Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I do, however, own Jolene and any other OCs that appear in the Jaxene Universe.
It had been a pretty tiring first day for Fawn in Charming. It seemed as if she had been on a constant rollercoaster of emotion since the moment she had received news about her father's near-death experience.
Her frantic journey through bad weather from Seattle was quickly followed by extreme culture shock after being thrust into the MC world—a pretty new and somewhat fucked-up environment bordering on the stone age. In less than 24 hours, Fawn had gone from the comfort of her somewhat normal life to worrying about a father she hasn't spoken to in about a year, to verbally sparing with both the surly SAMCRO VP and his old hag of a girlfriend, and straight into a confrontation with law enforcement in the form of Sheriff Roosevelt. All in all, Fawn was feeling mentally twisted up and strung out.
Having her father come back to the land of the living sooner than anyone had expected gave Fawn a measure of relief and comfort, allowing her to hope that, along with Tig's full recovery, they would have the opportunity to finally make things right with each other. Dr. McNamara, for one, was extremely pleased that Tig had come out of his coma so quickly, especially after suffering a heart attack while in surgery.
Tig, however, was lucid and wide awake only periodically. For the most part, he had been in and out of sleep throughout the day, with Fawn refusing to leave his side. Sticking close by had allowed her the opportunity to see first hand just how much her father was admired and loved by his outlaw family as a number of his brothers managed to sneak into ICU to see him.
Remembering Jax Teller's orders, Fawn had spent the morning and most of the afternoon at her father's bedside without a break. No one who was not affiliated with the Club or the hospital was getting past her, especially if their intention was to question Tig about the events that had landed him in the Intensive Care Unit. With her father dozing so much, Fawn was glad that Jax had ordered several patches to stay by her side as she watched over Tig.
Especially since one of them was Tiki Munson.
In spite of his constant need to flirt with her, Fawn was quickly coming to like the young biker. Out of all of the Sons she had met so far, she felt the most comfortable with Tiki. He seemed to have the same laid back demeanor of his old man, putting Fawn quickly at ease the way Bobby had at the Clubhouse. The fact that Tig had sponsored the young man and that Tiki seemed to admire the Sergeant-at-Arms made him the obvious perfect choice for her to use as her sounding board. With as many questions and frustrations she had as far as the Club was concerned, she needed someone she could bleed for information. As far as Fawn could tell, the Prez was much too busy to deal with her multitude of queries and his VP was just too grumpy for her to remain civil long enough to ask a decent question.
Sitting in two chairs right outside her father's room after getting kicked out by nurses who were changing the dressing on Tig's wounds, Fawn figured that, even though she had only known him for a day, now was as good a time as any to start pumping the young patch for information on the Club.
"Tiki, can I run something by you?"
Tiki flashed a wicked and flirty grin. "Girl, you've been running through my mind all day. Whassup?"
Fawn chuckled as she rolled her eyes at the grinning biker. "It's a good thing you're cute because your game could use some work. That line's probably older than your daddy."
"Hey, the classics have yet to let me down." Tiki smirked knowingly. "What can I do you for?"
Fawn propped her chin in her hand as she eyed him through narrowed eyes. "Well, even though Tig's been a member forever, I'm a little clueless about the whole Club thing. My parents separated shortly after Dad moved down here to join SAMCRO when my sister and I were pretty young, so our exposure to this life, generally speaking, was pretty limited. I'm not as savvy as I would like to be about Club protocol and, in case you haven't heard, I've already had a couple of run-ins with one of your brothers and some old hag down at the Clubhouse."
"Fawn, you've only been here—" Tiki started protesting, but Fawn waved him away.
"I know, I know. Barely a day and I'm already starting shit. Don't ever underestimate a Trager's ability to piss people off." She replied cheekily. "That's why I need a little guidance and I figured, since you seem close to my Dad, maybe you wouldn't mind mentoring me so I don't come off as totally clueless all the time. The last thing I want is to pull any more stupid shit that could be problematic for Dad."
Tiki pursed his lips and thought about what Fawn was saying for a moment. Suddenly, his face brightened as he cracked a beaming smile. "So what, I'd kinda be a Yoda to your Luke?" He snarked.
Fawn shrugged her shoulders. "Well, I guess you can look at it like that. You're way hotter than he is, though." She flirted.
Tiki winked at her. "You too, darlin'." Damn! Tiki cursed his luck that the hottest piece of trim to hit the Clubhouse in a long time had to be related to Tig Trager. He wouldn't mind pressing up on that shit, but he had grown accustomed to breathing and wasn't quite ready to give it up just yet. "A'ight. I can give you a little guidance here and there, but I have to warn you up front. There are just some things that—"
"You can't discuss with me." Fawn nodded. "I managed to pick up that much when I first hit town. Not a problem."
"Good. What do you wanna to know?"
Fawn bit her lip as she tried to pick her words wisely, but once again, her mouth beat her brain to the punch. "What's up with all the skanks down at the Clubhouse? You boys running a brothel or something?"
Tiki's eyebrows shot up. "Okay, not what I was expecting." He couldn't help but laugh. "That's an interesting question and the short answer is no, we're not running a brothel."
"So, what, are they old ladies?" Fawn asked.
"The ones at the Clubhouse last night?" Tiki asked.
Fawn nodded. "And this morning."
Tiki chuckled. "Oh hell's no. Most old ladies were here yesterday and left before you arrived. Anyone at the Clubhouse last night was there to party. Those are croweaters."
Remembering what Colleen had told her, Fawn quickly put it together. "Okay, so these croweaters basically just hang around the Clubhouse to party, like biker groupies, opening beers and sucking dick?"
Tiki laughed. He was genuinely starting to like Tig's daughter. She had no filter whatsoever. "Basically." He replied. "Not all of us have or want old ladies, but that doesn't mean we don't wanna get laid."
"'Nuff said. I totally get the benefits of a no-strings-attached deal." Fawn smiled as Tiki gave her a look that said maybe they could work something out. "Nah, playa, let's keep this mentorship strictly platonic."
"Playing hard to get. I like that." Tiki teased.
Another time, another place, Fawn thought with a smirk. And you wouldn't know what to do with me. After one too many disastrous casual relationships, Fawn was determined to hold out for something a little more permanent and committed. She had a tendency to fall hard and fast for the bad boys and leather and Harleys were definitely a bad combination for her self-imposed celibacy.
"I can see why the Club lets them hang around," Fawn started. "But how do these women benefit from being passed around like a fat joint? No offense."
Tiki ran his hand over the stubble on his face. "The Club's like a family and family looks out and takes care of each other, and that includes the croweaters. They actually do a bit more than just fuck us on the regular. They take care of us—especially those without old ladies—in and out of the Clubhouse. Shit, I haven't done my own laundry since I patched in." Tiki explained as Fawn looked at him with wide, shocked eyes. "Shit, that sounds a bit one-sided, don't it?" He asked and Fawn nodded. "It's not. Being a croweater gives them a connection to the MC and opens the door for other opportunities when they take care of the needs of the brothers. They take care of us, we take care of them."
Tiki felt his face heating up and knew he was blushing. The knowledge of who croweaters were and what they did had been a part of his life experience since he could remember. He had never really considered how these women were treated in the Clubhouse to be a big deal. After all, both parties benefited from the relationship and, as far as SAMCRO was concerned, it was always consensual, but having to break it down for Fawn was making him feel like a pig. It was actually a little embarrassing.
As Tiki went on to explain the difference between croweaters and sweetbutts, Fawn shook her head. To her mind, there wasn't a difference. They were all whores.
"And the old ladies don't have a problem with these women hanging around their men because I'm pretty sure my mother did?"
"Some do and some get away with putting their foot down. For others, as long as they're not slapped in the face with the knowledge that their old men are banging croweaters, they tolerate having them around. Besides, a good old lady knows the difference between what they have with their men and meaningless sex." Tiki explained, not convinced that Fawn was buying any of it. "Some croweaters, though, push boundaries by rocking the boat sometimes. They tend to get pretty territorial about the patches, especially the single ones. I will be the first to admit that I am something of a Club favorite." He grinned wickedly.
"Why am I not surprised?" Fawn laughed. Then it dawned on her. "Oh, that explains why that ho-bag was all in my face this morning." As Fawn filled the young patch in on her morning meet-and-greet with the whore sporting the cheap dye job, he shook his head.
"Sounds like Emily." He said.
"Well, the bitch is ancient. Isn't there like an expiration date on these women, preferably before they get old and tired?" Fawn asked sarcastically.
"Hey, there are actually a few hotties on the lot. You just haven't met them yet." Tiki replied. "And Emily's not so bad once you get to know her. She's pretty popular at the Friday night after-Church parties. Lately though, she's been gravitating towards Ope, which might explain why she got in your face this morning."
"Humph! Judging by my preempted bitch smack down, I kind of figured that was the case. I can't believe he would touch that old bag with somebody else's dick, let alone his own."
Tiki shrugged, surprised by the venom in Fawn's voice. "Ope's been through a lot of shit." The young patch was reluctant to say anything more. Over the last three years, the VP had managed to come to terms with the tragedy that had taken his old lady, but he was far from the family man that Tiki remembered from his youth. Even though it was obvious that Opie loved his kids, he kept his family life and his Club life completely separate, allowing him to indulge in the women available while shielding his teenaged children from the realities of the Life.
Fawn's brow furrowed as she considered Tiki's comment, wondering if this shit had anything to do with her father.
"Like what?" She asked. From the look on his face, Fawn realized that she had touched upon at least one of the subjects that were off-limits and not up for discussion with her. Putting her hands up, she said, "Hey, you don't have to answer that. I don't want you to get in trouble for breaking any confidences or secret handshakes." She tried to laugh it off.
But Tiki had a serious look on his face. "I can't get into it. All I can say is that Opie is a tough guy to know. He's gone through some stuff, but hopefully one day, things will get better for him." He explained. "Look, bottom line, just don't take any shit from any of the croweaters from the jump and you'll be fine. You may not be an old lady, but your father is a patch and there's a level of respect that's owed to you. Just let them know who you are, don't tolerate any bullshit and they'll back off." Tiki stood up. "I could use some coffee. Want some?"
"That would be great. I take it black." Fawn paused. "And Tiki?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for showing me the ropes."
"Anytime, sweetheart."
Waiting for Tiki to come back with the coffee, Fawn was still sitting outside her father's room when she saw an interesting sight making its way down the hall.
Well, get a load of this shit.
Fawn crossed her arms as she saw two women making a straight beeline in her direction, and by the way they were dressed, she was as sure as shit that they were coming to see her father.
Fawn eyed the one on the left. Although it was unlikely that she would ever see 40 again, it was obvious that the woman had managed to hold on to her good looks. She had a body that women half her age would envy and was rocking a tight black V-neck sweater and a pair of designer skinny jeans with kick-ass high heels. Her long dark hair streaked with platinum highlights fell in waves over her shoulders. In Fawn's professional opinion, the hair looked thick and healthy, but the cut and look were dated and ill-suited for a woman her age. Her face, while still rather attractive, boasted a few wrinkles that would not have been so noticeable had she used the right foundation. Her make up was slightly overdone as well, but Fawn knew from experience that older women had the tendency to apply their make up with a spatula when less was always more as long as they had the right coverage. Her rack's not half bad, Fawn thought. As a matter of fact, it went a long way in averting one's eyes away from the scar and ugly bird tattoo on her chest.
Fawn frowned as she tried to remember what her mother had told her about what she called "crow tats." It was probably important, but Fawn usually checked out about halfway through a conversation with her mother. The woman couldn't get to a point quick enough if her life depended on it.
Looking from the hot mama to her companion, Fawn was a little taken aback. Shocked was a better way to put it.
This must be one of the hottie croweaters that Tiki claimed existed. And begrudgingly, Fawn had to admit to herself that Tiki hadn't done her justice. She's stunning.
A couple of inches shorter than her cohort, the young woman had to be in her twenties. Wearing a pair of low-riding jeans and black leather booties, the girl with the luxurious mane of shiny midnight curls and green eyes had an excellent set of Double D's stuffed into a dark blue cropped tank top, which—strangely enough—displayed an almost-similar scar on her chest and the beginnings of another bird tattoo right below her pierced navel. A caramel-colored cropped leather jacket completed her ensemble. To Fawn's trained eye, this one clearly knew how to use make up to enhance her looks. Whatever cosmetics she was wearing—at least some eyeliner, mascara, and a pink-tinged lip gloss—had been expertly applied to appear as if she wasn't wearing any.
But shit, I have never seen a pair of mother-daughter whores working it together before.
Fawn had been forced to let the bitch down at the Clubhouse go without putting her in her place because the SAMCRO VP had seen fit to interfere. Fawn didn't know if the blond hag had spread the word to her other ho-bag friends as to who she was, but she decided to follow Tiki's advice and not take any shit from these two, or anyone else, from the jump. Standing up, Fawn crossed her arms under her chest. Opening her mouth, she came out swinging just as the two women were still several feet away.
"Let me guess," Fawn pointed a finger at the one on the left. "You're the head croweater-in-charge, right?"
Stopping short, her dark eyes wide, the older one nearly choked. "What the fuck?"
"I have to hand it to you, doll. Not being afraid to hang out with a younger model shows you've got the balls to swing it with the younger set. Personally, I hate bitches with low self-esteem issues, so kudos to you." Fawn smiled a mean grin. "Now, I'm new in town, so I have no clue how you rank yourselves—age, experience, don't know, don't care, but judging by the ho that tried giving me shit this morning, you two must be the pick of the litter. I trust that you were sent down here as some sort of 'Get Well Pussy Ambassadors', so please do me a favor and pass along a message to your other friends."
Fawn heard the younger one mutter angrily under her breath, but stopped her with a wave of her hand.
"It's really nice of you two to stop by to see my Dad. I'm sure it would really cheer him up, but you see, he really isn't up to any of the fun and games you might have in mind. I mean, the most that you could prolly do for him would be a hand job, maybe a B.J." Looking at the younger one, Fawn continued. "And you look like you could probably suck a mean dick, but with his bad leg, I don't recommend it. I really hate being the cock-blocking bad guy here, but you should really give him at least a month or so to recover. By then, I'm sure he'll be more than ready to party with you two and I promise that I won't stand in your way, but right now, it's not happening. So, I would really appreciate it if you would turn around and go back to the Clubhouse and spread the word. I'm sure there are plenty of other dicks just lining up for you two to play with."
Just then, Tiki came down the hallway with a cup of coffee in each hand. "Hey Fawn, I see you've met Jax's mom and his old lady."
For a moment, Fawn was so convinced she had heard wrong that she almost laughed out loud. But as she made eye contact with the woman who had been the Club's matriarch since the very beginning, Fawn's heart sank in her chest. "Oh shit!"
Gemma Teller-Morrow put her hand on a cocked hip as she watched the color literally drain out of the face of the pretty redhead, who was now leaning against the wall for support, before turning a bright shade of pink.
"Oh, we've met." Gemma grinned at a scowling Jolene Teller. "Come on, baby girl. What did you expect from Tigger's kid?"
Sitting at the picnic table in the T-M lot, Fawn was still trying to get over her royal screw up involving the women who Tiki said were the two most powerful old ladies in the entire MC.
"I've had hoof-in-mouth disease before, but this little drama is at the top of my shit list of most embarrassing moments." Fawn groused. "I have never been so fuckin' humiliated in all my life."
It was a major miracle that Gemma Teller-Morrow had found the entire episode somewhat hilarious. Her daughter-in-law, however, failed to see the humor in the situation and hadn't found it funny at all. Although Fawn stood at least four inches taller than the young woman in bare feet, it was obvious from the hostility emanating from the tiny thing that Jolene Teller was not intimidated and would have had no problem in beating the shit out of her.
The little firecracker might have taken me down, too if Tiki hadn't smoothed shit over.
In the end, Gemma had explained that Jax had let them know that Tig had come out of his coma and they had volunteered to come down to the hospital and give Fawn a break from guard duty. Which explained why she was now at the Clubhouse shoving an organic balsamic grilled chicken and avocado sandwich into her face as she tore a strip off of Tiki's ass at the same time.
"My ho-dar has never let me down until today, damnit!" Fawn glared at her so-called new friend. "I think you forgot to mention a few very important facts, Tiki."
Between almost witnessing first hand Jolene's legendary ass-kicking skills and the ass reaming he was getting from Fawn, Tiki considered it a small miracle that he was still standing. "Fawn, I was gone five fuckin' minutes. How you managed to piss off probably the coolest, most level-headed old lady on the planet in such a short period of time is something I kinda wish I had witnessed." Tiki stated with a barely concealed smile. "I thought only Tig possessed the ability to get under people's skin so quickly, but like father, like daughter I guess."
Fawn threw her hands in the air. "Why does everybody keep saying that shit?" She growled.
"Why? Because I thought Dawn was the real nut job until you blew into town. Turns out she only looks crazy like your dad." Tiki snarked.
Fawn blinked as she wiped her mouth with a napkin. "You know Dawn?"
Tiki nodded as he took a gulp from his bottle of beer. "I met her crazy ass last year when she showed up out of the blue." He explained. "She may be Tig's spitting image, but that's where any similarities end. I mean, Tig may be a lot of things—most of them not good—but he doesn't have a dishonest bone in his body. I can't say the same about your sister. I'm sorry if I'm overstepping, but it's the truth."
"You're not overstepping." Fawn assured him quietly. "So you know about how she—"
"Squeezed Tig for $12,000 because you needed to go to rehab? Yeah."
"Fuck, is nothing secret around here?" Fawn fumed.
"A lot of things are secret," Tiki replied, taking another swig of his beer. "Family drama ain't one of them."
Fawn ate a couple of veggie chips. "How did Tig react to the fact that he'd been conned?"
"I don't know if you can say he was conned, especially since he knew from the jump that she was bullshitting him." Tiki said. "I was surprised he gave her the money, but he never explained why he did it."
"Yeah, I was surprised when I heard about it, too." Fawn responded, still feeling the sting of hurt the whole situation had caused her. In fact, that whole Dawn-Rehab drama had been one of the reasons why she hadn't spoken to her father in over a year. "Some times it's kinda hard to figure my Dad out."
"Some times? Shit, I've gotten to know him pretty good over the past three years and even I don't know what's rolling around in his head half the time. I don't think anybody does."
"Yeah, I get that." Fawn said.
Suddenly losing her appetite, she rolled up her half-eaten sandwich and got up to toss it in the garbage can behind the picnic table. Climbing onto the table next to Tiki, she picked up her bottle of water and gulped half of it down as the young biker watched her intently, his head cocked to the side.
Feeling self-conscious, Fawn ran her hand over her face in case she had food stuck to it. "What?" She asked.
"If you don't mind me asking," He started, his voice soft. "Why would your sister say you needed to go to rehab?"
Fawn took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "She probably figured Dad would have no problem believing I had relapsed over whatever lame excuse she had for needing the money," Fawn replied looking Tiki straight in his hazel eyes. "Because once a junkie, always a junkie."
Tiki quirked an eyebrow at her. "You? Really?"
Fawn shrugged her shoulders. "Long story." She replied in a manner that gave Tiki the sense that it wasn't up for discussion.
Gently grabbing her left hand, Tiki ran his fingers over the small black "X" tattooed on the back of her hand close to her thumb. "Is that what this is about?"
Fawn raised her eyebrows. "A biker that knows about Straight Edge?"
"I'm just full of surprises, sweetheart." Tiki smiled. "I don't practice it myself, but I've heard of it."
"Well, technically, the tat is all that's left of my hardcore Straight Edge punk days." Fawn smiled. "I got clean at 18, joined the movement, and it saved my life. Leaving drugs and alcohol behind wasn't easy for me, but I've been clean and sober for 10 years. Now the tat's just a reminder to stay that way everyday." Fawn explained. "Dawn used the darkest, lowest point of my life to get money out of my Dad and the asshole willingly gave it to her."
"I'm sensing that was a problem for ya."
"Hell's yeah! But not because he gave her the money. He took her word for it, never bothering to pick up the phone and checking in with me." Fawn said vehemently, her blue eyes practically crackling with electricity.
It was just one of the many things that she and her father were going to have to hash out once Tig got sprung from St. Thomas. As Tiki eyed Tig's daughter, her body language pretty much said it all.
Tig might be better off staying in the hospital.
Downing the rest of her bottled water, Fawn let out a not-so-quiet burp once Tiki was out of earshot, having been summoned into the Clubhouse by Filthy Phil, a ginormous and curly-haired Club member. Leaning against the picnic table, she stretched her long legs encased in skin tight leggings as she watched the bustling activity on the lot with Rocco at her side.
In spite of the fact that it was mid-March and pushing late afternoon, the California sun was still warming up the day, something Fawn found wonderfully pleasant when she considered the dreary weather she had left behind in Seattle. With the crisp early spring breeze blowing through her hair, and after being cooped up in the claustrophobic and antiseptic walls of St. Thomas at her father's bedside all morning and most of the afternoon, she decided it was the perfect weather and time of day for a walk.
Fawn reached over and scratched Rocco's ears, who in turn whined with pleasure. "What do ya say, boy? Wanna take a stroll around the block?" Letting out a series of loud barks, Rocco totally understood and whole-heartedly agreed with his mistress.
Gathering Rocco's leash in her fist, Fawn was about to stand up when she heard the loud roar of yet another bike pulling into the lot. Having had a chance to check out some of the bikes parked in a long line outside the Clubhouse up close, her eyes grinned in appreciation as she noted the beautiful and powerful teal bike and its rider, a huge but obviously very young man.
Fawn almost guffawed as another young man followed the powerful motorcycle onto the lot as he furiously pumped his legs on a custom-made dirt bike. Straining to keep up, the second rider was younger, shorter and slimmer than the first. Amused by the somewhat familiar pair, Fawn watched as the two young men parked their rides.
Jumping off his ride, Kenny Winston whipped off his helmet, the slight breeze ruffling his shoulder-length strawberry blond hair around an attractive face sporting the beginnings of a scraggly mustache. "Shit, man. I was sure I lost you on that last corner." He grinned at his best friend.
"You did, asshole!" Abel Teller grumbled as he tried to get his breathing under control. "When are you gonna remember that I'm riding a dirt bike, not a fuckin' Harley?"
"Prolly never." Kenny laughed as he slapped his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Which is as long as it will take before you ever get your ass on that Sportster." He was about to rib his friend some more when his eyes narrowed appreciatively. "Well, damn, what do we have here?"
Abel turned and followed his friend's gaze to a tall and willowy redhead sitting at the picnic table with what had to be a miniature horse at her side. "No clue, but damn, she's hot." He exclaimed as he started walking towards the Clubhouse.
"Uh, yeah, she is," Kenny grabbed Abel by the collar of his jacket and pulled him back to his side. "And I saw her first, so I got dibs."
Abel laughed at his overly-confident friend. "Like you'd have a chance in hell of getting with that."
"Watch and learn, my brother. Watch and learn."
With a slight smile curling her lips, Fawn tried to pretend she didn't notice as the two young men swaggered across the lot, heading in her direction. The taller of the two, topping her own height of 5'9 by a couple of inches, was wearing jeans, steel-toed boots and a black leather jacket. Similarly dressed, Fawn could tell even from a distance that his younger sidekick, a real cutie pie with shoulder-length blond hair pulled back into a stubby ponytail, had bright and beautiful green eyes.
"Uh-oh, Rocco," Fawn chuckled. "I'm about to get hit on by a pair of mini-bikers. This might be the highlight of my day, so be nice to them, okay, boy?"
Not normally at all partial to the males of the human species, Rocco wasn't prepared to make any promises as he eyed the two young men.
"That's a big dog you have there." The larger of the two young men flashed a mega-watt smile at her.
"I'm a big girl. I like big things." Fawn replied. "No crime in that, right?"
"The only crime I see is a beautiful young woman sitting out here all by herself."
Fawn couldn't help herself and laughed. "I have to say, I wasn't expecting someone as young as you to be so smooth with the come-ons."
"It's all in the delivery, baby. The name's Kenny, by the way."
"It's nice meeting you, Kenny." Fawn smiled. "And who's your friend?"
Moving to Fawn's left, the younger boy looked down at her. "I'm Abel and please don't judge me by the company I keep. You won't be hearing any of the old and tired lines my friend's trying to push on you coming from me. Don't get me wrong. You're hot as hell," He flashed her wide grin. "But my Dad says complementing a woman on looks alone is not enough."
Actually, he said it's a good start if your only goal was getting her to drop her panties, Abel thought roguishly. But no sense in sharing that bit of Intel.
Fawn nearly hooted. The little one certainly has tons of swagger—and a familiar smile.
"Oh, really? What else does a man have to do to get a woman's attention?" She egged him on.
Abel sat down and gave the woman a direct look. "Flattery's the easy way. My old man says if you wanna get and keep a woman's attention, you must be a gentleman at all times."
Holy shit. "Your 'old man' wouldn't happen to be Jax Teller, would he?"
"Yeah, that's my Dad. You know him?"
"Oh, I do indeed." Fawn smiled wryly. The apple sure didn't fall far from that charming tree, now did it? "And is this your older brother?"
"Oh, we're brothers, all right, just from another mother. Opie Winston's my Dad."
What the fuck? Opie's married?! Fawn felt a flutter of disappointment in the pit of her stomach. So taken aback by the thought that the taciturn and ornery outlaw biker had actually managed to get with a woman and produce spawn, Fawn was unable to come back with a reply when his son decided to up the ante.
"If you know the Prez, you must know my Dad, too. He's a pretty great guy, but way too old for you. Me, on the other hand, I'm the new and improved version." Kenny said cockily.
"Unlike her old man, I don't think Tig's daughter is into jail bait." All three gave a little jump as they turned towards the deep and somewhat amused tenor voice of the SAMCRO VP.
"Uh, hey, Dad. We were just shooting the shit with—" Kenny started, then stopped. "Tig's daughter?" He asked disbelievingly.
"Shit, I guess I never did get around to introducing myself," Fawn said, an amused glint in her deep blue eyes. "I'm Fawn. I'm sure you'll be hearing all about me soon enough." She directed at Abel, thinking of her run-in with the boy's grandmother and mother at the hospital earlier.
"I think you're done trying to push up on the Club enforcer's kid, so hurry up and get your asses into the garage and start working." Opie chastised.
And leave the big game hunting to the real men.
"Uh, sure, Dad." Kenny grinned knowingly. He could see how his father was watching Fawn when she wasn't looking. Motioning to Abel, the two started towards the bay. Turning to take one last long and appreciative glance at Fawn, he called out with a wink, "Catch you later, Pretty Eyes."
"Oh, my, he's just too precious for his own damn good, isn't he?" Fawn couldn't help but snicker as Opie shook his head at his retreating sons.
"Yeah. That boy seems to have his heart set on being the death of me, too." Opie replied wryly.
"Sure is proof though that charm isn't an inherited quality, huh?" Fawn said offhandedly and then winced.
Damn it, bitch! Not every thought needs to be said out loud, Fawn's inner voice chastised her.
Hoping her snarkiness went unnoticed, Fawn's blue eyes peeped at Opie through her lashes.
It hadn't.
"Oh, there's no doubt my boy gets all his charm from his old man. He just hasn't learned when to unleash it on the right woman yet." Opie rolled out smoothly. Hearing Fawn hiss in anger, Opie grinned inwardly.
Boy, getting under her skin is really easy.
But Fawn could give as good as she got.
"Oh, I'm definitely the right woman," Fawn replied as she stood up, grasping her dog's leash in her right hand. "Too bad you'll never have the pleasure of finding that out for yourself." She retorted, and having the last word, turned her back on the Club's VP as she strode off.
His eyes riveted on the perfect roundness of her ass, Opie watched as the woman sashayed out of the lot with her pony galloping in her wake. Opie suddenly grinned.
Fawn, baby, that's one pleasure you won't be denying me for too long.
A/N: Unfortunately Fawn seems to suffer from the same hoof-in-mouth disease from her father and managed to put her foot in it royally.
How good was the advice Tiki gave? Do you think Fawn will be able to recover from her snafu with Gemma and Jolene? What do you think about Fawn's back story as revealed to Tiki?
Cyper22 had asked in her review what the age differences are between our two couples. Both Opie and Jax are 37, Jolene is 33 and Fawn is 28, with Tiki at 21.
As always, I love your reviews so please keep them coming.
—Harlee
