Sons of Anarchy Clubhouse - Forecourt
"How was the meeting?" Gemma asked, toting Grace on her hip.
"Boring. Pointless. Could have been an email," Rosalie replied and scooped the grasping baby out of her grandmother's arms, into a tight embrace. She closed her eyes a second and cooed, "oh baby girl, I missed you so much. Did you have fun with grandma? Oh. Yes you did?" Rosalie turned back to Gemma and thanked her for taking them both on such short notice.
"My pleasure. Anytime. She was an angel, as per. The other menace is sat on a bar stool time-out," Gemma informed her.
"God. Why?" Rosalie scoffed.
"You name it. Made fun of Chucky's fingers. Throwing peanuts at Piney-" Gemma scoffed back.
"Ugh. I'll talk to him. He's been testing me all week," Rosalie sighed and headed towards the clubhouse.
"You are running yourself ragged, baby, something's gotta give. I can do another day if need be, make it a regular thing. How's that Elyda working out?" She asked.
"Might have to revisit that idea. Elyda's so good, when I get her. She's just always tied up with another family. It's a shame. Abel really likes her. She brings them by for lunch and she's teaching him Spanish," Rosalie said, fondly.
"Just keep her away from Tig…oh, Christ..." Gemma muttered as a dark-haired girl in her early twenties swaggered out of the clubhouse and made a beeline for her.
"Who's that?" Rosalie asked.
"Half of Satan's spawn," Gemma muttered under her breath.
"Mama Gemma," the girl whined, childishly.
"Hi Dawnie. Tig still not here, huh?"
"Told ya, it's Margeaux now, with an x," she replied, snottily.
"Where?" Rosalie asked, quietly, squinting her eyes slightly.
"Daddy knows that I'm here, right?" the girl whined to Gemma, ignoring the stranger, "the bug-eyed cripple man actually told him? He never keeps me waiting this long."
"I'm sure he's on his way," Rosalie said, kindly, "I'm Rosalie, by the way."
"Hey," Margeaux with an x grunted back and snapped her watery eyes back to Gemma.
"Where's your sister, Dawn?" Gemma asked, "she coming down too?"
"That's the whole reason why I'm here! She's bad. I need my daddy," Margeaux/Dawn cried and threw herself into Gemma's halfhearted embrace.
"Could you be a doll and get an ETA on Tig? Ask Piney," Gemma requested.
"Sure, no problem, Mama Gemma," Rosalie smirked, and went inside.
After successfully deducing that Tig was minutes away from the clubhouse and reuniting with his beloved daddy's girl, Rosalie turned her attention to her own little boy and his lack of manners. She pulled out the bar stool beside Piney, and pulled Abel up on to her lap. Piney turned to them both with his usual flat expression.
"Remember this morning when I asked you to be on your best behaviour for Grandma?" Rosalie asked the boy.
Abel looked up at her and nodded, with his little face scrunched up sheepishly.
"Well, I hear you were being a little menace, running around, throwing food-" Rosalie said.
"I was just playing," Abel said and bunched his shoulders right up.
"That's not a game, Abel. That's making a mess. Did Piney say he wanted to play with you?" She asked.
"No," he said, quietly, shaking his head.
"Did you ask him to play with you?"
"No," he said, stretching out the word.
"Do you think Piney liked that game?" she asked.
"Daddy does," Abel said, with a wide smirk.
Piney scoffed, and shook his head at the cheeky boy's response.
"Is there something you want to say to Piney, Abel?" Rosalie asked, stifling her own smirk.
Abel hummed, and then said, "sorry, Piney."
"That's alright, kid," Piney rasped, and ruffled his hair.
"You can throw all the peanuts you want at daddy, okay? And daddy only!" Rosalie whispered in his ear and he giggled back. She tickled him, and said, "you tell him I sent you!"
Abel's giggles were capturing the hearts of every burly biker inside that clubhouse, until the door burst open, and Lyla Winston stormed inside. She was shaking with rage, and it didn't suit her petite sweet demeanor one bit.
"Where is she?!" Lyla scorned at the room. She was closely followed by Gemma.
"Where's who, darling?" Piney asked his daughter-in-law.
The clip-clop of towering heels answered the question. Ima appeared from the back, scantily clad by most standards, fully clothed by her own.
"What are you doing here?" Lyla seethed at her 'friend'.
"Nobody says good morning anymore," Ima groaned and rummaged around inside her purse, nonchalantly.
"You spend the night?" Lyla asked, the words almost choked her on the way out.
Rosalie's heart quickened at the thought, and she instinctively pulled Abel closer to her chest, feeling a potent mixture of sadness for Lyla, disgust at Ima, and then...a small ripple of fear that this wasn't an unusual occurrence here.
"You don't want to know, sweetie," Ima scoffed and brushed past her.
"You backstabbing little gash," Lyla spat out.
Rosalie went to stand up and take Abel out of the room, but it escalated far too fast.
"Hey, I was just following his lead," Ima insisted, in a sickeningly sweet, patronizing tone, and she scoffed out, all matter of fact, "married pussy is boring pussy!"
Lyla saw red and she lunged for Ima.
"HEY HEY HEY!" Tig bellowed out.
Lyla never got the chance to land her righteous punch. Ima pulled out a dinky handgun, and thrust it in her face, screaming out, "HEY! I will blow a hole straight through that pretty little yammy of yours!"
Everyone froze. Hands shot up. Ima controlled the room. Rosalie had dropped Abel and pushed the little boy behind her for some semblance of protection. Piney stood in front of them both.
"WHY HIM?" Lyla cried out.
"You want answers, sweetheart? Go ask the cock that was inside me last night," Ima suggested.
Lyla burst into sobbing tears, and ran outside.
"GET. OUT. Get out, now," Tig seethed at the porn star, and she obeyed, tottering over to the door, backwards, sweeping her arm left to right.
"Keep that .38 close, bitch," Rosalie seethed as she passed her, "you're going to need it."
Rosalie slammed a bundle of ice into Opie's hands after Piney slogged him, and then decided she'd had just about enough of this place for one day. She picked up her daughter, and ushered her son back to their car, without even acknowledging Jackson's return.
"Hey. You okay?" Jackson asked her.
"What do you think?" Rosalie said, as she brushed past him.
"Ro-hey, hey-I'm sorry," Jackson implored, and urged her to turn back and talk to him, "just talk to me a second. Alright? I'm sorry."
Rosalie opened up the back door, helped Abel climb through, and then settled Grace into her car seat. She closed the door, and wandered away from them.
"You know what this means, right?" Rosalie said, quietly, gesturing between the both of them, "what we're doing here? You and me. Slate clean. Fresh start."
"Yes," Jackson said.
"I love you, Jackson. I'm putting my all into this, into you...into a future I want so bad."
"I know that. I love you."
"I have to be able to trust you," Rosalie said, definitively.
"I'm not the one who slept with her," Jackson reminded her, tersely.
"This isn't about Opie," she said, shaking her head. She gestured around at the clubhouse, vaguely, and said, "it's about this. How you guys treat women-"
"Don't condemn the whole club," he said.
"You know what I mean," she said, "it isn't just a deal breaker anymore, Jax. It's bigger than you and me. I'm the mother of your children. You hurt me, you hurt all of us."
"I'm not going to hurt you," he insisted, and she believed him.
Rosalie kissed him, softly, and then shakily said, "sorry. That was...just intense. I was stuck. Grace was right over there. Abel was behind me. I couldn't move. Couldn't not move. God...I never want to feel like that again."
"I'm sorry this happened. She won't show her face around here again, I promise you that. I'll be home soon, yeah?"
Oswald's Warehouse
The full shipment of 30 kilos of cocaine was handed over to Alvarez, successfully, after an unfortunate detour. The details on the next shipment of guns for the cartel were all ironed out. The Sons were down one prospective member, but the highly lucrative business between all three parties was permitted to go on as usual, and thus, the day was written off by all as a win. Clay requested to speak with Romeo in private outside before he left.
"Do we have a problem?" Romeo asked, sensing an antsy quality to Clay's usually stoic demeanor.
"Yeah," Clay admitted and explained, "we have an internal threat. A family member stumbled on some of our more sensitive information."
"This is very bad."
"I know," Clay conceded, with an apparent heavy heart, "she's our lawyer, well...less so now. She's got a level of access. It got out of hand. I'm afraid she's gonna expose us."
"The lawyer-that's your V.P.'s old lady?" Romeo confirmed.
"Yeah. He don't know."
"You have a very difficult decision, my friend."
"Trust me. It's been brutal," Clay said, and sighed again heavily. He grimaced and determined, "but it's got to be done. I need somebody from the outside. I was hoping you might want to handle it."
Romeo thought for a moment, and then told him, "take a few days to put together."
"Okay."
"I'm gonna need all her info: pictures, vehicle, schedule. It's gonna get expensive," Romeo said quickly as the rest of the men started filing out of the warehouse.
"Whatever it takes," Clay agreed, and he told him, with such sorrow, "Romeo. I'm sorry I let this happen."
"We'll clean it up," Romeo said, and shook his hand.
The respective parties all finished up and headed for their rides. Jackson walked up to Clay and asked him if everything was alright. The mournful, tortured expression he'd worn for Romeo had disappeared from his face.
"Yeah," Clay said, with a wide smile, and clapped a hand to his shoulder, "all good."
