The Sons Princess
Chapter 6: Nevada (Part 1)
"I miss the taste of a sweeter life."
OPOV
~3 years ago~
Two years. I've been locked up for two years. Pain, anger and deciete. I felt abandoned, but I knew I wasn't the one to blame. Nor was it the club's fault. The only one to blame, was Kyle. He was the one who should of had my back, but he had ran away, frightened of what could of happened to him too.
I had left my dad, sister, daughter and pregnant wife behind. Leaving a warm, cosy home, for dull walls, plain bed and bars for windows and doors. It was hard to adjust, but I eventually knew where my place was and where I stood inside. Being safe on the inside, meant I had to allow the men who protected me, to use me as they pleased. It was difficult, but it wasn't like I had a choice in here.
My father, wise and kind. My sister, smart and stubborn. My wife, beautiful and strong. My daughter, young and innocent. Jax, my friend and brother. Everyone I cared about, I had to stay away from them for five years and waste away in a cell. Being a bitch, a rebel against the law and a father away from home. I wish things were different...
Present day...JPOV
Me and Clay were examining a motorcycle that had been brought in for repair. "Ah, gotta bring it in through here," I spoke to Clay, showing him what we needed to do in order for the bike to be fixed. "Afraid the amped-up carb's gonna throw too much heat on the line," I explained.
Clay was leaning over, examining it as he had more experience with bikes, but I had more intelligence about them. "Might," he agreed partly. "That new Graytex cable can take a shitload of heat though," he told me.
Tig pulled up beside us, parking inside the garage. "We got troubles," Tig told us. This was when we chose to set up a church meeting, knowing that people would need to be here, to discuss what Tig had discovered. Tig was being stubborn, saying that he would tell us what he found out, but only when were were all gathered.
He told us of the Federal agent that was wandering the walls where the cops worked. "We've taken every precaution to stay out of A.T.F.'s crosshairs," Clay began to speak up. "No busts, no investigations for five years," he stated, reminding me of Opie's imprisonment. "We don't know this guy's here for us," he spoke of the Federal agent that had been in Charming for two days now.
Knowing that Hale could be stubborn, he may of asked for special help. "Hale flagged Bluebird as our gun warehouse," I told them. "He's pissed off we made Unser crush the case, and he called in the feds," I summarized what I believed to be true. "I think it's gotta be about us," I concluded, stating my suspicions.
Bobby, was sat beside me. The only ones at the table were me, Clay, Tig, Juice, Bobby and the Prospect. Chibs had gone travelling with Michael. "Be my guess," Bobby commented, agreeing with my suspicions.
"And we've got a garage full of 25 to life," Tig spoke up, talking of the guns that were hidden in the oil barrels. Shit. If we get caught, we'll be fucked.
Clay was getting anxious, worried about the possibilities. "Any legit place we store those guns is a straight line back to us," Clay informed us, making it obvious that we were in trouble, no matter where we'd put those guns.
"Can't Rosen get us some storage short term?" Bobby suggested, his cigarette in hand and waving his hand around as he spoke.
There's no way, he's too busy with other shit we've asked him to handle. "He's killing Bluebird, man," Clay informed Bobby and the rest of us, who hadn't known. "He's setting up a dummy corp. It takes a few weeks," Clay stated what was going on.
Something in that moment occured to me. Uncle Jury. "We got that call from Jury last week," I said. "Mayans pressing the Devil's Tribe to pay a vig, to keep running book and pussy out of Nevada," I explained to everyone, when I saw Clay give me a look of confusion. "Look, maybe I do head to Indian Hills, offer Jury some advice," I began to explain my plan. "He offers our AKs a safe house," I briefly told them what could possibly happen.
Uncle Jury will let us store it there. I know he will. "No. No," Juice interupted, shaking his head and leaning against the table. "That's a risky ride, brother," he told me. "Northern Nevada is Mayan territory," he informed me. "They're still looking to settle the score from our little raid," Juice insinuated what could happen.
Juice believed we could get caught. "The Mayans know that the Tribe's a brother club," Bobby said. "Part of asking for that vig is about shitting on us," Bobby commented. "They knew Jury would call," Bobby explained. "They're gonna be watching," he spoke his suspicion.
Instantly, I chose to butt in and speak my mind. "That's what I'm saying," I began. "That's why just me and you go, under the radar," I spoke, pointing between myself and Bobby. "We'll bring the guns in the same way," I suggested.
Clay seemed surprised by my words, like he imagined it possible, but doubted that it would happen. "And you think you could bring Jury on board?" he asked me, sounding doubtful but filled with wonder that I could actually pull it off.
There wasn't a doubt in my mind that Jury would take the guns without question. "Shit, my dad saved his ass in Tây Ninh," I informed them. "He owes the Tellers a chit," I stated the debt that he would need to pay. "Look, man. We're not gonna go cowboy," I said when I heard the room go silent, questioning. "I promise," I reassured him.
Bobby raised his hands a little, raising them to show surrender. "Promise," he spoke, pulling a face and doing a sign of the cross. What a crazy, silly Jew.
Clay then began to bark out orders. "Low profile," he told us pointedly, making me feel like we'd purposefully do it high profiled. "I don't want no wetbacks knowing we crossed into N.V," he warned us. "They pull this off, I want you and Juice driving the barrels," Clay spoke, indicating to Tig and Juice.
Tig didn't seem to disagree or want to disappoint his President. "Done," Tig spoke confidently and firmly. "We'll need something big though," he said as we looked to Juice and Clay. Is he going to need a truck that can haul all those crates to Nevada?
Clay didn't need to think of it, all of us knew who he would use, in order to get the right truck to take our weapons. "I'll call Unser," Clay informed before he slammed down the gavel and we all got to our feet.
MPOV
A few nights ago, I had asked my dad to stay the night, seeing as I couldn't sleep and I felt safer with him around. Hiding my gun in my bedside table, I checked to see if it was there and would take it in my bag with me whenever I would go out. When I woke up, I ate breakfast, showered and drank a cup of coffee. I had changed into black tight pants, black heels, gray sweater and a black blazer. My hair looked light today, my hair was less frizzy and more settled when it came to its natural curls.
Sat at work, I had finally finished a case and did what was left of the paper work. My office was small, personalized and I was no longer squished into a single room with everyone else. Keeping my files, cases and other information in a safe, which was placed in my office, secure. A knock on the door pulled me out of my musings. "Madison, it's me," said my new boss.
Stepping in, his whitening hair, brown eyes and pale face moved into my office with slight awkwardness. He was calm and kind, he never rushed me for my paper work and he would check in on me every day. My new boss was called Mr. Roberts. He was a divorced 35 year old man, but the way he would ask me and only me if I wanted coffee, made me wonder if he had a secret interest in me. "Hello Mr. Roberts, what can I do for you today?" I asked him, knowing that when he walked in awkwardly, it was always because he wanted me to do something important.
He chuckled, showing me a row of pearly white teeth, all straight and all of them were bigger than his face's proportional size. "Actually, Miss Winston, I'm here to say, you've sucessfully won the custody trial and you've only got a few papers to work on," he told me with a praising look. His suited figure was slim, tall and not very muscular. Nothing like Jax.
Getting up, I was surprised to hear this and was pleased to know my hard work cut out for something good. Considering, the father was trying to take his children away from a drug abusing, child abusing and money abusing mother. Mr. Roberts held out the papers I needed to work on, which were approximately four front-to-back pages. Which, were usually sections of papers, reports and files I needed to write from scratch. "That's great," I said with a wide smile. "Thank you," I thanked my boss, looking up at him with soft and kind eyes.
He smiled, pleased with the look of relief and satisfaction on my face. "You did well, anyway, if you need any help," he began with a small shrug. He always said the same thing to me. 'You know where to find me' is what he's going to say. "You know where to find me," he spoke the words out of my thoughts, not wanting to finish off his sentence as it would seem cheesy, like something out of a romance movie. I'm not attracted to this guy, at all.
"Yep," I answered, feeling uncomfortable and walking to him, taking the papers from him. He stood there awkwardly, my lips pursed as I gripped onto the back of my chair and had placed my papers on my desk. My eyes light, polite and kind as I looked to him. I didn't want to lead my boss on, but I didn't want to affect my job by rejecting him. The best thing to do, was stay professional, kind and let him believe what he wanted.
He was looking around my office awkwardly. "It's been a good month having you here," he commented on the amount of time I had been working here so far. "You're a hard worker," he complimented me, making me smile at him shyly, lowering my eyes as I wasn't used to compliments. "I erm..." he spoke awkwardly. "I'll go now," he stuttered, opening the door and staring at me. "Good work Miss Winston," he said again before he gave me a firm nod of his head.
Holding in a laugh, I chose to smile and could feel the tickles of trying to keep my laugh concealed. "Thank you, Mr. Roberts," I said to him as he moved to be behind the door. Without another word, he left me to my work and this was when I sighed, shutting my eyes and laughing softly at the thought of how creepy my boss was.
JPOV
Seeing a familiar car pull into Teller-Morrow, I knew instantly who it was and saw her wave at me. Sighing, I didn't want her to be the one pulling up, but I didn't hate that she did either. She saved my son and distracted me from Madison sometimes. Except, the only woman who captured my heart, was Madison. I was ready to leave, but I knew that when Tara waved at me, she was going to possibly talk to me about something. "A'ight. Give me a minute," I said to Bobby, taking off my bag and placing it to dangle on my handlebar.
Bobby glanced at Tara, noticing her arrival and understanding that I may need a minute with her. It made me curious if something was wrong with my son, seeing as today, Wendy was going to rehab and our son was still trying to get better, bigger. "Yeah, I'll find you," Bobby said. Riding out, I unstrapped my helmet and placed it on the same handlebar, where my bag was.
Tara had stepped out of the Cutlass, her brown, thick hair was like a maintained bush and her ice blue eyes looked like they were worried. Strange, why is she here, couldn't she of asked me to go see her, so we can talk about my son? Why is she here? "Everything okay?" I asked her.
Putting on a smile, she gave me a nod and shut her car door. "Yeah," she said with a nod. "I was hoping you could help with the Cutlass," she told me, glancing at her busted and dirty old car. "It's in pretty sad shape," she informed me. Doesn't look too bad, but who knows what state it's in.
Looking at it, it brought a small smile to my face. Her chuckle was awkward, eyes glued to me as I briefly examined what I saw. "Shit," I cussed. "This was your dad's, right?" I asked her, remembering how her dad drove around in it, dropping her off in it and how she would complain about it all the time, especially when we were dating.
Jesus, I forgot how she wouldn't stop complaining about this thing. Why the hell is she driving it? Actually, why the hell is she back here in Charming? She hated it here. We were always arguing over the club too, but Madison understood and didn't hate either me, or her brother. Tara hated me being in the club, always shouting at me about it and shit. "It was in the garage under two tons of old newspapers," she informed me.
Thinking of what was best to do, I knew that I wouldn't be able to fix it and knew she'd need it fixed quickly. Considering, she was a Doctor. "Why don't you bring it in back?" I suggested to her. "Have Lowell take a look at it," I told her, knowing that she knew who Lowell was.
Tara was moving around as I had, checking to see what the car was looking like. "Okay," she said. "Thanks," she thanked me softly and awkwardly. Her hand slapped down on her car hood, her body turned to face me and pulled me away from my stare at the car. "I was hoping you could give me a lift home," she told me expectantly.
Well, shit. I can't and I won't. That seat is reserved, for my mom and for Maddie. "Actually, I'm just heading out for a couple of days," I told her awkwardly, knowing that this could be taken as rejection, but it wasn't meant to seem harsh. Bobby's waiting for me.
Tara looked around awkwardly, as though she didn't know what else to say, or what to do. "Okay," she said softly. "Anything come up with the baby, who should I call?" she asked me slowly, curiously and with caution.
The thought of something happening to my son while I was away, made my heart drop and sickening feeling wash into my stomach. Jesus, please let my son be a'ight. "He's out of the woods, right?" I asked her, feeling the worry get the better of me.
For a moment, she blinked repeatedly, this was a nervous habit of hers. "Yeah, yeah," she confirmed, steadying my beating heart. "Just in case of procedural stuff," she told me, making me still concerned and worried, but the stress of it had simmered.
The sound of a horn honking, alerted me that a car was pulling up. Hearing the soft hum of her car, how her wheels rolled soundlessly, I knew it was my mom. Perfect. Just the person I was looking for. "Just let my mom know if you need anything," I said, pointing to her and offering my beautiful mother a smile.
GPOV
Looking at Teller-Morrow, I was surprised to see the Doctor talking to my son. "Stupid bitch," I grumbled. "What is she doing here?" I spoke to myself. Honking, I made sure Jax and Tara knew I was here and slowly, I approached them. Pulling up, I stopped beside them. "Everything okay?" I asked them, my window was down and I was watching them carefully.
The way Jax looked at her, worried me and made me wonder what was going on in his mind. When I saw him with Maddie, I could sense his heart stop beating, then see it speed up. My son, he was a curious case that I wasn't sure, anyone could solve. "Yeah, fine," Jax reassured me, taking off my glasses and putting them inside my bag. "She's just here to get her car fixed," he informed me. "Actually, could you give Tara a ride home?" Jax asked me. "She's gotta leave the Cutlass here," he explained.
Instantly, Tara began to object to my helping. "No, that's okay," Tara said in a soft, scared and small voice. "I'll just take a-" she was about to say 'Cab' but I knew that I wasn't going to let her get away easily. My son asks me to do something, I'll do it. I'm not going to let her think she can ask my son, but reject me.
Giving her a false smile, I didn't like the thought of her on the back of my son's Harley, she'd been on it once, but that was it. I swear, Madison's been on the back of that thing more than I have. "Love to give the good Doctor a lift," I cut her off from her protest. "Where you going?" I asked Jax, looking him in the eye.
"Visit Uncle Jury," Jax replied quickly. Shyly, as though he knew something could go wrong with this visit. Wait a minute, is this about gun shipment? Aren't the ones that control Nevada the Mayans? Shit...is he going alone?
Feeling my heart pound, I worried for my son and if he was going to be okay along the ride to Nevada. "Nevada?" I questioned. "By yourself?" I asked him, a little worried for his safety, knowing that if someone caught him, he could be killed. My baby...
Jax continued to lean against my car, his hand holding him upright as he stared through my opened window. "With Bobby," he told me, reassuring me that he wasn't going on his own. That it wasn't a death sentence.
Sighing, I didn't like the thought of him going in such a small number, but it was possibly for the best. Less people, means less noticed by enemies. Bobby will take care of him, he loves Jax like if he was his son. "Does Clay know?" I asked him, wondering if Clay had agreed to this.
He took a step towards me, leaning in, he gave me a small smile. "Relax, Mom," he told me. "It's gonna be fine," he said as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to my lips. Turning to Tara, he leaned in and placed his hand on her waist. Giving her a false kiss, his lips hadn't touched Tara's cheek, but I saw Clay was sat beside the clubhouse, on the benches that were placed outside.
When I parked inside the garage, I stepped out and watched Clay's retreating form. He hid inside the clubhouse, Jax had rode off without another goodbye and I sensed that Tara too was surprised by the symbol of affection. "You sent him into Nevada?" I asked Clay after he had told me the plan the club had made during their meeting.
Clay walked beside me, my sunglasses on and my eyes glued to the fake bitch. Her car only needs a little check, but other than that, it runs. "It was his idea," Clay told me, as though it was meant to mean something. "It's club business," he repeated the words that every man said to the women they cared about.
I couldn't give a shit if it was his idea, or if it was club business. My son, is my business. Especially seeing as he has a son waiting for him, in a hospital NICU. "He has a 10-day-old kid," I stated. "He is distracted," I told Clay. "You have to protect him," I ordered of him.
Clay looked at me confused, as though I had said it in another language. "Protect him?" he repeated my words in a confused tone. "From what?" he asked me, wondering what could of been the danger and threat to my son's life.
The answer was simple. "Himself," I said the single thing that could threaten his life. The only person who could bring danger to him. Just like his father.
Clay didn't like seeing me stress and worry over my son. "He's fine," he reassured me, keeping his tone level and voice soft. "Relax," he spoke and this made me stare at Tara even more. She was speaking to Half-Sack.
"Now, this one," I said, staring at the thin, brown-haired-filled-with-volume and pale faced bitch. The woman who had torn my son up, over a break up that was years ago and one that had made me doubt every woman that came into my son's life.
Clay had his arm wrapped around my shoulder, his eyes staring at the bitch who left Charming 8 years ago. "What's she doing here?" he asked me, just as perplexed as I was. But, I knew exactly what she wanted and knew that she would try and get him. No matter how hard she would have to try, she'd try and win him back.
"Anything she can to get close to Jax," I snarled. I don't like her. Don't trust her. Don't want her here and I don't believe she can make my son happy. The woman who would make him happy, is the one that sticks around when shit gets tough. A woman, who doesn't hate the club, understands it and accepts it.
"Maybe she just needs a tune-up," Clay joked.
Not laughing, I felt my lips curve slightly in a smirk. Turning my head to look at Clay, his eyes were already glued to me. "Didn't trust her then," I began. "Don't trust her now," I stated. Leaning in, we pressed a light kiss to each other's lips, moving out of his hold, I walked down to meet Lowell. "Hey," I greeted Tig, who was helping the Prospect with moving cars.
Tig was a sweetheart, he was always loyal to Clay and he respected me. Loved me like a mother, but we were close enough, like best friends. "Hey, Gemma," Tig greeted back, going back to ordering the Prospect around again.
Reaching into my car, my torso slipped inside through the window and I rummaged inside, pulling out my bag. "Lowell, my back tire needs air," I told the young man, the same man we had killed his father, dumped in a hole and left it there to decompose. Lowell was sweet, but he too was an addict, just like Wendy and his own father.
JPOV
Catching up with Bobby, he had been almost been inside Mayan territory, hopeful that the Mayans wouldn't be around when we were about to cross the border. "What do we got?" Bobby asked as we looked at the group of motorcycles riding towards us.
Squinting, I knew instantly who they were. They were all wearing cuts, leather cuts. "Mayans," I told Bobby over the noise of our Harley's. My heart was racing wondering who would die and if anything else was going to happen.
Bobby glanced at the bikes, knowing that this could mean trouble if and when they spotted us. "So much for low profile," Bobby grumbled, this was when one noticed us and went to shoot, he was head on and close to hitting me. Not moving, he swirved and three of them turned to follow us.
Myself and Bobby speeding as much as permitted, hopeful that they wouldn't go against the law when it came to the speed limit. "Two on three?" I asked Bobby, glancing behind us and seeing how there were three of them still following us. Our tires squealing after Bobby gave me a nod of confirmation, we had spread out so that the Mayans kept riding past. This was when we stopped, shooting at them and watching them speed away from us in fear.
GPOV
Tara slid into my car, but the sound of Kip's voice, the way he jogged towards the door, I knew he was going to call for Tara. "Hey, Doc!" he called to Tara. "Gotta sign these," he told her, this was when Tara got out and signed the papers he handed her. Taking the chance, I pulled out a cigarette and spotted something shinning in her bag. Rummaging around, I found it hidden under a few items. A baretta. "Thanks a lot," he spoke quietly.
Quickly, after examining the old, small handgun, I shoved it back into her bag. It's registered. Lighting my cigarette, I blew out the smoke and watched her make her way to the car. Getting inside, she strapped her seatbelt on and I waited for her to look at me."Mind if I smoke?" I asked her.
When she was strapped in, she watched me and my cigarette, as though she was slightly disgusted, but she knew I had been smoking since Thomas died. "And if I said yes?" she asked me, but I didn't say anything. I twirled my cigarette between my fingers and knew that she hated when I smoked.
Smirking, I didn't care if she liked me smoking or hated it. I didn't care if she minded or didn't mind. "Right," I said before I drove off and we stayed silent throught the journey to her dad's house. "Must be strange being in that house alone, everybody gone," I commented, rounding the corner and watching the old, abandoned house.
The place had been abandoned for a while now, ever since her father died and now, Tara lived in there. "Hard to get lonely," she said to me her ice blue eyes glued to the old building too. "My dad was a bit of a pack rat," she told me. "I can barely turn around without stepping on some piece of history," she joked, making me chuckle fakely.
Somehow, I understood what she had meant. Clay liked keeping things, as did Jax and his father. "Yeah," I said softly. "Clay's the same way," I told her, knowing she couldn't care less, but I felt like talking to her. All so that she'd stay in the car for a little longer. "Never throws anything out, still has underwear from 1967," I spoke of my husband. "Me? I hate clutter," I informed her, speaking pointedly and trying to make her feel like she too, was clutter to me.
She watched me, quizically, as though she was getting onto the hidden message. She's history. She was gone, she returns and expects me to like her. That ain't ever going to happen. "I get that," she told me. "Thanks," she said before she was about to leave.
She had picked up her bag, making me remember what was in and felt the itch of needing to ask her. "Wanna tell me why you're carrying?" I asked her. Tara sat there, staring at me in confusion and stayed silent. "The gun in your bag," I further explained, not needing to, but fed up of her acting like she was oblivious.
"You went through my bag?" she asked me, not exactly surprised or shocked. More as though she was annoyed and irritated with my unwanted behaviour.
I wasn't going to lie to her, but I wasn't going to act like I wanted to find it. "I spotted it," I told her. "I'm very observant," I commented, repeating what some others would say about me. I knew how to find out things, had connections and I had a good eye to spot things.
Her mouth opened and closed, as though she was deciding on which excuse to use. "I started carrying it when I was in Chicago," she said, but by the way she looked away from me, I could tell she was lying. "I lived in a rough neighborhood," she told me, looking me in the eye this time. "Just haven't gotten around to getting rid of it yet," she spoke as though this was the best excuse for her to carry a gun around with her.
This bitch is lying. "A Beretta's not an old tampon," I told her, knowing from experience, as I too, carried a handgun with me. Everyday, I took it. Being the President's old lady, can get you in a lot of trouble. "You don't just forget it's in your bag," I commented mocking her. "Is it registered?" I asked her.
With a slow nod, I could see how she tried to keep herself calm. She kept a confident pokerface, but I didn't believe or trust her for a second. "I have a permit," she told me, which was the truth. "It's legal," she said as she looked me directly in the eyes.
"You know how to use it?" I asked her curiously.
Tara was beginning to get annoyed with my interrigation, but I didn't care if she despised it. "Yeah, I do," she replied and quickly took her bag. Gripping it tightly, she got out of the car and headed into her house. It was a lie, but I wouldn't ask her further questions, instead, I slipped my sunglasses on and drove away.
JPOV
Stopping at a gas station, we gave more gas to our bikes and this was the perfect time to call Clay. "Give me the prepay," I ordered Bobby and he complied to my demands. The soft beeping of me marking a number echoed in the gust of air. "So, Mayans spotted us," I began when Clay picked up his phone.
Hearing grunting in the background, I could tell they were moving the barrels filled with AK's. "Well, this forces our hand," Clay began. "Can't risk bringing those AKs in, with the Mayans onto our visit," he told me. "We need a bigger presence," he said, insinuating that we would need more people with us.
"Well, I'll have the Vegas boys head up," I said, thinking of the charter and having them come down to protect our cargo.
Clay had a different plan in mind. "No, no. I'm talking about a permanent presence," he said, which made me know exactly what he meant. "It'll be months before the warehouse is up and running. Indian Hills could be real useful," he spoke, acting like The Tribe were a piece of land to buy.
It's worse enough asking Uncle Jury to look after our guns, Clay wants us to make them become Sons? "You talking patch over?" I asked him. "I don't know, Clay," I said, feeling the sickness in my stomach rise again. "Tribe might've started outlaw, but now...I mean, shit, they're book-keepers and bouncers," I told him.
Clay persisted with the thought of making The Tribe become outlaws again. "They're earnin' outlaw-size money," he told me, which was slightly true. "It's a matter of time before the Mayans push 'em out," Clay informed me, knowing that this was a huge possibility. "They need us for their own protection," he stated, making me understand, but feel bad about the thought of them turning into outlaws once more.
The thought of Jury, of my dad and how they were like brothers. It brought a horrible feeling over me. "Jury was a real good friend of my old man's, Clay," I told him, he knew it was true and I didn't like the image of Jury with a reaper on his back. "I don't feel right slamming a patch, no warning," I said and knew that for patch-overs, it needed to be negotiated and seen as a benefit for the clubs, or if it was a large enough vote to pass.
Clay was being stubborn and I wasn't liking his attitude towards my words. "It's good for both clubs," he growled. "Now, if you don't want to break it to 'em, I'll tell 'em myself at church," he snarled in his President's voice, hanging up on me, I sighed and made my way back to Bobby. Handing him back the prepay, I told him I would tell him our plans on the way to Indian Hills.
Making our way inside, we payed for the gas and stepped outside. The sound of a woman alerted me, she was trying to take a picture of her boyfriend, who was sat ontop of my bike. She didn't know what button to press, but her boyfriend kept complaining and throwing insults at her. "Here," I said, taking the phone from her. "Let me do it," I suggested in a kind tone.
Her bright blue eyes were wide, her blonde hair wavey with small thin curls. Her lip was cut a little, but I could tell he had slapped her or possibly have done more to the poor girl. "Holy shit," she said, surprised by my sudden presence. "I-I told him not to sit on your bike," she stuttered.
Giving her a small smile, I knew that she was worried for what could happen. "That's all right," I said, giving her a small clap on the back. My hand feeling the denim of her jacket. "You look like a guy knows how to get his way," I commented as I looked to the asshole on my bike. "You do that to her lip?" I asked him, pointing to his girlfriend who was stood beside me.
She looked away when I addressed to her. The guy looked at me with a guilty expression and I knew that my suspicions was right. "Bitch has a mouth on her, you know?" he insinuated that it was her fault that he hit her. Fucking asshole.
Deciding to act empathetic, I gave him a fake smile and nod of my head. "Sure, I get it," I agreed with him. "So you like Harleys, huh?" I asked him, looking to my baby who was being sat on by the asshole. Not only is he sitting on my bike, when you're never meant to sit on another man's bike...but he also hits women. Jackass.
He looked down at my bike, examining it slightly and acting like he knew a lot about bikes. "Yeah," he said. "They look good," he commented. "But I'm way into the slant bikes for their speed, you know?" he compared my bike to his.
"Right, right," I agreed with a nod of my head. Looking to his girlfriend, she looked hurt by the thought that I too, was an abusive boyfriend. I would never hurt a woman. Not ever. I would never hurt Maddie. "All right, say cheese," I said to the guy as he posed, raising his phone and preparing the picture.
"Cheese," he repeated and gave me a smile.
The lens caught the picture perfectly, reminding him of this experience and showing him to never do it again. "Nice," I commented as I handed the phone to Bobby.
Nodding to Bobby, he knew exactly what I was about to do. "That's before," he said, reaching for my helmet, I took it off my handlebar and watched the guy look at Bobby with a confused expression.
"Before?" the asshole asked.
Before he could get an answer, I slammed my helmet into the side of his face. His whole body whipped, making him fall to the floor and grunt in pain. "Don't ever sit on another man's bike, asshole," I snarled at him.
His girlfriend gasped, raising her eyebrows and watching her boyfriend weak, wriggling around on the ground and a smile grew on her face. "Holy shit," she said, holding in a laugh or giggle. The boyfriend wasn't pleased with her reaction.
He looked up, blood covering his damaged jaw and he spat out blood. "Shut up, bitch!" he shouted at her, making Bobby kick him in the gut and the man grunted in pain. Rolling around, he gripped his stomach in pain.
Bobby too, didn't like assholes who sat on his bike, or would hit women. Both combined, made this guy our most hated jackass alive. "A little respect for the fairer sex," Bobby spat at him, the guy still groaned in pain. The sound of a camera clicking, told me Bobby had taken the picture. "That's after," he teased.
Bobby dumped the phone on the asshole's chest, all whilst I sat down on my bike and glanced at the young, blonde and lost girl. "Where you headed?" I asked her, wondering if I could get into her pants.
She gave me a bright smile, confident and slightly surprised by what I had just done to her boyfriend. "Uh, no place special," she told me, her bright blue eyes wide and shone in the sunlight. Giving her a small smile, I knew that she wanted to get away from him for a while.
"Me too," I smirked. Looking her over, she didn't look to bad and I thought she might be nice. Girl is a little more than naive, maybe she just needs to get with a bad boy and not an abuser. Show her what a real man is like, although, I do love Maddie, she doesn't want me. I can't wait for her forever.
Tapping the back of my bike, she smiled and began to walk towards me. "I'm Susie," she introduced herself and slowly got onto my bike.
Handing her my helmet as she came up to me, she didn't seem scared, just shocked and excited for what could come of our small get together. "I'm Jax," I introduced myself in turn, looking down, she had finally got onto my bike and strapped on my helmet. Staring at the man, he was coughing and rolling around on the floor. Injured. Without another word, we rode off.
MPOV
Blankly, I stared down at Opie's dinning table, we had just finished eating a meal Donna had prepared. Subconciously, I was keeping my gaze focused on the wooden structure that kept my leaning torso steady. "Hey, Maddie?" Donna asked me, it sounded distant and muffled, but I was pulled out of my thoughts when she touched me.
My mind was running loose, thinking of all the things that were possible and impossibe. Questions that would continue to be unanswered, my imagination was wild and I couldn't control my silent fear. "Yeah?" I replied to her.
Her hand was gently on my shoulder, squeezing it and was gentle enough to show concern. "You okay?" Donna asked me. "You've got bags under your eyes, you're yawning a lot and I'm worried about you," she told me, her eyebrows furrowed and blue eyes concerned. "Have you been getting much sleep lately?" she questioned.
Sighing, I didn't know what else to say to her, knowing that anything I said would arrise suspicion. "Yeah, just..." I began, unsure how to finish it. "Stressed, you know?" I said with a small shrug and another sigh, rubbing at my face, I had taken some of my light make-up with me. My skin wasn't naturally pale, but these days, I had been worried for my safety, that my skin had dulled from my stress.
Donna's hold on me moved, her hand gripping onto my plate below me and raised it to collect it with other plates. "With what?" Donna she asked me, confused and concerned for my wellbeing. Opie kept his eyes on me, he had sat opposite me and watched me intently.
There wasn't a specific reason, but everything had began building up and I felt as though I had been drowning sometimes. "You know Maddie, must be hard being a lawyer," Opie butt in, surprising me and making me stay silent. "Trying to save criminals from going into prison, or losing a battle in court," he stated some of the things I had to do at work.
In that moment, the children ran in and asked for Donna to help them with their things. Donna decided to help them, fixing up their rooms and clothes, along with fixing their bath. "Maddie, what's wrong?" Opie asked me, taking this chance to ask me what was really happening. Judging by the way he spoke and watched me when he spoke, I knew he'd interrigate me.
I wasn't in the mood for interrigation, or for his concerned signs of affection. "Nothing is wrong, Opie," I sighed out, knowing I was being dishonest and I was being stubborn. If he doesn't tell me anything anymore, why should I bother telling him anything either.
Getting up, I chose to pick up the cups that remained on the almost empty table. "Talk to me," he said as he followed me to the sink. "I'm your brother for Christ's sake," he reminded me. "You can tell me anything," he encouraged gently. "What's got you stressed?" he asked, placing his hands on my shoulders, he turned me to face him and looked into my eyes.
Shrugging out of his hold, I wasn't in the mood for him to tell me things, or for him to lecture me on anything. "Opie, leave me alone," I grumbled, not wanting to cause an argument, but unable to keep my emotions under control. "I have my problems, you have yours okay?" I suggested calmly. "I'm fine," I reassured him.
The way Opie's blue eyes studdied me, how he tensed up a little and stood in-front of me, I could sense he didn't believe me. "Madison, Pop has told me he's slept at yours, told me you had a nightmare," he said, showing me that he knew more than he thought I would believe. "Now, you're gonna tell me what's wrong, or I'll have to force you to tell me," he spoke through gritted teeth.
He was becoming more angry by the minute, but I wasn't afraid of him and I knew he wouldn't hurt me. "Don't you dare," I snarled. "Let me go, right now or I swear to Christ, Opie," I shouted quietly. "I'll break your fingers and remind you not to mess with me," I said with venom in my voice, spitting him some small history in my threat.
Not liking my words, he went to take a hold of me, but I had stepped out and moved away from him. "Maddie," he growled darkly, his gaze was angry and dispeased. When he took hold of me, I pushed him and shoved him hard.
"No!" I screamed. "Do you ever tell me anything?" I shouted as I looked at him, equally as angry and feeling my Winston fires burn. "No, you don't," I answered for him, before he could answer my question. "I'm your sister, Opie," I remind him, saying the same thing he had told me. "You can trust me, tell me secrets," I repeated his words.
Tears were beginning to build, I didn't like arguing with him, but I had felt myself being further and further pushed. Further lost, alone and independent in ways I didn't want to be. "Shit, you used to always tell me secrets," I said, feeling my throat clench in that familiar way. "Now, I hear the same shit dad used to say to us when we were kids!" I growled, not liking how he kept telling me the same thing our dad would when we were younger.
I couldn't help it, a few tears escaped and I was crumbling to the touch. My strength and fire was still there, but my walls fell to my brother. Vulnerable, I could no longer handle everything that was happening so far. "I'm sick and tired of being left in the dark," I told him, my voice cracked and my bottom lip trembled.
He didn't hesitate, he watched me break in-front of him and reached out to comfort me. I couldn't help the sob that shook me once he touched me. "I'm doing this to protect you, Maddie," he told me softly. "We both are!" he said, as though this was the best excuse.
This was it. This was the moment I had completely lost it. "I don't give a shit about protection!" I shouted as I slapped his hands away from me. "While you've been in prison, I had to protect myself," I spat at him. "Hell, i've been protecting myself ever since I left Charming!" I spoke out my thoughts. "You do what you have to do, I'll do what I need to do," I negotiated to him, not needing to discuss it all any further.
He stayed still, his eyes watching me, both confused, startled and concerned. Glancing behind me, he was about to argue back, his mouth shutting and opening indicated as much. But when his eyes flashed back, I sensed who it was and could hear her gentle breathing. "Jesus Christ, what's going on in here?" Donna asked us curiously.
Without another word, it was best to not discuss it all. Especially since I had felt I had said all I had to. "Nothing," I spoke blankly. "I'm going to head home," I said, keeping my eyes on Opie and watching his expression turn ashamed. "Thanks for the food Donna," I thanked her, reaching for my bag, I threw it over my shoulder and gave Donna a quick look. "I'll see you two tomorrow," I told them, leaving, I didn't look back and held back my tears. When I got home, that was when I let the waterfall pour.
JPOV
Stopping outside the Tribe's clubhouse, I parked my bike and gradually me, Bobby and Susie got off the bikes. "Just don't ask any questions, okay?" I asked her, trying to give her a hint and warning at the same time. "I'll let 'em know you're with me," I told her, my arm slung over her shoulders and I leaned in to kiss her.
Moans escaped her, our lips pressing repeatedly and her tender lips were rough compared to the cut on her lip. "You know, you are the James T. Kirk of the MC world," Bobby commented as I let her go and walked ahead of her.
"Going where no man has gone before," I joked in return.
Bobby didn't chuckle, but he did smirk slightly. "Let me tell you, brother," he began his voice low and level. "I think every man's gone there before," he said, which made me laugh and shake my head. I love Bobby, what a fucking legend.
The sound of a door opening pulled my attention away from Bobby. "Jackson Teller!" Jury called out my name, his arms wide and a smile on his face. This man, he was like an uncle to me. He had looked out for me, would visit me and he told me some things about my dad as I grew up.
Clay would speak highly of my father, but Jury told me of the struggles that Clay and my dad would face at times. "Uncle Jury!" I called back, walking to him and both of us pulled each other into a hug. Both of us laughing, out of pure happiness. "You guys remember Bobby," I said as I turned to look at Bobby.
"Bobby," Jury agreed, repeating Bobby's name, shaking hands and pulling each other into brotherly hugs.
The red haired man was known as Needles, but it was a few years that he'd been the VP of the club. "Needles, how you been?" Bobby asked the man as he turned to face the red haired club member.
"Bobby," Needles said his name, pulling each other into a hug and greeting us appropriately. The clubs are like brothers, but inside the club, Bobby is my true brother. The Tribe is like a cousin.
Entering the clubhouse, there was the sound of a man singing in the Jukebox. "MC 'Royalty' in the house, folks," Jury began as I had waited for Susie to hide into my side, her arms wrapped around my waist, he head resting on my chest. "Jax Teller and Bobby Elvis of the Sons," he pointed between me and Bobby. Myself and Susie watched as Bobby flirted with a girl of Jury's. "That your old lady?" Jury asked as I moved away from Susie, smirking as Bobby went away with a girl and clapped an arm around Jury's back.
Not needing to look back at Susie, I wasn't interested in her, I was only taking her away from an asshole boyfriend and hoping to get laid. "Nah," I told him. "I picked her up at the border, just a little doe in the headlights," I explained what happened and what she was to me.
Both of us sat down at the bar. "Cherry," Jury called out to one of his girls, her brown hair curled, her face small and her figure even smaller. "This honey's with Jax," he told her. "Show her the ropes, darlin'," he suggested.
Cherry gave him a nod, she understood and Susie simply looked confused, surprised and like she was becoming a part of something. "Sure thing," she agreed with Jury's wishes. "Come on, sweetheart," she called to Susie, moving away from us and leading Susie towards the back. She gave me a smile, her hand and walked off. Clinking my beer with Jury, we smiled to one another and started to catch up.
GPOV
Myself and Clay were walking out, we looked to each other and headed towards his bike. The others were getting ready to leave, as was he. They decided they were all going to Nevada, to visit The Tribe and to patch them into the club. "I'll see you in a couple of days," Clay told me.
Keeping up with him, I stayed beside him as we walked. "All right, call me," I ordered. "Let me know he's okay," I told him, it sounded a little as though I was pleading him to inform me of my son. "Look, you know I'll drive out there," I warned him as he looked at me as though I was crazy. "How embarrassing would that shit be?" I asked him, knowing it would embarrass both of them.
Clay sat onto his bike, before I could question him, I had my hands on my hips and eyes glued to him. "I'll call," he tried to reassure me, quick as a flash he had replied to me. "I'll call," he repeated softly, calmly. Pointing to his lips, I knew he was asking me for a kiss and he puckered up for it. Leaning down, I pressed my lips gently and pulled away with a small sigh. Putting his helmet on, he rode off and was joined by the rest of them. Leaving Tig and Juice behind to handle the barrels of guns.
JPOV
We had sat together, listening to one another and now, it was time to talk about the Mayans and their business. "Started the sports book with the escorts and the strip clubs," Jury began to explain what was happening. "First stop over the border," Jury told me.
Observing his words, I realized that he must have been gaining lots of money from the business he had set up. "Must be churning some serious cash," I noted. "Got the Mayans circling for a percentage," I said as I took a pull of my cigarette, while Jury took a gulp of his beer.
Cherry and Susie were sat beside me, my back to them and my body facing Jury. "They're jamming me up, Jax," he said. "If I don't pay the Mexicans, they turn my business inside out," he stated. "If I kick a vig up to 'em, I disrespect you guys," he showed me his options and how both of these options were bad for The Devil's Tribe.
A sick feeling rumbled my stomach, making me want to puke and I knew I felt this way for one reason. I knew I had to tell Jury about Clay's proposal. "Tribe attracts a good membership," I told him as I glanced around.
He too began to look around the room, proving that he too felt like these boys needed to stand up for themselves. "Eighteen," he said with a small smile. "Real good boys," he nods as he spoke.
Jury then looked to me, his eyes on me and our bodies leaning against the bar. "You still get along with local law?" I asked him, wondering if they were still corrupting the law in a way, to see if they had anything that could backfire and without the cops, almost everything was impossible.
Chuckling, his kind smile reminded me of the times I was younger and when he would first talk to me about his club. "Douglas County?" he asked, before I could answer, he smirked. "Sheriff likes the girls," he told me, telling me how they corrupted their cops. Pussy. They like the pussy he has here.
A hand slowly ran along my back, reaching up to my shoulder and stroking me softly. "Right," I agreed with my own smirk. "How you doing, darlin'?" I asked Susie as I looked behind and saw that she was listening into my conversation with Jury.
"I'm good," she replied with a small smile.
Jury wasn't impressed with what was happening with Susie and his sweetbutt. "Hey, girls," Jury called to Cherry and Susie. "Beers are warm," he told them, hinting that they need to pour us another drink.
The girls got to their feet, Cherry didn't seem to complain, but Susie looked insulted and confused. Susie got the hint, but she wasn't going to keep quiet. "Ah," she began, looking at me and holding her beer. "We just pulled those," she challenged slightly.
Shit, she did not just try and talk back to my uncle Jury. Clearing her throat, Cherry was the one to lean over and take the beers from the counter. "I'll get those," she spoke up. "Excuse me," she excused herself, but by how she spoke, I knew she was excusing Susie too. "Come here," she told Susie as she walked behind the bar, taking Susie with her.
When the girls were gone, Jury then leaned in a little more and kept his eyes glued to mine. "So how are we gonna handle the Mayans?" he asked me, keeping his eyes level with mine and his head bowed slightly.
There wasn't much I could have told him, but I knew that I needed to warn him about Clay's arrival. "We're hoping actually maybe you could help us out with a problem," I told him, hopeful that he knew we too had a problem with the Mayans.
Jury seemed a little confused and calm at the same time. "Sure," he spoke softly.
Time to talk business. "Got a garage full of AK-47 s," I informed him of what cargo we were trying to keep safe. "Need a place to assemble and store 'em 'till we find a buyer," I told Jury. "It's a temporary thing," I reassured him.
Jury thought over what he could offer us for storing the guns. "Got a strip club out on 95," he told me. "Huge basement," he informed me. "Private," he stated, letting me know that the building we would keep our guns in would be enough to stay under the radar.
Picturing the place, I knew that Clay would approve of the location and if our weapons could be safely stored and kept hidden. "Sounds perfect," I noted, imagining what it would look like and how safe it could really be. "Appreciate it," I told him as I leaned over and clapped his knee.
He thought things over, by the look on his face, it seemed he was stressed and overthinking his problem with the Mayans. "You'll talk to Clay?" he asked me. "Let me know how to handle this Mayan thing?" he continued to question me, hopeful that I could convince Clay to handle this, by either making a deal, or letting The Tribe do what it had to with the Mayans.
Dumping the ash that was building at the end of my cigarette, I looked up at Jury and knew my next words would surprise him. "You can talk to him yourself," I encouraged him lightly. "He's on his way," I told him, knowing that he would be shocked and surprised by this action.
Jury leaned back slightly, listening in to the conversation and keeping himself calm. His eyebrows furrowed, from confusion and possibly suspicion. "Clay's coming out?" he asked me, knowing that my answer and reasoning would rub off wrong on Jury.
The thought of it, was making me feel sick too. "Yup," I answered and we both stayed silent for a few seconds. "It's about the future, Jury," I told him Clay's motives, hinting and being vague at the same time.
Jury leaned in again, more confused than he was before. "Future of what?" he asked me, curious as to what would bring Clay here to talk of The Devil's Tribe's future. Shit. I don't like telling Jury that we need him to patch the Tribe into another charter for the reapers to stay.
"The Tribe," I replied bluntly, not wanting to go into detail and not wanting to tell much, for fear others would overhear.
Quickly, Jury caught onto what I was insinuating and he fell silent for a moment. "Jesus, Jax," he spoke harshly and silently. "Patch over?" he asked me, shaking his head and not liking the thought of becoming Sons either.
Tensing, I knew there was no way I would stop smoking at this point. I'm so tense these days...I need to relax and release my tension somehow. "It's time, Jury," I began to encourage him softly. "This whole area is blowing up," I stated to him. "We don't patch you over, Mayans will run right through you," I gave him the harsh facts. "We get a foothold in Nevada. You get status to protect your business," I told him how we both would win with this outcome. "Best move for both clubs," I encouraged him and advised him in a hint that this was the best choice.
Jury wasn't entirely convinced, but he knew that I was talking sense. "A lot of my guys aren't SAMCRO," he told me truthfully, I believed him and knew that it would take time to adjust to this life.
I didn't know what to say, but I knew that a decision like this, was one to be cautious about. "The ones that are cut out for it will make it," I told him, showing him one side of one of the club member's choices. "Others will fall off," I stated, knowing that there were two ways this could all go.
Uncle Jury looked pained, it wasn't the man who was owning businesses as a President, but now, he was a concerned man for his brothers. My uncle has always been a compassionate man. "I'm not a young man anymore either, Jax," he told me. "I don't know how much outlaw I got left in me," he said, doubting in himself.
Looking at him, I knew he was strong enough to keep fighting. As long as he can ride and breathe, he can fight. I know he can. He's smart, it's why my dad took interest in him. "You'll do fine, Jury," I assured him. Giving him a smile, I finished my cigarette, gulped down my beer and got to my feet. Clapping his arm, I wandered over to Cherry and Susie. "Hey," I greeted them, both of them were gossiping about something I wasn't interested in. "Where's Bobby?" I asked her.
I had slung my arm over her shoulder once more, keeping my eyes on her and a fresh, new cigarette between my lips. "Out front," Susie replied, smiling up at me and slipping her hand into mine. Her skin is rough, compared to Madison's soft and gentle hand. Madison's touch is lighter, while Susie's seems forced.
"Okay," I spoke, leaning in, I placed a kiss against her lips and pulled away. Making my way out, I could sense Susie watch me as I left. The others would give me small nods or would bow their heads a little out of respect. Time to find Bobby.
PPOV
Parking at Teller-Morrow, it had been a while since I had been back and seeing hardly anyone there, it surprised me slightly. "Hey, old man," Tig greeted me, stepping out, he had been hauling barrels around and kept his eyes on me as he approached me.
"Tig," I greeted in return, taking my helmet off, I got to my feet and glanced around once more. What the hell. Is it really just me, Tig and Juice from the Sons? "Where is everybody?" I asked Tig curiously, my eyebrows furrowed and head confused.
The next thing that came out of Tig's mouth surprised me and made me think: Shit, I should really go to church more often. "They've all gone to Nevada," Tig informed me, a tone that told me it was club business. "They're patching over The Tribe," Tig said as I felt my heart stop for a moment.
The name of the club was one I had known well. Jury was a good friend of mine and John's. "Jury?" I asked, surprised by the sound of The Tribe becoming reapers. "A Son?" I questioned, looking around and not looking Tig in the eye, trying to process it all. "Shit," I cussed. "For how long is the trip gonna be?" I asked him, looking up and meeting his eyes.
He shrugged, unsure himself of how long it would take. "Long enough for us to bring the guns over," Tig informed me further, showing me that our cargo was going to be sent to be stored at Jury's. "Maybe a couple of days," he shrugged again. "We're gonna steal one of Unser's trucks," he told me. "Wanna join?" Tig asked me, hopeful and possibly not wanting to do this alone, stuck with Juice.
Not even the Prospect was there with him. "Nah," I declined and fixed the tubes under my nose. "I gotta head over to Opie's, Donna's planned a family meal and a night of board games with the kids," I informed him of my plans for the night.
"Well, have fun man," Tig nods, his hands resting on his waist and a kind smile on his face. It was one of small understanding, but he then glanced his blue eyes around the room. "Say hi to your kids for me?" Tig asked, knowing he cared about Maddie and Opie, I chose to be kind and considerate.
Seeing his features soften, he turned his head to look at me. "Sure," I agreed. Getting back onto my bike, I fixed my helmet and watched Tig stand there. When I started my engine, Tig turned and headed back into the garage, doing the work Clay had left him to do and allowed me to leave. I need to talk to Opie.
JPOV
Finding Bobby, he was sat outside and was beside our bikes. He looked peaceful after having sex with Jury's sweetbutt. Bobby was sat, staring at the bikes, sun-setting and a cigar in his mouth. Throwing my cigarette, I felt the need to have some fresh air and not intoxicate myself from the chemicals I was giving my body. "You and Jury get into it?" Bobby asked me after he turned and sighed.
We were sat side-by-side, both of us ready to leave, but neither of us willing to go. "Yeah," I said as I looked away and licked my lips. "He didn't see it comin'," I told Bobby, remembering how Jury was surprised and confused by the news I had given him.
"Hmm," Bobby hummed in silent agreement, as to show me he was listening to my words.
A bad feeling rushed through me, I knew it was fear and concern. But, it was also guilt. "I don't know if the old man's gonna be able to hang a reaper on his back," I told Bobby, knowing I could confide in him. "This shit don't feel good to me, Bobby," I said to him truthfully. "Clay's making a mistake," I doubted Clay's judgement. "The Tribe ain't SOA material," I stated.
Bobby had pulled out his cigar, watching me intently and all whilst I pulled out my cigarette packet and lighter. I had grown tense again, simply for feeling sick and not wanting to get Jury into trouble. Worried, that Jury may get killed because of my suggestion of using him to store our guns. "You all right, brother?" Bobby asked me quizically.
Pulling out my cigarette, I was surprised Bobby would be asking me such a pointed and trivial question. "Yeah," I told him. "Why?" I asked him as I placed my cigarette in my mouth and flipped my lighter opened.
Why is he asking me these questions? "J-Just checkin' in," Bobby stuttered slightly. "You've been through a lot of shit in the last couple of weeks," he said softly. "Baby, junkie," he listed and reminded me of the shit I was going through. "Maybe all that noise in your head has gotten you turned around a bit," he spoke curiously and as though he was being sympathetic about it all.
Bobby's choice of words had me wondering what he had meant of it all. "Noise in my head?" I asked him, perplexed at the way he spoke of me and my issues. "You got something to say, man, just say it," I encouraged him, not liking the vague messages he was sending me.
Bobby took my words as encouragement, as to not hold back and to tell me the truth. To not leave it all as a guessing game. "You've been second-guessing Clay ever since your boy was born," he told me. "Club's pickin' up on it," he said, informing me of how the club sensed my disagreements with Clay. "You gotta get right with that," he spoke sternly, calmly and advised me as a brother would to another brother. Curious...
Hope you guys enjoyed this half of the chapter, the second half will be coming up soon.
Until then,
Much love!
HeroJustInTime90 xxx
