A few days later there's something resembling a memorial at the clubhouse, though it isn't the blowout a member would have gotten. The guys in Charming and a few from places within a days' ride show up, a few people get up and say a few words. There's food and booze, and, soon enough, it becomes standard fare for a SAMCRO party. The next day, Gemma supervises Skeeter installing a headstone on the small plot at the cemetery, then she drives up past the cabin to a spot he liked to fish and unceremoniously scatters his ashes around the woods, idly wondering how many bodies she'd walked over the top of to do so. How many of them had been friends that Clay had hidden there.
Evening found Gemma sitting alone in her dining room, in front of a half-eaten plate of leftover beef-noodle casserole, more interested in the glass of wine that she had just refilled for the second time in 10 minutes.
It's one of those rare mild evenings that is perfect for just leaving all the windows open and turning off both the A/C and the central heating, so Gemma hears the shoes crunching up the side of the house long before the screen door to the kitchen opens and the woman lets out a curious "Knock knock" call even as she makes herself at home, unpacking what sounds like a plastic grocery bag.
"Heat yourself up some leftovers," is Gemma's reply. "I still can't manage to cook dinner for less than 4, and I get fucking tired of eating casserole for days on end."
There's some shuffling and clinking as Gemma listens to said casserole getting dished onto a plate and put in the microwave. That done, RJ emerges from the kitchen carrying an empty wine glass and what looks like a bag of weed in one hand and two full bottles of wine in the other. Gemma chuckles and pours the woman a glass even as RJ moves back to get her plate and a fork, coming back in a minute later and settling in to eat, prompting Gemma to pick her own utensils back up.
It's only a few minutes before plates are clean. RJ moves to wash them, and Gemma grabs the bag of weed, reaching for her rolling papers in the side table. By the time RJ gets back, Gemma is puffing on the joint, and offering it to her.
"No thanks, I brought that for you. Ran up to the good dispensary in Oakland to fill up for Ma, thought I'd grab you some of the good shit while I was there."
"You don't smoke weed?" Gemma asks curiously.
RJ shrugs. "Occasionally. Only around Hap and Koz, though. Makes me paranoid, can't be with people I don't trust." It's a slight lie. Weed makes her chatty, and she just has too many secrets to risk that with people she doesn't trust.
Gemma just pulls the ashtray from the middle of the table over to her side. "So why are you here, then? I know it aint for the dinner conversation."
RJ rolls her eyes. "Just because I don't trust you with all my secrets doesn't mean we aren't family, Gem. You were with the man for 20 years, I'm gonna stop in and check on how you're doing."
There's a slight scoff. "I hated him. All the shit he'd done? Hurting women, killing brothers to save his own skin? Selling out the club?"
The younger woman watches the older with calculating eyes and Gemma has a sudden flash of insight that this must be what other people feel like when she does it to them. "You have to love someone to hate them that much. And it's ok to hate him for beating the shit out of you."
There's a couple minutes of silence. Gemma can't deny the truth, but her whole thing is being selfless for the sake of the club, and she needs something to cling to right now. Her pride is all she has left. After a bit, Gemma says, "I wish my boy had found someone like you to make his queen."
RJ laughs. Shaking her head, she says, "No, Gemma. He found someone who would make a great queen, but the circumstances just wouldn't allow it. If he'd followed her, prospected wherever she was going to college, he'd be president of that charter and she'd be ruling it with an iron fist by now. Your boy found the one bitch in this town who is just like his momma. The problem is, there can only be one queen bee in a hive."
"So, you don't want to be queen?"
"No." This is declared with confidence. "I've been supportive of Hap since he first started thinking about prospecting, and I've been the best Old Lady I can be with the life I lead. But, me? I'm an Enforcer's Old Lady. Last I heard, my Old Man is the only member ever to receive an Unholy Ones patch at the same time as his top rocker." If Gemma had known that tidbit previously, she had obviously forgotten, if the slight shock on her face is anything to go by. Shaking her head, RJ continues. "My place isn't as queen. It never will be, and I am fine with that. Tara…. She has the potential, if you can let her take her place. But, whichever way it rolls, one of you needs to step up and the other one needs to back off, or it's going to tear this charter apart. We both know Lyla is a princess, not a queen, and the last thing any of us needs is Fiona deciding that Charming is a good solution for her empty nest syndrome now that Jimmy's dead and Kerrianne's about to start Uni."
"Fuck." Gemma hadn't thought about that. Lyla is content to be the number 2 or 3 bitch around the clubhouse, putting in her fair share of the work as the VP's Old Lady and receiving the proportionate benefits in return. As the only other officer with an Old Lady is Chibs, Fiona *would* be next in line, even if RJ technically took precedence being more 'local', the respect factor could sway either direction with the boys.
Knowing she'd given the outgoing queen plenty to think on, and the distraction the woman had needed, RJ drains the last of her wine and leans down to plant a kiss on Gemma's cheek. There's simple goodbyes, then RJ is exiting out the same squeaky screen door she'd entered through a spare half hour earlier, crunching her way back down the gravel under the carport at that side of the house.
Neither of the boys are at home when Josie gets there, but she isn't surprised. They'll both be at the warehouse that the Mayans have gotten set up between Stockton and Oakland, helping them get everything ready for the first shipment that will be rolling in next week from the Irish. There's a meet tomorrow for security arrangements which she will be running, and the shipment will be coming in the day before the wedding. The Sons' won't be happy about their role in the security - namely, making themselves scarce and fucking off to a charity ride in Reno for the day - but the whole point of this is to get them legit, and she'd be damned if she wasn't going to do that. Which reminds her, she needs to set up a meeting with the officers to talk legit business prospects. Do they even have a secretary right now? Bobby had jumped to Indian HIlls before she got back, but she doesn't know if that's permanent. Regardless, officers aren't supposed to be away for more than 3 months without forfeiting their officers' patch. Note to self: ask when Hap or Koz gets home.
Josie's showered and in her sweats and a tank top, mug of tea in one hand and a book in the other, when it happens.
Knocks on the door aren't unusual. People in the neighborhood come to the two Sons in the area with problems long before the authorities. So, Josie sets down her book and her tea, grabs the nearest gun from where it's stashed in a holster that's duct taped to the bottom of the coffee table, and moves to answer the door.
Pulling it open with the chain still attached, Josie raises an eyebrow. "Mr. Galindo. What a surprise. One moment, please." she says before closing the door just long enough to remove the chain. She isn't stupid enough to try and go change into more appropriate clothes. He showed up at her home, in his usual sharp suit, without notice. He wants her on the defensive, and she can't give him the satisfaction.
Re-opening the door, she invites the cartel leader and the two henchmen he's brought with him inside with a wave. One posts up next to the closed door, the other moves to a spot where he can see the whole living area as well as down the hall, despite the fact that they must know she's home alone.
"Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, beer?"
Romeo looks amused. "You aren't generally known for your hospitality."
Josie shrugs nonchalantly. "I rarely do business in my home."
"Fair enough," Romeo concedes. "Tea would be lovely." This is a new dance for them. Cartels are not short on people willing to get their hands dirty, so they very rarely have a need for people like Josie. They are aware of each other, but have never had any need to deal with each other.
Surprised at the concession - he'd obviously chosen tea because it's what she was drinking and he could've easily asked for something she hadn't listed as a power play - RJ moves to the electric kettle and turns it back on to boil again before pulling down a fresh mug and putting new leaves in the metal strainer. In a matter of a couple minutes, she's handing him a mug with strong herbal tea, a drip of honey and a thin wedge of lemon in, and offering him a seat in the living room, as if he were any normal houseguest.
Once she is seated herself, Josie picks her own tea back up and takes a long sip before asking, "What brings you to my door, Mr. Galindo?"
"Please, Lilith, call me Romeo." he waits for her nod of acknowledgment before continuing."I have been trying to get into business with the Sons for many months. Clay made a lot of promises that he never followed through on, about getting the club on board with my operation. I'm hoping, with this new deal you have as the go-between with the Sons and the Irish, you might have better luck."
Oh, so the cartel that Hap had mentioned Clay had wanted them in bed with was the Galindo cartel. Running drugs. Psh. Not happening. "I'm afraid you may have misinterpreted my position with the Sons, Romeo. The club has had a lot of hard years lately, they are looking to move out of illegal trade, not further in."
Romeo contemplates her carefully, this small redhead with a .9 mil stuffed in the waistband of her sweats from when she'd answered the door before making him tea. He's aware what she's capable of, some of the organizations she has connections to, and isn't keen to cross her, but he has his orders from on high. Someone very high up in the alphabet soup wants the Sons - Charming, specifically - destroyed. And she's his only way in.
If he was wary of her a moment ago, the next thing she says manages to actually scare him. "If it's your American financiers you're worried about, I am looking into that already. So many resources spent on one, relatively small, club over the years. Curious, isn't it?" This is delivered with a bland smile as if they are discussing the weather, and all Romeo can do is nod before draining the remaining tea in his mug and setting it down carefully on the table.
"Thank you for the tea. I will leave you to your evening." he says, standing.
Following him up, Josie takes the offered hand and returns the firm shake before moving towards the door and opening it to see the men out. One of the bodyguards precedes Romeo, the other follows him, and she idly notes that they are at least well-trained.
In his car, leaving Charming, Romeo considers what she'd said, and agrees. He's thought it before. The Sons are a medium-sized fish in the MC pond, overall, and Charming, while it IS the mother-charter, is also it's smallest charter. They also have the largest proportion of illegal activity to any other charter, but it's still a relatively small amount, mostly being a glorified gun assembly and delivery service for the Irish throughout the Bay area and parts of Nevada. In short, they ain't no Hells Angels.
Realistically, Lin's crews alone moved more than three times the amount of arms that the Sons did, over the whole of the West Coast, as well as narcotics, and there was - actual numbers- less manpower spent investigating Lin's operation last year than one group of a dozen or so bikers.
It had never made sense to Romeo, and he was almost glad that the woman had somehow found out that he works for ATF/DEA, if only because it gives him a legit reason to get the fuck out of that particular mess.
Meanwhile, back at the apartment, Josie stares longingly at her book for a moment before marking her place and stowing it under the side table, before moving to the small desk set up against the wall in the corner and booting up her laptops. Realistically, she knows 12 hours isn't going to make or break her digging, but with the visit still fresh, she wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything else. Stowing the gun back under the coffee table, she then moves to the kitchen and starts a pot of coffee - herbal tea simply won't do for this situation - and pulling down the Thermos from the cupboard so she won't have to keep getting up to refill her mug.
Alvarez Wedding
Marcus had invited their families, making it clear that this was an invitation made in friendship and safety, and it would've been an insult to not bring at least most of them, so the procession of bikes followed by a few cars that shows up at the big park in the north of Oakland is bigger than SAMCRO is accustomed to rolling with.
The ceremony is longer than the usual quick and simple ones they have, and it's also in Spanish. It's partway through the service that Jackson realizes that Happy understands at least enough that he is chanting 'Amen' at the same time as the rest of the people there. RJ is too, but Jax had gathered that she speaks a couple languages, so he is less surprised by that.
After the service is over, massive platters of food are brought out from who-knows-where, and everyone digs in even as a small band starts playing off to the side, and some people get up to start dancing. None of the Mayans are surprised by the Sons' presence, and many are making an obvious effort to include the 'gringos' in conversations. It's not very hard, since the groups had actually been spending some time around each other lately in civil settings, and their lives did revolve around a common love, after all. There's some teasing about only speaking English and how they are handling food with flavor, but it's obviously meant in a friendly way, and, soon enough, the children are off playing… some game that adults will never understand, while the women with babies and the older women form groups and chatter.
RJ, wearing a pretty, pale yellow sundress for the occasion, seems to have a hard time finding her way out of Haps' arms' reach. After the third or fourth time of her attempting to wander off to socialize and him pulling her back to his side, he excused himself from the conversation her was having and moved them out the the area of grass that had been designated a dance floor.
"The fuck…." Opie says from where he is sat with a mixed group, talking, naturally, bikes.
Several men follow his look to the only Son dancing. One of them says, "What, you never seen a man dance with his Old Lady, ese?"
Jax speaks up, "Nah, man, it's not that. It's just that it's THAT man dancing we weren't expecting."
Opie continues, "We didn't even know he had an Old Lady til a couple months ago; 'parantly they've been together literally forever."
"And I just found out like an hour ago that he speaks Spanish." Jax says. Opie turns to him with a raised eyebrow.
A different Mayan, this one their secretary, says, "Man, for a brother, you guys don't know him very well."
Koz, back from getting a fresh round of beers, says, "Who don't we know?" Someone motions with their bottle to the dance floor. Koz's face goes a bit grim. "Well, you can thank Tacoma for that." All eyes turn to him, curious. Shaking his head, he says, "Just old fuckin' drama, man. What's the surprise over this time?"
"Dancing and Spanish?" one of the Mayans says. He's younger, and seems intrigued by this little mystery.
"His Ma's Dominican. Wasn't too strict about forcing him to learn but he knows enough to get through a church service." Koz explains shortly, before grinning. "You'll have to ask him about the dancing."
They don't have to wait long for an opportunity. A few songs later, the group has shifted slightly as Hap joins them, RJ moving off somewhere else.
Jax and Ope are wary of crossing Happy, but the young and curious Mayan man from before is still there and doesn't know the man's reputation. "Your boys here seem surprised that you dance, mano. Those were some salsa moves you were pullin' out, too! None of that prissy white boy shit." As he says this past part, he motions to where Tig has pulled Gemma into a laughing and clumsy approximation of a waltz.
Happy simply shrugs, grabbing a nearby unopened bottle of beer and popping the top on the picnic table they are at. "Happy wife, happy life, kid. I put in a few hours of embarrassment at a beginner salsa class twenty years ago, and it's still worth it."
"Man, I don't think I'm ever gonna get used to this domestic side of you." Jax says.
Before Happy can formulate a response, Marcus shows up, RJ at his side, and talk is briefly derailed into how the first shipment coming in had gone the day before. As RJ had expected, the Sons had been annoyed at being shunted off to Reno, but they had come around rather quickly once it was pointed out that this is what they had asked for. They'd done everything they reasonably could to help the Mayans prepare and pave the way for them to assemble and jointly distribute to and through Laroy's crew. From this point, all they could do was be vigilant until the operation is running smoothly, and back up their alliance if the need ever arises.
Josie had, at the same time, brought up that she has some ideas drawn up for moving the club into legit business, and needs to meet with the officers, which had the boys calling Bobby back from Indian Hills in a couple days to either hand in his secretary patch or start doing his job again. Chibs, the best versed in the clubs' books after Bobby, had been filling in, and had opened them up for her to get some visibility into what they are working with.
It isn't much, and she doesn't think they are going to be wild about their only real prospect of a startup loan - her.
The rest of the afternoon at the wedding reception passes surprisingly fast, and, eventually, the Sons and their families start petering off along with the rest of the crowd as it slowly disperses.
It's the following Wednesday that RJ sits down at a table in the bar at the clubhouse, across from Jackson and next to Chibs, who has taken a liking to her. Also around the table are Juice, who still distrusts her for some reason, Opie, and Bobby, who looks confused.
"Bobby, this is Hap's Old Lady, RJ. She does freelance work in diversifying business, and she has kindly offered us her services in helping us drum up more legit business now that we are out of guns."
"So, we just trust Old Ladies to do our business now?" he says incredulously.
Chibs jumps quickly to her defense. "We do when she makes one phone call and takes care of our Irish problem, them handles our Clay problem less than a week later, and has us completely out of guns inside of a month."
Chuckling with no humor, Bobby asks, "Let me get this straight. Some bitch pops up outta nowhere and I'm supposed to believe that HAPPY has an Old Lady, who has some magical connection to the Irish that manages to spring us from a decades-long business deal in the matter of a couple weeks, and now she's ordering us around on how to earn?"
Chibs looks to be working himself into a proper froth, and Jackson and Opie are visibly insulted. Even Juice seems affronted, and he doesn't like her.
Jumping in, RJ tries to get the situation back under control. "I'm not trying to tell you how to do anything, Bobby. The club asked for my help, so I took a look, and I'm just here to present you guys with some ideas. If the club utilizes any of them, or which ones if you decide to take them, that's all on the club. I do this as a business. If you guys hear me out and decide this is all garbage and burn the papers, I don't give a damn. I'm just presenting some options for you to take if you so choose. As for you believing Happy has an Old Lady, well, none of the others believed it at first either, so I can't really blame you; and my connections to the Irish are very long-standing, but I wouldn't exactly call them magical. It did take more than the one phone call, but, ultimately, it behooved the Council to be rid of Clay anyway, so I was just the match that lit that particular fire."
There's a tense silence. Josie knows that his issue had little to nothing to do with her personally, she is just a convenient target for his anger at his brothers. Unfortunately, with him off in Nevada these past months, he'd missed a lot, and she doesn't know him well enough to predict how he's going to cope with how different things are now to how they were when he left. Breaking the silence, she starts by saying, "Just as a pre-cursor to all of this, Galindo won't be bothering you guys anymore, either."
"What?" Jax asks, somewhat alarmed that she is even aware of the cartel reaching out to them in the first place.
"Romeo reached out to me. Professionally. We had a chat. He'll be leaving the Sons alone."
"When did this happen?" Opie asks.
RJ shrugs. "Last week. I had to do a little digging, confirm a few things, before I let the club know. Hap and Koz don't know - he came to the apartment, they'd both have freaked - so I figured this would be the best time to let you know."
Eyebrows raised, Jackson says, sarcastically, "Well, thanks for making me be the one to tell your psychotic husband and insanely overprotective self-appointed big brother that a cartel leader was in their home with you while you were alone."
Her responding smile is overly-bright. "No problem. Anyway, you ready to go over these ideas?" And with that, she starts with the simplest - custom bike builds, since that will take almost no overhead to get started, just some new advertising and dedicating one of the garage bays to it; after that, it should pay for itself to get upgrades in equipment and eventually there would be the possibility for expansion. From there, it's ideas on how to expand things they are already doing or have dabbled in in the past - making their running security for Nero a full-time gig and possibly helping him expand, helping Wayne Unser inject some new life into his linehaul business and doing security - real security this time - for him. Then came the porn.
"Even if we get all this other stuff running regular, it doesn't look like we're going to have the capital to rebuild a warehouse and buy equipment." Jax comments.
RJ had known this was coming, and braces herself for this bit. "I own several plots of land around the county, one of which if about halfway between here and Lodi; it has an older warehouse on it that can be refurbished. I'm prepared to make the updates and lease the property to a startup company, along with a startup loan at zero interest rate, to be repaid over ten years, or sooner if the startup is successful and would choose to pay it off quicker, and the option to buy the land once the loan is repaid." To back this up, she pulls out a secondary bundle of paperwork that she has had her local lawyer draw up. "These are the proposed terms, please, have the clubs' lawyer look them over and discuss it." Slapping the paper she'd been reading the porn proposal from on top of it, she continues, "and that's the proposed business plan. I'm sure they'll want that as well. The offer is standing, so please, take your time and consider it carefully."
The men have clearly reached their limit, so she leaves a few other small packets of papers on the table before collecting her things and standing. "That's all the major things." Motioning to the things she hadn't gone over, "That's all smaller stuff that is less money-earning and more geared toward rebuilding relationships with other clubs and surrounding communities. Ideas for some additional charity events, things like that. Good PR stuff. Let me know if you guys have any questions."
"Thanks, doll," Jax says, looking warily at the stack of documents in his hands and rubbing at the back of his neck. Similar thank yous come from the others, except Bobby, and she makes her way out of the clubhouse, idly noting on her way out that they immediately begin gathering up the various paperwork and moving into the chapel for further discussion. She almost wants to be a fly on the wall, but also you couldn't pay her enough to deal with the tension that must be in that room right now.
Over the next few months, the club took many of her suggestions. It had only taken two weeks for ads to run in several local papers that Teller-Morrow is launching a custom bike business, and Nero's business had nearly doubled in 6 weeks with more regular security available, which made it safer and, therefore, more profitable, for his girls to make out-calls.
The bike business started off slow, but was slowly gaining momentum as they found their niche in the local 99%er scene and word spread that they are they guys to go to for low-key performance bikes, rather than the flashy choppers that the one other custom shop in the Bay Area caters to.
Unser Trucking, sadly, proved to be beyond saving, but RJ had nudged, and then shoved, Gemma into inviting Wayne to live in one of the spare rooms with her. Gemma won't admit it, but having someone else in the house is good for her. She's never done well when left to her own devices for too long, and having someone who needs taking care of around is exactly what she'd needed.
With things going well transitioning into legit business, you'd think things would be calm, but tensions around the clubhouse are still high. Bobby had decided that the legit direction sounded good and that he wanted to keep his secretary patch,and then proceeded to argue with Jax over every opinion the guy has. The other guys, unused to extended periods of calm, end up in a constant state of division and reunification over the smallest of arguments, factions constantly disbanding and re-forming, feeding their need for conflict.
Happy, frustrated with his brothers' seeming inability to cope with anything resembling the stability they all claimed to crave, is at his wits' end.
"I'm ready to just fucking patch back out and go Nomad again." he seeths from where he lays next to Josie in their bed.
Josie is practical about it. "They could use you. They're one bad turn away from folding." Quinn had called recently, as she had been the one to set up a lot of the Nomad's non-club gigs, to give her an update and, as a courtesy, let her know that he'd had to end a number of the arrangements she'd set up for them when Hap had been Nomad, due to being so low on manpower since Clay had effectively wiped out half his charter. She didn't tell Hap, but she'd also given Quinn an update about the situation in Charming, hoping he'd catch her hint and spread the word, discreetly, to the right people.
Happy heaves a frustrated sigh. "But I can't leave Koz with shit like this." Kozik had initially come up to Tacoma with a nasty coke habit as a result of PTSD from his military service followed by a few unstable years in Charming, and it had been the two of them that got him sober. As the only family he is in contact with, they know he considers them his touchstone for his sobriety, and the past couple years since coming back to Charming had been incredibly triggering for him. With Josie still occasionally off for a few days at a time working, Happy worries that Koz will feel abandoned if he's gone on long hauls as well. At the same time, they don't want him to feel like they are babying him by scheduling things to make sure one of them is always home for him. He's a grown-ass man, after all, who has been to war and is older than both of them. He doesn't need a babysitter.
This also isn't the first time they've had this conversation. "We need to find him a girl."
Two weeks later, her unsubtle hint to Quinn pays off. She's just parked her Camaro in front of the office and Gemma is coming out to help her unload the twice-weekly lunch that RJ does up for the boys at the garage when six unfamiliar bikes roll in, and RJ can only be glad she always makes extra, usually for the single guys to take home for leftovers. The club boys move to greet the newcomers, and there's a clear divide through the whole lot, even among the regular mechanics. Younger or newer guys are curious, older guys or those who have been around long enough to recognize those that just showed up are tense.
Josie recognizes the men, mostly from pictures inside the clubhouse in which they are all much younger, or otherwise by reputation. The time for reckoning is upon Charming.
After business hours, of course. First, they are invited to join in at lunch. All six men are old-timers, two are the last remaining First 9 members, and all of them greet Gemma with a hug and a kiss. RJ is content to sit back and watch as Gemma catches up with the men, having obviously not spoken to most of them in years. From what she can gather, Harry and Mack, the two remaining First 9, had initially left to start up charters closer to their own home towns and the drama had kept them away (not that it was said in so many words, but the sentiment was there). The other four men, Dickie, Pink, Billy, and Leo, are all contemporaries or predecessors of Bobby's who had jumped charters for various reasons.
Through lunch, everyone tries to make out like they are relaxed and happy, but they are all aware of why the men are here. Word had spread that the mother charter had gone legit and was falling apart at the seams.
It's actually a more common problem in the 1%er world than you'd think, which is why there's a protocol, but it's still considered rather embarrassing.
What's going to happen now is deceptively simple. In principle, Charming has been 'at war' for so long, that it doesn't know how to function any other way, so a group of club, well, 'elders' as it were, is there to, basically, hold the charter's hand and keep it from self-destructing now that it's peacetime.
In practice, six long-time members have absented themselves from their charters to play peacemakers and therapists, because the mother charter is so up their own ass that they can barely function, much less lead an international MC. So, since few, if any, of the guys would be willing to admit they might have a problem much less actually talk to a psychologist, it's up to the guys that have been there to try and teach them how to cope, or, failing that, make a suggestion about which charter might suit a particular member better - maybe a bigger one with more going on to keep them busy, make the transition into civilian life less abrupt.
It's a Thursday, and weekly Church in Charming is traditionally called on Saturday afternoon, giving the men two days to settle in and get the lay of the land.
Bobby and juice are the only members staying there full-time these days, and Phil has the prospect bunk, which leave plenty of rooms for the guys, and they all move off after lunch to claim one. Phil had darted in as soon as they pulled up to confirm that they are all ready for occupation, coming back out only 10 minutes later nodding a confirmation at Gemma before moving to make himself a plate.
Gemma and the guys all move to go back to work, while Phil helps RJ carry the platters she'd brought into the clubhouse kitchen before she waves him away. "I'm sure you have plenty of work to do, Phil, I can handle a few dishes."
She's filling the sink and Phil is barely out the kitchen door when she hears him ask, "Can I get you anything sir? Drink? Fresh towels?"
"I'm fine, get back to whatever you were doin'." a slightly gruff voice says. The man she'd been briefly introduced to as Harry steps into the kitchen, and they nod a greeting at each other. "He seems like a good one."
RJ agrees. "Yeah, he'll make a solid member."
Harry examines her carefully. "But?"
Smiling slightly, she continues, "Charming stays the way it is, he'll be asking for a transfer within 6 months of getting his top rocker."
Harry moves to lean casually against the counter next to the sink as she idly scrubs her dishes. "Quinn said you were the one that put word out." she only hums a vague agreement. "He also said you were the one helped get them straight."
"They asked for my help, I had the connections to help them. I'm an Old Lady of the club."
"Yeah," he smirks, "You're also the only thing holding this charter together right now."
Harry's been through this before, and as much as she'll deny it, he's not entirely wrong. She's the one driving the legit business, and grounding the couple of members that know how to cope with stability, as well as keeping the tenuous peace between the two warring queens. She isn't the only one who talks to Quinn as a relative outsider, after all. Hap had been a Nomad for a few year, and has no problems calling his old president to vent when he needs to.
RJ sighs. "Tacoma was easier. Bigger boat in rough waters and all that." She'd had a hand in helping them go mostly-legit back before she'd gone international. "And the Nomads are always different."
Nodding, the older man says, "Tacoma's always crowded. Probably at least a handful of guys would be happy to transfer."
"Business just isn't there yet. You'll see once you get into the books. I have an open offer on the table for the boys that could be a big earner after some development, support more men, but it's a sticking point at the table."
Patting her on the shoulder, Harry ambles his way out of the kitchen. "Thanks for the talk, sweetheart."
The men all nod respectfully to her a few minutes later as she exits the clubhouse carrying her tray, and she returns it, feeling lighter. She hadn't even realized how stressed she'd been about the club until reinforcements had arrived.
The end of their turmoil is in sight. She knows it'll be a long and bumpy road, but they're finally on it, and she promises herself a vacation with Happy as soon as things settle down enough.