After Gemma's parting words, Maxine hadn't been back to the clubhouse or TM, not even to box with Half-Sack or have lunch with Juice. She couldn't have known that the baby Wendy referred to was Jax's son, but she still felt guilty for not making the connection about Abel and putting everyone in that situation.
And with no texts or calls from either Juice or Half-Sack in the past two weeks, it was evident they shared Gemma's 'wisdom.' Way I see it, once a junkie, always a junkie. Things sucked. She missed the guys, but not enough to beg for them to spend time with her when they didn't want to.
It was morning and Maxine was in the middle of cleaning her apartment when her phone rang. Half-Sack! She couldn't answer it fast enough.
"Hey!" She cursed herself silently for sounding so enthusiastic.
"Hey Maxine. Are you busy? I was, uh, wondering if you wanted to come practice with me."
"I'm not doing anything important. I'll be there in 15, okay?"
...
The clubhouse was a welcome sight and Half-Sack's messy mop of strawberry blonde hair was even more so. She couldn't help but hug him and was happy to find his arms squeezing her back. After she stepped away, she noticed that things were... quiet. And empty.
"Where is everyone?" she asked.
"San Joaquin County Correctional." Half-Sack watched her reaction. Maxine's eyes widened.
"Since when?"
"Night before last. They were given some wrong intel and showed up, guns blazing, to a freaking Christian family dinner."
"Oh fuck." Maxine compulsively tugged at her hair. "What's bail set at?"
"Three mil, but bonding them out will be three hundred grand. Opie and Gemma are working on it, they should be out today."
"That's a relief."
Maxine worked out her worries with fists. Half-Sack urged her on. They were both panting heavily when Gemma's voice called out. Dammit, thought Maxine, she's probably coming to tell me to stay the fuck away again. Sack, the traitor, saw Gemma and sprinted into the clubhouse, muttering something about cat fights.
"Maxine," called out Gemma, gesturing for the younger woman to come to her. Dropping her boxing gloves, Maxine hopped out of the ring and walked over. She felt tense.
"We need to talk." Gemma's face was hard, lips set in a thin line as she spoke.
"Look, I know what you're going to say –"
"No. It's not that. It's the boys... Juice got shanked yesterday in San Joa lockup."
Someone might as well have punched Maxine in the gut. Her head spun. Oh god, Juice...
"How bad is it?" Her voice was quiet.
"They missed the vital organs, but he's been transferred to St. Thomas. Aside from some internal bleeding, he's gonna be okay, darlin.'" Gemma's voice had never spoken so kindly to her. Maxine crouched down, resting elbows on knees to hold her head with. Juice was okay. She just needed to calm down, needed to slow her ragged breaths. Gemma extended a hand and softly stroked Maxine's hair.
"He's gonna be okay," she repeated.
St. Thomas was quiet in the early morning. The small hospital was an eerie calm compared to the chaos inside of Maxine's head. She clenched Juice's portable game player in her hand, knowing it would be a far more welcome gift than a bouquet of get-well-soon-flowers.
"I'm here to see Juice Ort– er, Juan-Carlos Ortiz, please." The receptionist hummed over her request, and after a few clicks on the computer, directed her to a room on the second floor.
Maxine gave the door a tentative knock before opening. Juice was laying stomach down on a bed, head resting on his knuckles as he watched something on TV. Maxine had never seen him look so bad. His skin was ashen; the normally manicured facial and head hair was stubbly, and the loosely tied hospital gown exposed white gauze wrapped around his midsection. He perked up at the sound of a visitor.
"Max?" He sounded surprised.
"Hey buddy. I brought your game. Thought you might get bored." Maxine held out the little black device.
"Wow, thanks. How'd you know I was here?"
"Gemma. How else?" They both chuckled before falling silent again. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I got shanked. How else?" The smile on his face didn't reach his eyes. "Wanna watch TV with me?" Maxine nodded. She pulled up a chair next to Juice and leaned on the hospital bed.
They watched TV together for an hour before a nurse came in. Juice told her to head out, joking that she wouldn't want to watch him shit blood.
Maxine went back to the hospital the next day, and the day after that. She'd missed him so much, and they'd gone back immediately to their usual selves. No mention was made of the past two weeks of silence. Now, instead of spending lunch working on her bike with her friend at TM, she spent it watching mindless TV shows and talking about random things in the sterile room with him. Juice began to look better, and his serious mood of before was replaced by barely contained impatience.
"I'm so fucking bored," he complained. Maxine only rolled her eyes at him.
"Hey, uh, I know this is going to sound weird, but I need a favour."
"Depends," said Maxine, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"My hair is driving me crazy. And they won't give me a goddamn razor."
Maxine raised an eyebrow, hiding her amusement. Juice was obsessive about personal care.
"Maxie! Come on," he exclaimed. "Please. I can't handle it."
"Fine. I'll bring your electric razor tomorrow."
"How about today?" Juice asked hopefully. "And bring my aloe vera aftershave, hair paste, safety razor, tweezers, wet shave kit, moisturizer..."
"I have no idea how you ever manage to get out of the bathroom in the morning."
...
After scrabbling through the cupboard in Juice's clubhouse room, Maxine returned to the hospital with an armful of his supplies. She dumped it unceremoniously on a table in his hospital room. Juice looked positively gleeful as he eyed everything from the bed, hands scratching impatiently at all the hair that had grown in. Groaning, he propped himself up into a sitting position, swinging his feet from the side of the bed.
"Okay, so you'll need to get out the electric razor to give everything a once over, then lather with the wet shave soap to use the safety razor. After that's done, I usually steam my face –"
"Me?" Maxine interrupted Juice's detailed instructions.
"I don't have a mirror," he said petulantly. "And everything hurts." He made a pained face and dramatically grabbed at his side as if to prove his point.
"I have no idea why I'm so nice to you," Maxine grumbled. "I can guarantee no one else would do this. Can you picture Bobby giving you a shave?"
"Bobby doesn't understand the importance of grooming," sniffed Juice.
The razor buzzed as Maxine circled it along the planes of Juice's face – she smirked at his patchy facial hair – and ran it over the stubble that had grown in around his mohawk. His eyes closed and his face looked almost blissful as small bits of coarse black hair fell like snow onto his shoulders. She brushed off the hairs before moving to lather his face and head, and he shivered contentedly at her touch.
"You look like a really bad Santa," said Maxine, trying to contain her giggling. "Or a skunk." White, soapy lather was thickly piled on his face and the sides of his head, a black strip of hair showing down the middle.
"Shush. Now be careful, shave it in sections. And watch out for my mohawk!" cautioned Juice.
The safety razor left his skin silky after every swipe and Maxine was careful not to nick his skin. Her face knitted in concentration, and she stood so close to Juice that she could smell the light musk of the shave cream and feel his soft breathing against her face. Wiping off the last of the cream, she gazed proudly at her work. Juice wasn't done though.
"Time to steam with a washcloth! Then aftershave. Moisturizing is important too. It helps keep my tattoos."
Maxine grumbled some more but followed his demands, finishing by rubbing the moisturizer along the lightning bolts. She was startled when Juice let out a moan.
"That feels really fucking good," he mumbled.
His head fell forward, face nuzzling against the front of her shirt. Maxine didn't know what else to do so she continued to massage his head. Juice's skin was the most attractive shade of caramel, and she liked the smooth feel of it as her fingers kneaded. The tattoos that she'd secretly mocked long ago now seemed as indelible a part of him as the physical ink itself. The more Maxine stroked his head, the more often Juice mumbled happily and let out the occasional low sigh. Suddenly, his hands grabbed her hips, and pulled her in between his legs. Fingers worried at the edge of her shirt, lifting it slightly. Maxine realized that Juice was half-hard. She was pressed tightly to his crotch and it was becoming obvious through the thin fabric of his hospital gown and her close-fitting jeans.
She inhaled sharply and rocked forward when she felt a hand brush the front of her jeans, traveling between her thighs. Juice felt more than half-hard now. Maxine's head lolled back and her eyes closed as lips kissed at her neck and warm fingers rubbed her at her jeans. The friction was incredible. As the fingers became more insistent, Maxine let out a moan. Juice chuckled. The sound of his voice rocked her back to reality – this was Juice. This was her friend. This was so, so wrong. Although her body protested her brain, she pushed away from him and opened her eyes.
Juice looked surprised. And vulnerable. He stared at her with massive brown eyes and a tent pitched in his hospital gown.
"I-I should go," she stammered.
...
Later that night, Maxine found her hand slipping under her pyjama shorts. Ignoring her guilt, she imagined Juice's fingers were her own. And as she came, body shuddering, she could've sworn he was actually there.
Maxine couldn't bring herself to go to the hospital the next day. She felt like an idiot. Then the next day, she told herself she had far too many chores and errands to run. The day after that she took a ride to Oakland for no reason, ate lunch at a cafe, and was in bed by seven pm. On the third day, she stopped by TM to visit Sack, but was intercepted by Gemma.
"Where have you been?" demanded Gemma.
"I've been... busy. With stuff." Maxine tried to sound confident, and cursed herself for speaking with the surety of an awkward teenager.
"Juice said he hasn't seen you lately. You should visit him." Gemma turned on her heel, giving Maxine one last stare. "Today."
"I thought I wasn't supposed to–" Gemma cut Maxine off before she could finish. It was quickly becoming an extremely annoying habit.
"I don't care about your junkie crap right now. You can visit that tatted idiot because he's lonely and he's asking for you."
...
The door to Juice's hospital room was exactly the same as before. Maxine didn't know why she'd suddenly expected it to look different. Pushing the door open, she saw Juice arguing with a nurse, who was waving a chart at him. The nurse huffed and brushed past Maxine.
"What was that about?"
"Hospital says I have to stay at least another week. I'm fine!" Juice looked genuinely angry.
"Oh. That sucks. Want me to bring you anything?" asked Maxine, careful with her words.
"Nah. I've got my laptop, games, other bullshit," he gestured at the collection beside his bed.
The pair was quiet for a moment; with the distraction of the nurse gone, they were left with the elephant in the room.
"Look, about the other day, I've been thinking... This hospital has me all weird and bored, I wasn't myself. I'm sorry." His voice belied deep embarrassment.
"It's alright. I'm sorry too." Maxine felt equally embarrassed. "We're okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, of course. Thanks for the shave by the way," he smiled. "I can do it all myself now. Fuck, I need to get out of here. And get laid." He was laughing now.
"You should keep the flowery hospital gown, I'm sure it'll make the crow eaters want you even more," joked Maxine.
"Worked on you, didn't it?" Juice raised an eyebrow, grinning.
"Don't be gross, Ortiz." She punched his shoulder lightly.
"The ladies don't call me 'Beast from the East' for nothin.'" He smirked.
"Nobody calls you that. Get real."
SAMCRO never really needed a reason to party, but if they had, Juice's homecoming a week and a half later was it.
"Juicey-boy!" bellowed Chibs.
"What's up Chibbie!"
Maxine watched in amusement as Juice threw himself at his brothers' open arms. He was such a sucker for attention. And he made no protest as shots were shoved in his direction, two croweaters taking up residence on his lap.
"Thanks for taking care of our boy, kid."
Maxine turned in surprise to the gruff voice. Clay's massive hand landed on her shoulder, his blue eyes looking kindly. "Gem told me you visited almost every day."
"Oh, it's nothing. We hang out all the time anyway."
"Yeah? Anything going on there?" asked Clay.
"We're friends," Maxine replied quickly.
"Guess so." Clay looked pointedly at the croweater that stroked the crotch of Juice's pants, bringing a wolfish smile to the Puerto-Rican's face.
After her short interaction with Clay, Maxine realized everyone must think she was some hopeless girl pining after Juice. That wouldn't do. Slipping out the door, she made her way to the Hairy Dog on her bike, intent on finding someone to fuck her 'til she forgot what Juice even looked like.
The town bar was occupied by the usual Aryan crowd, who eyed her hungrily as she walked past, and a handful of other random characters. Sipping a beer, she assessed her options. Nothing looked good until a tall blonde opened the door.
Leaning back against the bar counter, she watched him close the distance between them, admired the faded jeans that skimmed his masculine figure. He was definitely older, at least 40 to Maxine's 23. Whatever. It just meant he'd have more experienced fingers.
"Meeting someone?" Maxine asked.
"Just stopping in for a drink before heading out." The blonde looked at her, blue eyes twinkling. They were the same shade as Tig's, but less crazed.
"Join me then?"
"I can never turn down a pretty face." His grin had the same wolfish quality as Juice's. Maxine bit her lip, watching him.
"Maxine," she said, extending her right hand.
"Kozik," he replied before bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing it softly, never breaking eye contact.
Kozik had Maxine pinned against the hotel wall. She moaned as his fingers dove inside her panties and his mouth kissed her hungrily. Shoving him towards the bed, she pulled his jeans down roughly and nuzzled the hardness contained by his boxers.
"Fuck. Stop teasing," he rumbled. Maxine licked her lips. His underwear disappeared and her mouth wrapped around him. She looked up as she slurped noisily, one hand pumping at the base and the other fondling him. "Goddamn, you suck dick like a pornstar," commented Kozik through his groans.
"Yeah? You like that?" Maxine pulled her head away and watched the older man.
"Don't stop," he growled. Reaching for a condom, Maxine rolled it down his length. She let out a throaty moan as she slid him inside, gyrating her hips. She felt wild, raw, primal. She wanted to control him. Maxine bounced on top of him, pinching and rolling her nipples to increase her excitement, but noticed Kozik was nearing the edge. Slowing her grinding, she leaned her face over his.
"Did I say you could come?"
"Wh-what?" he breathed, eyes glazed with lust.
"Did I fucking stutter? Did I say you can finish yet?" Her hand had moved from her chest and instead wrapped around his throat. It was enough to be painful, but not so much that it crushed his windpipe.
"You crazy bitch," Kozik choked out.
"If you don't like it, find someone else to fuck," Maxine's voice was a low threat. What the hell am I doing?
"'N-no." His face was a mixture of anticipation and desire, with a twinge of panic.
"Good." Maxine kissed his lips softly.
Writer's Note: I hope this was a small pay-off after eight chapters. Please review! I don't get many, but it keeps me motivated to write when I know someone's reading out there.
