Chapter Seven: Sucky and Ballsy
Abel was sleeping soundly in his incubator. He was still so tiny and vulnerable. Jax had put a baby blue Sons of Anarchy beanie on his head, something that made me smile to myself when I looked in on him. It was hard to believe that something so small and weak had made it through two major operations already, and was getting stronger. We were a long way from the finish post with Abel but now a little part of me dared to have hope.
"Hey," I glanced around and saw it was Tara, "He's doing great- much better than we could have hoped," She told me in a hushed voice. I nodded, backing out and exiting the room so we could speak at a normal volume.
"Thanks for taking good care of him," I said sincerely, "He's lucky to have you as his doctor."
"I do my best," Tara smiled. I could tell there was something she wanted to say but she hadn't yet worked up the courage to say it, so I ventured:
"How's Wendy? Heard she's been carted off to rehab," I said.
"Yeah. We still don't know how the stuff got into her blood." We knew somebody had brought it in. Hell, I'd seen the way she'd been lying basically dead through the window, so I didn't see how Wendy could have even injected it herself. I had my suspicions though- and like with all my uglier suspicions about the people around me, I pushed it out of my mind for my own good.
"I hope she gets her head straight this time," I commented, "For the sake of Abel."
"Yeah, me too," Tara said, but I could tell she approved of my sentiment. Privately, a large part of me would prefer Wendy to rot in hell, but that was more to do with me than her. "Jax is… distant," Tara told me, finally saying what she'd wanted to say, "With Abel, I mean. But the kid needs his dad." I thought about it. I knew that, aside from the incident with Elliot Oswald's daughter at the carnival the other day, the Sons had had other eggs to fry. Guns and Mayans in particular.
"I'll try to talk to him," I promised.
"Thanks." We smiled at each other. Honestly, I liked Tara. She seemed a little awkward, but who wouldn't be? She'd managed to get a good job and build herself a respectable life- it was understandable that she was reluctant to get pulled back into the biker life.
I went right to the clubhouse after visiting the hospital, and got there just as the boys were coming out of the chapel. As usual, there were a few cuts and bruises coming into full-bloom on their faces. A big fight had gone down at the carnival, that was for sure, but as ever I didn't ask too many questions.
"Hey," I made a bee-line for Jax, "I just spoke to Tara up at the hospital."
"Yeah?" He tilted his head to the side as he looked down at me, listening.
"She told me Abel's doing better. Have you, uh, been going up there much?" I tried to ask without it seeming like I was accusing him of anything, but of course Jax saw right through it. He left out a huff of a breath and looked heavenward for a moment before responding:
"Look, I'm doing my best, alright?" He said, unknowingly echoing Tara's earlier words, "I'll try to get there more often, though." His voice softened a bit when he said that, so I knew he meant it. I smiled and patted him on the arm. "Hey, er- we've got a ride out tonight, we won't be back 'til tomorrow. You okay to hold the fort in Charming?" He asked me, changing the subject.
"The fort doesn't need holding when you guys aren't in town ripping the road up," I joked, and Juice and Chibs, who were nearby, laughed.
"True enough," Jax grinned, "Just take care of yourself, alright?"
"Don't I always?" I sighed as he kissed me on the cheek and made his departure.
"Service, bartender!" Tig snapped his fingers from over by the bar. I rolled my eyes and headed over there, behind the bar picking up a dish cloth and whacking him with it as I went by. He grabbed the end of it and pulled it so that I stumbled against the bar and ended up leaning across it towards him on my elbows.
"Do you mind?" I asked him.
"Mind what, Kitten?" His eyes gleamed as they met mine. I rocked back onto my feet, reached into the fridge behind the bar and yanked out a cold beer, twisting the cap off. I pushed the bottle towards him and, whilst he was distracted by it, flicked the cap at him so that it bounced off of his face, just above his right eyebrow.
"You're abusing your privilege as the President's daughter," He informed me, "Don't forget, you still owe me one for cleaning up whatever the fuck came out of Bobby." I laughed at the memory.
"I'm not being held to this until the next time Bobby pukes, am I?" I asked, glancing across the room to where Bobby was shooting a game of pool with Piney.
"Well, that'd only keep you indebted 'til tonight, knowing him."
"Tonight?" I questioned.
"They're heading up to Northern Nevada," Tig sipped his beer, watching me to see whether I'd figure it out.
"Northern Nevada… that for the Devil's Tribe?" He nodded his confirmation, "Riding right through Mayan territory? Shit."
"Keeping a low profile. This trip isn't about the Mayans." I held up my hand to stop him saying anymore. The last thing I needed was to know something that I could accidentally let slip to a cop like Hale at a later date. Call it a lack of confidence in myself or a sense of self-preservation, depending on your outlook. "The feds are hanging around, by the way, so watch out for them too."
"Shit," I said again.
"Shit's right," Chibs piped up, coming up to the bar beside Tig, "Be very careful what you say and do while we're gone, Little One. Some manner of a twat from the Chicago division is sticking his nose in where it ain't wanted."
"So when you say they're going to N.V…." I looked at Tig.
"Me and Juice have business elsewhere. We'll be following." I nodded, understanding. Tig was looking at me with an expression I couldn't place. After a moment, he gave a small jerk of the head and took another swig of his beer.
"You started packing your shit up?" He asked me casually, leaning back into one foot and turning his body to the side facing Chibs. I noticed these minute movements as if they were vital and it took me a second to shake it off.
"Bits. Most of it'll be going into storage while I'm here," I waved at the clubhouse.
"Ye sure yer gonna be alright here, Little One?" Chibs asked kindly, watching me closely. I smiled at the Scotsman, who was always kind.
"Beats the hell out of a park bench," I shrugged, resolving not to so much as breathe in Tig's direction for this. I could feel his blue eyes boring into me as if he was trying to spot some obscure but deadly symptom.
"Right boys, let's get moving!" Clay called, breaking the chatter up. Tib drained the rest of his beer and slammed the empty bottle down onto the bar. The noise made me jump a bit and he saw this and winked at me before heading out the door.
"Take care, Little One," Chibs squeezed my hand before heading out the door. Clay was last in line. He turned back to me at the door.
"Ride safe, Dad," I called to him. He smiled and nodded.
"Always," He agreed simply.
Tig's P.O.V.
I was a little pissed to be missing the patch over party for this bullshit. Firstly, for obvious reasons, stealing guns is less fun than getting drunk and fucking girls. Secondly, because I was stuck with this idiot Juice and getting bitten on the ass by a drugged-up dog for my efforts.
By the time we arrived in Indian Hills, the party was done, but Clay had kept back three fine sweetbutts for me. And there I was, being rewarded by being taken into the back room by these three young ladies, living a slightly less exciting version of my three girls jumping out a cake fantasy. Still, I could be doing worse. I basically had to lie there and let them do whatever they wanted to me, which I was definitely happy to allow them to do. At one stage I had one sucking my dick, one sucking my nipples and one fondling my balls.
"How you doin' baby?" One of them murmured in my ear before trailing her teeth along it. I'd bitten a man's ear off just days before, so I wasn't really feeling the ear thing. I jerked my head away. "Oh baby are you wounded? You need a little healing?" She brought her lovely tits level with my face and I went to town quite happily, just as Sucky (the one sucking my dick) upped her game…
And there she fucking was again. Eliza fucking Morrow, sucking my dick. Calling my name.
"Eliza..." The girl whose tits were in my face sort of froze as the name slipped out. Shit. Well, at least these were just sweetbutts and not my old ladies. Sucky would bite my dick off if that was the case.
"You want me to be Eliza?" Holy shit, was Tits really going to play along? I hesitated for a second but then I thought, fuck it. I couldn't fuck the real Eliza even if I wanted to. "Mm… Come on, Tiggy, fuck me." I felt Sucky let my dick go and Ballsy's hand disappear as Tits sank down onto my rock hard cock. Except, with my eyes shut, it was Kitten, with the carpet matching the drapes, the small mouth with the shapely pouting lips and the big brown doe eyes who was fucking me and shit it felt good…
The ride home took forever with a sore head. Nevada being basically desert dried me out even worse. By the time we hit California I was drooping over the handlebars. I could see my brothers around me dropping from the same exhaustion. Sometimes I thought I might just be getting too fucking old for patch overs. Then again… my ass was sore and that didn't help. Everyone else found it hilarious, obviously. Juice had great fun telling that story, as if it wasn't his fault for being a total dipshit. 'Intelligence Officer' indeed.
When we got into the clubhouse all I wanted to do was stagger out into the back, to the room I called mine, and pass out. Clay had gone home, so had the others. I was expecting to be on my own but was faced with Eliza. She kept popping up everywhere I went. Well, she was always everywhere I went – the club pretty much depended on her these days almost as much as Gemma, it's queen- but I guess I never noticed before. She'd been a pretty teenager but a little dorky. Fuck me if I don't look round and see a fucking gorgeous woman standing there right beside me all along. A gorgeous woman I couldn't have- and one whose company I liked. I enjoyed talking to her, I liked embarrassing the fuck out of her and making her pale skin flush. No fool like an old fool, or so they say, but I knew I had it bad. It had to be if I had to pretend other women were her if I wanted to fuck at all.
"What're you doing here, Kitten?" I asked her. Her pupils dilated whenever I called her Kitten.
"Got my orders from Gemma- make this place nice for you guys." Of course, she had fuck all else to do thanks to my stupid ass getting her fired. I realised I was still wearing my sunglasses so I took them off, chucking them onto a table and collapsing onto couch. I was fucking tired.
"You heading out to the Gene Jeanie today?" When she'd been drunk on fight night, she'd told me all about her art. She loved it all- and she wanted to be doing it. So I helped the kid out. I hadn't thought much of it until after she called me and I realised how fucking sexy her husky, hungover voice was over the phone.
"Been and come back. You do realise it's 5pm don't you?" She smirked. I squeezed my eyes shut and reopened them before looking at my watch.
"Jesus. A whole day gone."
"How was the patch over?" She asked. Was it just me or did she look a little tense when she asked that question? Sure, she knew what went on at those parties. She'd seen it all first hand. It was wishful thinking that maybe she didn't want me to have fucked any sweetbutts. I mean, she knew how it went. Why should she care?
"Successful," I decided to keep my answer succinct. Her shoulders relaxed a bit.
"Good. Well," She put the cleaning spray and sponge down on the edge of the bar and scooped up her purse from a seat nearby. "I guess I'll see you, Tig." On a whim, I stood up and went over to her, scooping her up in a hug. She smelt nice- minty. I probably smelt terrible- like the road and ass. It took her a second before her arms went round me too but it felt good when they wrapped around my neck. I pressed her closer to me. We were probably going beyond the friendly hug at this point, but I was willing to toe the line for Clay. It was beautiful to feel her body up against mine for a second. Finally, we let go, a tad longer than you would in a normal hug.
"Bye, Kitten," I mutttered, enjoying the way she ducked her head to hide behind her hair before wheeling around and departing the clubhouse as fast as she could without out-and-out running.
A/N: So I thought it'd be good to have a little snapshot of what's going on in Tig's head. Obviously, Tig is still Tig, but there is more to it there right now. What do you guys think? Let me know.