AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Carol had to admit that she was a little happy that her pregnancy gave her a perfectly acceptable reason to forego riding the bike to the first of what would probably be several table meets scattered between the homes of various club chapters. She missed holding onto Daryl as they rode, but it was freezing and she felt like those that were on the bikes were going to be popsicles by the time they reached Union—despite the fact they were pretty well covered, from head to toe, in warm clothes topped with leather.
Carol wore her vest on top of her leather jacket. It was a snug fit, but they'd all agreed that they felt more comfortable having their vests on at this particular meet. The selected Presidents and members would meet in the back of the Saviors' clubhouse, but the rest of the brothers would be mingling with the women who were coming. At Carol and Andrea's suggestion, Merle had let the others know that they were opening the social part of things up to tarts and other women associated with the clubs. He had suggested that a little lady-presence might help to lighten the mood.
As a result, and because there were brothers from several clubs there, Carol and Andrea had also agreed that some vests marking them as Judges' Old Ladies and, therefore, entirely off limits, might be a good idea. Andrea had joked, though, that even if Carol's small belly wasn't too obvious, her own would be a good enough deterrent all its own—except when it came to the few brothers that either had a fetish for knocked-up women or saw them as a free lay without the worry of pregnancy.
Daryl met Carol as she got out of the vehicle. He kissed her and she warmed the exposed parts of his face with her hands, fussing over him just a little. She didn't figure, walking into a building crawling with bikers and would-be old ladies who were far too scantily clad for the freezing weather, that it was a terrible idea to remind him how very much she loved him, and how much she was capable of nurturing him, since she knew, really, that's what he craved more than most anything else.
Carol felt a little overwhelmed with the noise as she was ushered inside on Daryl's arm and, for once, she somewhat envied Sadie her deafness. Though the woman had to keep constantly turning her head—her eyes trying to take in everything at once—she couldn't hear the roar of voices, laughter, and people's attempts to be heard over everyone else.
There were six clubs that were attempting to come together. The Judges, the Saviors, the Pirates, the Kingdom, the Outlaws, and the Devil's Order had met here, tonight, to start the first of their negotiations for, essentially, peace.
Among these clubs were, very likely, the people who had, years ago, ordered a hit on Negan's wife, Lucy. Among these clubs were, more than likely, the people who had ordered a hit on Andrea.
The hope was that, by meeting for peace, they could reach some kind of partnership—some kind of peace treaty—that would keep anything like that from happening again.
Just as much as Carol didn't trust the people wearing unfamiliar patches, and carried an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, she knew that some of them didn't trust the Judges. That's what this was about—learning to trust each other. Building relationships had to start somewhere, after all.
As a show of good faith, everyone underwent a pat down at the door. Nobody was carrying any weapons—except, of course, the little derringers and some small sheathed knives that Carol knew were planted in a few boots. She wasn't under any impression, either, that the Judges would have been the only ones to carry something just in case.
Still, the mood in the clubhouse was good, and though Carol found the smoke and the noise a bit overwhelming, she didn't feel too much tension in the air.
Carol shook hands with the Presidents, Vice Presidents, and other club members as they came over to talk to Daryl. She couldn't remember who went with what group, necessarily, but it didn't really matter. She was there as Daryl's old lady, and she wasn't going to be part of the table discussion that would take place. She accepted the drink that was offered to her—ginger ale, because that's what she asked for—and she stuck close to the faces that were most familiar to her. Andrea knew a few more people than Carol did, so as soon as Daryl and the others disappeared to the back room where the work would take place, she walked Carol around on one arm, and Sadie around on the other, as she introduced them to the few familiar faces she saw in the crowd.
Being introduced as Daryl's old lady among so many strangers got Carol a few looks that she interpreted as jealousy and, at times, even contempt, from other women. Carol could only assume they were some of those would-be old ladies that, perhaps, had set their sights on Daryl. Or, perhaps, they were simply women who were mad that there was one less club officer available for the taking.
At the very least, Carol quickly checked any woman that had sneered at her off the imaginary list for women to consider as possible arranged dates for Negan.
As time ticked on, though, and she started conversations with a few women and overheard bits of conversations that Sadie and Andrea had with them, she began to wonder if they'd ever find anyone that they wanted to introduce into their circle since, with Negan working so closely now with Daryl and Merle, they were destined to have to spend a decent amount of time with the woman.
Finally, Carol had excused herself toward the back of the bar—searching a bit for an open space in which to breathe a little without quite so many people around—and her two companions had followed her.
In a very back corner of the bar there was a table. It was unoccupied except for one woman. Likely, she had not seemed very interesting to everyone else since she was sitting with a phone, a notebook, a pencil, and a solitary beer. She looked to be doing a decent job of keeping herself busy and separate from the goings on around her.
"This seat taken?" Andrea asked, gesturing toward one of the other three chairs. The woman looked up from her work for a moment.
"Good lord—not for you," she said. "It looks like you're just about ready to drop that thing. I have to warn you that I don't have any idea how to help you if you do."
Andrea laughed and sunk into the chair, resting her own glass of soda on the table in front of her. She brushed her hand over her belly.
"It's OK. My due date isn't as close as it looks. I might even make it out of here tonight before making Merle a proud Papa."
The woman found that amusing. She let her eyes settle on Carol and Sadie next.
"Well, have a seat," she said, with the same kind of tone as someone who had already asked them to sit and was waiting for them to obey. They both pulled out chairs. The woman smiled at Carol. She had a nice smile—a warm smile. "I'm going to tread on the edge of being really rude, but…is that little bit of a belly proof you're fond of beer, or did you bring along a rider?"
Carol laughed to herself.
"It's OK," Carol said. "I'm pregnant. And, even if I weren't? I wouldn't be offended."
"Doesn't do any good to be offended anyway," the woman said with a laugh. "What's that old saying? It's better to be pissed off than pissed on—unless you're into that kind of thing, I guess."
Sadie laughed. The woman was facing them, and Sadie had a fair chance to follow the conversation. The blonde across from them seemed pleased to amuse someone.
"What about you? Knocked-up and not visible yet?" She asked, directing her words to Sadie.
"Me? Oh—no," Sadie said. "No— are you?"
The blonde laughed, not offended at all to have her question tossed back to her. She drank from her beer.
"I like to think that, if I was? I'd forego the beer. Of course—around here? You never know." She offered her hand out to Sadie first. "Madison," she said. "You can call me Maddie."
"Sadie," Sadie said.
Madison looked at Carol and Carol offered her name. Andrea offered her own when it was her turn.
"I can see you're old ladies," Madison said. "Judges. All of you officers' old ladies, too," she said, perusing the patches on the vests. "Impressive."
"Family," Andrea said. Madison nodded her head.
"It's a good thing to have," she said. "If you can find it—and even better if you can keep it."
"Does that mean you haven't?" Andrea asked.
Madison shrugged her shoulders.
"I was an old lady once," she said. "Outlaws. My husband, Steven, died in head-on collision some years ago."
"Foul play?" Carol asked, her stomach twisting.
"No," Madison said. "God knows there seems to be enough of that around here, but…Steven's accident was different."
"Meaning it was an actual accident," Andrea said.
"Meaning it wasn't an accident at all," Madison said. "I guess—he couldn't find what he needed, and I just wasn't quite enough."
"Shit," Andrea said. "I'm sorry."
Madison shrugged her shoulders and smiled, but Carol noticed it wasn't quite the same quality smile as the one she'd worn before.
"It wasn't your fault," Madison said, dismissing the apology.
"Are you here with the Outlaws?" Andrea asked.
Madison nodded her head.
"I don't know why," she said. "The Outlaws usually stay out of all this. You know? We're quiet, and being on the Alabama line means we just don't run into too much interaction with other clubs. But the president—Cy? He got called to the meeting, and he said that he ought to bring some ladies with him. Trophies or something. I didn't ask, and he didn't explain. I'm not sure why he dragged me along, though. I mean—I'm not a whore and I'm not a tart. I'm a manager."
"Manager?" Carol asked.
"The Outlaws run pussy?" Andrea asked, before Madison could answer Carol.
Madison hummed and tasted her beer again. She looked around, obviously found what she was looking for—a tart serving drinks—and waved her bottle to request another. She followed the request with a smile and a friendly wave of thanks.
"Pussy and gambling," Madison said. "We run a gambling house—like a casino—on the Alabama and Georgia line."
"And the pussy?" Sadie asked. Carol had noticed that Madison had been careful to keep speaking in Sadie's direction, even when she was talking to someone else, and she wondered if Madison had figured out that Sadie was deaf without ever feeling the need to call any attention to it.
"The pussy's extra," Madison said. The gambling house is backed by a hotel. We own and operate both. The pussy just happens to be…present."
"And it happens to bring in a pretty penny, I'm sure," Andrea said.
"It doesn't hurt business," Madison said with a laugh.
"Sounds like what we're starting up with the Saviors," Andrea said. "And—it's probably the reason that they wanted to bring the Outlaws into this. I'm sure they bring a certain expertise to the table."
"I don't know about expertise," Madison said. "But experience, maybe."
"Your ex was an Outlaw," Andrea said. "Officer?"
"He didn't have the constitution for important roles," Madison said.
"But you're dedicated to the club?" Andrea asked.
"I work for them," Madison said. "I'm a club widow, so they throw me some bones now and again when times get tough. Am I some ex-old lady who's married to the club? Not hardly. Might be why Cy brought me here tonight. Looking to unload some dead weight. Just about anybody can schedule appointments, right? No—I'm not an Outlaw to the core. I just didn't have anywhere else to go—and part of the club oath means they swore to protect me as long as I stayed. Look out for me. Call me what you want, but I'm a girl who takes good opportunities when they're offered to me."
"You ever get an itch to travel, Maddie?" Andrea asked.
Madison cocked an eyebrow at her.
"How far?" Madison asked.
Andrea shrugged.
"Oh—just…maybe across half of Georgia?" Andrea asked.
"We'll skip hell?" Madison asked with a laugh.
"For now, at least," Andrea said.
Carol caught Andrea's expression, and she already knew exactly what her friend had in mind. The half-smile on Sadie's lips and the quick eyebrow raise she gave Carol when Carol looked at her told her that, whether or not she'd followed the whole exchange, Sadie was probably thinking the same thing.
They might have found someone who could handle what the hell Negan had to throw at her.
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AN: Please note that while I'm borrowing the character of Madison Clark, I'm doing a lot to OC her, using some of the actress's other roles and character traits to simply make her what I want her to be.
I hope you enjoyed! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!