Chapter Four: Gimme shelter
'Pussy?' Jax asked, as Juice was led into the club house. Before Juice realised that the question was directed at him, Chibs answered.
'Yeah, Ruby.'
Behind Jax's back, Tig gave Juice a gross wink, but he hardly noticed. He was too busy processing what was happening. If Chibs had taken him to the club to tell everyone, then why not come right out and say 'no, dick?' Why drag it out? And why was everyone here anyway? Excepting the dead, only Clay and Bobby Elvis were missing. Tara nodded at Jax before retiring to a room in the back while Gemma remained standing by the bar.
'Moron,' Jax said and lightly slapped the back of Juice's head. He smiled dopily; still unsure of what exactly was going on.
'Listen,' Jax began, addressing everyone. Apparently reluctant to continue, he paused, before continuing anyway.
'It won't be safe until we straighten out this thing with Laroy, so I want all of you to stay here. You sleep here. You eat here. If you need to go out: never on your own. That counts for members and prospects alike.'
A pointed look was reserved for Juice during the speech, but Jax briefly made eye contact with everyone. An awkward silence ensued. Juice didn't get it. Laroy: that was the threat? Sure, their ranks were greatly diminished, but it seemed that Jax might be overreacting. They couldn't hide. That didn't look good. It would make them look weak and appearances were everything.
Judging by the looks being shared, everyone else felt pretty much the same. However, no one was especially eager to openly question Jax's authority and judgment. Suddenly, Juice wasn't worried about his own problems anymore, though he absolutely didn't want to be stuck there with Chibs 24/7. Eventually, it was Tig – of all people – who cleared his throat and stepped forward. Chibs shot him a warning glance. Either Tig didn't see it or he didn't care.
'That'll look...' he hesitantly started. Before he could finish his sentence, however, Jax turned on him.
'I don't give a shit how it looks!' Jax snarled. He had to visibly restrain himself. Gritting his teeth, he reduced his response to a muttered, 'Tig, I swear to God,' before stalking off. His mother tried to stop him. Without so much as acknowledging her presence, Jax brushed past her and disappeared in the same direction as Tara. When Tig made a move as if to follow him, Chibs blocked Tig's path. There was a brief standoff between the two of them, until Chibs just slowly shook his head.
'I know, I know' Tig replied. Throwing his arms up in frustration, he walked outside. Some cool air seeped in before the door closed. The tension in the club simmered down somewhat. Immediately, Juice felt the anxiety over his own situation returning. As he turned to Chibs, Chibs gruffly suggested that he get some sleep.
The prospects guided Juice to his sleeping place. Ratboy and Filthy Phil changed – which amounted to little more than taking off their cuts and shoes – and crept under the covers. They whispered to each other for a while about the recent developments, attempting to draw Juice into the conversation, but Juice pretended to be asleep. What did it mean that Chibs hadn't said anything yet? Was Chibs going to bring it up in the morning? How was he supposed to sleep with this fucking thing hanging over him?
Juice listened with all his might, but he couldn't understand a thing of the talk that was being held at the bar. It wasn't a very lively one; that was clear. Sometimes nothing was said for minutes on end. Occasionally, Chibs would speak. Juice knew it was him by the Scottish lilt, but he couldn't make out a single word. Gemma chimed in too and after a while Tig came in.
This went on for ages. Juice had half a mind to get up and join them, but he was too much of a chickenshit. He didn't want to get kicked out of the club sooner than was necessary. So, he waited until chairs scraped over the floor, doors opened and closed and everything was silent.
He listened to the snoring of the prospects. He categorised Ratboy's breathing as more wheeze than snore. He lay wide awake staring at the ceiling for hours. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. He worried and then he worried some more, until he couldn't take it any longer.
Quietly, he threw off the blanket and snuck out of the club. The cold night was a welcome distraction after the warmth inside. There were some lights on in the garage lot, but their light didn't quite reach the club. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see a pinprick of light by the picnic table. It turned bright red before fading a bit.
'Couldn't sleep either?'
Chibs's voice startled him. Juice shuffled closer, going by the scent of the cigarette, until he bumped against the table. Chibs said nothing to make him think that he should go away, so Juice sat down on the bench.
'There were... things on my mind,' he admitted. The cigarette end lit up again, giving a better idea of Chibs's position: he was sitting on top of the table. He shifted a little. Juice heard it, but could still only vaguely make out the shape of him. He wondered whether Chibs was looking at him, facing him, or not.
'You've got nothin' to be ashamed of,' Chibs baldly stated. The topic they were discussing was unmistakable. Taken aback, Juice looked up at him. The light from the lot framed Chibs, blurring his edges and making it impossible to see the expression on his face. One thing was clear: he was staring into the distance. Again, the ease with which Chibs managed to get to the heart of the matter was amazing.
'No?' Juice said. He wanted to believe that it could be that simple; but he felt unable to do just that. He wanted to feel relieved, but he didn't dare.
'No,' Chibs confirmed. There was a pause during which Juice allowed for the possibility that this might actually be true and Chibs took another drag from his cigarette. Out of the blue, Chibs added, 'Tig'll do anything on two legs.'
Puzzled at the sudden change of subject, Juice tried to figure out what Chibs could possibly mean. Later, he blamed his constant worrying, the severe lack of sleep and the late hour for his clueless response.
'What, like animals or something?'
Chibs merely chuckled at the suggestion. It took a couple of seconds before Juice made the connection. It was simultaneously a mind blowing and not entirely unexpected revelation. Juice was surprised at the sense it made. Thinking back, this new context shed a revealing light on a lot of Tig's more bizarre comments. Still, Juice found it difficult to believe.
'The club knows? And they're fine with it?'
'We've all been in prison. As long as Tig doesn't introduce a guy as his old lady, nobody's got a problem with it,' Chibs elaborated. He was very matter of fact about it. It was eerie. Apparently, Tig's lack of sexual preference was common knowledge even though Juice had never heard anyone talk about it before. Maybe they didn't talk about it.
'Kind of like don't ask, don't tell,' Juice mumbled.
'Aye.'
'So... we're good?'
It was the million dollar question. That, as far as the club was concerned, nothing had changed was fucking great, but Juice really needed Chibs to be okay with it. The Scotsman cast another long look far beyond the fences surrounding the lot and nodded.
'We're good.'
(***)
It hadn't even been a day since Jax had ordered the lockdown. Hell, technically it was still the very same day as when Jax had uttered those fateful words.
'Stay here.'
Nobody was especially happy about it. He suspected it reminded everyone a little too much of jail. It wouldn't have been so bad if there was something to do, but, honestly, being cooped up had never agreed with Juice.
Yeah, sure, Clay needed to be out of the hospital for them to finalise the deal with the Irish. Rationally, Juice got it. Emotionally, this sitting around and waiting was killing him. So, per Jax's suggestion, he was upgrading their security. The cameras showed that Happy was out in the lot with Gemma and the prospects.
From the prospects' demeanour you would have guessed they were relaxing, but Gemma and Happy looked decidedly not relaxed. Gemma looked irritated and Happy just menacing, as usual. Ready to snap someone's neck - if asked to.
There was nothing much to watch. There was a group of kids standing by the gate. None of the boys looked to be over twenty and most of them were dressed in hoodies and baggy jeans. The colours of their clothes were subdued. Black, grey, navy and one oversized, camouflage shirt. Juice had considered trying to get Happy to scare them off, but they weren't really doing anything. Unlike Tig, who for the past half hour had been annoying the shit out of Juice by suddenly popping up behind him and looking over his shoulder at the security footage as if he expected something bad to happen.
'Fuckin' kids,' Tig mumbled, before he plopped down on the couch again. Juice knew what came next. Tig got up again after three seconds and jumped up the stripper platform. Presumably, he walked around the pole again; Juice wasn't looking. Then Tig sauntered over to the dartboard again and picked up the darts. Juice didn't have to look to know that Tig was giving them a stare full of existential woe before putting them down and veering in his direction. Again.
This was approximately the 25th time that Tig performed this little routine and it took all of Juice's restraint to stay civil. To take his mind of the hovering presence behind him, Juice calculated how long Chibs and Jax had been away. They had gone to visit Bobby Elvis in prison. That was something Juice would have liked to do, because it would at least have gotten him out of here.
After ten more minutes of Tig breathing in his ear, Juice got a respite when Tig went to the bathroom. Juice noticed that Jax and Chibs were rolling to a stop at the gate. They got off their bikes and chatted with the kids. The talk seemed amiably, though Jax was probably telling them to clear out. At the back of the group, there was movement and Juice thought he saw that the boy with the camouflage gear had a gun.
Oh fuck, he thought, as he raced out the door. He hollered at Happy, who immediately jumped up to follow him. Unaware of the danger, Jax and Chibs were still talking to the kids. Without explaining to anyone what was going on, Juice shoved Chibs aside. Happy had his back, Juice knew. He broke through the circle of boys and put a knife to the throat of the green shirted one.
'Drop the gun,' Juice ordered. His heart was pounding like crazy. His fingers were slippery with sweat around the knife's handle. He gazed into the boy's brown eyes and observed that the kid's pupils were dilated with fear. The boy looked barely a day over fifteen. Jax demanded to know what was wrong. Ignoring him, Juice urged the boy a second time to comply.
'Drop your weapon. Now.'
The boy dropped what he had been holding. It didn't sound like a gun; probably because it wasn't a gun. Already starting to feel stupid, Juice backed off.
'What the hell, dude?' the boy muttered. They all stared at his black iPhone lying on the floor. It didn't even look like a gun. For maximum humiliation, Ratboy and Filthy Phil also joined them. Comically slow, the bikers' focus shifted from the cell to Juice and their faces pretty much agreed with the kid he had attacked for no reason: what the fuck? Gemma snickered softly as she realised what had happened.
Clumsily, Juice apologised to the boy and the kids left. Jax approached Juice. The club president seemed weary, as if he had also done more tossing and turning than actual sleeping in the last few nights.
'You need a break from surveillance. Go collect some clothes and stuff from your place with Chibs. Take a car,' he suggested. Juice glanced at Chibs. The assignment didn't please the Scotsman; that much was obvious. Jax and Chibs mounted their bikes and rode them onto the lot. The two of them parked and went inside. After a brief interval, Chibs came out again and directed Juice towards a car.
In complete silence, they drove to Juice's apartment. It was hard to tell – because Chibs refused to look at him – but Juice guessed that Chibs was pissed off. When they arrived, Juice went in alone and quickly threw clothes, razor, toothbrush and other essentials into a duffel bag. He dreaded the ride back, so - after assembling everything he needed - he sat down on the bed. His damn hands were trembling again. He lit a cigarette to sooth his nerves.
'Keep it together,' he whispered. He had slipped up. He knew it; Chibs knew it and Jax suspected something too. It felt like he was sliding back into the same state of constant paranoia as before he had killed Miles. He needed to calm down. At least Jax didn't know the whole of it. He probably just thought Juice couldn't handle the club's shit.
Outside, the car door slammed shut. He tried to stand up, but it was already too late. Chibs was barging in. When he saw that Juice was just sitting there, looking defeated, it only enraged him further.
'Stop acting like a fuckin' idiot! If you keep this up, how long do you think it will take for the club to decide that you're a liability?'
Juice nodded listlessly and got to his feet to grab his duffel bag off the floor. Chibs barred his way.
'You've got nothin' to say for yourself?'
When Juice tried to sidestep him, Chibs pushed him back. They were so close and Juice didn't feel a thing. He had screwed up. He was supposed to act normal; to not let it show that he cared far more about this man before him than he should care about a friend. Instead, at the mere thought of something happening to him, Juice had rushed out, roughly elbowed Chibs out of harm's way and confronted a perceived armed assailant with a knife. Not even with a gun. With a fucking knife.
The others might think that he was a fool, but the two of them knew the truth. Juice wasn't surprised that it freaked Chibs out. It freaked him the hell out too.
'Look, I'm sorry,' Juice said, 'I shouldn't have reacted like that. Didn't mean to, you know. I wish I had handled it differently.'
Unspoken words hung, heavy, in the air, in the empty space between them. Juice felt he could walk around for days bumping into things he hadn't said. For example, I wish I was different. And, I wish these feelings would go away. And, I wish I didn't want you right now. And, I wish I really wanted those things: I wish I wasn't a liar. He slumped onto the bed.
'Fat lot of good wishing's gonna do: what's done's done,' Chibs mumbled. That didn't make it any better, though. Juice rubbed at his temples. He felt a headache coming on. Chibs sat down next to him, patting his hand. Encouraged by the comforting gesture, Juice looked up, but Chibs avoided his gaze.
'Tell me that nothing has changed,' Juice requested. And, I wish I wasn't too much of a coward to ask what it is I really want to know.
'Nothing has changed,' Chibs repeated, adding an extremely tentative, 'Juicy.' The older man groaned as he righted himself and hoisted Juice's bag onto his shoulder. Juice followed, but no matter how hard he tried, he was unable to catch Chibs's eye. On their way back to the club, Juice realised that Chibs hadn't looked directly at him once the entire day. Not since the night before.
And, I wish you weren't a fucking liar.
