Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I do, however, own Marlowe and any other OCs that appear in the 2 Sons Universe.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
"I don't care if you are a grown ass woman," Happy retorted. "You're going to Gemma's tonight and that's all there is to it, little girl."
Marlowe glared up at him from her cross-legged position on her bed as he towered over her. Their "discussion" on the subject of the upcoming Morrow family dinner had been going on during the wee hours of Sunday morning for quite some time and it looked as if it would never end.
The last thing Marlowe had expected was to see her brother back in the Clubhouse this weekend. With him ditching her in Oregon to hang out with his club brothers at the Rogue River charter, Marlowe figured that he would be hip deep in booze, weed and pussy for the entire weekend. So having him bang on her door literally two seconds after she snuck by yet another raging SAMCRO party was totally unexpected, especially when he dropped the invitation on her.
Bullshit! An invitation would imply the option of politely declining. This was more like a fuckin' royal decree, she thought a little bitterly.
Marlowe spent the next twenty minutes trying to convince Happy that her going to the Morrows' was a bad idea to no avail. According to her stubborn brother, the issue wasn't up for debate. Yet, Marlowe was just as stubborn and determined to make him see reason, so she kept nagging him.
Thinking she had a surefire way to keep herself out of Dodge, she pitched her next argument. "What about Tía, Hap? We always visit her together on Sundays whenever you're in Charming. We're just gonna abandon her 'cause you got something better to do?"
"Don't use Ma as an excuse," Happy retorted, folding his arms over his chest. "Gemma wants us there by four. That leaves plenty of time to visit Ma for a couple of hours. And why are you complaining anyways? All you ever do is bitch about how tired you are of living on take-out. This is your chance to enjoy a free home-cooked meal that you don't have to fix yourself. Works out considering you can't cook worth shit anyway."
"I can cook, asshole," she replied irritably. "I choose not to cook for you. There's a difference."
Besides, food was the farthest thing from Marlowe's mind when it came to turning down the invitation. Can't really avoid Jax Teller if I'm sitting at his mother's table having dinner, now can I?
Three nights ago, Marlowe had finally given in to her craving for the pretty blond outlaw, deciding to hook up for some hot sex only to discover almost immediately that the man had an old lady on retainer. That knowledge—passed on by a totally clueless Kozik—had convinced Marlowe to put her libido back in check. The news had also inexplicably pissed her off royally.
Thinking back on every interaction she had ever had with Jax, Marlowe couldn't recall him ever mentioning an old lady, but it wasn't like he had been required to disclose his status. If she was honest with herself, she had chosen to assume that the man was single. After all, she should have known that a man as charismatic and good looking as Jax Teller couldn't possibly be unattached. Obviously, spending six months in the brig surrounded by other women had put her off her game.
Although events over the past couple of years had all but ended Marlowe's career—and had basically stripped her of her identity and her life—she still held fast to her pride. Being played for a dumb, clueless female by the outlaw biker was not appreciated. In her anger and refusing to look like a fool, Marlowe had no problem in ditching her would-be lover on the spot. Instead, she had made her way to Stockton to sit in a crowded movie theatre to watch Iron Man 2 and Robin Hood before finally making her way back to Charming. Once behind the safety of the door to her own private dorm, Marlowe had spent the next two days doing her best to stay out of Jax's way and off his radar.
Which had been a totally punk ass move, she irritability acknowledged to herself.
Marlowe had to admit that she wasn't just disappointed in Jax; she was disappointed in herself for avoiding him like some angst-filled teenager. She should have confronted him about his bullshit move from the get, instead of hiding out in her dorm room like a little bitch.
After spending some time working out with the former SAMCRO President yesterday morning, Marlowe had beat a hasty retreat and spent the entire day with Amelia, not leaving the wellness center until after eight o' clock that evening. She probably would have stayed longer, but it became clear that she was interfering with Amelia's surprisingly active social life at the center, having become one of the more popular residents. Leaving Amelia behind in a rather heated game of gin rummy, Marlowe ended up parking her ass at the Buffalo Bar in Lodi, drinking club sodas and shooting pool with the locals to kill time before returning to the Clubhouse as late as possible in order to avoid running into Jax.
Only to run straight into Happy and his double-dammed dinner invite, Marlowe groused to herself.
It wasn't as if she were afraid of Gemma Teller-Morrow, Marlowe reasoned, and that's when she realized just how ludicrous she was acting. Instead of avoiding an opportunity to socialize with the people she was basically living with, Marlowe decided to take the bull by the fuckin' horns and go. It would certainly provide her with an opening to set Jax Teller straight.
In front of his old lady? Marlowe asked herself, knowing that there was a pretty solid chance that the woman would be there. Realizing that a confrontation during Sunday dinner on old lady territory was the wrong move, Marlowe was still determined to come out from hiding and prove she was unfazed by Jax lying by omission. So she "reluctantly" acquiesced to her brother's prodding.
"All right, already," she groused. "If you're going to make a big fuckin' deal about this shit, I'll go."
"About damn time," Happy muttered. "I know you don't know a lot of shit about the status quo around here—"
"Yeah, and whose fault is that?"
Happy waved off his sister's pointed question. "But one thing you need to know is that you don't diss Gemma Morrow. Family dinner is very important shit to her and it's by invitation only, just patches, their old ladies and kids."
"Then why am I invited?" Marlowe asked incredulously. "I'm not a patch and I sure as shit am not an old lady."
"You're different," he replied reluctantly after a long moment. "You work for the Club, so technically that makes you different."
"Are there going to be a lot of these old ladies there?" she asked casually.
"Yeah, a few," Happy answered. "Definitely at least a couple of top tier ones—Lyla, Opie's old lady and Jax's old lady Tara."
"Have I seen either of them before? I mean, most of the females I've seen around here don't look like Clay's old lady," she said as her brother cocked an eye at her. "You know, all put together and shit."
"Yeah, I get it. I don't really pay much attention to the old ladies, but I don't think I've seen either around the Clubhouse lately. Lyla, maybe, just cause a lot of her ex co-workers hang out with the Club." At his sister's questioning look, he continued. "Lyla used to work for Cara Cara, the porn studio the Club financed before it burned down. Now she works under contract with another studio."
"Opie married a porn star?" Marlowe blinked a couple of times. "Not exactly what I was expecting to hear," she said, thinking of the burly, but relatively quiet biker.
"Yeah, well, shit happens."
"What about Jax's old lady?" she eased into the subject. "She a porn star too?"
Happy's laughter started as a deep grumble in his chest, the thought of uptight Tara Knowles being confused as a porn star tickling his ribs. "No, definitely not a porn star. She's a surgeon down at St. Thomas and used to be the Club's doc until Jax offered you the gig."
"Well, shit," Marlowe murmured. "That's a little surprising. I mean, why hire me when you have a real doctor available?"
"That's some shit you don't need to concern yourself with. Just be glad you're getting paid," Happy replied gruffly, before turning to stride out the door, apparently tired of playing twenty questions. "By the way, try to look at least semi-decent tonight, a'ight?"
Marlowe's back immediately went up. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It means that maybe you can try looking like a bitch for once instead of desert-storming G.I. Jane. Maybe slap some shit on your face, I don't know, comb your hair. Just don't look like my rag pickin' cousin, a'ight?" he said testily before walking out and slamming the door behind him, just one second before a highly polished combat boot slammed into it.
"Asshole," Marlowe yelled, before flinging herself back onto her bed. "Rag pickin' cousin, my ass," she muttered. "Hap needs to mind what he wishes for 'cause he just might get it," she vowed as she stood up and headed to her lone chest of drawers.
Leaning back into the comfortable leather armchair in the middle of the Morrows' living room, Wayne Unser crossed his legs as he nursed the ice cold beer in his hand. The former Chief of the now-defunct Charming Police Department chuckled to himself as he considered the irony, an ex-lawman feeling at home in the midst of a pack of lawless hardcore bikers.
But when it came to his life, learning to expect the unexpected had been par for the course for Unser.
Wayne had graduated from the local high school in 1974, not at all bothering to pick up any viable skills that would translate in the real world while kicking around in the four-year teenage purgatory. The only opportunities open to him after graduation had been either a career in the military or public service. Having dodged the Draft because he had been underage at the time, Wayne wasn't in a hurry to sign up for active duty and with his slight frame and build, he figured that being a hero fireman was out of the question as well. That left him with one other option, so once he had his diploma in hand, Unser applied for and was accepted by the San Joaquin Police Academy. After six months of training, he became the newest rookie deputy of the Charming Police Department.
His career had started out relatively simple and uneventful in spite of the fact that Charming, with barely 14,000 residents, had its fair share of violence and quality of life issues prevalent across the United States in the '70s, early 80s. Unser certainly had plenty to keep him busy and soon settled into a routine at work. Never much of a man about town, Wayne met and married Della, a Native American woman from the Wahewa Tribe, after dating for less than six months and soon thereafter started pumping out kids.
Life for Wayne Unser was turning out pretty much how he had expected until the unexpected happened and his life would never be the same again. It had been over thirty years ago, but Unser still remembered the exact moment it had happened.
His close childhood friend and Charming's prodigal daughter Gemma Maddoc, who had cut ties with her hometown at sixteen, had finally returned. She hadn't come alone, however, as she led a convoy of Harleys straight down Main Street. At the height of her beauty, the free-spirit—now known as Gemma Teller—had returned with a baby on her hip and a motorcycle club looking to set permanent roots.
Wayne Unser had loved Gemma for so long he couldn't remember a time when he didn't, so he wanted to dislike her "old man", John Teller on sight. But there was just something about JT that came across as genuinely likeable and sincere in spite of his outlaw biker lifestyle. The unlikeliest of friends, Deputy Unser and the SAMCRO President worked together to eradicate drugs, prostitution and crime that was forcing life-long Charming residents to abandon their hometown for safer areas in Northern California.
Thanks to Mayor Hale's campaign to rid the town of the Sons, Unser suddenly found himself forced into retirement after many years of straddling a fine line between serving his badge and serving the Club. The problem, however, was that as good a friend as he had been to the Club, he had been just as shitty a husband and father to his own family. Not only was he alienated from his adult children but his wife of almost forty years had decided she'd had enough.
Just as Wayne was finishing his last round of chemo, Della filed for divorce and had relocated to Texas to be closer to her sister, taking half of their assets with her. In order to retain ownership of Unser Trucking, Wayne had been forced sell their home in order to satisfy the divorce settlement. Other than his meager pension from Sanwa County, his modest income from Unser Trucking was all Wayne had left as fighting cancer had exhausted what little money he and Della had managed to save over the years.
Many of the townsfolk were well aware of his association with the Club and likely speculated that Unser had squirreled away a substantial amount of cash as SAMCRO's errand boy. Sadly for his finances, the truth was actually quite the opposite. Although Unser and the Club had worked together and there had been times when he had benefited by that association in the form of protections runs for his trucking business, he had never been on SAMCRO's payroll. His compensation for backing the Sons of Anarchy had always been keeping Charming and its residents safe. The MC not only kept the town virtually crime-free, but also kept it safe from greedy land developers like Jacob Hale Jr., whose dreams for expansion could permanently alter the face of Charming by killing its many mom-and-pop businesses. In return, Unser made it possible for the Club to operate without interference from law enforcement.
His final act for the Club in that regard had been helping them get vengeance on dirty ATF Agent June Stahl. Having already relinquished his badge, Unser had participated in the plot to impose outlaw justice on the woman responsible for not only the death of Donna Winston, but the murder of Kip "Half Sack" Epps, the kidnapping of Abel Teller and near-imprisonment of Gemma Teller-Morrow for murder.
Yet, despite the fact that he was of no more real use to the Club, Unser was still part of the inner circle. A part of the SAMCRO family.
"Wayne!" Gemma called out from the kitchen, sauntering across the hardwood floor to stand at his side. "Are you brooding over here all by yourself again?"
"Nah, sweetheart. I'm just relaxing," he smiled. "You know, I never really had the chance to appreciate your domestic talents, Gem. You sure have the place looking good and feeling homey."
"Well, anything is bound to look good compared to your new rock star digs," Gemma replied, referring to Unser's Air-Stream, as she sat down on the armrest of his chair. "You have no idea how much I hate the idea of you all alone up there on that desolate three acre parcel of land of yours."
"Well, no need to worry about that anymore," Unser advised before taking a sip from his beer. "I sold it."
"What?" Gemma sputtered. "When? And why?"
"A week ago," he shrugged. "I needed the money," he finally admitted looking into her chocolate brown eyes. "My meds are too damn expensive and the insurance I have is shit."
"Why haven't you said anything?" she hissed at him.
"Because it's not your problem, sweetheart. I can handle my shit just fine."
Uh, no you can't, Gemma thought irritably. Why didn't I see this shit coming?
"What about the business?" she asked.
"Things have been quiet. Too quiet," he responded. "I've been trying to get creative in order to generate some new business, but I just don't have the energy. I've been approached by a company in Lodi looking to expand and I'm actually considering selling them part of the business. They're willing to take on all my trucks, employees, everything and we'll split the profits 50/50."
"Sell the business?" a voice echoed and Unser turned his head in time to see Jax Teller ambling towards him. The younger man sat on his mother's coffee table opposite him, waving off Gemma's admonishment that he should use a chair instead. "What's this shit you're talking about, Chief?"
As Unser started to explain his predicament, he watched as the SAMCRO President took it all in, before standing up and motioning for Unser to do the same. Quirking his eyebrow, Unser was unprepared for the young man's next words. "Why don't we take a little walk and talk some business before dinner?"
Chopping the baby carrots into small identical pieces, Tara was totally engrossed in her task as she sat at the small table in Gemma's kitchen. She was just one of a number of old ladies working together to prepare an abundance of food for Gemma's famous Sunday dinner.
Truth be told, not being on rotation at the hospital this weekend, Tara had hoped to spend a quiet Sunday at home relaxing. More than likely, however, it would have been just her and Abel as Jax lately found every excuse imaginable to stay at the Clubhouse on most nights. And the nights he did bother to come home, he expected her to make dinner even though she worked a real full-time job.
In retrospect, Tara was glad Gemma was reinstating her once-monthly Sunday dinners. It certainly saved her the trouble of having to cook herself. Besides, without Elyda's help, it probably would have been Hamburger Helper night at the Teller-Knowles house and Tara knew just how much Jax hated that. She was an excellent pediatric surgeon. Of that she had no doubt, but cooking was not her strong suit and even though she had an excellent teacher in Abel's nanny, Tara had little interest in honing any domestic skills. After all, that was what Elyda was getting paid for.
Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Tara took a moment to consider her reflection in the small mirror sitting on top of the counter dividing the kitchen and dining areas. The new hairstyle of long bangs and a light dusting of blond highlights suited her, she thought as she lightly shook her head and her waves bounced into place. Tara had never been overly concerned about how she looked, but with Gemma presenting herself as the perfect old lady role model, Tara had taken to paying more attention to her appearance, including investing some of her paycheck on a new wardrobe.
Casting an eye over to the right, Tara was able to spot her old man from her position at the kitchen table. The Morrow living room was set up like a Great Hall. The large open space was filled with oversized leather furniture and art décor and was directly across from the open formal dining area and kitchen. With a number of smaller tables set against the wall for the children of the charter, the dining room table was in the process of being set to accommodate all the adults for the huge meal.
Her old man was currently in a deep conversation with Piney and Juice as they relaxed with beers and tequila in hand. Tara was pretty sure that the discussion was not Club-related as Club business was never discussed during family events.
Tara had to admit that, on some level, she did enjoy these get-togethers. Sitting among other members of SAMCRO and their families, it was easy to distance herself from the reality of what the Club was really about. For a couple of hours, Tara could just pretend that her old man was a simple garage mechanic and that his brothers were merely Harley enthusiasts, and that any power tools they wielded didn't require bullets.
With the Morrows' loudly chiming doorbell intruding on her thoughts, Tara Knowles looked up to see two more guests walk in.
"What the fuck are you staring at, Hap?" Marlowe muttered as ran her fingers through her hair, trying to restore it to something resembling a reasonable hairstyle after being trapped under Happy's helmet. They stood on the doorstep of the Morrow house waiting for someone to finally answer the door, which Happy had laid down on hard.
"I ain't too sure," the biker snarked. "I know I said for you to fix shit up, but damn!"
"Shut up," she snarled back at him just as the door opened, and tilting her head up slightly took in the raised eyebrows of SAMCRO's gentle giant.
"Damn," Opie seemed to agree with Happy as he leaned against the doorframe, a slow smile spreading over his face. "Who the fuck are you and what have you done with Doc?"
"Ass," Marlowe said and quickly winced as her mouth got away from her again. She rolled her eyes in exasperation as Happy grabbed her by her well-defined upper arm and shoved her inside.
"Stop mouthing off," Happy ordered before reaching out to bro-hug Opie. "You can't really blame my brother. You always look like you do your shopping at the bargain bin of the Army/Navy surplus store. Showing up looking like an actual bitch with bitch parts is gonna shock any man."
Yeah, Opie thought with some amusement. And I know one man in particular who's gonna be picking his jaw up off the floor real soon too.
"Well, now that you two are here, the party can officially get started," Opie said with a grin.
Ushering the two newest arrivals in front of him, Opie spoke loud enough to be heard. "Look who's here, everybody." Amidst cheerily given greetings—and a fair share of wolf whistles and cat calls—Marlowe tried taking a detour to a lone chair in a corner of the room. However, the SAMCRO VP caught her by the arm and coaxed her over to the sofa where Tig and Kozik were stretched out and gently shoved her in between the two bugged-eyed men.
"C'mon, bro, let's go grab a beer," Opie suggested as he angled his head towards Happy.
"Shit, yeah," the SAA replied. Turning to his sister, he gave her the fish eye. "Don't start any shit," he warned before following Opie.
Happy had barely gotten two steps away before the former-SAA started up. "Well, shit, doll. What did you do to yourself?" Tig leered as he stretched an arm across the back of the sofa to finally rest it on her shoulders.
Quickly using her elbow as a battering ram, Marlowe gave Tig a quick shot to the ribs, causing him to yelp in surprise. "I didn't do a damn thing. And didn't your momma ever teach you to look with your eyes and not with your hands?" she said calmly.
"Uh, didn't you know? Tigger was raised by wolves," Kozik joked as he eyed her lazily, "but, shit, Doc. I have to agree with him. You look smoking hot. You clean up pretty good."
"Yes, she does," Jax said quietly.
The SAMCRO President had been shooting the shit with Piney and Juice on some modifications he was thinking about making to his ride in the far corner of the living room when the doorbell rang. His eyes had widened almost imperceptibly as he watched SAMCRO's SAA and his sister walk in, followed by Jax's best friend.
I can't believe she actually showed up, he thought as he quickly swallowed his beer and excused himself to walk over and greet the newcomers.
To say that Jax Teller had been pissed at the Club's new medic was a serious understatement. If anyone had tried to warn him that the woman who had initiated a rendezvous for what should have been a mind-blowing booty call would deliberately stand his ass up, he would have thought that they had completely lost their shit. So it came as a complete surprise to Jax when Marlowe had failed to show up at The Hairy Dog as promised.
Unwilling to acknowledge that he had been stood up, however, it had taken Jax nearly an hour of sitting at the bar by himself to realize that she wasn't going to show up and, for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why.
Jax wasn't a man who misread signals. He knew when a woman was into him, and it had been obvious from the moment they first met that there had been a vibe between them, which they both felt. Thinking that something may have happened to her, Jax had tried reaching Marlowe on her prepay only to have his call go straight to voice-mail.
After returning to the Clubhouse and discovering that Marlowe had ditched him to go to the movies, Jax had grabbed a bottle of Jack to keep him company in his dorm. He spent the rest of the night getting drunk instead of getting awesomely laid by the long-legged beauty with the haunting gray eyes. Jax had also done a lot of thinking and had come to the conclusion that something or someone had probably spooked Marlowe, giving her cold feet. With Happy set to spend most of the weekend in Rogue River, he had narrowed the short list of culprits down to two and had confronted them the following afternoon after his temper had abated.
It was Kozik who finally copped to the fact that he had mentioned to Marlowe in passing that Jax had an old lady. Although he had been seriously pissed by his brother's unintentional cock-blocking, Jax knew that on some level, by preventing him from doing some shit that he had really, really wanted to do with and to Marlowe, Kozik had probably ended up saving him a lot of grief. Now, all Jax needed to do was to work shit out with Marlowe herself, something he had been unable to do as she had been avoiding him ever since things had gone south between them.
Once the ache in his balls had subsided, it had become clear to Jax that messing around with Marlowe probably wasn't a good idea. The fact was shit like what he had planned for him and Marlowe that night should only happen a run. But even then, Marlowe wasn't a sweetbutt. She now worked for the Club, putting her in a very different category altogether. She wasn't an old lady, but she wasn't Club pussy either. And of course, there was her brother to take into consideration as well.
Jax had been really pleased when Happy had put in his request to patch in with SAMCRO again. The fact was that, from the time he had been a teenager, both he and Opie had often admired the patch and wanted to emulate him. It was obvious just how much Happy loved and respected the Club and his brothers. Having been JT's prospect had also given Jax a special connection to Happy, with Hap expressing his loyalty to Jax even before he had been patched as Vice President. That's why it had made perfect sense to ask the older man to become his SAA and watch his back once Jax had taken over the gavel.
That being the case, Jax had to figure that messing around with Hap's little sister wouldn't win him any fuckin' brownie points. As an outlaw biker, Happy understood what it was like in the Clubhouse and understood the role women generally played in an MC. Nonetheless, there was a big difference between Jax hitting it with a croweater and hitting it with Marlowe.
So Jax fully intended to do the right thing by first clearing the air with Marlowe before drawing the line in the fuckin' sand. But taking in the long-limbed beauty, he was starting to wonder if maybe he was only fooling himself.
"Hey," Marlowe said quietly as she eyed Jax. Seeing the admiration reflected in his dark gaze, she figured she had done a fairly decent job with her appearance.
In the ten years of her life as a Navy Corpsman, Marlowe had acquired little in the way of material possessions. Between serving three tours of duty, Marlowe had spent a considerable amount of time stateside living on naval bases and training facilities as she continued to hone her skills as a medic. Not having a permanent residence, Marlowe had learned to travel light, never allowing herself to get too attached to material things.
Marlowe's social life almost always consisted of hanging out with fellow sailors and Marines at bars and pool halls. The dress code was always simple, but on occasion, some function like a wedding or other formal gathering that didn't call for her Navy dress whites would crop up, requiring her to look like a woman.
For those times, she had the dress.
Like the rest of her wardrobe, the coral dress with large black butterflies was simple. Edged with black lace around the bodice with a sexy black zipper that stopped just below her breasts, the form-fitting dress with narrow black spaghetti straps showcased her well-defined upper body and stopped at mid-thigh, accentuating her long, tanned limbs. Unwilling to splurge on heels she'd probably never wear again anyway, the dress paired surprisingly well with her combat boots, which she had taken the time to polish to a mirror shine. With several black bangle bracelets and a pair of black hoops, Marlowe's jewelry was understated and flattering against her lightly tanned skin.
Giving in to her brother's demands to "slap some shit" on her face, Marlowe had used the one black eye pencil she had to outline her lashes and lids and nude lip gloss that barely qualified as make up. Taking almost an hour to get ready for any kind of an event was simply unheard of for Marlowe, but figuring that if she was being forced to face the Pres, the least she could do was look good while doing it.
That way, he'll get to see just what he missed out on, she thought as she took a look at the end result as she turned and twisted in her dorm's small bathroom, peering into the mirror at the finished result.
Now as Jax looked her up one way and down the other, she had to admit, it had been well worth the effort.
"I see you made it."
"That I did," she acknowledged, her gaze direct and candid.
"You got a minute?" Jax asked evenly.
"I've got two," she quipped and at his motioning hand, got up. Leaving Kozik and Tig behind, she followed the SAMCRO President as he walked towards the kitchen and out the back door.
And past his old lady.
Tara's lips tightened into a thin line as she watched her old man walk past her without saying a word, heading to the backyard with what had to be a damn croweater in tow.
Up until that moment, the kitchen had been filled with the inane conversation of several old ladies, but as the couple passed by, all voices lowered to a dull murmur. Tara, sure that the topics of prior conversations had been abruptly dropped, knew the women were now focused on Jax Teller and the woman who had obediently followed him outside.
Carefully standing up, Tara kept her face impassive as she casually made her way over to the refrigerator. There, Gemma was removing a large pan of cold pasta salad and handing it over to Lyla.
"Gem, can I talk to you for a sec?" Tara asked through what could only be categorized as a grimace drawn tight across her face.
"Sure, baby," Gemma replied as she slammed the refrigerator shut. Turning, she watched as Tara detoured around Lyla and headed directly towards the small alcove off the dining room that served as Clay's private office. Following behind her, the SAMCRO matriarch had a pretty good idea why she was being dragged off for a private discussion. After all, she didn't have eyes in the back of her head for nothing.
Maybe inviting Marlowe hadn't been such a good idea after all. The woman definitely cleans up well. Too well, in fact.
Gemma had one foot off the lot after spending a full Saturday in the T-M office when she ran into Happy as he was parking his ride. With Happy just having returned from a couple of days at the Rogue River charter, Gemma had made the snap decision to tell Happy to bring his sister along for dinner at her house on Sunday.
Once home, Gemma dove head first into food prep for the following day when her old man wandered into the kitchen looking for a beer. Casually mentioning the fact that Marlowe would be joining them for dinner on Sunday, she had been surprised that Clay thought it was a pretty good idea. Generally speaking, when it came to family functions, the SAMCRO Queen never saw the need to run shit by Clay. After all, family was her niche and he never bothered to offer an opinion or suggestion unless she requested one. Even then, there were never any guarantees that Gemma would actually listen. This time around, however, Clay suddenly morphed into a fuckin' Chatty Cathy, filling her in on the fact that Jax had hired Marlowe to help out with the Club's health needs until she and Hap's mom returned to Bakersfield. In the process, he had given up quite a bit of Intel on Marlowe Guthrie's past.
It had certainly gone a long way in explaining the big ass chip the young woman was sporting on her shoulder. All things considered, however, knowing that the ex-Navy medic probably took her duty to the Club with extreme seriousness somewhat explained why Marlowe would cut Jax off at the knees. Apparently, not shitting where you eat was a concept that was lost on her penis-centric son. In any case, Gemma had deemed it safe enough to include Marlowe in the get-together. It would most definitely give her the opportunity to observe how she acted around the Club in a casual environment.
But as she followed behind Tara, Gemma was getting the vibe that her son's old lady didn't know dick about the new woman or her role in the Clubhouse. How could she possibly downplay Marlowe's involvement with the Club, especially when she knew her son had already made a play for the sexy newcomer? Any way she looked at it, it was a losing situation for her because Gemma knew that making an attempt at easing Tara's mind about Jax possibly straying would eventually bleed all over her.
Damn you, Jax!
Of all the places in the world, a greenhouse was the last one Marlowe Guthrie had expected to find herself in on a Sunday afternoon.
Following the SAMCRO Pres through the kitchen and outside, she had been prepared for a rather subdued confrontation right there on the back porch. Instead, Jax had detoured to the left, around the back of the house and to the side to what was an undeniably beautiful and well-maintained greenhouse. Now, as she pressed her memory, Marlowe vaguely remembered Tía telling her that she shared a common interest in gardening with the biker old lady that had visited her in St. Thomas. Walking inside, Marlowe saw the neatly-stacked gardening supplies as well as pots filled with spring flowers, small trees, tomato vines and—she smirked to herself—several about-to-bud marijuana plants which were obviously for personal use. Apparently, Gemma's thumb was slightly greener than Amelia's.
"Surprised, huh?"
Marlowe turned around to face Jax. He was leaning against a large wooden table that was probably where Gemma did most of her work. With his hands shoved casually into the pockets of baggy jeans, his eyes appeared a deeper blue than ever against the dark checked flannel he wore underneath his kutte.
"Yeah, it is. I don't think I would have ever pegged your Mom as the kind of woman who likes puttering around in the dirt," she replied easily. "From what I've gathered so far, she's seems to be pretty fashion conscious."
"Oh, there's no doubt about that shit," Jax replied laconically. "I guess you could say that, like most people, my Mom's got layers. A lot of people don't never take the time to peel away those layers to see what's underneath. Always so quick to judge what's on the surface, labeling shit one thing when it's actually something else entirely."
Reading between the lines, Marlowe arched an eyebrow, figuring it was time to stop beating around the bush and cut to the chase. "I'm going to assume that was a passive-aggressive dig at me, right?"
"Nothing passive about me, darlin'," Jax shook his head. "I'm all aggressive, all the time."
Marlowe nodded in agreement, fighting to keep a smile from curling her full lips. "Yeah. I got that."
"But you're right," he continued. "I didn't drag you out here to talk about gardening."
"You didn't drag me anywhere, Pres. Like on another recent occasion, I just followed your lead."
"Yeah, you did," Jax conceded with a slight smile. "Just not all the way."
"And judging by the speed gossip travels among you burly bikers, I think we both know the reason why," Marlowe retorted.
"Yeah, we do."
Marlowe let out a frustrated breath of air that blew wayward strands of wavy hair away from her face. Turning around, she sat down on a cushioned wicker sofa and crossed her long lean legs before looking at Jax again. "You could have told me yourself, you know?"
Jax nodded in agreement. "Would it have made a difference if I had?" he asked and Marlowe chuckled at the sound of hopeful expectation in his voice.
Marlowe ran an exasperated hand through her hair. "I think you know I wish I could say different, but no, it wouldn't have made a difference."
Jax ran a hand over the hair on his chin. Pushing himself away from the work table, he sauntered over to Marlowe and sat down next to her. Pulling his pack of cigarettes from his kutte, he lit one and blew a stream of blue smoke over their heads.
"I get it," he finally said, turning his head to look at her directly. "I sure as shit don't appreciate getting stood up, but I get it." Jax paused and then continued, "Look, Marlowe, I'm not even gonna try to feed you some fairy tale bullshit about me pushing up on you."
"You're not?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "Why bother? You're a beautiful woman and I think you already know that I'm incredibly fuckin' attracted to you."
Marlowe allowed herself a smile. "I also think you know it works the other way around too, right?"
"I do," he replied softly. "And because of that I decided to forget that I had an old lady for a while."
"I gotta figure it's not an easy thing to do, forgetting a woman, generally speaking," Marlowe clarified.
"No, it's not. Not unless you have your reasons for wanting to forget." Jax took another drag of his cigarette. He wasn't ready to admit to anyone, much less the woman he wanted to fuck more than he wanted air to breathe, that his sex life with his old lady had hit the skids. Not only would that open a whole new can of worms, but he didn't want Marlowe to think that all he had wanted from her was to hit it and quit it, especially when he wasn't really sure that's all he wanted himself.
"You know, Jax, I'm starting to get a little bit of a handle on how this MC life shit works and I'm not some naïve virgin sitting in judgment of what goes on inside the Clubhouse," she stated soberly. "I personally just have certain lines that I can't let myself cross, especially when I don't have all the facts and that's why I bailed on you. And, I'm not gonna lie, I was also a little pissed that I was hearing this from a third-party and not you. Who's to say what would have happened between us had you been upfront with me from the beginning," Marlowe stopped and smiled mischievously. "But I do know that had your ass been single, shit, I probably would have broken your dick off that night and put it in my purse."
"Shit, darlin', don't tease me now," Jax groaned dramatically. Eyeing each other, they burst out laughing. Suddenly, Jax sobered up, taking his time to put his cigarette out in the ashtray on the glass table next to them before looking into Marlowe's eyes again. "You know, I was single five years ago. Had we met then, maybe things would be different between us today."
Marlowe felt a slight tightening in her chest at the sound of sincerity in his voice. "Maybe," she heard herself whisper in agreement, "but we didn't, Jax, and going forward I think its probably best if we just keep things between us professional, don't you?"
Jax nodded. "Yeah, I came to the same conclusion after both my temper and libido had time cool off," he teased, making Marlowe laugh easily. "But," he quickly followed up with a fierce glare. "You could've at least called me, instead of leaving my ass hanging."
Marlowe peeped at him through her thick lashes. "How long did you wait?"
"Not long," he lied, shrugging his shoulders. "Ten, fifteen minutes tops."
"Liar," she shot back, a huge grin on her face.
Jax shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "Okay, maybe it was more like thirty, forty-five minutes." Standing up, he offered her a hand and, after a moment's hesitation, Marlowe took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. The move brought her directly into his personal space. Standing chest-to-chest, Marlowe could feel his warm breath on her cheek. "So we're good?" he murmured.
"Um, yeah," she finally managed to say calmly. "We're good."
"Then we better get back inside before I get into trouble for something I didn't do this time," Jax replied with a sexy smirk.
Standing by the kitchen sink, Tara continued to simmer with barely suppressed rage as she heard the bursts of rambunctious laughter emanating from the living room. To say that her enjoyment of the family dinner had gone straight down the drain the moment the Club's new whore had made her entrance would have been a monumental understatement. Angrily scraping the food remnants from the dirty dinner dishes into a large pail Gemma would later use for composting, Tara continued to hand off plates to Lyla for stacking in the dishwasher.
I've been replaced by a fuckin' croweater, had been the thought reverberating through Tara's mind as Gemma had hopelessly tried to cover for her precious son.
Standing in the alcove while Gemma attempted to explain to her in hurried and hushed whispers who the slut was, Tara had felt the anger building up in her, barely hearing one word out of ten the SAMCRO matriarch was spewing forth.
All lies, I bet. Happy's sister my ass, Tara thought bitterly.
Most of what Gemma had to say had pretty much rolled in one ear and out the other as Tara herself tried to come up with a reasonable explanation as to why Jax had gone outside with the new bitch. Returning to the kitchen after her talk with Gemma, Tara had kept a close eye on her watch. Timing their departure, the pair had been gone for almost fifteen minutes before they made their way back inside.
Certainly long enough for them to fuck, Tara fumed. Or at least for the slut to give him some head since he must be getting it from somewhere.
Making a trip upstairs to check on Abel who was in the middle of one of his long naps, Tara had returned downstairs to find that everyone was being called to dinner. It quickly became apparent that several of the old ladies had been introduced to the newcomer as a small group, including Lyla, made small talk with her, but with everyone wanting to dig into the food spread out on the dining room table, Tara never got a formal introduction. Instead, she spent the rest of the evening picking at her food as she tried to pay close attention to the woman without making it obvious.
What was really burning the good doctor's ass—and what ultimately confused her the most—was how this Marlowe Bitch was being treated by all the patches in the house. It was almost as if she were one of the boys. Sandwiched between Kozik and Tig, Marlowe wasn't treated like an old lady, but she wasn't treated like a pass-around either as Tara had yet to see the woman fetch any of the men a beer. As a matter of fact, Juice had been the one to offer to bring her one on his way back from the bathroom.
With an offhanded remark made by Bobby Elvis about how Wade was doing, Tara was stunned to discover that it had been this woman who had been responsible for treating the injured mechanic on the lot, not Chibs as Gemma had led her to believe. She was the reason Jax hadn't bothered to call her in for assistance, and with what Gemma had shared with her finally filtering through the murky soup of her brain, Tara came to understand that she was being replaced.
She isn't even a fuckin' doctor, for God's sake.
Now, instead of bringing her ass into the kitchen to help the old ladies on clean up duty, Marley was far too busy socializing with the Club, most likely interfering in shit that didn't concern her, the primary one being the SAMCRO President. Fit to be tied, Tara was so angry that for several moments it didn't even occur to her that her old man was calling her name until Gemma nudged her shoulder.
"Baby, wake the fuck up. Jax is calling you," she directed the young woman. "Go see what he wants."
Stomping off through the kitchen, Tara finally made it to her old man's side. The living room was filled to capacity with patches scattered around sitting on folding chairs and couches. Her old man was comfortably reclining on a love seat next to Happy, across from Kozik, Tig and the slut.
Looking up at Tara, Jax flashed her grin. "Hey babe, can you bring me another beer, please?"
Tara's eyes suddenly darkened, immediately offended. Are you kidding me?! Is he really asking me to fetch him a beer when this bitch is sitting right here?
"I thought that's what croweaters are for, fetching beer and sucking cock. Send her," Tara pointed at Marlowe and it was like the air had been sucked out of the room.
"Oh shit," Kozik muttered under his breath at the look in Tara's stormy green eyes. Fuck, this ain't gonna end well, he figured as Marlowe's brother stood up.
Happy had been ragging on Tig about going a round or two in the ring at the next after-Church party when Tara's rude comment aimed at Marlowe intruded on the conversation. "Whoa!" he exclaimed.
Sensing shit was about to get out of control, Clay who had walked into the living room with a box cigars just in time to hear the croweater remark, moved quickly to intercede. "Uh, Tara, maybe you should go see if Gemma needs some help in the kitchen."
"No, hold on," Marlowe spoke up after some of her shock dissipated. "I think there's been a misunderstanding." Looking at the woman that was practically trembling with suppressed rage, she pretty much had all the confirmation she needed that she was looking at Jax Teller's old lady.
Marlowe had felt a pair of bitter eyes on her all evening long and, with no formal introduction made, Marlowe figured that maybe it had been better that way. After all, she remembered walking past the woman in the kitchen on her way out to talk with Jax. After their return, Jax's old lady had made a point of sticking to him like glue. Seeing no sense in rocking the boat, Marlowe had patently ignored Jax during the evening, spending most of her time with Tig, Kozik and Happy.
But after the woman's unprovoked attack, it was no holds-barred. Although she had come close to stepping all over the old lady's territory, Marlowe had pulled herself back even though she had been under no obligation to. After all, she wasn't the one in a committed relationship. However, even though she and Jax had squared that shit away and had come to an understanding, Marlowe wasn't about to let anyone treat her like some MC groupie whore.
"Excuse me, but I don't think we've been properly introduced. My name's Marlowe Guthrie," she said easily focusing her eyes on a pair of dark green ones. Ignoring a suddenly sputtering Kozik at her side, Marlowe continued, "If you have something you need to get off your chest, then by all means go ahead because I'm just dying to hear what you have to say."
"Marlowe," Happy growled, his eyes never leaving Tara. "Chill."
"I couldn't possibly get any cooler, Hap," Marlowe replied evenly and Jax noticed that, unlike Tara who was a seething ball of rage, Marlowe was indeed calm.
"As a matter of fact, I do have something to say. Gemma does need help in the kitchen so I think you should go join her instead of keeping the boys from talking shop," Tara replied, her green eyes flashing, just daring Marlowe to step out of line.
"Brother," Happy directed at Jax. "She's your old lady and it's not my place, but that's my little sis she's talking to."
Having put down the beer he had nearly choked on, Kozik looked at Jax's old lady. Fuck it! If no one would say it, he would. "Marlowe's NOT a fuckin' croweater."
"Yeah, and if anyone's keeping us from talking shop, it's mouthy old ladies," Tig interjected. Catching Jax's pointed glare, he added as an afterthought with a shrug of his shoulders, "Just saying."
Still stunned by Tara's outburst and realizing that they were attracting a crowd of old ladies, including his mother, Jax decided to turn shit around before it got out of hand. Standing up, he grabbed Tara by the arm. "I think Tara's just a little tired. She was just leaving," he announced and swiftly pulled Tara into the foyer, to the great relief of his stepfather.
Being too shocked to resist at first, Tara finally yanked her arm free to whirl around on her old man. "You're defending her by making me leave?!" She was incredulous and her voice was loud and carried quite easily to the living room and its occupants.
"I'm making you leave before you embarrass yourself some more and then shit gets really out of control," Jax replied angrily. "Marlowe works for the Club and she Hap's family. I can't have my old lady disrespecting her and my SAA like that."
"Are you fucking kidding me?! Now even a goddamned dirty club whore is entitled to more respect than I am?!"
Eyeing his old lady, Jax was feeling all sorts of emotions—anger at Tara for creating such a fuckin' scene, disappointment in himself for letting it get so far, and empathy for Marlowe, who was innocent of all the bad shit between him and his old lady recently. Eager to make the situation between him and Marlowe okay again, Jax had made a serious error in judgment. Pulling Marlowe aside to speak to her in front of Tara had definitely been the wrong play and had only served to get his old lady's back up.
For the first time, I do something right and keep my dick in my pants, and Tara jumps on my ass for it.
Knowing that now was not the time to deal with Tara, Jax said evenly, trying to keep a rein on his growing temper, "You need to go, Tara."
"Fine!" Tara raged. "Let me get Abel and I'm out of here."
"No," Jax retorted calmly. "Abel stays here tonight with my mom. You go and calm the fuck down. We'll talk later when I get home." Turning his head, Jax shouted loudly. "Ratboy! Get your ass out here." As the Prospect hurriedly made his way into the foyer, Jax shoved him towards Tara. "See that my old lady gets home safe," he said before turning away and heading back to the living room. Jax winced as over his shoulder he heard the front door slam shut.
Sauntering into the living room, Jax shook his head wryly as the room suddenly erupted into what could only be fake conversation with no one willing to make eye contact with him.
No one, that is, except for Happy.
Watching as his SAA walked over to him, Jax smiled ruefully as Happy handed him one of the two glasses of Jack Daniels he held.
"Old ladies," Happy said in a gravelly voice. "Can't live with 'em. Can't kill 'em either."
Jax tossed back his drink in one gulp. "Amen, brother!"
A/N: Happy Monday, my lovelies!
Ugh! I don't know about you, but getting back into the groove of the work week grind never gets any easier. In honor of Blue Monday and because you guys totally rocked my world with 39 reviews for the last chapter, I decided to make today Sons-day by posting this chapter. The response to this story has been incredible, so thank you very much! Going forward, as long as the demand for this story remains high, I will continue posting two chapters a week and since I want to give everyone enough time between chapters to catch up, I will post chapters on Mondays and Thursdays.
I'm so glad that many of you agreed with Marlowe's decision not to give up the goods after finding out about Tara. Others were a little frustrated that Marlowe called a halt to getting into a physical relationship with Jax. I understand the frustration, but our Marlowe may be rough around the edges, but she's got class. Whether you're happy that she pulled back or wanna choke her, it's all good because that means that the chemistry between Jax and Marlowe is not only working, its sizzling!
Now I want to hear your thoughts on Jaxlowe's confab in this chapter. Even though their sexual attraction is at the boiling point, I think that, for the time being anyway, Jax and Marlowe have made the right decision to abstain. I think Jackson recognizes that slutting around on Tara will only further damage their relationship. However, he may have good intentions where Tara is concerned, but will he be able to toe the line as long as Marlowe continues to live and work in such close proximity? Or will his growing attraction to Marlowe finally make him realize that his relationship with Tara is on life support and that it may be time to just let it die a natural death?
Meanwhile, since no good deed goes unpunished, Marlowe now has a new problem in the form of a very pissed off old lady. Unfortunately for Tara, Marlowe is not a "Club woman" and doesn't recognize old ladies as having authority in the Clubhouse. Working for SAMCRO, Marlowe answers to only one man, and it's not her brother Happy! How will she handle the situation with Tara? Post a review and find out as in the next chapter Marlowe makes it clear to a certain surgeon that she ain't no croweater!
As always, thanks for reading and please don't forget to review!
Hugs, Harlee