Chapter 6
A few weeks went by and I got to know Tara and Jax's kids a bit better. They were absolutely adorable. Abel, who was just getting excited about new words, loved to yell, "Peaches! Peaches!" Tara would let me tend Abel some days while she worked at the hospital. Abel loved to sprinkle chocolate chips in the pancakes, (which Bobby especially liked.) Eventually, Tara finally started being a bit softer towards me. I guess she felt like she could trust me, kind of. But she still wanted answers to some pieces of my life that didn't quite fit together. I was putting away some dishes when she sat on a barstool across the counter.
"Hey Peach," Tara chuckled. I could tell she thought the nickname was silly, so she said it in a sarcastic kind of way. I didn't mind. She was an educated doctor, after all. And I was just a bartender.
"Hi Doc," I winked. "Can I get you anything? Abel just discovered Nutella on toast."
She laughed. "No, I'm good, thanks. I just came to check up on you."
"On me?" I asked, surprised.
"Yeah, just making sure you're getting along okay." She smiled in a strange way. She was looking for answers.
"What's goin' on Tara?" I made a funny suspicious face at her and raised one eyebrow.
"Well," she sighed, "I just don't understand. How does a twenty-two year old buy a whole bar? And have a house to herself? And manage that bar by herself when she's barely legally allowed to even drink alcohol… You should be in college for Christ's sake."
"Oh," I laughed under my breath, "I was wondering when you were gonna ask me about that. Well, Doc. I've had kind of a sucky child hood."
"We've all had a rough past," Tara interrupted, "That doesn't even begin to explain how you're doing okay on your own… as a kid."
"Tara, I… I'm just scared that maybe you won't… think as highly of me if I tell you what I've grown up with."
"I think I can handle it." She raised her eyebrows. Waiting for an answer.
"My dad died. He left me a motorcycle. That's it. My mom didn't want anything to do with me. My siblings were already grown up. I was put into foster care. It was the worst time of my life." I said sternly.
"Wait, your mom is still alive? I thought you were an orphan." Tara's eyes widened.
"She's Hispanic, so I think she went back to Mexico. Maybe. I don't know where she is. She calls me maybe once a year. Mainly if she needs money. Or wants to complain about her boyfriend." I said a bit angrily.
"Oh, I'm…sorry." Tara looked down.
"And to answer your question about money… How do I put this? I desperately needed to get out of my foster home. I desperately need money. So, I ran away at 16. I lied about my age and got a job… at a strip club."
"You did not!" She said, shocked.
"I did. I learned to pole dance really, really well actually. I never did any prostitution or drugs or shit like that. I just pole danced. And I made lots of money."
"How long did you do this for, Peach?" Tara said almost sadly.
"Until I was 20 or so. Then I learned the art of bartending and saved enough money to move from Nevada to here. And here I am." I said, curtseying.
Tara looked at my face. I could see a dash of pity in her eyes, when suddenly she sat up and said, "I really respect you for that, Tyler."
"I'm confused," I squinted.
"You did what a lot of girls could never do. You took care of yourself; you did what you had to do."
"I don't know about that, Doc. You worked really hard for a respectable job and I'm just… lost."
"You're not lost, Tyler. You worked really hard, too. I'm impressed." Tara smiled genuinely at me.
For the first time I felt as if someone really was proud of me. I started to feel myself choking up when the worst thing possible could have happened.
Jax, Juice, and Chibs were standing just around the corner. Chibs smoothly glided from behind the wall and took his sunglasses off slowly.
"I never would have guessed." He said in his thick accent. "You, my dear, are a girl of many talents."
"You're mom's Hispanic? I'm Hispanic!" Juice said ignorantly joyfully.
The three men looked at each other and laughed. They knew my secret and there was no getting it back now. With my face turning a nice tomato-red, I awkwardly turned and stepped back into the kitchen.
"What are ya doing back there Peachy?" Chibs called teasingly.
"Avoided confrontation and further embarrassment!" I yelled back.
Jax went to Tara and kissed the top of her head. He smirked at me. "So, do you do the bartending AND entertaining in your bar, too?" He asked me.
"No! Of course not. No. That pole never really gets used. It's for private parties and stuff."
"I'll keep that in mind," Jax grinned and walked away.
Chibs and Juice followed behind, and as Chibs put his sunglasses back on, he looked directly at me, and winked.
Chapter 7
The next weekend I was chatting with Tara and Gemma outside by the garage driveway. A few of the prospects had built a little swing set for Abel and Thomas. It was late afternoon and the three of us were watching the boys climb and play. Everything was calm and happy. Well, until the obnoxiously loud motorcycle engines came roaring up the driveway. Obviously, something was wrong. Every single club member harshly dismounted their bike and slammed their helmets down. We could hear them shouting at each other as they walked into the clubhouse.
"What are we going to do?" "We have to come up with something!" "We'll figure something out!" Things like that.
Gemma and I looked at each other. Lord only knows what could have happened. They could've been threatened, got in a fist fight, got shot at, anything could go wrong on any given day for the Sons. Tara was almost always ready to stitch up a bullet hole, bite, cut, anything.
We decided to go back to Gemma's house and stay away from the commotion. Tara, Lyla, and I sat the boys down and I made grilled cheese. We nervously giggled and talked, but we knew that something was wrong and we would have to deal with it. And we did.
Opie, Jax, and Clay came stomping inside.
Jax put his hands on the back of a chair in Gemma's dining room and looked at us. He had that look on his face that he only had once in a great while. It was the same look he had when something dangerous was going to happen, or when he had some tremendous task to accomplish to ensure everyone's safety. I still felt extremely out of place. Jax had Tara. Clay had Gemma. Opie had Lyla. And I was just… there. As a seventh wheel. So I placed all my attention on the two babies. Which still felt weird because they weren't my nephews or my sons. They were Tara's kids. I sat on the edge of my seat. Avoiding eye contact.
"We worked things out with the Russians. They took the guns off our hands. But they want a favor." Jax sighed loudly.
"What kind of favor?" Lyla said dryly. She already knew what Jax needed.
Opie spoke up. "Lyla, we need at least 12 girls. They want one girl for every guy. The Russians are okay with white, but they also want something more… uh, spicy."
"I can get 8 girls that I'm sure would do it. But only know about 3 Hispanic girls. I don't know a lot of girls with a good amount of experience."
"We're one girl short," Opie looked at Jax worriedly.
"Lyla, this is really, really urgent." Jax said. "Think, is there anyone, anyone else that could help us out. She doesn't even have to be really Hispanic, she could just be really tan."
"What's going on, Ope?" She said innocently.
"Dammit!" Clay yelled suddenly. "They have Tig!"
Gemma and I looked up.
"And they're not going to give him back until the night of this party. So it better happen! Quick!" Clay pointed an angry finger at Opie and Jax. "This is on you, Jax." He then stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. Gemma followed after.
Lyla, Jax, and Opie stood looking at each other with their arms crossed, desperately thinking of another solution.
Jax suddenly looked up as if a shiny light bulb had illuminated over his head. He gasped and spun his head in my direction.
"Peaches!"
"Oh no." I violently started shaking my head. "No, no, no. No. I don't know.. how.. or what I'm doing.. I can't! There's know way. Nope. I've never done that. No. I'm a pole dancer. Or, I was. I was, and now I'm not and I've never.. I don't think that's a good idea. At all."
"Peach, you know how to pole dance, we're not going to make you do anything more. I promise. I promise, we won't let anything happen, we're not going to let the party go that far. Lyla will be there too. Alvaraz and the Mayans are coming with us to settle this. We have a plan, just trust me." Jax grabbed my shoulders. "We need you to help us."
"Okay."
Chapter 8
The night of the "party" finally came. The whole club was anxious to get Tig back, and to make sure he was okay and unharmed. The Russians agreed to host the party at one of their strip clubs. Which was probably a good idea because Samcro was intending to light it up with bullets.
Lyla, the other girls and I met at Luanne's porn studio. The club was waiting on the couches for us girls to be ready. It was incredibly awkward. For me. I didn't fit it. I was late, and showed up in jeans and a t-shirt. Lyla looked me up and down. She was wearing… well, she wasn't wearing much.
"Peach." She said. "What are you wearing?"
"Um.." I looked at my converse shoes.
"Come on, we'll find you something to wear." Lyla grabbed my hand and led me to a dressing room. It was filled with make-up, sexy costumes, vanities, and high heeled shoes.
"Get undressed." She ordered.
I hesitated.
"Peaches, calm down. You need to let go of your shyness and your fears. This isn't real. You just need to dance on that pole for a minute and the club will take care of the rest, okay?" She gave me warm hug. "Let's get this shirt off."
Lyla pulled my t-shirt off and handed me a black, sparkly, two piece. But when I turned my back to her I heard her gasp loudly as if she'd seen a mouse, or a tarantula run across the floor. I spun around.
"What? What's wrong?" I asked with my eyes wide.
"Your back! What…what happened to you?!" She put her hands over her mouth.
I had completely forgotten. I forgot about the thick jagged scars on my back. I didn't know what to say. My heart started thumping in my chest. I looked down.
"… Peach I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."
"No, Lyla, it's okay. I said trying to calm her down. I.. I was talking to Tara about this the other day. I, uh, I grew up in some with some rough foster parents. It's okay." I tried to smile.
Lyla almost had tears in her eyes. "What did they do to you?" She whispered.
I looked away. In truth, I was ashamed of the scars on my back. They were deep, and purple, and well, ugly. They made me feel weak. They made me relive every terrible memory I had as a child.
"Girls! Showtime!" Opie called from behind the door.
"Hey, it's fine. I should probably wear something that will hide the marks, though." I said with as much cheer as I could.
Lyla nodded and grabbed a different costume for me. She pulled out some make up and began dabbing it on the scars that were showing. "I'm sorry this happened to you." She said comfortingly. "And I'm sorry for… bringing it up."
"It's okay." I half smiled. We both looked in the mirror at our ridiculous makeup and our ridiculously tiny outfits.
"You ready?" I asked confidently.
She nodded once and we walked out of the dressing room, ready to tell the club to get this show on the road.
The rest of the girls met Lyla and I by the door. They all started gasping and grabbing my freshly curled hair. They were all squealing and complimenting me on my black corset and high heels that I was shaking in.
"Let's go show the boys!" Some lady I didn't know said mischievously. "Stand behind us! We will present you. Our newest creation." She giggled.
A look that can only be described as, 'horrified" was on my face.
I wobbled behind them as we walked towards the couches all the guys were sitting in. The girls all stood in front of me, and a deep woman's voice seductively said, "Ta-Da."
They all separated to either side, leaving me in the middle, standing there like a deer in the headlights.
Suddenly every eye of each club member was on me. Lyla was smiling from ear to ear unabashedly. Obviously proud of her makeup skills.
"Holy shit." Jax said.
"Is that OUR Peachy?" Chibs asked.
"Doesn't she look amazing!?" Some girl squealed.
"I don't like it. " Juice chimed in from the background. "Too much makeup. Doesn't suit you."
I rolled my eyes. "Thanks, Juice."
And with that we all headed towards the Russian slaughterhouse.
Chapter 9
The girls and I got out of the car and headed for back entrance door. Chibs offered to take my jacket for me, like a real gentleman. However, when he took my jacket, he had the same look of shock on his face that Lyla did. I looked at him. He said nothing, but he had a look of anger, sadness, and protectiveness on his face. A look that said, "You will explain this to me later." He looked me in the eyes without blinking, pressed his lips together and walked down the hallway, into the club.
There was music. There were lights. There was action. I stood behind a stage with two other pole dancers. Jax looked at the three of us.
"You're all ready?" He asked.
We all nodded.
"Okay. Make it pretty, make it professional, and be as distracting as possible. We'll que the music and you start the show. You know what to do." He smiled.
And I did know what to do. I had done this a thousand times. I looked out at the seats surrounding the stage. There was all of the Sons of Anarchy, a bunch of Russians, and a whole lot of Mexicans. Tig had finally arrived. He was fine, thankfully, and was gathered up in hug after hug. They were all drinking, talking, laughing, and the Russians were completely unaware that Clay was planning on shooting them all.
The music started. My black silhouette posed behind a white backdrop. The room went silent. Then they all watched, mesmerized as I strutted out from behind the screen and started dancing.
Now, pole dancing is not just twirling like a slut around a pole. It is some physically difficult and challenging aerobic activity. You have to lift yourself, spin, figure out your center of gravity, turn upside-down, etc. Years of practice had prepared me to give the show of a lifetime. And that is exactly what I did.
When the song ended, everyone applauded and whistled loudly. We went off stage. Lyla stepped up to the front and invited the 12 Russian "guests of honor" to step up on stage. They were all drunk, and happily obliged. We set up twelve folding chairs, and each of us stood behind one. We sat them down in this row of chairs, and seductively blindfolded them. They smiled ignorantly with their eyes covered. They laughed, waiting for a lap dance, or more alcohol.
But what they got was gunfire.
The girls dove behind the stage and covered their ears. The Sons of Anarchy and The Mayans whipped out their guns and killed every Russian and their body guard in a whirlwind of chaotic bullets.
In only a few moments everything was silent.
"Girls okay?" Jax yelled at us with his gun still in his hand.
"Yes!" We yelled back.
Opie came and got us and led us outside so we didn't have to see any dead bodies. We stood outside by the cars, and the motorcycles, waiting for the club. They walked towards us and gathered us up, one by one, in a thankful hug. Chibs brought me my jacket and helped me put it on. And just like I had guessed, he whispered in my ear and said, "We're going to discuss this later, girly."
"Thank you, ladies." Jax said sincerely.
"That was some of the best pole dancing I've ever seen, Peaches!" Tig said a little too excitedly. "You're like, a professional!"
"Thank you." I said shyly and looked down.
"We're gonna clean up and finish taking care of things." Jax said. "Lyla, get these girls home."
"Hey, how come Alvaraz didn't show up?" Opie asked
"Couldn't make it. He said something about picking up his sister or some shit," Clay said.
"What!?" I said out of nowhere.
They all just looked down at me, wondering why I had asked a question and wondering what in the world was wrong.
A very loud motorcycle came zooming up the road. It was Alvaraz, the Mayan's President. There was a woman in tight fitting leather sitting behind him. They stopped short and the woman practically jumped off the bike. She ripped off her helmet and walked quickly towards me. Angrily. She was swearing in Spanish and threw her helmet on the gravel.
"You little slut." She said in disgust.
She started running at me, and before I knew it, she tackled me to the ground. She started punching and slapping my face into the dirt. I didn't fight back, I couldn't.
Alvaraz and a couple other Mayans grabbed her by the waist and pulled her off me. The started to drag pull her away. Opie and Chibs helped me to my feet.
"How do you know her?" Jax asked in complete confusion.
"That's my mom."