Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy
David Hale was sitting at his desk taking a well-earned coffee break after having endured a prolonged visit with his brother. Jacob Hale was once again on his case regarding the town's biggest problem and thorn in its flesh, the Sons of Anarchy.
Looming over him, much like the bully he used to be when they were children, Jacob took great pains to let David know how exceptionally displeased he and their father, Judge Jacob Hale, Sr., were with Charming PD. They were particularly disappointed by what they deemed to be David's lack of commitment to finally ridding the town of the white trash bikers that had their beloved town in a chokehold and kept it from progressing into the 21st Century.
You've been on the force for over four years, Jacob had reprimanded angrily. Father and I had believed that you would have effected at least some changes for the prosperity of the town by now.
Don't you mean for the 'prosperity' of our family? Hale had shot back.
From there, the conversation had quickly gone downhill.
Leaning back in his chair, Hale concentrated on enjoying the cliché of a cop's favorite mid-morning snack—a cup of coffee and a stale glazed donut he had managed to snag from the open box on Deputy Parsons' desk. Anything to keep himself from dwelling on his earlier conversation with his brother. Disgusted, mostly with himself, Hale tossed the half-eaten donut into the trash can by his desk. In spite of the fact that Jacob and their father were undoubtedly more concerned with lining their own pockets than with the welfare of the town, Hale had to begrudgingly admit that they indeed had a point.
Four years was a long time and to not see one positive change in effect was not only very discouraging to his family, but to Deputy Chief Hale as well. He had returned home from military service eager to make a difference in the town that was founded by his great-great-great grandfather Daniel Hale. However, his efforts towards the betterment of the town had not only been thwarted by the scourge of Charming, the Sons, but from within the walls of Charming PD as well and Hale was starting to think that things would never change. SAMCRO, it seemed, was here to stay, their strong presence and heavy hand felt in every decision that was made regarding the fate of Charming. The outlaw biker gang had much in common with the outlaw gangs of the old Wild West, who would hold a town at their mercy until the federal government saw fit to send in the U.S. Marshalls, who would rid of the town of outlaws and save the day.
In spite of his lifelong dream of living in his hometown free of the biker plague, it had become painfully obvious to Hale that he was no Wyatt Earp.
Hale was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed the presence of someone standing in his doorway until they cleared their throat.
Looking up, Hale saw a tall woman, early-to-mid-40's, wearing a conservative and, to his mind, shapeless and unattractive gray suit that did nothing for her slim figure. Her long blond hair was casually styled and framed a reasonably attractive face, which bore very little by way of cosmetic enhancement except for some lipstick. Standing behind her were two equally tall men, dressed in equally bland dark suits.
"Deputy Chief David Hale?"
"That's right." Hale rose to his feet. "How may I help you?" He inquired with a slight smile.
Walking into Hale's office, the woman pulled out her badge. "Agent June Stahl with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives, Stockton Division. These are two members of my team, Agent Smith and Agent Wright." When she smiled, Agent Stahl's face became more friendly and personable. Holding out his hand, Hale shook hers. "I was hoping that I would find you alone. May we talk?"
Not waiting for Hale's answer, she looked back at her fellow agents. "One of you can let Samuelson know that we've arrived and made contact and I will bring David up to speed." Flipping back to Hale, Stahl asked, "Is it all right if I call you David?"
"Absolutely. May I can you June?"
"Why not?" Stahl said rhetorically. Before closing the door on the agents, Stahl demanded, "And see if the other one of you can find a decent place for coffee around here. I need a hit." Stahl crossed over to Hale's desk and sat down in one of the chairs opposite his desk. Putting her brief case on her lap, she sighed disdainfully. "I have a feeling that there isn't a Starbucks around for miles."
"And you'd be right." Hale leaned back against the front of his desk and crossed his arms. "Which is why I installed this." Nodding towards the credenza behind him, Stahl saw a small, but expensive single-cup coffee maker. "While it's not Starbucks, I think you'll enjoy it better than a cup of Joe from Nicky's Diner."
"God, you are a life saver. Cream and sugar, please. Thanks."
As Hale prepared the coffee, he looked over his shoulder. "So once again the ATF is on my doorstep. Why did you want to speak to me alone?"
"Because according to Agent J.R. Reinhardt's reports, you're probably the only man in this Department not currently on the Sons of Anarchy's payroll."
In doing her research before coming to Bumblefuck, USA, Stahl had been very thorough. She had been right in judging Hale as an attractive and fit man after reviewing the photo on the jacket of his ATF file, but when he smiled, she got the full load.
Very handsome, in a Dudley Do-Right kind of way.
Hale handed her the coffee, which she took with almost indecent haste and took a sip. "Is it all right?" He asked with a smile.
"Like manna from heaven." Stahl replied exaggeratedly as she took another sip.
Hale sat down in his chair. "I am certainly glad to hear that I have that reputation. I've worked hard for it. I was very sorry when Agent Reinhardt's efforts to net SAMCRO failed. To be quite honest, I'm surprised that anyone from ATF would show up now. It's been over four years since the last investigation. I had all but given up hope that anyone was interested in putting these bastards away."
Stahl leaned back in her chair. "It would definitely seem that way. To put it mildly, Agent Reinhardt totally fucked up this case. He dropped the ball in a major way and had he done his job properly, SAMCRO would have been no more than an ugly blotch in your town's history by now." Stahl explained with scorn. Taking another healthy sip of coffee, she continued. "Since his retirement, a number of agents have worked on putting a case together, but have had little or no success in developing any leads to break the Sons. These bikers have become very savvy in their operations and function almost like a corporation. With the exception of a few members currently incarcerated, SAMCRO has pretty much managed to keep themselves clean and off the radar. The case Reinhardt was handed on a silver platter was solid, but unfortunately, after over four years, it just went cold. Until recently, that is. There has been some new activity and we believe we are in a position to finally breach that white trash fraternity and net the really big fish, the actual source of the Sons' merchandise for more than two decades. The Real IRA. That's where you come in, David."
Hale crossed his arms. "How can I help?"
"We need to set up shop in your house. Nothing major, just a couple of offices and some equipment. We will also need to pick your brain, see what knowledge you have of SAMCRO's organization and known associates not currently part of the ATF's database. Anything you have to share could be instrumental in finally putting them away." Stahl replied. "And more importantly, we will need your assistance in running interference with those in your department who have, unfortunately, abandoned their sworn duty to uphold the law by supporting and/or engaging in the Sons' criminal activities."
"I assume you are talking about Chief Wayne Unser."
"Yes." Stahl pulled out some files and started flipping through them. "He's a wily old bastard. Knows how to clean up after himself. While we don't have any documented proof of his active participation in any of the Sons' illegal activities, we do know that he has been complicit in turning a blind eye and letting SAMCRO virtually run the town without any real interference from local law enforcement." Stahl looked at Hale with concern and sympathy. "It must be difficult for you to effectively bring law and order to Charming when your hands are being tied by the one person who should be a mentor and a role model. I am quite impressed that you have been able to withstand such an influence."
Hale nodded grimly. "It's been a rough four years. Quite frankly, it's been downright discouraging."
"Where is Chief Unser, by the way?" Stahl asked, after finishing her cup of coffee with a flourish.
"He's currently out on some personal business. The Chief owns a trucking company, and he uses SAMCRO to protect the merchandise he ships for his clients while on the road."
Stahl's eyes widened. "Doing business with the criminals you're supposed to be working on putting away. How interesting." She drawled.
"Just one of the ways that SAMCRO scratches his back." Hale replied grimly. "If you and your people can do something to help me change the climate in this town, I am more than willing and able to assist you in any way I can."
"Great." Stahl smiled enigmatically. "First, let me bring you up to speed on our new Intel." Getting up from her chair, Stahl spread out a number of photos on Hale's desk.
Pointing to a photo of two men, Stahl explained, "There are a couple of new players on the scene connected to the Real IRA—James Patrick O'Phelan a/k/a Jimmy O, and John Lucas 'Luke' Moran. Moran has replaced this man, Michael Flynn McKeavey." She pointed to another photo. "We know that McKeavey was SAMCRO's primary contact and conduit for transporting the automatic weapons from Ireland to NorCal. About two weeks ago, McKeavey was murdered by men we believe were on the payroll of Brenan Hefner, the Oakland Port Authority official in charge of the docks. He was also murdered a few days ago in what was most likely retaliation for McKeavey's death. We believe that Moran is now SAMCRO'S contact for shipping the guns stateside. It is my plan to try and drive a wedge between the new players in the RIRA and SAMCRO."
Hale grimaced. "How do you plan on doing that?"
"For the moment, that information is classified. The fact is, David," Stahl crossed her arms over her chest. "I really need to be sure which side you are on, and how willing you are to go all the way to bring this case to a right and just conclusion."
"I'm on the side of whomever can get rid of SAMCRO. I want them out of their Clubhouse, out of this town, and in federal lock-up."
"Good. Then the first thing we need to do is to bring her in." Stahl replied and slapped a mug shot of a very young Jolene Morrow on Hale's desk.
Feeling the soft, warm breeze from the open window rustle her loose curls, Jolene turned away from the blackboard. She almost did a double-take as she saw a classroom full of distracted daydreamers barely concealing the fact that they weren't listening. Jolene couldn't really blame her students for allowing their minds to wander. It was finally the end of the school year and the weather had been increasingly beautiful and mild for the past couple of weeks. This being the last class of the day on a Friday, which was also the last day of school, everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts regarding plans for the summer. She was willing to bet her beloved Mustang that no one had their minds on the prep work they needed to get done before the state-wide exams next week.
Especially Brandon Spivey, Jolene thought as she caught a glimpse of his young, pimple-marked face gone completely slack. Almost like he was looking right at her, but not really. That might be my fault, Jolene glanced down to take a quick look at the figure-hugging pencil skirt she was wearing. Although the skirt was appropriate in length, paired with the fitted white sleeveless blouse and mile-high heels she was wearing, she didn't even want to imagine what he was thinking.
If Jolene was honest with herself, she too was pretty excited by the break she would be getting during state testing. The blur of activities that was her life these past few months—not to mention her old man's pussy-on-demand tendencies—were starting to take a toll on the newlywed. Jolene always seemed so tired lately that she had to keep busy and moving or run the risk of collapsing. With the Dean of the Math Department serving as Proctor during the exams for her classes, Jolene was really looking forward to sleeping most of her two-week break away. The break for state exams would be quickly followed by prep for senior graduation and then summer recess. Jolene was starting to seriously contemplate letting Jax convince her to take the summer off. The two-month break would go a long way in re-energizing her for the new school year come September and would give her time to enjoy being a full-time old lady and plan a family vacation.
Finding that she too was guilty of a little daydreaming, Jolene refocused her mind on getting through her last lesson plan of the school year. While the student body had come to expect that most teachers would relax their curriculum during the last week of classes, Jolene tended to intensify the workload to keep her students firmly focused in order to better prepare them for their final exams.
Determined to get the attention of the classroom filled mainly with ninth and tenth graders, Jolene walked over to the front of her desk and leaned against it. Although small, Jolene Teller made an imposing little figure, especially when she crossed her arms over her chest, quickly drawing the attention of the less distracted.
"Everyone, please put away your books." Jolene said mildly and was met with a tiny smattering of applause as a couple of class clowns high-fived each other in the back. "However, make sure to keep a pencil out because it is time for a quiz on the material we just covered, which will account for, um, let's say 85, nope, 95% of your final grade."
The ripple of indignation that quickly spread across the room made Jolene bite the insides of her cheeks in order to keep her game face on.
Chuck Bedford, one of the top jocks at Charming Excelsior Prep, and who was apparently still half-asleep, decided to speak up on behalf of the group. "Um, Teach. That's not fair."
"And why not?" Jolene cocked her head to the side, looking genuinely confused.
"Cuz no body was listening." Came a voice from the back that could only belong to Arnie Mitchell, the leader of the pack of the three class clowns she was blessed with this semester.
"I'm sorry. I understood that to mean that everyone understood the lesson and was ready for a test."
"Nope, that's not what it means." Arnie's cohort, Tim Oliver piped up.
"Okay, now I'm confused. Either it means you all know the material that will very likely be a large portion of next week's test or the majority of you want to repeat Algebra II with me next year."
"I think it's more of the latter, Mrs. T." Melissa Gilroy spoke up with a teasing smile. "I know most of the boys would not mind having you for a teacher again."
As laughter and snickers ran through the crowd, Chuck spoke up again deadly serious. "If I do have to repeat the class, you're sure I'll get you as a teacher again too, right?"
"Only if I'm S-O-L." Jolene replied good-naturedly as the class laughed boisterously. After everyone settled down, Jolene continued. "Okay, back to our lesson, please." She pointed to the blackboard. "We know this is a quadratic equation, but there are three forms of these types of functions. Can someone name all three?" She asked and several hands shot up into the air, mostly in the front. Jolene smiled. "I appreciate the effort to participate," She addressed the four students in the front row, "But let me re-phrase my question. Does anyone not currently a member of the Math Team know what the three forms of quadratic equations are?"
Looking through the windowed door, Agent Stahl was mildly impressed. She watched as Jolene took her class through the rest of her lesson plan and engaged the students with wit and her approval, even getting the little pervert to work a problem out on the blackboard. Stahl had known that Jolene Morrow was a math teacher, but hadn't really believed she was any good. Stahl chuckled as she realized she had let herself fall into the trap of close-mindedness. The term white trash was thrown around so frequently with regards to the outlaw biker gang that she had forgotten that when dealing with SAMCRO and/or their progeny, she was dealing with brains as well as bullets.
Nodding at the school principal, Stahl said, "You can get her for me now."
Jolene was wrapping up the class. With only a few minutes to spare before the bell rang, signaling for the stampede of students eager to celebrate their release from the tyranny of school to begin, Jolene was about to give them the final chapters they needed to review for next week's exam when the classroom door opened.
Principal Brian Petersen, the bane of her existence since her own school days at Excelsior Prep, walked in. Always overly formal, Principal Petersen said, "Mrs. Teller, can you please step outside?"
Trying to be polite, Jolene replied, "Can it wait one moment, please. I'm just about to dismiss my class." Turning back to her students, Jolene felt herself shiver with pure hatred and disgust as she heard the familiar voice of the person she despised more than her POS egg donor.
"I'm afraid that it can't." Agent Stahl walked into classroom. "Hello, Jolene. It's so good to see you again."
Jolene slowly turned to face Agent Stahl, still holding the pointer that she had been using to direct her students' attention on the blackboard. Forcing herself to put the pointer down before she shoved it into Stahl's eye, Jolene had to keep reminding herself that she could never make a clean getaway as there were too many witnesses.
Stahl smiled widely. "You know, you really should have paid those traffic tickets. Let's take a little ride downtown, shall we?"
Mild-mannered he may be, but there was one thing Chief Wayne Unser wasn't. He was not a forgiving man. Nor was he a fucking pushover. As Chief of Charming PD, nothing was to happen in his station house without his knowledge or consent. So when, for the second time in five years, a federal watch was set up in his house, without him knowing jack shit about it, Unser was more than just mildly pissed.
That righteous anger, however, exploded into rage, when the Agent-in-Charge tried to walk by him just as pretty as you please, and completely ignoring him, with a handcuffed Jolene Teller in tow.
Stepping directly into her path, Unser brought Stahl to a dead stop. "Do you mind telling me who the hell you are and why you have that woman in custody?" Unser practically growled.
"Actually, Wayne, I think I do mind." Nodding at Hale, who was standing grim-faced at the end of the corridor. "Why don't you talk to your Deputy Chief? I'm sure he can fill in the gaps while Ms. Morrow and I enjoy a little chat."
As Stahl marched Jolene over to an interrogation room, Jolene turned her head to Unser. "Please call Jax." She said quietly. Scowling as her gaze landed on Hale's face, Jolene let herself get dragged into the room. As the door closed behind her, Hale felt a ball the size of a grapefruit form in his stomach.
What the hell have I gotten her into? Before Hale could figure it out, an angry Chief bore down on him.
"Boy, are you shitting in my pond again?" Unser demanded.
The interview room hadn't changed much since the last time she had been there. It was still small and cramped, and a little too cold for Jolene's taste. Sitting on the uncomfortable metal folding chair with her legs crossed, Jolene sat calm and collected as if it was every day she was pulled out of her classroom in front of her students by federal agents.
Stahl sat down across from her with a stack of files, which she placed on the table between them.
"So Jolene, long time, no see. When I heard that you had come back to Charming, I have to say I was quite surprised. Having escaped the ass end of NorCal, I thought you would have stayed in the bright lights of Seattle," Stahl smiled viciously. "But I guess making it on your own without your daddy and your old man supporting you was getting just a tad too hard for the SAMCRO Princess, huh?"
Jolene licked lips suddenly gone dry as she prepared to launch a verbal attack, when the door burst open to reveal an angry Unser, with Agent Smith following closely behind.
As Stahl eyed her agent coldly, Smith replied. "I'm sorry, but he got passed me."
"Don't be sorry, Agent." Unser snarled. "This is my station house, and I don't get restricted from any area." Unser's eyes bore a hole into Stahl. "Especially by a federal agent that doesn't have the courtesy to introduce herself, her team or explain their presence in said house directly to the Chief in charge, which is me. Now, maybe you'd like to rectify that situation by explaining yourself."
Stahl stood abruptly and walked out of the interrogation room, with Unser following her. As she turned around and Unser looked into her stormy blue eyes, Unser made a quick assessment.
This dame ain't playing with a full deck.
Stahl extended a hand to Unser. "I'm Agent June Stahl and my team will be in Charming for the unforeseeable future regarding several ongoing investigations for the ATF. You can contact Agent Rick Samuelson, the head of our Stockton Office. This investigation has been authorized by the federal government and the San Joaquin Sheriff's Office has agreed to cooperate fully and to provide whatever assistance I need, and as you know, Charming PD falls under their jurisdiction. So I expect to receive that cooperation from you Chief, and from everyone within your house." Stahl smiled coldly. "Is that enough of an explanation for you?"
"It doesn't explain why I'm only hearing about it now." Unser shot back.
"Well, I arrived in Charming yesterday afternoon and I understood from Deputy Chief Hale that you were otherwise engaged handling business not related to law enforcement. Something about a trucking company you own. Unfortunately, the federal government waits for no one. I needed to get moving on this case and took the appropriate measures. I'm sorry," Stahl sneered, "If that doesn't meet with your approval."
I don't hit women, but in the case of this blonde bitch, I could definitely make an exception.
"I'll tell you what doesn't meet with my approval. The fact that you have a citizen of Charming in an interrogation room with no attorney present and, from what I understand, no reason to hold her in custody."
"That's where you're wrong, Wayne." Stahl replied snarkily. "Ms. Morrow was picked up on a bench warrant issued for failing to appear before the court in reference to some matters not currently resolved. I'm simply questioning her about those and some other relevant items on my agenda in connection to my investigation."
"Jolene Teller is entitled to have counsel present and until such counsel is available, I will be sitting in on the interview." Unser said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "After all, I'm sure that your boss wouldn't want it known that an agent under his command has violated an innocent citizen's civil rights, now would he?"
"Well, well, well, Wayne. I had heard Clay Morrow had you on a short leash." Stahl smiled sardonically. "Fine. Sit in if you like." Stahl turned back and headed to the interrogation room. "Just be aware that it's going to be a long night."
Officer Candy Eglee pulled into the T-M lot. She would have preferred to make a call to Jax Teller instead, but Chief Unser thought it would be better if she dropped the news in person.
Yeah, better for him, maybe.
Parking her squad car in front of the garage, Eglee got out and walked over to one of the bays when she saw Opie sitting on the picnic table. Changing directions, Eglee brought her hand up to push a trailing lock of her straight blond hair behind her ear.
Opie nodded pleasantly at the police officer. With her father currently dying from a long and protracted battle with prostate cancer, Eglee had been on board the SAMCRO payroll for several years. While she did not have the same relationship with the Club as Unser, she had proved to be an asset to the Club, but she wasn't in the habit of dropping by the lot.
"Hey Candy, how's your father?" Opie asked.
"He's holding his own, considering. Thanks for asking." Eglee smiled pleasantly. "Listen, Ope, I need to find Jax. Is he around?"
"Yeah, he's in the Clubhouse." Opie hopped off of the picnic table.
"I need to talk to Jax and get back to the station house before Hale notices that I left." Eglee replied as they headed in the direction of the Clubhouse.
"Is there trouble?"
Eglee nodded grimly. "You could say that."
Jolene rubbed her forehead as she sat down for the fifth time in the cold interrogation room. Over last fifteen hours Stahl had interrogated her on and off regarding the events surrounding her shooting four years ago. Jolene repeated, word for word, the statement she had initially given the Chief and Hale each and every time Stahl went after her. Subsisting on nothing but bad coffee, bottled water, and a stale cheese sandwich, Jolene doggedly held her own against Stahl.
In fact, Jolene had yet to break a sweat because she had no real worries for herself. It was only her old man, her son, and the Club that was her main concern. Jolene could endure whatever this bitch had to dish out for the sake of her loved ones. She had certainly proven that to herself before.
So when Agent Stahl pulled her into the interrogation room again for another session—this time while Chief Unser was taking a much needed nap—Jolene knew that Stahl was about to pull off the kid gloves. Jolene smiled to herself. She had no problem with that because, this time, she knew the monster she was dealing with and had come prepared to do battle.
"Well, isn't this nice." Stahl said conversationally as she sat across from Jolene, her arm casually draped on the back of her chair and her legs crossed. "We really haven't had an opportunity for a little girl talk with the Chief around."
Jolene took a small sip of her bottled water. "In order for us to have a little 'girl-talk', we would both have to qualify as females, no?" Raising her bottle to her lips, Jolene smiled. "I'm afraid that leaves you out, honey."
Stahl sat up and leaned an elbow on the table. "And you get to determine who qualifies?"
"No, but I do possess all the soft and squishy bits my old man seems to love." Jolene replied. "You, on the other hand, are straight as a board and thin as a rail. My advice to you, sweetheart: stop trying to grow a penis and enjoy being a woman. Take it from me, it's a lot of fun, especially if you have a husband like mine." Jolene noticed Stahl openly appraising her green diamond ring and matching wedding band that sparkled brightly in the florescent lighting of the small room. "My old man sure has wonderful taste, don't you agree?"
Looking Jolene in the eyes, Stahl smiled as she bit her lip. "He sure does. His taste in jewelry isn't bad either." Relishing the opportunity to unnerve the MC Princess, she continued. "I never did get an invitation to the wedding. What about your mother? Did she make it?"
Warily, Jolene looked at Stahl, never breaking eye contact. "Absolutely. Gemma was there."
"No," Stahl interrupted, slightly shaking her head. "Not that one."
Jolene gave Stahl a sideways smile. "Oh, by 'mother' you actually meant 'egg donor.' No, I'm afraid she wasn't on the guest list."
"Really?" Stahl drawled. "Why that's a shame. You don't keep in touch, know how she's doing?"
"No, I'm afraid I don't." Raising her left hand, Jolene looked at her dainty gold watch to check the time. "See, she's not even a blip on my radar, but if you would force me to guess, I'd say that she's probably drunk, high, or both after having had inappropriate sex with inappropriate men for money. You know, just a regular Saturday morning."
Agent Stahl contemplated Jolene's cool under pressure demeanor through narrowed eyes and with a pinched mouth.
This hellcat's 100% MC. With a father like Clay Morrow, she had not only the club running through her veins, but ice water as well. Too bad females didn't get patched.
Stahl suddenly threw her head back and laughed. Watching the bitch's jugular bounce up and down with glee made Jolene long for a very sharp object to shove into her throat.
"I underestimated you, Jolene," Stahl said, still smiling as she wiped non-existent tears from her eyes. "When we first met, I thought all those years away from Charming would have softened you up a bit, but I guessed wrong."
"You certainly did." Jolene stated, as serious as a heart attack. "You probably thought that I was some inbred, uneducated Podunk, am I right? But I think it's only fair that I warn ya, Agent Stahl. That's not a part of my DNA." Jolene shook her head.
"Really?"
"Really." Jolene said. "As the saying goes, you can take the girl out of the Life but you certainly can't take the Life out of the girl, so do not underestimate me. I am Clay Morrow's daughter through and through."
Stahl raised an eyebrow. "And just what does that mean, Jolene?" She asked.
"It means that I learned from the best, sweetie," Jolene said as if she were catching up with an old girlfriend. "Not only did he teach me how to play pool, but he taught me how to play poker, too. Now, I'm the first to admit that I am a better pool hustler than I am card shark, but I did learn one thing about poker that he swore to me was also true to life. Everyone has a tell."
Stahl laughed, actually enjoying their conversation. This is the most she has ever managed to get Jolene to say during this and their previous "talks".
"Do I have a tell?" Stahl asked with a smile.
"Everyone does."
"What's mine?"
Jolene shook her head as she sat forward in her chair, elbows on the table. "I haven't seen it yet, but I'm willing to bet it's in your eyes."
"Okay, let me know when you see it." Stahl chuckled smugly.
"Oh, you'll know." Jolene replied confidently.
"Well, it warms my heart that you take so much pride in being Clay Morrow's daughter, but I think it's abundantly clear that you get most of your fetching qualities and, I'm willing to bet, special talents from your 'egg donor'. I'm sure that your obvious beauty and talents came in very handy, especially during those last six months you were still working in Seattle." Stahl declared.
Stahl's eyes gleamed as she saw Jolene's eyes narrow and her pupils dilate. Opening a file and perusing its contents, Stahl said, "While stripping for a living is certainly gainful employment, somehow I don't think your current Principal would appreciate your putting your 'talents' to use in such a manner. And from what I can see, you were a very talented girl. I spoke to the owner of The Lollipop Cafe. While he misses you terribly, he wasn't too thrilled with your recruiting efforts. Apparently, he lost his best dancer when you helped her get her G.E.D. She has since left in order to study accounting at night, while working as an office clerk during the day."
Wow, that anger management course the judge made me take is really paying off. Jolene thought as she took another sip of her water.
"While Mick was definitely an asshole of major proportions, the one thing he did do right was run a respectable gentlemen's club." Jolene countered.
Stahl rolled her eyes. "Eh, strip club, gentlemen's club where waitresses serve drinks in revealing lingerie—why split hairs. There's really not much of a difference, especially when the 'waitresses' were required to do a little pole dancing as well. You know, despite this Mick guy being royally pissed off at you, he did say you could work for him again any time. He also said that you were one of his best and I have to agree. You were quite good. You must have had a lot of practice in your father's clubhouse because you were far and away better than all the others. I think I must have caught one of your last shows before you decided to come back to Charming." Stahl smiled. "So what made you decide to go from math teacher to stripper, following in your mother's footsteps?"
Like you had nothing to do with it, Jolene thought angrily.
"Now that you mention it, I have you to thank for the fact that I was black-balled and kept from obtaining gainful employment as a teacher, don't I? Thank you for singlehandedly turning me into a woman who would do whatever was necessary, even distasteful, to take care of her sick baby." Jolene said bitterly. "If you had done your homework you would realize that what you are trying so desperately to twist into something ugly was a far cry from the things my egg donor did. She only cared about sex and her next fix. I was never a priority for her. Besides, the Lollipop Café is one of Seattle's classier establishments of its type," Jolene shrugged her shoulders. "And all things considered, not a big deal."
"I have to commend you, Jolene, I really do." Stahl said as Jolene's eyes glittered. "I was so glad to hear that you were able to go back to teaching. But wouldn't it be a real shame if your current School Board were to hear about your youthful indiscretions, and your recent walk on the wild side?" Stahl smiled hugely.
"Under different circumstances, you might have me shaking in my boots, but I do learn from past mistakes. See, both Mr. Petersen and my mentor, a highly regarded member of the San Joaquin School Board and the one responsible for giving me the opportunity to teach again, are fully and completely aware of my youthful indiscretions. That leverage you thought you had, doesn't really faze me." Jolene smiled widely as Stahl's lips became thin and pinched at Jolene's revelation. "Besides, when you single-handily save Excelsior Prep's funding for its sports program, you end up becoming something of a town hero. My being a 'waitress' for a few months to make ends meet isn't going to raise any eyebrows."
Deal with that, bitch!
Watching through the two-way mirror in the observation room as the two women sat at the metal table across from one another, Unser wondered what the hell was going on. With the sound muted on the speakers and Stahl's two ATF goons on watch, Unser had no clue what was going down. Somehow, though, seeing the soft smile on Jolene Teller's face and the cold and angry look the ATF gash was aiming at her, Unser had a feeling that Clay's daughter was more than holding her own against her adversary.
It took everything for Stahl not to lose her mud in front of the MC whore. She had clearly underestimated her opponent, who had obviously grown another pair to go with the one she had from their first encounter. But she wasn't about to throw in the towel.
"How nice that daddy dearest taught you more than just pool and poker. It seems like you've also learned the art of securing for yourself the right set of friends." Shifting gears, Stahl continued. "It's a shame you won't keep in touch with your—what did you call her—'egg donor' because, I have to say, I really enjoyed talking to her." Stahl aimed a thin smile at her foe. "She certainly seems to have changed."
Jolene cocked her head. "Really? That's a newsflash to me."
Stahl flipped through the file she had sitting open in front of her. "Oh yes. She's been sober now going on eight years and has been since you left Seattle when you were 17. After rehab, Valentina Robles got a cosmetology license and works as a manicurist in a high-end salon. She married an older gentleman who breeds Italian greyhounds. She really turned her life around. Didn't you know?"
"I don't keep unimportant shit like that on my radar." Jolene replied coolly.
"Oh, that's right. If I understand correctly the last time she reached out to you was when you graduated high school, right?"
Jolene looked at the federal agent with narrowed eyes. I don't know where this bitch is going with this shit, but I have a feeling I'm not going to like it.
Jolene nodded her head. "That's right. I had no interest in seeing her then, and I have no interest in talking about her now."
"I can understand that. Talking about your mother must bring up some very painful memories for you. It must have been very difficult for you, such a young girl suffering such degradation at the hands of her mother's own boyfriend. I was so sorry to hear that you were almost raped. Knowing how much Clay loves you, it must have devastated him as well." Stahl's attempt to look concerned and empathetic failed miserably.
It took Jolene a full five seconds to respond. "Attempted rape, huh?" She laughed softly. "That is certainly an interesting turn of events."
Oh, shit!
"Yes, it is, and imagine my surprise when I heard that your alleged attacker," Stahl made a show of looking at her notes. "A Ricardo 'Pretty Ricky' Hernandez went missing shortly after you returned to Charming following the incident. He's been missing for eight years now and has now been presumed dead. Something tells me, though, that you already knew that, isn't that right, Jolene?"
Jolene leaned back in her chair, her body language not revealing at all to her opponent that she was about to shit a brick. "The name sounds familiar. I believe he is—or I guess was—now that you tell me he's missing—my mother's pimp. Why this information should be of any interest to you is beyond me." Jolene smiled as she took a sip of water.
"Oh, I find it very interesting. You see, it goes to motive, especially as the events of this situation seem to mirror those concerning the disappearance of Kyle Hobart. I mean, think about it. Both men are presumed to have attempted to do you harm. Hernandez tried to rape you and Hobart—well, let's just say that you and your old man get shot, you almost die, and then Kyle Hobart reaches out to the ATF for protection only to disappear off the face of the earth. Since I understand that the Club is big on family and on protecting its own, it seems to me that maybe the Club had something to do with both Hernandez and Hobart being 'off the grid.' And I think that if I push your mother hard enough—who, by the way since you haven't asked, feels pretty badly about the whole sad business—I'm sure she will be able to provide me with concrete evidence of a conspiracy concerning her missing boyfriend. Actually, I think it was her guilty conscience that led her to explain the details of what happened between you and Pretty Ricky. She truly regrets blaming you for instigating the attack. It's really quite sad."
Stahl casually flipped her hair over her shoulder. "You see, Jolene, I think you've put yourself in a serious situation here. Between your employment at the Lollipop Café and your problems with men, your happy little family life really isn't all that stable, is it? But I think if you were to help me, let me guide you along, as it were, I could really help you. You have to know that SAMCRO will eventually destroy you anyway, but if we can work together, I think that I can help you make a good life for you and your son." Stahl smiled coldly. "And Abel can grow up knowing his mother, instead of bouncing around the foster care system when his father ends up in prison for murder and his mother for helping him cover it up. How does all that sound to you?"
Jolene slowly put the half-empty bottle of water she had been toying with on the table. All she wanted to do was to leap over the table and slam Stahl's head against the floor until there was nothing left but a smear of blood and brain matter.
They stared at each other for a long time before Jolene spoke again. "You know, you and I really aren't that different." Jolene sat back in her chair. "I grew up in a small town, just like you, with dedicated parents and a loving extended family." She said coolly. "Only difference I can see is that I'm not a baby killer, isn't that right, Claire?"
Stahl's eyes widened in what could only be classified as shock and panic, quickly turning to sheer hatred. If there weren't so many goddamned witnesses, Stahl thought, I'd shoot the fucking bitch in the head.
"What?" You think you're the only one who does her homework around here? I am a teacher, after all." Jolene laughed. "I get the strange feeling, though, that your Fed buddies wouldn't be as understanding as me if they knew the real deal concerning your 'other life'. As a matter of fact, you prolly wouldn't be sporting that shiny gold ATF badge you just love flashing around so much. After all, the Sheriff in that teeny-weeny town you come from in East Texas never really came to a final determination as to what really happened to your little brother, right?" Jolene saccharine-sweet voice belied the viciousness bleeding from her eyes.
"There's really only one difference between us. See, I paid my debt to society and lost my job because of it. You, on the other hand, got away with murder and, with the help of your foster parents, technically your aunt and uncle, you've somehow managed to keep the past buried . . . just like your little brother. Your bosses at the Bureau have no idea that they have a closet sociopath on the government's payroll and I'm guessing that's how you want it to remain, buried." Jolene once again sat back in her chair, her arms crossed.
Regaining her composure, Stahl threw her head back and laughed, this time, though, it sounded forced. "Wow! That is some story."
"It sure is and if I didn't have the documents to back me up, I would say it's too incredible to be true." Jolene let the smile spread slowly across her face as the look she had been waiting for flashed in Stahl's eyes. "I am not a mean or vindictive person, Agent Stahl. The role you played in almost ruining my career, thereby jeopardizing my son's health, I'm not holding a grudge about that, but I do have to warn you. You trying to hurt my family again with this whole nefarious plot you've concocted based solely on a pack of lies some former junkie whore has fed you, that I do take offense to. So as long as this bullshit about the Club taking out some pathetic pimp and a POS loser becomes a non-issue, your secret is safe with me." Jolene smiled sardonically. "I'm tired, I'm hungry, I could use a shower, and I want to see my family. With all of our cards now on the table, I guess it's safe to say that I'm free to go now, right?"
Not waiting for an answer from a shell-shocked Agent Stahl, Jolene pushed herself up from her chair and headed for the exit. "And in case you were wondering, I was right. Your tell is in your eyes." She smiled. "Crazy, psycho eyes never lie."
