JAX
The sun is going down as I pull into the SAMCRO parking lot. I park beside Bobby's bike, kill the engine, and sit. It's a nice night and people are crowded around out front of the clubhouse rather than inside. That's good. Maybe the girl's getting some sleep.
I needed a ride this afternoon after we failed at finding the Mayans. I knew we wouldn't catch up to them just as much as Bobby did but Bobby also knows that I couldn't just sit there. Once we called off looking for the day he understood I wasn't ready to go back, that I just needed to ride it out and he took off back to the garage and left me on my own. That was hours ago.
I get off my bike and make my way toward the clubhouse, saying a short 'hey' to Clay and Happy and giving them a nod so as to say 'we'll talk later' then head inside to get a drink.
"Jackson! Long day?" Tig half-shouts, sitting beneath 2 women on one of the back couches. Red's the older one, she's around all the time, part of the family. Her and Tig kind of have a weird thing. Which is the only kind of thing Tig seems to have. She starts disentangling herself from him when she sees me, leaving him with only one girl, some crow eater I've never seen before. Not unusual.
I keep walking to the bar, knowing Red will catch up with whatever update she has on Tess.
"Jack or beer?" Cherry asks as I take my place on one of the stools.
"Howabout both?" I smile.
"Sure thing." Cherry starts to pour as Red takes a seat beside me.
"Jackson," she starts, "I've been checking on the girl. She's fine. She's in your room, asleep." she explains in a motherly tone that's slightly less endearing due to her slur.
"Thanks, Red." I kiss her on the cheek and she smiles and nods, then makes her way back over to Tig.
I look off down the hallway, wondering if Tess is still asleep as Cherry sets down my beer.
"She's pretty, Jax." she glances knowingly over at me, a smirk playing at her mouth as she wipes down the bar.
Cherry is Prospect's, or as we more lovingly refer to him, Half-Sack's, girl. Used to be a sweetbutt for the Devil's Tribe MC but followed us home like a stray when she fell in love with Sack. She's a good girl, and once her and Gemma got over their differences, she became part of the family too.
"Stunning, really" she goes on, "I can only imagine what she looks like when she hasn't wrecked her bike…" she teases.
I give her my best impression of innocence,
"Really? I didn't notice." then shoot my jack in one long swig, and give her a wicked grin.
She tilts her head back and laughs, saying a long, "Ohhh boy…" as I push back my stool and walk away smiling.
I head up to the roof and pull out my father's manuscript from my backpack. I light a cigarette, the glowing ember taking over for the fiery the sun that's giving the day away to night.
I pull in drags as I read my father's words, recounting the club he knew years ago the same as the one I know today. I look down at Clay laughing into his beer at the table outside below, then back to the written lined warnings in my hands. Warnings of a brotherhood that will be torn apart by violence and by greed. I feel the fear and desperation today that my father felt yesterday at losing his club as his club loses its way, as it becomes the kind of club that puts money before its own brothers, that gets people killed and wrapped up in situations they could not ever fully know or hope to control. The kind of club that almost gets an innocent woman killed…
I lean my head back against the brick and exhale smoke into the blue night, then stub out my cigarette and push the manuscript into my backpack before slinging it over my shoulder and head back inside.
Things are getting going, a typical Saturday night at the clubhouse. Most people are still outside, which I'm thankful for. But randoms and crow eaters filter through the door and Cherry has recruited some of the other girls to help her out behind the bar. She notices me and hands me a beer and another Jack and I retreat to a table in the corner at the back and light another cigarette. It's less than a minute before Opie takes a seat to join me.
"Hey brother," he says clinking my beer then taking a drink off his.
"Hey Op," I smile then laugh as he stares me down. "What?" I finally cave.
"Uh, that girl. The blonde one sleeping in your bed right now, who crashed her very badass custom nightster this morning. Jesus Christ, man." he laughs.
"Oh, you mean Tess?" I smile.
"What're ya gonna do about that?" he jeers, but his smile fades as he watches mine wash away.
"I dunno, man." I answer, "What can I do? What situation am I in to do anything? A club VP with a crazy, knocked up, ex-junkie, ex-wife?"
"Come on man." Opie gets serious on me, gives me a slap on the shoulder as he gets up and finishes the rest of his beer. "You know enough to know things don't work like that. Things don't line up perfectly. That don't mean good things can't happen."
"Yeah. Who knows." I nod.
"I gotta get home. Donna's called about a million times. Look at what you could have to look forward to…" he laughs.
I shake my head, "Later brother."
Once Opie leaves me at the table the usual happens. Crow eaters zoom in on the VP patch and come looking for something I'm not willing to give them. Well, not tonight. I look over to see Cherry whose lending me an apologetic look as I usher away 2 particularly drunk brunettes making vulgar promises they'd probably cringe at in the morning if they remember it.
Needing some peace and quiet I make my way down the dark hallway. When I get to the door to my room I push it open slowly, wondering if the girl from this morning is still asleep.
The light in the bathroom is on, casting a pale thin sliver onto the bed. She's sleeping soundly. I push in quietly and shut the door behind me.
Long, blonde waves fan across the pillow and sheets she's wrapped up in on her side. Her right arm is draped across her body, her suntanned hands decorated with stacks of silver rings. The room smells like my soap and I can see that her hair is still faintly wet, the fabric of the pillow beneath her head slightly dark with water. I quietly pull back the chair at my desk, settling into it, holding my breath when I lean back and it creaks. I can't help but let out a soft laugh and shake my head at myself, eyes still on her. Normally women don't make me nervous, especially not when they're sleeping.
I slowly unzip my backpack and take out the manuscript once more. I let its words fill me again, every once in a while looking up, my heart jumping each time a glass breaks or a song changes or someone gets too loud, to see that she's still asleep and hasn't been disturbed, but also to see that she's still there at all-that she still exists, each time half expecting her to be gone, to have disappeared like an angel on short loan or some kind of goddamned holy ghost.
And half the night beats by like that, my heart stopping and restarting over and over again, and her sleeping on, seemingly indifferent.