now?"
"Okay if I head over now? I'd be there in like, thirty-five minutes give or take."
"Sounds good!"

It's about 5:30 PM as I climb into my car to head back to Charming. We ended up lighting up a joint before she did my make-up, then watching episodes of The Marvelous Misadventures of Flapjack until I decided it was time to drive home.

I'm about to pass Manteca when I hear an odd noise. "Please don't let that be my car. Not tonight," I whisper to myself. I drive a little bit until the heat-warning indicator comes up. I punch the roof of my car, swearing under my breath. I turn on the emergency lights and pull over. I lock my car doors, something I've made a habit over the past four years of driving alone in a strange state. I pick up my phone and find the number saved under "Teller-Morrow." I had saved the number when Chris had started working there as a mechanic and wouldn't answer his cell phone, but I had never actually called.

It rings a few times until an already familiar voice answers, "Teller-Morrow auto, we're about to close shop in half an hour," he starts, but I cut in, "Juan?" I hear him chuckle over the line. "I did tell you I didn't want anyone calling me that, right?" he says, feigning annoyance. "Sure you did, but something tells me you don't mind when I call you that," I'm putting on my best cocky tone, "Anyways, I may need your help." "I'm a sucker for a damsel in distress. What can I do for you?" I can hear the smile in his voice. "Well, my heat-warning indicator went off," I say, taking a deep breath, "And I'm pretty sure I smell something similar to burnt sugar. If I'm not mistaken, I think that means there might be a coolant leak, so I'm guessing my radiator just over heated. I think I need a tow." He laughs, "Ooh, miss Ivy League knows a little about cars too! Where are you? I'll come pick you up." I put it on speaker while checking my maps application on my phone, "I think I'm about a quarter-mile or so away from the first exit into Manteca on 99 going north. I'm the silver Volvo sedan." I turn off the speaker and press the phone back against my ear. "Sure thing, sweetheart. I'll leave right now," he says. "See you soon, Juan," and I hang up before he can complain about my use of his real name.

I play solitaire on my phone for a while before I hear a tapping at my window. I look up to see Juice grinning goofily at me, and I stifle my laugh. I unlock the doors and step out, "Thank you for coming so quickly, I know you said the shop was closing soon." He just smiles and says, "Like I said, I'm a sucker for a damsel in distress. Plus, you're Chris's younger sister. It's not like I would have turned you away for calling right before we closed." He starts to hook the car up, "You could probably have made it back if you had waited for your car to cool down and just added a little bit of coolant, but it's safer to just tow your car if a coolant leak is present." I nod, "Yeah, I figured. That's why I called the shop. How fortunate I am that you were destined to be my knight in shining armor." He just laughs, "What can I say?" I get into the passenger seat of the tow truck, "You didn't deny it when I said you don't mind me calling you Juan." He starts the car and laughs, "That's because I don't mind. There, is that what you wanted to hear, princess?" "That is exactly what I wanted to hear!" I shove his shoulder lightly. "So, you know a little about cars, huh? Don't tell me you also play Call of Duty. I might have to marry you on the spot." I laugh, "Just the bare minimum. Enough to help me out a little if I'm stranded by the roadside, anyways. I couldn't be an actual mechanic. And to answer the second part of your statement, I don't play much COD, I'm more of a GTA kind of girl." He looks over at me disbelievingly, "No shit!" A few moments go by as he goes from looking at the road in front of him and back at me.

"Don't act like you've never met another person who plays GTA. Do you have any idea how many people love everything the Rockstar franchise comes out with?" He just fixes his eyes on the road, "No, I've met plenty of people who play GTA. Just never someone that looks like you." I scoff, "What is that supposed to mean? Because I wear make-up, do my hair, and smell nice I can't enjoy video games?" He shakes his head, "Of course that's not what I meant. It's just–" I cut him off, "I'm totally screwing with you. Don't worry, no offense taken." He looks relieved, and we both laugh a little. "So, which Rockstar game is your favorite?" I scrunch my eyebrows in thought, "Well, I was a total sucker for LA Noire. But I think I'd have to go with GTA San Andreas. I mean, the graphics aren't nearly as good as GTA IV, but I enjoyed the storyline a lot more." He grins, "Totally agree with you there. But what about Red Dead? That had both a phenomenal storyline and amazing graphics! That would be a definite close second for me." I nod, "I've heard plenty of great things about Red Dead, but I'm embarrassed to say that I've never actually played it." He tuts at me disapprovingly, "What a shame." I jump up to defend myself, "I really wanted to play it. It's just that when it came out, I did not have $60 to blow on a game, you know? And I just haven't been able to afford anything new since The Ballad of Gay Tony came out for GTA IV. I only got to play LA Noire because a friend lent it to me. I'm sure I can get Red Dead for cheaper now if I buy it used, but I just haven't gotten around to it." He looks over at me for a second and I continue, "Do you know how many awesome games I've missed out on? Mass Effects 2 and 3; Assassin's Creed 2, brotherhood, revelations, and 3; any of the MLBs since 2K9; the list goes on." He smiles, "Lucky for you, I have most of the games you just listed, and I'm very willing to have you over to play them sometime. Maybe we can even go head to head on a UFC game. I'd like to see what you've got, kid." I laugh, "Yeah, that sounds wonderful."

We pull up to the auto shop and I sigh, getting out of the truck, "When do you think I'll be able to pick it up?" He glances at the car and turns down the corners of his lips, "Maybe one day – two at the most. It just depends on how backed up we are." I nod, "Alright, thanks again for saving the damsel in distress!" He chuckles, looking at me from top to bottom, "Would you want to come over for some weed and videogames tonight?" I giggle, "Oh Juan, how you have a way with romance!" We both laugh, "Honestly, there is nothing I'd love more. But I have dinner reservations with my brother and Medusa herself," I say smiling. "That's alright. Some other time," he's smiling but looks a little let down. "Of course we'll do it some other time. How could I pass up the chance to make you look like a child?" His face lights up as I say this, "I think it'll be the other way around, princess. You can't be that good at everything." I laugh, "You're ridiculous." We walk into the clubhouse and I sit behind the bar and text my brother to come pick me up, "Could I get a shot of Jack while I wait for Chris? Something tells me I'll be needing it tonight." He nods, stepping behind the bar to pour two shots, "I'm guessing that statement has something to do with Medusa?" he chuckles. "One for me too," he says clinking our glasses together, "So, wanna tell me what that whole Medusa thing is about?" We both throw our shots back. I laugh, wiping my mouth off with my sleeve, "Just my mother." He raises his eyebrows, "Yeah, I figured as much. What makes her Medusa, if you don't mind me asking?" I take a deep breath and look at my empty shot glass as I twirl it around in my hand, "She's just always angry at me about something, you know?" He nods before I continue, "She was never that way with Chris, though. But it seemed that no matter what I did, she was never proud of me. She used to make all sorts of jokes about how I was an accident – a mistake even," I let out a sad laugh. "You know, I was ecstatic when I got into UPenn. Partly because I thought she'd finally be proud of me, but mostly because I knew I wouldn't have to live with her anymore. But then, instead of complaining about my study habits like she used to, she started tightening her grip on me. She'd call me about ten times a day to make sure I was at home and not going out. Sometimes she'd fly up unannounced to try to catch me doing something that would get me in trouble. At some point, she showed up and I was drunk. It was my 21st birthday, and she tried to ruin it for me. She always told me she'd hate me if I drank – she was pretty strict. She slapped me once or twice, and I snapped," I tap the glass down a couple of times as I finish my sentence. "What happened?" he asks after a few seconds of silence. I force a smile and look at him, "Well, I reminded her that it was completely legal for me to be drinking, even though it was something she absolutely forbade me to do. Then I yelled at her a bit, told her I wanted out. I didn't need her money, or her hospitality when I came home. I just wanted to be done with her. She gave some speech about how she had done everything for me and I was just stupidly throwing it away, and that it meant nothing to her what I had accomplished with my education, she would always see me as unintelligent. I was just so tired of her complaints and constantly having to worry about how not to strike up an argument on accident. It was always like I was walking on eggshells around her; the smallest thing could get her riled up. If it wasn't this, it was that, you know? She was always destined to be unhappy with me. So I gave up. I told her that if I was really a mistake, she could just forget I existed. She stopped calling, showing up, or talking to me altogether. But every time I came up in conversation, Chris said that she'd act like nothing had happened." He offers me a sad smile, "And is this the first time you'll see her since that night?" I nod, "Hence me needing a shot. My nerves are all over the place."

I hear the door to the clubhouse open and I turn around to see Chris. "What happened to your car?" he asks. "It kind of broke down. Juicy here came and picked me up from Manteca and towed my car back here," I get up and stretch my arms out, "I'm pretty much ready, I just need to change." He nods back at me, turning his attention to Juice, "Thanks for picking her up, man." He smiles, "Yeah, of course." We walk out to Chris's car, but I stop before I get in, "I left my purse in the clubhouse. I'll be right back!" I run in and see Juice already holding my purse up for me with a smile. "Thank you," I say, and before he can come up with a witty retort, I lean in and give him a quick peck on the lips. He stands there dumbfounded and speechless while I run back out to Chris's car with a huge grin on my face.