A/N: Loved all the reviews SO much. Editing this a little earlier than I intended is my way of saying THANK YOU for the engaging feedback. It's always nice to know what parts you like & your overall thoughts when I need something to spark a new idea for the next chapter.
Hope you enjoy it. Writing it had me flashing back to my HS years. Teenagers.
FYI: Those that are a little confused on what's going on with Opie, I invite you to check out my prequel "BEST POLICY" if you haven't already. I plan on posting CH2 soon. It's a 8 chapter mini-story so you'll have all the answers soon enough. Just gotta finish it lol
P.S: I'm glad you guys are enjoying Diane so much. Duncan, too. Especially since he's the segue into a semi-crossover I want to do later with my other favorite show Veronica Mars. I wasn't even going to include her in this chapter but I found a way to forward the plot & give her some screen time since you like her.
- Veritable Old Lady Crow
"Have a good day, M'am," the cab driver said as she handed him the twenty dollar bill in her hand.
"Keep it," Barbara ordered, holding her hand up as he began counting out her change.
I need all the good karma I can get, she thought as the taxi drove off from the curb in front of her house.
It was a strange sight, Lowell's truck not being parked in the driveway.
He was always home when she got in from the night shift. Her smile was bittersweet as she thought of all the countless times she'd arrived home to a table covered with breakfast—pancakes, bacon, and eggs. Her two favorite men joking and splashing each other with water while they washed the dishes. Lowell Junior kissing her on the cheek after sloshing the last of his orange juice. Her husband tilting her head back, kissing her just long enough to make their son groan in disgust before they both headed out—Senior dropping Junior off at school before heading into work at Teller-Morrow.
He always kept his promise to call around four to make sure she was up in time to cook so they would have a chance to eat an early dinner together before she had to go back into work when they finally got home.
They'd had a wonderful life.
She'd had a wonderful family.
And now it was all ruined.
Could it even be fixed?
Her answer was staring her in the face with wide eyes as she pushed the door to her bedroom open.
"OH!" Barbara shrieked, jumping backwards, tripping over her feet—falling to the hallway floor as Lowell came to his senses, placing the gun he'd pointed at her on the bed before running towards her. "Lowell! What the Hell are you doing with a—"
"I got it fr yoou," Lowell explained, helping her to her feet. "I hope you remember everything your brother taught you—"
"Lowell!"
"—I want you to show LJ how to use it as well. I bought one for him, too—"
"LOWELL!"
"—I want you to keep one in the drawer next to your bed. Junior, too. And there's also one in the kitchen—"
Barbara gave up on using her words. Drawing her hand back she slapped him hard across his face. "What the Hell is wrong with you? You spend so much time around them redneck biker thugs you think you and your son are outlaws, too? What am I your Old Lady? This shit is steady piling up. I've got charges pending against me! If that asshole Clay has his way the DA will let me off with a slap on a wrist and I'll either be in his debt or in his crosshairs. You really think now's a good time to have a house full of illegal weapons?"
"It's for your protection, hon—"
"Protection from WHAT?" Barbara bellowed. "What the Hell is going on Lowell? You've gotta talk to me, baby. That's the only way we're getting through this. Why is Gemma bringing you drugs? Why is Clay threatening you? What did you do?"
"Barbara," Lowell groaned. "You have to listen to me—"
"How long you been using again? Huh?" Barbara accused, narrowing her eyes. She grabbed his arms, yanking hard, sharp eyes scanning his skin for track marks. "You been acting strange since this summer. What did, you rack up another bill with the Nords? You get Clay to pay Darby off for you? You owe him money? He offer to take care of your debt in exchange for something else?"
"It's not like that—"
"What the fuck is it like?" Lowell wasn't answering fast enough. Barbara's hands were flying. There were two slaps across his face for every fist crashing into his chest, his shoulders, his legs as she lashed out against him. "Tell me"—thump—"what the Hell"—thwack—"Is going on"—Pop—"tell me"—Clunk—"TELL ME!"
Lowell grabbed her by her wrists, squeezing her legs between his so she couldn't kick him like he knew she would. "Damn it, Barbara. Stop it."
"Tell me," Barbara begged, tears pouring down her face as she finally broke down. "You gotta tell me. Tell me, Lowell. Tell me and we'll fix it together. We'll get through as a family. You gotta tell me. Please."
"You can't fix this, Baby," Lowell said, crying with her as he turned towards the open duffel bag he'd been packing his clothes in. "I gotta get as far away from you and Lowell as I can. You have to take care of our son. I heard the news before I left the hospital. The Doc thinks JT's gonna be okay. He'll be in recovery for a while but it's still his club. Those are his brother's not Clay's. Him and Piney'll never let anything happen to you."
"They'll protect you, too!" Barbara urged, eyes widened as she finally realized what she'd walked in on. "You don't have to run. Piney will—"
"Shoot me dead," Lowell interrupted. A brief silence upon the room before Barbara blinked twice, stepping back from his slowly.
"What the fuck did you do?"
Lowell shook his head, wiping at the tears spilling from his eyes with his sleeve. "I can't tell you, Barbara," he answered. "You'll never—"
"The doctor's told me I'd never be able to have children after the car accident that almost killed us both the first time you relapsed," Barbara argued, stepping forward to reach for both his hands. "When I found out I was pregnant you told me it was going to work out when everyone including me said I'd never make it past the first trimester. My father told me you'd never amount to nothing….said I'd be better off moving back to Kentucky with him and Ma…raising my son with them….My own brother cut me off when I married you….he told me you'd never kick the habit and he wasn't sticking around for the next wreck you caused that killed us both. Look at us, Lowell. Sixteen years…..and we're still here. You and me….and our son. Don't talk to me about never. Never doesn't exist for us. It doesn't matter what you did. You're a good man and I know there's a reason for it. I'm standing by you no matter what but I can't do it blind. You have to talk to me...please don't walk out on your family."
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Tara was quiet the whole ride to school.
Jax pulled into the parking spot—turning to face her as soon as he twisted the keys out of the ignition.
"Tara," Jax said, reaching for her hand. "Listen to me, Babe. You can't let them get to you. They're just jealous—"
"Because they want your dick," Tara snapped. "They're pissed because they think I'm your new flavor of the month."
Shit.
"Tara," Jax urged. "You're not—"
Tara turned towards her car door. Pushing it open, she stepped out into the parking lot, bending over to reach for her bag on the floor of the car.
Jax grabbed it before she could, getting out on his side—walking around to where she stood as he shrugged the straps of her messenger bag up his shoulder.
"You're not a flavor of the month."
Tara shook her head.
Before Jax could protest any further, she reached up, threading her hands in his hair. Tugging on the golden-blonde strands, she pulled his mouth down to hers.
She kissed him slowly—deeply. She removed her hand from his hair only long enough to move the hand gripping her waist down to her ass, curling his fingers inward until he caught on. Tara pushed him back against the car, leaning into him as his hands slid up and down her back, grabbing every curve she had as she sucked on his tongue.
A chorus of whistling sounded somewhere over her shoulder. Tara tilted her head back—peering behind her at the group of jocks howling like wolves, mock-saluting Jax while David scowled, and Pierce shook his head at them as he cast Tara a look of apology.
Was he sorry his teammates were assholes? Or that he was the leading man in one of the many rumors that had somehow earned her a scarlet letter overnight?
Tara didn't give a shit.
Let 'em talk.
And while we're at it give them something to talk about.
Reaching for his face, Tara gripped his chin between two fingers.
"I'm your favorite flavor," Tare purred, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth.
"You're the only flavor, baby," Jax drawled, palming her ass through the denim mini-skirt she was wearing. He he pulled her tight against him—making sure she could feel every inch of how much he wanted her. Only her. "I don't have the taste...for anyone else."
Tara smirked. "Let 'em know."
Jax nodded at her—his lips lingering a little as he grazed her mouth with his own one final time.
Twisting his mouth to one side of his face, Jax winked at David—smiling at both him and Pierce as he grabbed Tara's hand, walking with her straight down the middle of the crowd.
When they reached the steps, Jax saw him first.
Leonard Wayland leaning over his Chemistry textbook, eyes flitting back and forth, between the book and the notes scribbled across the loose-leaf paper in his hand.
When Jax came to a sudden stop, Tara followed his line a vision—green eyes widening when she realized who he was glaring at.
Tara had a feeling Wendy was right about Leonard helping to fuel the rumor about them. But annoyed as she was, she didn't think he should get his face caved in for bowing to peer pressure. She could totally see why a guy like him would go along with a lie when it was finally getting him some attention from the in crowd.
Leonard was the only other friend she talked to regularly besides Opie—and it wasn't like Opie liked debating about the studies of Freud VS Marx or geeking over how easy Mr. Shin's AP Statistics final was.
She understood why he did it.
She was just hurt because she thought they were closer than that.
"Hey, Lenny," Jax chanted. Leonard looked up just in time to see Jax kick his bag off the steps, sending everything inside of it scattering, including an apple that he'd obviously packed with his lunch.
"Leave him alone, Jax," Tara urged. "I'm fine. Let's just—"
"I'm not bothering him," Jax argued, leaning over to pick the fallen fruit from the steps. "We're just talking, right Lenny?"
Tara rolled her eyes, pulling on the sleeve of his shirt. "Jax, come on—"
"Hold on a second, Babe," Jax said, cutting the protest on her lips with a kiss from his own before turning back towards Leonard who was now standing up—chewing his bottom lip as he cast a nervous glance towards the crowd growing behind Jax's back as if pleading for someone to come forward and help him.
"Tara said she's fine, man. Leave him alone." Jax spun around, sneering at the boy who'd spoken out. Pierce's stare never wavered as he added, "It's not worth it, man. We know she's not like that. So does everyone else who really knows her. It's just rumors, bro. Let it go. She wants you to."
Jax turned back around to look at Tara who nodded in agreement.
"You said don't let them get to me," Tara whispered, smiling her thanks to Pierce even as she reached for Jax's hand. "You can't let them get to you either."
Jax brought the hand in his to his mouth, kissing the back of it. "Okay, Babe."
Leonard's sigh of relief was short-lived when Jax abruptly spun to face him—grabbing him by his sweater, yanking him up, onto the tips of his toes.
"Jax!" Tara shrieked. Through the corner of her eyes she spotted Opie easing his way to the front of the crowd, standing behind him as he watched Pierce and all of his teammates—waiting for anyone to step forward.
The warning glare he cast them was almost daring.
Tara didn't know what the Hell was going on with him and Donna but Opie looked ready for any excuse to wild the fuck out.
"You know what they say about these?" Jax asked, mushing the Granny-smith in his hand against the frightened teenage boys face. "They say an apple a day keeps the doctor away." Jax pulled on the collar of his Iron-Man T-shirt. "You're gonna need a doctor, Lenny. Let me even think you're spreading lies about her and I swear to God, eating an apple won't help you. You got it?" Leonard resembled a bobble-head doll as he nodded quickly. The second he did, Jax dropped the apple down his shirt, shoving him back as he turned towards the crowd of high school kids standing behind him. His blue eyes landed on the cheerleaders first, flitting back and forth between Ima and Maize before finally resting on the redhead, who was no doubt the ringleader in everything.
"You're lucky I don't believe in hitting females," Jax growled, as his eyes trailed towards the left of them where most—if not all—of the football team stood. Blue eyes locked with an equally angry hazel pair. David glared openly as Jax addressed him and his teammates. "You ladies don't get a pass. The same shit I said to Lenny applies to you, too. I hear you running your mouth I'll shut it for you."
"He's not lying guys!"
Jax rolled his eyes at the sound of Wendy's voice from somewhere in the crowd.
Tara's clamped a hand over her mouth as she giggled, scanning the crowd for the blonde who loved to stir the pot—the only one who managed to do it without making Tara want to kick her teeth in (eighty percent of the time.)
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON OUT HERE?!" Principal Mason yelled. Everyone looked up at the top of the school steps where he stood just as the warning bell rang again, signaling everyone's lateness for first period. "GO TO CLASS! ALL OF YOU! YOU GOT TEN SECONDS! ANYONE STILL STANDING OUT HERE WILL GET DETENTION FOR THE NEXT TWO WEEKS! MOVE IT! NOW!"
Leonard was the first one to scurry up the steps, tripping over the laces of his high-top Converse sneakers as he abruptly spun back around—remembering to retrieve his bag and the books and home lunch that had been packed in it. He'd gathered all but the apple—which Jax picked up, smirking as he held it out to him.
Wendy and Lowell were next.
"You two are gonna win me a lot of money," Wendy said as they brushed past, admitting what Jax had already suspected. "Cable's on you, Kids."
She'd been in on the betting pool on how long he and Tara would last. But judging by the look of amusement on Tara's face as she shook her head at her, the green-eyed brunette was cool with her rooting for them instead of against.
"I SAID NOW, TELLER!" Principal Mason screeched.
Jax didn't miss the look of disapproval the principal cast in Tara's direction when he noticed her standing next to him.
He also caught the way Mr. Mason shook his head in dissapointment at Charming High's shining star when Tara grabbed Jax by his arm, turning him towards her—staring pointedly at the sneering principal as she locked lips with him.
Chuckling, Jax grabbed her hand in his, pushing her towards the steps before she could get herself in trouble.
Jax didn't give a shit about detention or getting suspended, but despite Tara's eagerness to give everyone who didn't like them together a great big, royal FUCK YOU (which he loved) he knew she didn't want anything getting in the way of her education.
And getting suspended for cursing Mr. Mason out would certainly do the trick.
Walking past the agitated high school principal, Jax drawled the last words he expected to ever say—words he'd heard his best friend say more times than he could count on both hands.
"Come on, baby," Jax said, smirking at the glares being shot at them. "…..let me walk you to class."
Tara giggled. "You're the one that never shows up," she teased. "I'm walking you, Teller."
Jax shrugged as they made their way through the first floor hallway, towards the staircase.
"Mr. Elbridge…I uhh….I was wondering if I could change lab partners," Jax heard Leonard mutter as they walked inside the classroom."
Jax chuckled when the science teacher shook his head.
"Unfortunately Sarah Hale won't be with us anymore," Mr. Elbrige answered. "So it looks like you, Tara and Mr. Teller are going to have work together."
"You better behave," Tara whispered as they sat down at the station near the window, watching as Leonard walked towards them as if he was on Death row, heading towards the electric chair.
"Best behavior," Jax lied. "This is my new favorite subject, Babe."
"You hate science," Tara accused, rolling her eyes.
"I know," Jax admitted. Sliding his stool closer to hers, he kissed her neck before whispering in her ear, "But this should be an easy class now that I'm partnered with you…..we have such great Chemistry."
Tara laughed.
She was opening her mouth to tell him how corny his line was when static ripped through the air, above their heads as the loud speaker clicked on.
"TARA G. KNOWLES…..PLEASE REPORT TO THE GUIDANCE OFFICE IMMEDIATELY."
Everyone turned towards their table, gawking at Nerdvana as she slid down off her stool, rolling her eyes.
"You're already getting me in trouble, Teller," Tara joked. Pressing her lips to his ear as she walked around him, she whispered, "Leave him alone, Jax. I'm serious."
"Promise," Jax said, holding a hand to his chest. "Cross my heart."
Tara heard Jax slam his hand against the table, growling, "Are you staring at her ass?!" before she could even reach the doorway.
She looked back briefly, unable to suppress her giggle as she watched Leonard picking his things up from off the floor where they'd fallen when he flinched, his elbow knocking into his bag.
Jack ass, she thought when Jax looked up—grinning at her briefly before switching back to "angry" when Leonard braved glancing towards him.
Tara had a feeling her former study partner was regretting going along with that rumor.
Being popular always made you a target after all.
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"Tara!" the guidance counselor squawked as she walked into her office. She waved her hand towards the chair in front of her desk. "Have a seat, Doll!"
"Good morning, Mrs."—Tara scanned the desk for her name plate—"Palmer."
"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" Mrs. Palmer asked, sliding a doughnut Tara never asked for to her side of the desk. "I heard you got into a little fender bender over the weekend. And Katy wonders why I'm always bending her ear about teenagers being allowed to drive. Permit or not I still say is unreasonable. They're too focused on fixing their hair in the rear view mirror or heavy petting with their boyfriends to focus on the road. Not you of course, Dear. Katherine told me that someone T-boned your car."
"Yes," Tara answered, taking a bite out of the doughnut with hopes that it would deter her need to speak until the subject was changed.
She didn't even have her permit—let alone a license.
And she had a feeling Mrs. Randall's pregnancy hormones and her constant sick days last year had to do with her forgetting to extend Tara's school day to add Driver's Ed to her schedule for the Fall semester.
"Let's see…." Mrs. Palmer scanned the manila folder opened up on the desk, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose as she read. "Oh wow. Looks like Lydia wasn't exaggerating. You really were her shining star…..looks like you're the star of the school. I thought my other student Pierce was a shoe in for Valedictorian of his graduating class but—my God!" The animated counselor, looked up at Tara, her brown eyes wide. "Looks like Mr. Reynold's will be the Valedictorian after all. With all these extra credits you have you'll probably be graduating before him and the rest of your class."
Tara sat up straighter in her chair. "Really?"
She knew it was a possibility.
There was always at least one silver lining to almost three years with any real social life. She went through extra classes, acing them all without any distractions.
Pity from the Oswald's had earned her special treatment—college courses that she wouldn't have been able to afford were funded with "financial aid" that she didn't really qualify for given that she wasn't yet a matriculated student.
She was always talking about graduating early.
But now she was hearing from the mouth of her new guidance counselor—a woman whose daughter Officer Katy Palmer bore a striking resemblance to.
"Really," Mrs. Palmer repeated, beaming at her like she'd just finished helping her across the street with her groceries. "You have such a bright future ahead of you, Tara. I know a smart girl like you has plans. What career path are you interested in? You're grades are phenomenal all across the board but the Math and sciences are clearly your strong suit. Are you considering a career in the medical field? Pediatrician? I see you aced your AP Psych class. Maybe Psychiatry then?"
Tara blushed, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Well this is gonna sound very ambitious," she said. "And might make you think I'm arrogant but I want to be a sur—"
"GOOOOOOD MORNING CHARMING HIGH STUDENTS AND FACULTY!" Stacey Wilson cawed through the loud speaker. "This is your President here. I hope everyone's been having a good week! If you haven't I have great news! Next week is guaranteed to rock your Tiger-lovin' socks off! Here to help me out on explaining WHYYYY is my fellow power squad sister and Vice President Maize O'Keefe!"
"It's that time of year again, folks," Maize announced. "SPIRIT WEEK! Check your closets ladies & gents. If you don't have a week's worth of orange and blue I suggest you get to begging mom and dad for their credit cards so you can make a trip to the mall for a couple shopping bags full of school spirit! Show some Tiger pride! Come out and support our Varsity champions as they gear up for the new season!"
"Brace yourself, Ladies," Stacy chanted, her voice singsong. "You know we always save the best for last!"
"The votes are in," Maize announced. "And I am bee-yawwwwnd excited to announce the nominations for this year's Homecoming Court! The nominees for Prom King are as follows……David Hale—"
"No surprise there," Stacey commented.
"…..Pierce Reynolds…."
"—living proof that being a star athlete doesn't mean you can't be a genius, too!"
"…..Pete Dunham..."
"—foreign exchange student….yum….I'm always a sucker for a good cock—"
"MS. WILSON!" Principal Mason barked in the background.
"Cockney!" Stacy hissed. "I was going to say cockney accent….sheesh!"
Maize giggled into the microphone. "And last but certainly not least—"
"—the same guy who refused to show up despite being nominated and winning last year—"
"Jackson Teller."
"Those are your Prom King nominees."
"Forget the guys!" Stacy said, cheer ringing in her voice. "What about us girls?"
"We did say were saving the best for last didn't we? Drum roll please…."
Both of them banged against whatever surface was in front of them.
"AND THE NOMINEES FOR PROM QUEEN ARE….."
Maize dramatically cleared her throat. "Imalya Lee—"
"My girl Ima gunning for the crown as always—"
"….Stacy Wilson!"
"Oh my God!" Stacy shrieked. "I can't believe you guys nominated me again! And during my final year of high school. This is a dream come—"
"Pipe down, Sister!" Maize teased. "Save the acceptance speech for when Ima throws a bitch fit when she loses to you again."
"MS. O'KEEFE!"
"Whaaat? They say bitch on TV now. It's like an acceptable word or something!"
"Nominees," Stacy urged.
"Sorry….so we have Imalya Lee…..Stacy Wilson…..Sarah Hale—"
"—I still think Mason should have let us vote someone else in since—"
"Oh you have gotta be fuckin kidding me," Maize snapped.
"THAT'S IT!"
There was a shuffling of chairs—the crackling of the microphone as he took over the intercom announcements.
"Please be advised that you are to follow the dress code," Principal Mason reminded. "I don't care if it's the school colors. No bikini's….no going shirtless and painting your chest blue and orange! Have a good day boys and girls."
There was loud conk as the speaker went dead.
"What were you saying, Sweetie?" Mrs. Palmer prodded.
"I was—"
"My apologies." Principal Mason's voice cut through the rooms of the high school once more. "In my haste to…uh—well anyway. The final nominee for Homecoming Queen—'
"—IS BULLSHIT!" Maize screamed. "WHO THE FUCK NOMINATED HER OVER ME?"
"Maisey calm d—"
"THAT BITCH DOESN'T EVEN PARTICIPATE IN SCHOOL EVENTS! THE ONLY SPIRIT SHE'S GOT IS THE HOLY SPIRIT FROM WALKING AROUND LIKE SHE'S MOTHER FUCKIN THERESA!"
"I ALREADY BANNED YOU FROM MAKING THE ANNOUNCEMENTS!" Principal Mason screamed. "YOU WANT ME TO BAN YOU FROM SPIRIT WEEK AND SUSPEND YOU AGAIN? YOUR MOTHER BEING A TEACHER HERE DOESN'T MEAN—"
"Sir," Getrude, his secretary urged. "You're yelling over the loud speaker!"
"Oh." There was a brief moment of awkward silence,before the principal finally said, "Your final nominee for Homecoming Queen is Tara Knowles."
Then the intercom conked out again.
"Well how about that?" Tara was afraid Mrs. Palmer's face might break if she smiled any harder. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You're not just smart. You're goregeous. It's only natural that you'd be popular, too."
Tara laughed.
Oh you have no idea….
"You've got my vote," Mrs. Palmer joked, winking at her. "Now….what were you saying?"
Tara blurted it out quickly—before fear of ridicule or another loud speaker announcement could deter her.
"I want to be a surgeon."
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"You got a minute?" Kyle asked, foot bouncing nervously as he stood in the doorway.
"No," Tig snapped. "He doesn't. Get the Hell out."
"Give us a minute, Tiggy," Clay demanded, nodding towards the exit. Tig's nostrils flared as he slowly rose up from his chair, bumping his shoulder hard against Kyle's as he walked past him. "Stay close, Tig! I still need to talk to you!"
"I did what you—"
"Shut the doors."
Kyle pushed the double doors shuts, ignoring the many vacant chairs to stand next to the one at the head of the table where Clay sat, twirling the gavel in his hand.
"I did everything you asked," Kyle assured.
"The body?"
"I marked the grave."
"You leave any—"
"No." Kyle answered a little too quickly for his liking. When Clay cocked his head sideways, Kyle scratched at his neck. "I, um…..I might have thrown up a little af…aff—aff-after…"
"It's okay, Son," Clay encouraged. "It's always rough your first time."
"That's it, right?" Kyle's smile was weak, almost as if he was suppressing the urge to vomit right then and there. "I mean…I'm patching in next Church vote?"
"It's a done deal," Clay promised.
"But what about JT," Kyle stammered. "I heard he's….he's—"
"JT's a lame duck," Clay barked. "And you're gonna help me make sure his reign is over for good."
"I thought I….I uh….I thought that was what this was for…I mean I don't want to k—I'm not saying I can't handle it…it's just—"
Clay stood up, clamping a hand on both his shoulders. "Relax, Brother." It was the first time Clay had ever addressed him like an actual member of his SAMCRO family. Kyle slowly calmed down. "No more bloodshed. I just need you to take care of one more little thing for me…"
Kyle jutted his chin up. All he was missing was a soldier's salute.
"What you need, Prez?"
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Twenty minutes into fifth period, Tara's head shot up at the sound of someone tapping against the wall outside her classroom door.
Scanning the room to see if anyone else taking Madame Boudreaux exam had noticed, she looked to see that even the French teacher herself was completely oblivious to the grinning, blue-eyed boy gesturing towards the Hall pass hanging up on the wall next to the chalkboard.
Tara raised her hand, rolling her eyes at herself when she realized the pointlessness of the motion.
"Madame Bee," Tara whispered as she walked towards her. She placed the booklet on her desk. "I finished my test. Can I use the bathroom please?"
When the teacher nodded, Tara pulled the wooden paddle from the nail embedded into the wall, stepping out into the hallway.
Jax spun her around—pinning against the wall before she could clear the classroom door.
"Jax," Tara hissed. He pressed a finger to her mouth, pulling her along the hallway until they reached a door that was all too familiar to the infamous Jackson Teller.
Tara was too busy scowling at the boy pulling her into the janitor's closet to notice the angry teenage girl tapping her foot as she watched them disappear behind the door she'd been caught behind once before.
She'd already stolen her home court nomination.
Why not give her my title as Blowjob Queen, too? Maize thought, grinning as she pushed the door to the staircase open, headed down to find the Principal.
If she timed it right, she could out them in front of Mr. Mason and everybody on the third floor…..just like Wendy had done to her.
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"What the Hell do you think you're doing, Jax?"
Did he not understand her when she said she wasn't another notch for his belt.
I am not giving you head in a closet at school like I'm some…Maize.
I am not Maize.
"It's fifth period," Jax said, pushing her back against the file cabinet crammed in the corner.
Tara cocked an eyebrow. "So?"
Grazing her mouth with his, he coaxed her lips open with his tongue—tangling it with hers as he slid his hands up the sides of her skirt, hooking his thumb into her panties.
"My lunch time," Jax explained, nudging her head aside to suck on her neck as he lifted her up, placing her on top of the cabinet as he pulled her panties down her legs. "...I'm not really in the mood for what they're serving in the cafeteria..."
"Jax…."
She had no words.
No argument or protest that would sound sincere even to her own ears.
So Tara did what they both wanted. She spread her legs, leaning back as he kneeled—burying his face between her thighs as he ate her like a man on death row, enjoying his last meal.
Neither one of them were aware how much time had passed.
And neither one of them heard it when the bell rang or noticed when Maize yanked the door open, exposing them to every curious eye in the hallway—including the Principals.
"MR. TELLER!"
Tara's eyes ballooned. Her initial reaction was the shove him off but when she tried Jax tightened his grip on her thighs, stroking her harder with his tongue—as Mr. Mason turned purple in the face from yelling.
As Maize's eyes popped wide in surprise before narrowing in envy.
Tara knew how twisted it was.
She knew how wrong...how embarrassed and ashamed she should have been.
And she wanted to stop him. but she couldn't.
She was already so close.
She was right there.
And then he finally pushed her over the edge.
She bit down hard on her tongue, nearly drawing blood as she did her best to stifle the moan rippling through her as she came—in front of a crowd full of her fellow classmates.
There would be time for blushing and cursing Jax out later.
But in that moment all she could do was giggle.
She laughed at the scowl on Maize's face as she mumbled loud enough for her to hear that, "You said you didn't do that…"
She laughed at the wide-eyed expression on Wendy's face—the shock freezing her features before she gave a cursory nod that screamed, "Good for you, girl," before tossing her arm over the shoulder of a guy who was either Lowell or the Koolaid man judging by how red his face was.
Most of all, she couldn't stop laughing at the steam coming out of her Principal's ears when Jax nodded his head up at him.
"What gives, Mace?" Jax said, smirking. "It's my lunch period. Can't a guy eat in peace?"
"Jackson Teller," Mr. Mason growled. "Tara Knowles….In my office RIGHT NOW!"
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"Hey, Patty," Diane said as she sifted through the different sections, sliding the chart in her hand into the one she needed before pushing the file cabinet shut.
"You're a popular girl," Patricia said, smiling up at the puzzled expression on her face. "You got another guy showing up looking for you."
"Who?" Diane questioned.
Please don't be Padraic….Please don't be Padraic.
Patricia shrugged. "He didn't give his name….had an Irish accent though….I think it was—"
"Scottish," Diane corrected, rubbing her eyes as she squeezed them shut. "He's Scottish."
"A Scotsman." Patricia's eyes widened as she nodded her approval. "Nice."
"Did he leave?"
"I don't think so," Patricia responding before picking up the ringing phone next to her. "Good afternoon…..yes…of course, could you hold one second for me, please? I'm transferring you over right now…you, too sweetheart…." Patricia looked up, cocking an eyebrow. "You gonna spend your break standing there watching me work?"
Diane smirked. "I'll be back."
Avoiding the elevator altogether, Diane made her way through the stairwell headed towards the only place that could make her smile and want to cry at the same time.
It took an enormous amount of restraint not to walk inside and pick one of them up.
They were so precious—brand new, untouched….
""I figured you have a mini-van full of kids by now..."
Diane jumped—flinching at the sound of his voice beside her.
She hadn't even notice his arrival.
"….I remember how bad you wanted a wee one...a baby boy if I—"
"What the Hell are you doing here?" Diane snapped.
Padraic's smile matched the intensity of her glare as he reached towards her, tugging lightly on the strands of her loose ponytail.
"I like the red," Padraic told her. "I hated it when you went blonde….I think that was the first fight we ever had. Me yelling about how I kissed my Old Lady the brunette goodbye and I came back from our run to Marilyn Monroe…..Red suits you though…goes well with your personality."
Diane pushed his hand away. "You stalking me now?"
"Maybe." Padraic stepped over, standing behind her—his breath tickling the hairs at the nape of her neck as he placed his hands on either side of the wall, looking through the glass at the room full of newborn babies.
"You stormed off yesterday," Padraic commented. "We didn't get a chance to finish our conversation…"
"I already said what I had to say," Diane said, sliding past him. "And as usual it went in one ear and out the other."
"Did you hear what I said?" Padraic asked. "Were you listening? Forgive me, Love but I feel like I have to be quick about this before you run off again. Nothing's changed, Di. Seven years….I got my top rocker and there's a couple extra miles on my Harley. That's it. I've just been killing time. We both have….I miss you, Di...I love—"
"I'm married."
"You really think that ring on your finger means more than the crow on your chest?" He challenged stepping closer to her. "Or did you get rid of it?" When Diane swatted his hand away from the V-neck collar of her scrub top, Padraic smirked. "I guess this is the part where you feed me some shitee about the club…how it changed me."
"It didn't change you," Diane replied. "It changed me."
"You should have talked to me," Padraic said. "We could have worked it out. Instead you let Gemma—"
"I'm not doing this." Diane shut her eyes, shaking her head. "I didn't leave because of Gemma. And it wasn't about that porn slut I caught in your room either—"
"I would hope not," Padraic interrupted. "It's not like I didn't give you and Kozik a pass."
Diane scowled. "Excuse me?"
"That two-faced bastard is lucky he made it through his Prospect year."
"You know what, Padraic?" Diane snapped. "I left to get away from all of you. You're poison. Every single one of—"
"Is that why you killed our baby?"
Diane slapped him so hard her fingers felt numb.
And when she spoke it was through clenched teeth. "I would have rathered….sell my kid to the highest bidder at that fuckin baby factory your boss was running than raise a child to become what you are."
Padraic nodded, scrubbing a hand across his face as he glared at her. "So Gemma was right then….you really did—"
"Gemma's a lying bitch," Diane snapped. "I didn't kill…..your….I didn't do anything. you took that choice away from me. You and your club…..Jesus Christ, Pat….the club took everything from me…including you."
Padraic shook his head. "You never lost me."
Diane through her hands up as she back away. "I'm sorry, Padraic," she said. "It's done….I've moved on."
"No." Padraic grabbed her arm, jerking he back around when she turned to walk off. "You're lying."
"Padraic—"
"I saw the pregnancy test!" He growled. "If you didn't get rid of what the Hell happened? What did you….." Padraic paused, his breath hitching. The alarm in her eyes was gone in a flash but he'd already seen it. "Where the Hell is my kid?"
Diane snatched her hand away. "Stay the fuck away from me."
"DIANE—"
"Enough."
Padraic spun around, green eyes blazing as he glowered at the dapper young man standing behind him. "This ain't got shitee to do with you."
"She's my wife," Duncan declared, moving to stand next to her. "It has everything to do with me."
Diane gasped when she saw Padraic's hand trail down his vest—treading dangerously close to the KA-BAR hanging from his hip. The tips of his fingers were tracing the ridges of the handle when two voices she hadn't heard in years rang out behind him.
"Walk away, man," Kozik said.
"Aye." Chibs nodded his agreement before glancing over at Diane. "You okay?"
"She's fine," Padraic hissed, shoving in between both of his club brothers as he stormed off.
Kozik took the brunt of the blow—but he merely shook it off, a playful smile spreading across his face as he began walking backwards in the direction Chibs had followed after Padraic.
"Good to have you back, Fidget."
Diane's smile didn't quite reach her eyes—not right away at least.
But as her mind flashed back to way Kozik and Happy used to tease over how much she squirmed and cursed when they'd had to hold her down to finish coloring in the tattoo on her chest, Diane couldn't help grinning fondly at the bittersweet memory.
"Dee." Duncan rubbed her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her temple as they watched them disappear around the corner. "Why didn't you tell me? You were…..you were pregnant when—"
Diane slid away from him like his touched burned.
"Same reason you didn't tell me you and your High school sweetheart had a six year old daughter….I guess it wasn't that important."
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"Scale of one to ten," Jax called out as Tara walked several steps ahead of him. "How pissed are you right now?"
"Ten."
"Damn it." Jax sighed heavily. But his frustration didn't last long when Tara spun around to face him. The mischief in her eyes had him reaching for her waist, pulling her close to him. "So when you say ten you mean…."
Tara pulled his face down to hers, smiling against mouth as she kissed him.
"That was the funniest shit I've ever witnessed," Tara admitted.
"I might as well have a name plate made for you and weld it right to that chair as often as your ass is in it!"
"Cool." Jax wriggled his eyebrows. "Can you put Jax in quotations in between Jackson and Teller?"
Jax shrugged, laughing. "I wanted to feel special."
"You are special," Tara teased, giggling with him as they recapped their meeting in the principal's office. "Special Ed."
"I'd make a damn good lawyer though," Jax joked.
Tara scoffed. "What the Hell makes you think that?"
"I pretty much saved your ass in there, Knowles," Jax bragged. "If it wasn't for me you would have lost your crown!"
"You need to relax, Mace," Jax said, crossing one leg over the other as he slumped down in the chair. "Tara didn't do anything…literally….and I gotta be honest. I resent having to share credit. I'm the one who did all the work."
Tara clamped her hand over her mouth too late.
Principal Mason had already heard the giggle that escaped. He turned his beady brown eyes on her, glaring at the green-eyed brunette who couldn't stop laughing despite how much trouble she was in.
"You think this is funny Ms. Knowles?" Mr. Mason challenged. "Well let's see how funny you think it is when you're sitting out Spirit week….that includes Homecoming."
"You can't do that!" Jax argued, smirking when he saw Tara shrug her shoulders through the corner of his eye. "Maize was part of this whole Homecoming bullshit last year!"
"WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE WHEN YOU SPEAK TO ME!" The angry Principal snapped. "And one thing has nothing to do with the other."
"So let me make sure I got this right," Jax said, holding back his laughter when he heard Tara giggle at the way he pressed a finger to his chin like Dr. Evil in the Austin Powers movie. "Maize got caught giving me head and she gets to go to prom but Tara can't go because you caught me on my knees?"
"I don't want to go anyway," Tara argued, snickering. "You weren't doing me any favors. And besides you didn't do shit. He was ready to suspend us both for a week because of you. Mrs. Palmer showing up to come to my defense is the reason I only got four days detention. She vouched for her prized student. If anything I helped you out!"
"I just can't believe you're not pissed at me," Jax admitted, brushing her hair back. "I was ready for you to flip the Hell out."
Tara rolled her eyes. "Despite what everyone around here thinks I have a mind of my own and unlike all of your Darlin's it doesn't bend or break for anyone. Not even you, Prince Charming…..you didn't drag me into that closet."
"Nope," Jax agreed, reaching around to palm her ass as he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "I just did everything else."
"You should take me home now," Tara suggested, eyeing him saucily. "Maybe after I finish doing my homework I can do you."
Jax cocked an eyebrow, throwing a salacious grin right back at her. "You know I'm gonna hold you to that right?"
"Keep a secret?" Jax nodded stiffly. Tara smiled, surprising him when pressed her palm against another very stiff part of him, rubbing him through his jeans as she pressed her lips to his ear. "I'm counting on it."
"Check you two out." Jax and Tara turned around to see Kyle walking towards them. The ambitious Prospect came to a stop in front of them, wolf-whistling as he took in how tightly Tara was pressed to him, every curve on her body that was in Jax's grip. "It's about time, bro. I've been waiting for y'all to finally do the dance with no pants. Maybe now she'll realize you're not worth the hype and move on with a real outlaw."
Tara rolled her eyes. "If yours was the last cock on Earth I'd switch teams."
Lick-her license, no question.
Jax chuckled, kissing her cheek as he raised his eyebrows at Kyle. "What the Hell you doing here?"
The fine hairs at the back of Tara's neck raised up when she saw how quickly the leering smile on Kyle's face disappeared.
Reaching up to scratch his head, Kyle address the ground between them instead of meeting Jax's eyes.
"I need to talk to you," Kyle said. "There's some shit going down with the club….and despite us not seeing eye to eye all the time I didn't want you to find out—"
"What's with you and Clay not knowing your place?" Jax scowled, his nostrils flaring. "That asshole thinks he's President and all the ass kissing you been doing has you thinking you're more than a grunt. You're prospecting for my father's club. You're not a patch so you don't know shit. And if the choice is between listening to your fuckery and helping Tara study"—he paused to laugh with her at the fuckery he was talking before turning his sneer back to Kyle's forlorn expression. "I choose her. So beat your feet in the direction you came."
"It's about JT," Kyle said, brown eyes pleading in a way that neither Tara or Jax understood. "Clay tried his best to keep it from getting out but someone leaked the accident report….he can't protect him anymore. Everyone knows—"
"Everyone knows what?" Jax barked, inadvertently digging his nails into Tara's side.
"I'm sorry, Man," Kyle said, shaking his head. "Everyone knows it wasn't really an accident. He tried to kill himself and now his patch is on the line. And not just his President's patch….they're talking about kicking him out the club."
Jax nodded.
He just….kept nodding.
Like a bobble head doll on a dashboard….
He didn't stop the upward and downward motion of his chin—of his head.
Not until he threw the first punch.
The one that sent Kyle flying backwards.
The one followed by a kick to the falling prospect's chest to help him along with hitting the ground.
"JAX!" Tara screamed, pulling on him by the back of his shirt with no success.
But Jax didn't hear her.
He couldn't feel her tugging at him.
He couldn't see Tara—her horror-stricken face, the terror in her green eyes.
All he heard were lies—lies that made him feel like shit because deep down he believed them.
All he felt was betrayal—his father had found yet another way to leave him.
All he saw was what was right in front of him—a young man who was getting dangerously close to being beat within an inch of his life.
"JACKSON!"
And as the tears welled up in his eyes he couldn't even see him clearly.
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Clay wrapped his knuckles lightly against the door.
Moments later, Gemma turned the lock off on her front door, walking back into the kitchen as he stepped inside.
"You heard about JT."
It wasn't a question.
"Yeah," Clay responded. "It doesn't make a difference."
Gemma smirked. "And I thought you were arrogant before you got a taste of what the gavel felt like."
"I put Tig on Lowell," Clay announced. "Your mistake almost fucked everything up but I'm fixing it. You need to make that guest bedroom down the hallway up real nice."
"That's not a guest bedroom, asshole," Gemma snapped. "It's Thomas' room."
"LJ's gonna be staying with you a little while," Clay declared. "Not long term….just until Unser can round up his next of kin. While he's doing that you can feel the kid out….see if he knows anything….make sure he doesn't have to end up like his Mom and Dad—"
"Are you shittin me?" Gemma launched the steaming mug in her hand across the room. Clay winced as hot coffee singed his cheeks, the remnants of the ceramic cup in a scattered pile at his feet where it'd ricocheted off the dining room table. "You're not the fuckin Grim Reaper, Clay. You can't go around killing every—"
Clay charged towards her, snatching her up by her robe.
"I'm tired of telling you," Clay growled. "You don't tell me anything. I tell you."
Gemma shoved him away, crossing her arms. "You don't tell me shit. I didn't let John run my show. You really think I'm gonna let you?"
"You almost ruined everything," Clay said through clenched teeth. "YOU ALMOST FUCKED US BOTH OVER!"
"I didn't—"
"IT'S DONE!" Clay bellowed. "Lowell's meeting Mr. Hayhem tonight. And so is that brownnosing bitch he married!"
Gemma shook her head. "You can't, Clay," she warned. "Barbara is—"
"—I don't give a shit!" Clay yelled. "None of this blows back on us."
"Who the Hell else—"
"THE PROSPECT!"
Gemma blinked hard. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Kyle is the one that paid that redneck off," Clay said. "He's the one that got him to lie to the cops about JT's accident being a suicide. That poor kids so desperate to join the club he'd do anything to earn his patch. And he knew JT was the only member standing in the way of that. He sabotaged John's bike one day when Lowell was showing him the ropes….the run down on the shop. Kyle killed the trucker and buried his body out on the Wahiawa land….he's on his way to tell your son the truth about his Old man...about how a vote's being called to have his President's patch permanently stripped because we can't trust him anymore. Trying to take his own life? It doesn't matter that he survived. Taking the coward's way is no better than being a rat. We're in the clear, Gem. With Lowell gone we're safe. Jax is the final piece to the puzzle. And when your son comes running to you for answers you're gonna give him all the right ones."
Gemma moved forward, smiling up at him as she stepped on his toes. "And if I don't?"
She'd meant it as a joke.
But judging by the murderous glare suddenly marring Clay's features the SAMCRO acting President didn't take it as such.
"Jax has a birthday coming up in a few weeks doesn't he? Sweet sixteen." Clay whistled. "I know what that means. Even your son snuck a peak at the Harley you got hidden in JT's dorm. I caught him sneaking the keys to check it out with Opie."
"You got a point you plan on making sometime today?"
Gemma had a feeling she knew where he was going.
She was still holding out hope that she was wrong.
"I know you had Lowell give it a once over," Clay commented. "Wanted to make sure everything was perfect before you let your baby boy take his first ride. But maybe Lowell didn't inspect it as good as you think…maybe Jax might end up having a little trouble with the clutch just like his Old man—"
"You listen to me you Son a bitch—"
"You don't have a lot of friends Gemma," Clay said. "And the ones you have aren't good for much but sucking cock & boiling rice...I really don't think you want a war with me…."
Clay reached his hand up to brush his thumb through the moisture streaming down Gemma's face.
He'd tried to hit her where it would hurt the most.
With try being the operative word.
If his head hadn't gotten so damn big he might have remembered who he was dealing with.
Gemma Teller—the Queen of deception.
She could turn on the water works—cry crocodile tears on a whim.
"Don't cry, Gem," Clay urged, cupping her face. "I'm sorry, okay? I don't wanna fight with you. You know I'd never hurt Jackson. I'm just pissed 'cause I feel like I'm losing you now that your Old man pulled through. Having the gavel won't be the same without you by my side. I want you to be my Queen. I love you, Baby."
Lie.
Lie.
Lie.
One right after the other.
You can't bullshit a certified bullshitter, Gemma thought to herself.
Now she knew it for certain.
The man she'd fallen in love with wouldn't hesitate to hurt her son if it benefited him in any way.
She'd bet on the wrong horse in her haste to get back at her husband for cheating—for starting another family behind her back.
And now she was paying for it.
But that credit card was about to be decline.
She was done approving all the charges that came with getting back at JT.
Now she had an entirely different target it mind.
"I'm sorry, baby," Gemma said, smiling weakly. "I know I fucked up. I was afraid we'd get caught. I wanted to fix things with Lowell my own way…prove to you that I was worthy of being your number two."
"Number one," Clay corrected, reaching for her hand. "You don't have to prove yourself to me, Gemma. I already know what a strong…fierce woman you are."
Fierce mother asshole.
Jax always comes first.
"I love you too, Clay."
Gemma's eyes never left his as she reached for his belt buckle, pulling it apart—tugging his zipper down as she slowly lowered herself to her knees in the middle of her dining room.
Staring up at him, Gemma wrapped her smile around the tip of him—kissing every inch of his manhood before taking him deep in her throat, sucking and slurping his cock. Clay tilted his head back shutting his eyes as she pulled her hair hard, pushing her head forward to meet his every thrust as he rocked his hip into her mouth.
It was every groan—every time she heard her name whispered through every moan that hissed past his teeth that kept her going.
Gemma sucked harder and faster, determined to make him cum, spilling down her throat the way he loved to.
When he did, she'd let him bend her over the table and fuck her until he came again.
Then they'd make their way to the master bedroom—the one room he'd never had the pleasure of entering. She get on all fours in the middle of the bed she shared with his best friend—her husband and let him pull her hair hard while he fucked her from behind.
Love was such a fickle thing.
He'd almost had her.
Gemma was all but ready to join him again—be his leading lady.
Let all the disagreeing they'd done over the past few weeks slide—sweep it right under the rug.
But Clay made a very big mistake.
And it was one he was going to pay for.
He threatened her son.
No one threatened her son.
He may have won the battle this time around but the war had yet to come.
Gemma Rose Teller was the second horseman—the living embodiment of what the word war meant.
Clay Morrow was officially a marked man.
She'd stand by his side.
She'd make him feel like a king.
And then at the first moment that presented itself—she knocked him right off that fuckin pedestal he built for himself.
When would men learn?
Hell hath no fury on a woman scorned.
And Gemma was scorned like a Mother...
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"M'am?"
Barbara was staring absently at the hardwood floors of the office as she considered the room she was sitting in—all the events that had led up to this moment.
She'd made a promise.
And now she was about to break it.
"M'am?" The secretary repeated. Finally Barbara looked up at her. "He's ready for you now."
The triumph he felt permeated the glass walls of his corner office—nearly suffocating her as she pulled at the metal handle, stepping inside.
"How many years has it been?" He asked. "Five? Twenty?"
"Sixteen," Barbara hissed. "You'd think you could remember the day you cut your only sister out of your life."
"You cut us out, Barbie." Barbara winced at the nickname that used to reduced her to a fit of giggles when they were younger.
"I don't want to talk about history."
"I didn't think you did," he replied, waving towards the seat on the opposite side of his desk. "I knew he'd fuck up eventually. I just didn't think it would take more than a decade to do it. What did Lowell do? He finally OD?"
"He tried to kill a man," Barbara snapped. "He did on someone else's orders. And now that he botched the job my whole family is in danger."
"Jesus Christ."
"He didn't have a choice," Barbara argued. "He told Lowell he'd kill his wife and son. It was JT or us."
"JT?" Her brother's eyes widened in disbelief. "As in John Teller—"
"President and founding member of the Sons of Anarchy." Barbara nodded. "His Sargent at arms has been making a play for the gavel. He needed a patsy to take JT out so he could keep his hands clean."
"And now thanks to that asshole I told you not to marry—"
"You can say I told you so all you want later. Please," Barbara begged. "I haven't darkened your doorstep since you told me you wanted nothing to do with my husband or any child he fathered. Now isn't now the time to teach me a life lesson. I need your help. I'm your sister, goddamn it...I got no one else to turn to."
Robert reached into the suit jacket folded over his chair—pulling a cell phone from the pocket.
"I'm giving Sheila a call—"
Barbara shook her head. "No—"
"Sheila took my house and half my money when she divorced me for that asshole Professor," Robert griped. "She turned my kid against me, too. The least she could do is let you and your kid stay with her for a little while...in the house I paid for. Your husband is not to go anywhere near them, you understand me? I'll give you until tomorrow to have him surrender before I have an APB put out on him. In the mean time I'll have a security detail set up for you and the kid."
"Rob—"
Robert held his hand up—signaling for silence as dialed several numbers after picking up the reciever to the phone on his desk, pressing it to his ear as he scrolled through his cell phone for his ex-wife's number.
"Hi…..yes….is June there? Can you tell me when she'll be back? Right….well I need her to call me as soon as possible...tell her I'll be stopping by her office tomorrow afternoon. I'm gonna be encroaching on her jurisdiction for a few weeks and I want to touch base so we can find a way to make sure my team and hers stay out of each other's hair for the duration….I'm sorry?...I didn't hear you. Wait a sec"—Robert glanced at the phone's screen, rolling his eyes at the measly two bars representing the strength of his signal. "My phone's breaking up, Doll. One more time, please."
"What is your name Sir?" Barbara heard the secretary squeak—more than a touch of irritation in her voice.
"My apologies," Robert said. "This is Robert F. Kohn…..no, not Combs. Agent Robert F. Kohn….FBI. Make sure she calls me."
THOUGHTS?
Favorite scenes, lines, moments, etc? Random predictions? Overall feedback?
[ 10,0000—why the Hell do my EDITS always result in MORE—words] #RAMBLER
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