4
Routine and Regimen
The next week scrolls through remarkably fast for Laura, with Moby behaving better since his run in with the Windex. That being said, he's still very much a problem child.
In all her free time she starts looking through the attic, throwing old things out that don't belong anymore. This only lasts a few days though, her family had never been one to afford unnecessary belongings. Soon it's all in the dumpuster out front.
She never goes through her fathers room. That door stays shut.
She starts thinking dangerous thoughts once everything is cleared out. Thoughts like how easy it would be to make this her home. All her furniture in her apartment could replace the things here, new couch, new TV, new toaster. She could take down all the awful pictures on the walls, maybe redo the carpet and the place would stop smelling like a bar. Once she's in that territory though, she's quick to shut it out. She is not here to make a life, she is here to watch Moby till Lowell is better.
But her vacation days run out in a week, and they're not paid. What little food was in the house is gone, her and Moby are living off Lowells dry savings and cheese and mayonnaise sandwiches. Moby loves them but she's beginning to feel sick. Lowell needs to be better soon.
Gemma calls her almost everyday to inform her about his condition. He's locked in some room at the back of the clubhouse, sweetbutts and the occasional prospect taking care of him and making sure he doesn't die from withdrawal. Turns out he'd been using those three weeks he was 'clean,' and his body is taking the lack of heroine pretty harshly. Gemma says he's no worse for wear but Laura isn't too sure she believes that.
Gemma talks about other things too. Mundane things like trying out a new recipe for apple bread, and having it taste so bad not even Bobby will eat it. Things like how she is convinced she needs to start eating healthier because she went up a pant size, but then discovered her new dryer shrinks clothes. It reminds Laura of being a kid again, sitting at Gemma's dining table after Clay would pick them up from her house. He would teach Lowell how to box, how to defend himself against guys like their Dad, and Gemma would just chat with her. Make her food because Laura was always starving, then they would discuss the latest drama at the latest town event.
But Gemma talks about heavy things too. Things Laura knows she doesn't tell any other women. Like Otto going to prison, and the club hurting Kyle Hobart so bad April took his kids and moved states. These stories don't sit well with Laura, they mean Gemma trusts her enough to share them, but on a deeper level she knows Gemma is only sharing them as a subtle move to draw her back in. Confiding in her like they're close, making it so Laura knows too much to leave town. Making it so she'd feel guilty if she did. Laura loves Gemma, but she's not stupid, she knows exactly what kind of woman she is.
Of all the scary stories and all the crazy tales Gemma Teller-Morrow shares with her, the one about Jax and his dying crank baby is the worst.
Laura remembers what happened when Tara left. It's faint, since she was dealing with her own shit and she was more focused on that, but it's still there. She had her license by then and would often leave home to get away from a blacked out Lowell. Most of the time she stayed at a friends house, like Angela, but when it was particularly bad or when she exhausted all her resources, she went to the clubhouse. Even on the most boring of nights, when not a party was happening and not a man was drinking, Jax would get blasted out of his mind. He would drink till his swagger turned to stagger and his eyes rolled back in his head.
Then he would pick a random brunette and drag her back to his dorm. This went on for months. Till Wendy came along.
Wendy often hung out at Laura's house. Charming is small, everyone knew everyone so it made sense all the druggies knew each other too. Her brother happened to be the biggest of them all, and he had the best crank, so it wasn't uncommon for him to invite mass amounts of his friends over for days on end. Laura left during these times, but somehow became acquainted with the more popular of Lowells following. Wendy was one of them, becuase she was as hot as she was kind and everyone loved her. One evening when the car wasn't working and everything that could have gone wrong did, Laura somehow was forced to call Jax to pick her up from home. It was the first and only time she rode on the back of his bike and she'll never forget the look of utter awe and longing Wendy sent them as they left.
Not long after Tara skipped town, Wendy began showing up at the clubhouse. Then Laura left and she forgot all about Charming.
So it's surprising to her, when Gemma rants for hours about Wendy. The junkie whore who married her son and almost killed her grand baby. It makes her sad because Jax doesn't derserve something like that, the pain of a dead infant son.
But what scares her is the knowledge Gemma might try to kill Wendy, and she doesn't know what to do with that information in her head.
Laura puts all that frustration in her stomach, and turns it into to focus on Moby. Watching him and being with him is better than cleaning. It's more rewarding too, every time he smiles and tells her he loves her, her heart soars and her cheeks hurt from smiling so big.
Friday comes, she wakes on the couch like she does every morning, with an ache in her neck, then sits up and rubs her face. She showers, dresses in one of her only four outfits and stands in front of the mirror with a scowl. She used to put on make up, but lately she's realized no amount of powder can cover the bags under eyes, and no amount of blush can bring the color back to her cheeks.
She turns on the morning news and cooks breakfast, Moby wakes not long after he smells bacon and comes running down the stairs talking about all the things he dreamed about. He changes the TV to cartoons and begins to draw. He loves art, Laura is almost excited that school starts in a month, so she can see what kind of projects he does in his art class. She can put more of his pantings on the fridge. (Not that she should be around that long, after all, Lowell will get better soon.) They eat breakfast, then do the dishes together. They get in a fight becuase he doesn't listen and Laura has to send him to the corner. He apologizes and they forget.
Around four in the evening, the mother of Tyler, one of Moby's friends, stops by to pick him up for a play date. Laura's original plan was for Neeta to watch him, but she costs money and this is free.
"Okay baby," she says, checking his overnight bag one more time, "do you have everything?"
"Yep," he says, nodding furiously. He keeps casting eager glances to the car in the driveway.
"Okay, well be good. Listens to Mrs. Jacobs please, I don't want to have to come get you before the night is over."
"I promise! I'll be the best ever!"
"Good boy," she kisses the top of his head, and walks him halfway out, him insisting he's big enough to go on his own.
"Love you!" She cups her hand over her mouth, watching as he jumps in the open car door.
"Love you too!"
She waves till the Nissan is long out of sight, and then she goes back in.
Laura, in those first quiet moments alone, is suddenly very greatful for Moby. She couldn't imagine staying here in an empty house waiting for her brother, sitting in this silence would drive her nuts.
So after ten minutes of her trying and failing to watch a rerun of some old show, she jumps up to get ready for the night.
Her day clothes consist of two pairs of jeans, two pairs of cotton stretch pants, and a set of t-shirts she bought in a pack from the nearest consignment store. Plus the two outfits she packed coming here. Laura has her entire wardrobe spread out on the couch, and none of it looks appropriate. As a teen she hadn't really fit in either, less becuase girls her age didn't frequent the clubhouse, and more becuase she dressed like a boy. All the women always looked like they were dressed for a mud wrestling match.
Not that she's older, there's an odd desire in her to show everyone else she's different. She doesn't want to show up looking like sixteen year old Laura Harland, too weak to defend herself, too stupid to get good enough grades for a scholarship. Tonight will be the night she see's everyone for the first time in years, and she wants, even though she hates attention, everyone to see she's stronger now. Special.
What do you wear to look like that?
She doesn't want to wear anything sleeveless, that requires she shows her shoulders and those few times her dad used them as his personal ashtray. It gets hot in the clubhouse though, so she can't wear a long sleeves. That rules out tank tops without a cardigan, but wearing a cardigan to a SAMCRO party is like wearing a bikini to Sunday service. It's just wrong.
That leaves t-shirts, but they're all too big and not at all flattering. She rubs her temples and shakes her head, already frustrated and she hasn't even left her house.
Choosing pants is easier. Since moving she lost weight, due to both stress and the lack of food. Anything good she gives Moby and she's a picky eater anyway, that's why she was such a small kid. That rules out jeans, becuase they're baggy, and leaves only leggings. She okay with that.
Laura shakes her head, huffing and stuffing everything in her bag, she doesn't even want to go, she's only doing this becuase Gemma is making her, but no one can make her do shit. Right? She's her own person.
She drops down on the couch, crossing hers arms and glaring at the TV, this is fine. She needs alone time anyway. She can't find anything to wear and the more she thinks about showing up the more the butterflies eat away her belly.
Laura can't sit still, never been able to even when she's at her most relaxed. A night locked in the house again...impossible.
She settles on a tank top covered by a dark green flannel she usually wears to bed. It's big and baggy, but if she leaves it open it looks pretty good. She hasn't shown this much cleavage in years. She's putting on mascara when her cell rings and causes her to jump, nearly poking herself in the eye. It's Gemma of course, and she answers it with an eye roll.
"It's seven ten," the woman says, "where are you?"
"I'm just getting ready to leave," she smears on lip gloss, "don't freak out."
"I'm not freaking out," Gemma snaps, "just get your skinny ass over here before I have to ask Candi with an 'i' to help me sweep the floors."
"Yes m'am," Laura sighs, snapping the prepay shut and rubbing her lips together. Figuring that's about as good as she'll get, she decides to head out.
There's already hangarounds and croweaters on the premises, just showing up makes her feel a certain nostalgia about the days past. She finds a parking space next to Gemma, figuring that's probably where she should go. She turns off the car and sits in the front seat, her stomach churning suddenly and her hands shaking. She works at her fingers and twists the rig around her thumb. What she's been burying all day is here. She doesn't want to go inside.
Put your big girl panties on and get in the clubhouse.
Laura winces and clutches her purse to body, if only to hold something, and begins the trek to the doors.
It's all the same, taking her back ten years to place where time ran differently. The entering lounge is small yet spacious, with several tables and chairs to the left, and the bar against the right wall. The walls are dark, a mural of the reaper above a love seat. It smells thick with smoke and motor oil, something a lot of people would probably find harsh and gross. To her, it's welcoming.
She takes a few unsure steps foward, unaware of the looks she's getting from the few people mingling inside. She picks up speed till she's entering the short and wide hall, one wall full mug shots, and she stares up. Two more hang there now, Jax and Opie, both looking a bit too used to having their picture taken by a cop.
The hall ends, revealing a room just a tad smaller than the other, several old couches backed up against the wall, and the stripper pole so old the paint is chipping. The pool table's pockets have been duct taped shut. This is where Bobby likes to sit, she remembers, the hall to the left leads to the dorms, where her brother is, and the hall in front of her leads to the chapel. She's never been in there, but she remembers once when she was little, she waited outside the doors a whole hour for Clay to come out. She didn't like being inside without him.
"Taking a tour, sweetheart?"
Laura jerks around, Gemma is there in all her black laced glory. She's got dark eyeshadow on and jewarly that sparkles in the light.
"Did you guys even rearrange?" She asks, incredulous, tightening her grip on the purse strap.
"Why fix something that's not broken?" Gemma shrugs, suddenly materializing a dirty dishrag and tossing it at her, "now go wipedown the tables, and yourself a drink. You need it."
Laura quickly realizes that she only made Gemma more in control. She has croweaters running around the rooms like frantic chickens, cleaning, spraying, organizing everything in sight. She has the strong hangarounds carry boxes of liquor behind the bar, the pretties sweetbutts outside greeting anyone who shows up. At one point she and Laura are switching out the regular light bulbs above the stripper pole to red lights.
"You can't see the shit paint job this way," she winks, dusting off her hands. Then she promptly orders Laura to go help the prospect stock the bar. She softens her demand with a kiss on the cheek.
"Half Sack," the young, narrow shouldered man greets. He's pale, with soft curly hair and kind blue eyes. He's more wirey than muscular, and the way he seems unsure of his speech reminds her of Lowell.
"Half Sack?" She repeats with quirked eyebrow, washing out the sink while he shelves tequila bottles.
"Yeah," he nods and gives a sheepish smile, "I lost, uh, half my sack in Iraq."
Laura frowns, "half your...oh." She feels her face grow hot and she quickly avoids eye contact, scrubbing harder at the aluminum beneath her rag.
"Sorry," she offers. What else is she supposed to say?
"Don't be," he grins, and awkwardly leans against the counter, his smirk is lewd, "it all still works."
Her eyes widen, and she decides maybe SAMCRO is right where Half Sack belongs, even if he doesn't look like it. He proves to be nice though, helping her with some of the harder jobs even though he doesn't have to. He flirts harmlessly and uncomfortably, making her start to think he's only using her as practice for when more attractive women arrive.
It's around nine thirty when music begins playing and people really start showing up. Gemma relieves her from duty then, and takes her out front for fresh air and a beer. They sit on one of the farther picnic tables, the light from the garage dimly illuminating them. Some big, already drunk dude is starting bonfire, and the women watch that in silence.
"Thanks sweetheart," Gemma pulls a pack of Marlboros from her purse and lights up, offering one to Laura. She shakes her head.
"You quit?" Gemma asks before taking a big puff, as if mocking her.
"I did actually," Laura can feel her fingers twitching at the smell, mouth almost watering as if it's food and not a cig. It's been six years, but her willpower to resist still feels thin. The Harland family flaw, they can never quit nothing.
"Good for you," she rolls her eyes and stubs it out, putting it back in the box, "guess tonight will be a real test of willpower."
Laura nods in agreement and pulls a swig of her beer, stomach swallowing the liquor up quickly. She hadn't thought about that before, everyone will be smokeing, the smell in there alone was unbearable. She wants to scream out all her irritation, but instead takes a another drink...and promptly chokes when she hears the rumble of motors. They're close.
"Boys'll be here soon," Gemma smirks, patting Laura's back. That's practically the understatement of the year, becuase not five minutes later they're pulling in the lot, gathering cheers and hollers from the people there. The headlights cut rays of gold across the black pavement, their cutts stil visable despite the twilight shrouding them. She feels herself shudder at the sudden chill, and she knows it's not becuase fall is approaching.
"Time to go say hi," Gemma remarks, looping her arm with Laura's and not giving her an option to back out. Her heels drag but she still finds herself in front of Clay as Gemma pulls him in for a slow kiss. She looks away, locking eyes with Chibs.
"Ay lass," he grins, "thought you were never gonna show up."
She forces her lips to turn up, she likes Chibs, had liked him more than Otto and Tig. Otto had been too blunt for her tendency to sugar coat things, and Tig is just weird.
"Me either," she says, lifting her shoulder, "but it's nice to see you guys again."
"Took the words out of my mouth," Bobby chuckles, shuffling from his bike and in her direction. He opens his arms and she allows him to wrap her in a hug. He's never been fit but he's put on quite a few pounds in the last years. His stomach is round against her. Bobby ruffles her hair and she ducks away from him, daring to smile a wider.
"You'll ruin my hair," she smooths the frays down and Chibs takes his turn, pulling her in an one armed embrace.
"What hair?" He teases, "you have less than Jackie over there," he grins and hollers, catching the attention of the blonde with their back to them, "hear that Jackie-boy?! Ya look like a girl!"
He twists around, grinning and jutting his arm out at them, middle finger prominent. Chibs guffaws and hugs her shoulders tighter, she looks at the pavement so she doesn't make eye contact with anyone in white sneakers.
Chibs abandons her in favor of pinching some sashaying redheads ass, they quickly strike up a conversation and she's left alone, standing by the row of bikes and scanning the suddenly huge crowd for Clay.
She comes up empty and she feels her noes wrinkling at the thought of him and Gemma disappearing together. Ew. She takes another drink of beer, but comes up empty. She sighs, yet doesn't get a chance to throw it out.
"Hey there darlin' long time no see."
Jax is in front of her. Jax and Opie. They're huge. Opie always more so but they both tower over her. She feels crowded and instantly takes a step back. If they notice, they don't comment and instead Jax smiles in good nature, jerking his head at her bottle.
"All out?"
"Yeah," she tucks her hair behind her ear, crossing her arms over her midsection, "I uh, went a little fast."
"No problem with that," he smirks and looks back, "ain't that right Ope?"
"Nope," Opie smiles at her, "how have you been?"
All her apprehension melts away then, suddenly and warmly, like stepping into the sun after sitting in the shade. She never had to be scared of coming back, no one thought less of her, not for her junkie brother and not for her leaving. She might not be trusted again right away, but they still have her back, even if in the most arbitrary way.
This thought allows her to loosen and she shrugs at them, "I've been alright," she tries to make her voice airy and carefree, "your mother made scrub your mugshots. You guys should see them sparkle."
Jax laughs and Opie grins at her, he catches the prospect walking across the lot and waves his arm at him.
"Three beers," he says, and Laura feels herself straighten, stepping up, "no that's okay, I'm going inside anyway."
Jax hikes up a brow, "what? Don't wanna talk to us criminals anymore?"
"Nah," she lifts a shoulder and takes a step back, "I prefer talking to strippers. They're more interesting."
A few more backwards steps, and the last things she sees before she twists around are Jax's pearly whites.
They meet at last! Let me know if you're enjoying the revamped version! Btw, I think you'll all like the next chapter...