Author's Note: I'm putting up chapter 2 right away. I do have a few others. This one is a bit shorter than I normally do. Each chapter will kind of be from a different character's view point. Don't forget to let me know what you think!
Happy Lowman had always considered himself a patient guy. He may not appear that way to some – they were always more concerned with his affinity toward retribution of the gruesome variety. He was patient, however, in those cases. He always waited for his orders, and he never went rogue. Going off on your own got people killed and brothers locked up. No, he had always been content to wait…until now.
He listened in a stony silence, eyes locked on Clay, as his SAMCRO brothers discussed the piece of shit Mayans who had stolen their guns just two nights before. As a Nomad, he didn't really have a say in how the matter would be handled and when, but he was more than ready for a little payback of the Happy Lowman variety. He had only been in town a few days for a social visit, but he was glad he had a reason to stay…even if it was a shit reason.
He felt a smile grow on his face when Tig began talking about sending a message to the wetback fuckers beyond just retrieving the guns. Very few people understood and appreciated Happy the way Tig did. If it wasn't so pussy, he would have called Tig his best friend.
His eyes moved around the table from brother to brother gauging their reactions to Tig's push for immediate and violent vengeance. Clay, Bobby, Chibs were nodding in firm agreement, Juice was listening with his eyes focused on the table in front of him, and only Jax seemed to have more to say about the whole mess. Happy didn't care one way or the other, because he would do what he always did…whatever the Club ordered.
Suddenly and much to everyone's surprise, there was a loud knock on the Chapel doors before the Prospect timidly poked his head. He was a young kid, one of Chibs' projects. Happy couldn't really see the appeal of the kid. He was scrawny as shit and apparently couldn't respect the sanctity of Church. Happy was seconds away from punching him straight in the throat.
"What the Hell you think you're doing?" Clay demanded, a cold glint in his eye. At least the kid looked apologetic.
"I'm sorry, but Happy's phone keeps ringing…I think someone is trying to get a hold of him. Maybe it's important?" he muttered, clearly regretting his decision to interrupt the group's weekly meeting. The group looked at the baldheaded nomad in confusion. He shrugged. He wasn't expecting a call, and even if he was, he wouldn't hold up Church for it.
"You expecting a call, Brother?" Clay asked with a raise of one thick eyebrow. Happy only scowled.
"No," he replied gruffly. The group heard the familiar ring of a prepay as Happy phone once more began to screech into the silence of the room. Clay sighed and motioned for him to answer it, glaring all the while. Happy was pissed. He generally wasn't the focus of Clay's displeasure, and it was not something he enjoyed. Happy pushed away from the table, snatched the phone from the prospect, and answered sharply. "What?" he barked. There was a pause and then he heard her voice.
"What?" he asked once more in a softer voice upon hear the voice on the other end. She sounded nervous. He liked the girl from the diner all right. She was a decent little piece who for some reason seemed to enjoy his company, and he didn't need her thinking he was yelling at her. He sensed the group around him perk up at the unfamiliar tone in his voice. He did his best to ignore his brothers as the little waitress with the great rack from his favorite lunch spot flew through her words. "Girl, slow down," he ordered. She sounded a thousand times more nervous than he had ever heard her. He listened for a few moments when he froze. Turning back toward the Sons and taking his seat at the table, he slammed the phone down and put it on speaker.
"Margaery, you're on with my brothers. Tell them what you just told me," he ordered, making sure she heard him. There was a slight pause, before he heard a slow release of breath.