Kyra

"There's a quiet storm. And it never felt like this before…" Kyra was lost in her thoughts as Sade crooned from her car speakers. It was her first time driving into Oakland from Charming. She was used to making her biannual Oakland trip from her old apartment in Sacramento. She was glad this drive was shorter. It was better if she wasn't alone in her head for long periods of time today.

It was July 22nd. Her mother's birthday. The fifth one since her death in 2006. It was one of two days a year that Kyra visited her mother's grave. The other was Mother's Day. Her mother never believed in commemorating anniversaries of death, so Kyra didn't either.

Sade had been Rhonda James's favorite singer. Kyra remembered the early days, when Rhonda styled hair in their two bedroom apartment. She always played Sade in the background. She claimed that Sade's voice kept her hands calm and helped her concentration. She'd hum and sway as she applied relaxers, ran straightening combs, and slathered shampoo into the heads of her clients. Always cool and collected. Part of what made her a great beautician was her belief in the power of appearances. They lived in the ghetto, but they never looked like it. Rhonda made sure that she and Kyra were neat and well-styled and with the exception of her occasional potty mouth, she was the epitome of class. Only those who were close to her saw her get angry or emotional.

Rhonda also believed in women being independent. "Can't be one of these dizzy ass broads waiting for the government or some man to take care of me and mine," she'd always say. Over the years she went from doing hair out of their apartment, to working in a shop, to owning and operating one of the most popular black hair salons in Oakland. While Rhonda loved doing hair, she always wanted more for Kyra. When she noticed that Kyra showed strong math skills in middle school, she made Kyra sit with her every month when she paid the bills. By the time she was 16, Kyra not only handled the bills in their house, but for the salon as well.

In many ways, Kyra was Rhonda's mini-me. They had the same facial features and the same slender build. Where they differed was in temperament. Kyra did a great job of mimicking her mother's composure on the outside, but beneath her cool surface was a hot temper. Whenever one of her personal boundaries was violated or she was disrespected, Kyra's rage would erupt out of nowhere. Rhonda knew they lived in a rough neighborhood and made sure to let Neeta teach Kyra to defend herself, she just didn't understand why Kyra had to solve her problems with brute force. She often said that the happiest day of her life was when she'd saved enough money to move to a better neighborhood and send Kyra to private school. She knew that as long as Kyra felt like her back was against the wall, she'd go through life swinging.

Kyra broke her thoughts when she noticed a sign stating that she was two miles from the Stockton exit. Looks like I'm making good time. She continued her sing-along with Sade until she smelled something burning. It took a few sniffs before she identified the scent as rubber. What the fuck? Outside of the car, she saw thick white smoke bubbling from under the hood. "No, no, no!" She whined. Not now. Not today. She considered riding the smoke out until Oakland, but when she could barely see the road in front of her, she had to pull over.

Juice

Juice had just put on his TM work shirt when he heard Gemma call his name from the office.

"What's up?" he answered.

"Tell one of the Prospects to get the truck. Kyra's stranded on the Four and needs a tow."

He hadn't seen Kyra since their run-in at the bar a few nights ago. He didn't mind having an excuse to see her again. "I can do it," he said.

Gemma eyes narrowed as she cocked her head slightly. "Any reason you're jumping at the chance to pick up a tow?"

Juice hesitated. How the hell did Gemma always know everything? "I…ummm…Got a lot on the brain. Just in the mood for a drive."

"Yeah," she scoffed. She obviously wasn't convinced. "She's a couple miles from the Stockton exit. Headed westbound."

Juice grabbed the keys and hopped in the tow truck. He was only half-lying when he said he needed to take a drive. He wasn't used to things being so calm. The eight months before he went to prison had been so hectic, that it felt odd to not be in crisis mode. His current routine of fixing cars, gathering intel for possible snitches in the new city government, and fucking Crow Eaters bored him. At the most, he'd get to see Kyra. At the least, the drive would break up the monotony.

Kyra was sitting in her Mustang, fiddling with her Blackberry when Juice pulled up. She got out of the car and he noticed worry lines on her forehead. "This is the second time in a week that I'm saving your ass," he said with a smile after he got out of the truck. He checked her eyes for the spark of interest that usually sat behind them. It wasn't there.

"Yeah," she said, flatly. "I'm a regular damsel in distress these days."

He nodded toward the car, "So what's the problem here?"

She sighed and leaned against the driver's side of the car. "One minute everything was fine and the next, I smelled burned rubber. Looked up and there was smoke coming from the hood."

Juice lifted the hood and stepped back when he got a whiff of smoke. "It's your head gasket. You need to have it replaced."

Kyra crossed her arms. "And how long will that take?"

"The actual maintenance? Not long. But we have to order the part. Have it back to you by tomorrow afternoon."

"No way to have it ready by today?"

Juice looked up at her and shook his head. "Sorry. We're buried today. Saturdays tend to be pretty busy."

She rubbed her temples. "Gotdammit."

"Everything okay?"

She sighed again. "This is just…" her voice quivered, "fucked up timing."

Holy shit. Was she about to cry? Juice had no clue what to do with crying women. "Well, get what you need out of the car and I'll hitch it up."

Kyra was quiet as she grabbed her purse and iPod and walked to the passenger side of the tow truck. Once again, he was in new territory with her. He'd seen Reserved Kyra and Bold Kyra. The woman he saw today was completely different than either personality he'd met before. As a mechanic he'd seen women freak out over car trouble, but this reaction was a bit much. She seemed genuinely hurt. He knew she wasn't worried about paying for the repairs. He'd seen her bank statements.

They started back toward Charming and he wondered how to handle this. Should he try to get her to talk about it? Did he make a joke to distract her? Or did he just leave her to her thoughts? He looked over at her as she stared out of the passenger window. He caught her reflection and saw tears running down her cheeks. He had no idea what to say. One thing he'd learned in SAMCRO was that when he didn't know what to say, it was best to shut the fuck up.

He rolled down his window and reached in his pocket for a joint. "You mind if I smoke?" he asked.

Kyra shook her head. "No. Go ahead," she mumbled.

He lit the joint and took a few pulls. He hated the silence. He'd been looking forward to seeing her for days and now that she needed comfort, he didn't know what to do. He felt like an idiot.

"Hey," she broke the silence. "Mind if I take a hit of that?"

She smoked? This one was full of surprises. But if it would help her feel better… "Here you go."

She wiped her eyes before turning around to accept the joint. Her first puff was short, as if she hadn't done it in awhile and needed to get used to the smoke again. The second puff was longer. She eased back into the seat as she exhaled and passed the joint back to him. "Thanks," she said before closing her eyes.

If weed made her feel better, then weed, she could have. "You can have this one if you want," he offered. "I've got a couple more in my pocket."

Kyra opened her eyes. Juice could've sworn that a small corner of her mouth turned upward. "That's…nice of you," she accepted the joint and took another long drag.

"You umm…" he hesitated, "need to talk? Or just want to talk about it?"

Kyra continued to smoke; her eyes fixed on the road ahead. "I lost my mother about five years ago. I was on my way to visit her grave because today's her birthday." She paused, attempting to swallow the cry that threated to free itself from her throat. "I've never missed her birthday before."

"Damn. Sorry to hear that," he replied. He could tell she needed to say more, so he asked another question, even though he already knew the answer. "How'd she die?"

"Breast cancer. She was diagnosed the week I was supposed to leave for college. They gave her two years. She made it to four." Kyra exhaled more smoke. "It was her dream to see me graduate from college, but I couldn't leave her when she got sick, so I stayed in Oakland and went to Sac State the year after she passed. Today, I was finally gonna say to her: 'Ma, I did it.'" This time, she couldn't stop herself from getting choked up. "'I got my degree.' Fuckin' car…"

Juice looked down at her hand on the arm rest. Holding it felt like the right thing to do for some reason, so he reached for it. "I'm sorry, Kyra," he said, looking into her eyes.

She looked down at his hand and gave him a small smile. "Thanks Juan."

Juice put his hand back on the wheel. "If you want, we can drop your car off at TM and I can take you to see your mom on my bike…"

"You don't have to do that-"

"I know I don't have to," he interrupted. "I'm asking if you want me to."

Kyra nodded. "Yeah. I'd really appreciate that. Thanks."

Her relief put him at ease. He didn't even need to light up another joint. They rode back to Charming in comfortable silence.

The lot was packed when they dropped off her car. Juice hoped to get out before Gemma spotted him and asked a bunch of questions. He knew how she could be with women around the club, especially outsiders. Though he believed that Kyra could hold her own, she was in a vulnerable place and there was no need to subject her to Gemma before he made an official move. When he spotted Miles, he gave the prospect instructions on the car and pointed Kyra in the direction of his Dyna. She hesitated as she walked toward it.

"Don't tell me you've never been on a bike before," he said. He could always sense first-time riders.

"Nope. All my exes drove SUVs with rims," she cracked.

Juice smiled. She was back to her sarcastic self. "Well the good news is your job is easy. Just put on this helmet and hold on tight. Oh, and if you don't like the taste of flies, keep your mouth closed."

"I guess I can handle that." She fastened the helmet and settled onto the back of his bike.

He sat down and turned the throttle. Kyra gripped his waist and laid her cheek on his back. It felt right, as though she'd been there a million times. And yet, the sensations of her hands clutching his body and breasts pressed against his back felt brand new. "You ready?" he asked. When he felt her nod, he took off.

Once they arrived at the cemetery, Juice stayed on his bike. He considered offering to escort her to the headstone, but she walked ahead without fear. Her mother's plot was close to the entrance, so he was able to keep an eye on her while he waited. There was something beautiful about her somberness. She started talking slowly, but became more conversational in her mannerisms as she went on. Occasionally, she'd dab at her eyes with her index finger between words. When tears poured down her face, he knew that she'd said "Ma, I did it." She buried her face in her hands and Juice felt an ache in his chest. Seeing her fall apart was too much, but he didn't want to intrude on her time with her mother, so he waited. After a few minutes, she regained her composure; kissing her fingertips and placing them on the headstone before walking away.

Kyra was more relaxed on the ride back to Charming. Her grip on his waist was looser and she didn't tremble like she had on the way to Oakland. Once again, her ease put him at ease. It made him nervous, the way her moods affected him.

She lived in one of the newer apartment developments near downtown. When she wasn't in work clothes, it was easy to forget that she was a yuppie. Of course, she lived in one of Hale's pieces of "progress."

"I want you to know that I really appreciate what you did for me today," she said after she got off of the bike. Her eyes shifted between his and the ground. If he didn't know better, he would have thought she was shy.

"No problem. And your car should be ready tomorrow afternoon."

Kyra nodded. "Okay." She stayed in front of him for another moment. They were both quiet. He didn't know what else he wanted to say to her, but he didn't want to go her to go inside yet. When she didn't move, he realized that she didn't want to leave him either. It's now or never. She opened her mouth to speak but Juice grabbed her hand and pulled her closer to him. With his free hand, he reached up and stroked her cheek. He looked at her lips and then into her eyes and leaned in to kiss her.

She was surprised at first, resisting briefly before folding her body into his and allowing him to take control. As the kiss got deeper, she wrapped her hands around his neck. Juice pulled her even closer, letting his finger tips graze a strip of exposed skin on her lower back. Their lips parted momentarily, each needing to catch their breath, but he craved more. His lips found her chin and kissed a trail down her neck. Her pulse quickened as she caressed the lightning bolt tats on his head. He almost forgot that they were outside in plain view of anyone who walked by until his cell phone rang, pulling him back to reality. It was his prepay. Shit.

Kyra exhaled, allowing some of the tension to exit her body. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I gotta answer this." He loosened his grip on her waist and pushed her away slightly so he could reach his cell.

"Yeah?"

"We need you at the clubhouse," Tig's voice commanded on the other end.

"Be there in a few," Juice replied before flipping the phone shut. He looked up at Kyra, ready to give an explanation, but she raised her hand to stop him. She stepped in and brushed her lips against his cheek, thanking him softly before she turned around and walked toward her building. When she made up the single flight of stairs to her door, Juice revved up the engine on his bike and rode off into the night. He couldn't keep the club waiting.