CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Grabbing my battered jacket and heading outside the guys are already pulling out the driveway; I take a couple of breaths before climbing on the back of Jax's bike.
Turning to me Jax opens his mouth, "I told them to just head on to the garage, we'll head to my place to get the clothes and meet them there."
I nod and double check my hair is all tucked away before we head off on the bike.
Pulling into Jax's driveway a few minutes later I realise that if I take Doj on a certain path with his nightly walks I'll probably end up walking right past.
The outside of the house looks a bit run down, he needs to spend some time in the garden and get his windows clean, but other than that it looks like most of the other houses on the street.
Almost like he can tell what I'm thinking Jax looks around, "Yeah, I know it needs a bit of work on the outside, but we've almost finished the inside."
He unlocks the door and we walk inside, I can tell that Gemma has had a huge say in how it's been decorated. Stepping through the front door there's a kind of hall, but it's less than 4 feet long that goes into the living room where the only pieces of furniture are a couch, coffee table and a huge entertainment system in the corner.
He heads down the longer passage way that runs off the end of the other hall, "I'll just grab a shower and some clean clothes and we can go, have a look around if you want. Give me about 20 minutes."
"Sure thing, I'll just look at your porn stash, is it still under your mattress."
He sort of stumbles to a dead stop in the middle of a step. "How did you...never mind. No it's now in the bedside cabinet. Have fun." He grins as he steps through the door of the bathroom, clicking the door closed behind him.
I hear the shower turn on and decide to take his offer to look around. Heading out of the lounge I see the tiny kitchen and dining area where obviously no work has been done to modernising. The cupboards are all a lacquered wood with a design that could easily have come out of the 1960's. I can definitely see that there is potential for improvement, obviously housework and modifications hadn't been Wendy's idea of fun, the fact she managed to cook in this dark room for months surprises me. But then I don't know if she cooked anything other than the drugs she shot herself full of.
Wandering down the hall I stick my head into what is obviously a spare bedroom, it's currently being used for storage of all the decorating equipment. Paint tins and drop cloths are with brushes, buckets and rags by one wall, another wall is hidden behind paintings covered in old sheets, a quick look at them shows that they are definitely not of Jax's choice, the floral patterns are something he would have scoffed at, not hung on a wall.
The third wall of stuff is furniture, a dressing table, a bed and a couple of night stands; I make a guess that that is the furniture that belongs in the room.
Heading further down the hall I peek in a door and discover that it's the nursery, the walls are painted pale blue, the crib and some sort of dressing/display table is all white and there's lettering above the crib of Abel's name. A fold out bed pushed into one corner and a rocking chair are the only other furniture in the room.
The single piece of artwork on the wall is something that makes my breath catch. I remember the painting that's there vividly, after all I painted it. The image is one that was composed of two photos I stole from Jax's room one day when I was visiting and managed to put them together.
The simple painting is one of the first ones I did that I gave away, with a confession to Jax about the stolen photos. He'd been furious about me taking them, until I gave him the painting when he finally stopped telling me off after several minutes of continuous ranting.
The background of a long highway that fades into a sunset is fairly innocent, but the 2 bikes parked side by side are what made Jax stop, the old photo of JT taken when he was just starting the club had him with Piney and Clay, but I only took JT from the photo. The other side is a photo that Donna took once of Jax and Opie when we'd been out for a recreational ride to the cabin. I'd put both men in identical clothes, but aged them both, in the photo it seems that JT is about 40 and Jax looks about 18, in fact the painted Jax looks almost identical to the one that's now standing in the doorway. The main difference is the Jax I painted was wearing clothes; the Jax in the doorway only has a towel slung low round his hips. Again I'm faced with the muscular chest, the 6 pack and the smattering of pale hair at the start of his happy trail.
Blushing furiously I turn back to look out the window.
"You kept it." I know my voice sounds stunned, I guess I am really surprised that he did keep it. I know he would have been beyond angry when I left, honestly I'm amazed he didn't burn it.
"I thought about getting rid of it when I found out you'd gone. But by then Tara had gone as well and I was more upset then angry. By the time the anger came back the painting had vanished from my room at home. It showed up in the clubhouse about a year after you'd gone. Everyone said it was amazing; the photos that it had been based on were framed on either side of it. I figured it was Gemma, but she said she had no idea about it."
"Clay." I say to him. He looks confused for a second, and seems to have forgotten his state of undress. "Clay was the one that got me the canvas, the paints, and the other photos I used for the details of JT's bike and face."
Jax moves to the daybed and sits down heavily, the towel falling between his legs, thankfully everything remains covered.
"He never told me that." He lifts a hand and runs it through his hair, I guess the water that runs down his arm finally makes him realise he's not dressed.
"Shit, sorry Sarah, I didn't even think. I saw you in here when I was walking past." He stands in a hurry and grabs the top of the towel, heading into his room again.
5 minutes later a fully dressed Jax emerges again and heads into the room with the stored stuff, emerging holding a duffel bag.
Trailing behind him he goes back to his room and shoves in a couple of pairs of jeans, a few t-shirts and some underwear and socks, while he's packing I look round the room. The walls are pale, which is good as all the furniture is wood so dark it looks almost black. There's not much of it either, a dressing table, a small cabinet beside the bed with 2 draws and the massive sleigh bed that takes up most of the floor space.
Jax heads back out of the room, stopping quickly in the bathroom before he comes back out zipping the bag up.
We head back outside, he stops just outside, hands the bag to me and locks the door again, I stand there looking around and jump when his hand lands on my shoulder. He wraps his arms round my waist, "Sorry, didn't mean to startle ya darlin'".
"It's okay, I'm a bit jumpy." I smile, and I know it's not the greatest, nor is it the most reassuring.
"No surprises there." Jax states dryly.
Walking over to his bike I struggle a bit to adjust the straps, and he finally notices as we get to the bike, turning to face me I hoist the bag up while he adjusts the straps, before he plonks his helmet on my head.
Climbing onto the bike behind him he starts the motor and I know it's going to be an interesting trip to the garage.
The weight of the bag on my back is enough that I'm pushed harder against Jax's back and more onto the seat below me. The smell of Jax and the feel of his chest under my arms is always been a hard thing for me to deal with, but the added pressure isn't making things any easier on me today.
The motor vibrates a little more when he revs it up to accelerate and I really hope the quiet 'oh shit' I mutter hasn't been heard. It appears it hasn't as he takes off down the street, the vibrations from the bike seem to have developed a direct attraction to the small piece of metal that forms my VCH piercing, the one piercing I swore Al to secrecy when she did. To me getting that part of me pierced was me claiming back my pussy from Craig, who'd seen it as part of me, therefore his property.