CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT
Website where all photos of all outfits mentioned is on my profile. 5 reviews gets next chapter early. 10pm update. Sorry, there was no Jax/Sarah action from the kiss of last chapter…but it is coming I promise.
Sensations slowly start to filter into my brain as I wake up, the hardness of whatever I'm lying on is making my hip hurt, the smells of smoke, beer, sweat and god only knows what else curl into my nostrils. Propping my head up I blink my eyes open, seeing the main room of the clubhouse it dawns on me exactly where I am, the green felt under my confirming my suspicions that I'd ended up falling asleep on the pool table.
Flashes of the night before come catapulting into my brain. The calculating looks that Ima gave me when I went outside for some fresh air. The way her face twisted into disbelief and shock when Jax refused her company not once, but three times in the space of an hour. The relief in Lyla's eyes when I told her she was off the hook for the wrap party. The round of tequila shots I quickly backed away from. Al and Juice re-emerging after almost an hour, Al making a beeline to me after her observant eyes noted I was alone by one of the burning drums. A discussion that I was probably entirely too drunk to have about Craig and what's happening, I do remember even in my drunken state keeping entirely quite about the Clubs knowledge of him, and that he'd be dealt with as an internal issue when he's found.
Stretching slowly I feel my muscles complaining, joints softly clicking as they realign. Eventually managing to sit up I hear more than see or feel the layer of soft material slide with me, looking down another memory climbs to the surface, standing outside by one of the barrels, rubbing my hands over my arms trying to keep them warm when a heavy weight settled over my shoulders, the completely silent interaction of Jax draping his dark blue hoodie around me before walking off to talk to Tig, Al's bright eyes taking in the entire thing.
Pulling Jax's hoodie back around me I slide off the table, my bare feet hitting the floor but the memory of why I was sleeping on the pool table not appearing in my mind. Looking around the table I can't see my shoes anywhere, picking my way through the bodies in various states of dress scattered around the floor I make my way to the kitchen, the spluttering sounds of a coffee maker in its final stages grabbing my attention. The smell drifting through the swinging door fully engaging my brain. Carefully stepping over an unidentifiable mess on the floor and through the door the sight of Gemma leaning casually against a bench, mug wrapped tightly in her hands is a welcome view.
"Morning Gem." My voice shocks me for a second, I sound like I've been screaming all night, sending a silent hope that I wasn't Gemma turns and looks at me.
"Morning baby, coffee's just finished." Wrapping my arms around her she looks shocked for a second before she encloses me in her embrace. "What's up?"
"Nothing at all, just realising how much I missed home." I say, pulling away after a few seconds and pouring myself a massive cup of coffee, adding sugar for the boost I know I'll need I lift the cup to my nose, the aroma waking any brain cells that were still sleeping.
"Well, we missed you to." Gem says a small smile on her face.
Leaning beside her we stand in peaceful relaxed silence for a few minutes before she looks down, "Where on earth are your shoes?"
"No idea." I tell her, shrugging my shoulders. "Can't remember where I left them."
Gemma shakes her head, "I'm sure they'll be around somewhere, just watch where you step."
Laughing as I nod, "Oh, I'm aware of that already. It's not pretty out there."
"I saw that, aren't you glad you don't get clean up duty anymore." Gemma says, refilling her cup and stepping towards the door.
"Most definitely." I reply, a smile on my face. I'd earned the right to not have to clean any more when I'd been roped into set up and clean up every weekend from the age of 15 to when I left town.
Refilling my own coffee cup I work my way outside, the morning air is fresh smelling and the warmth in the sun already beating down gives me a hint that it's going to be a scorching hot day today.
By the time I hear signs of life coming from inside the clubhouse my coffee cup is well and truly empty, the porcelain is completely cold and I've shed Jax's hoodie to absorb as much of the warmth as I can, turning it into a pillow behind my head where I'm stretched out on a picnic table.
The screech of chairs moving, crashing sounds of piles of bottles being dropped, the thud of boots and the occasional sound of heels on the hardwood floor are the only noises that make it to my ears for over an hour before the door finally swings open behind me and Happy's rough voice mutters a series of words that I only start to understand as he gets closer, the ranting about missing sunglasses making me chuckle a little.
"Morning Hap." I call out brightly, the 2 cups of strong black coffee have woken me up completely and the brilliant sunlight making it hard to be irritated, even if it is hurting my eyes a little.
All I get in reply from him as he walks towards his bike is a half way hand lift and a not so angry glare. Straddling his bike he looks back to me, finally finding his sunglasses resting in his helmet, "You still owe me cupcakes Cupcake."
"I know." I call back to him as he straps on his helmet and starts his bike.
Happy's departure from the lot seems to be the cue for everyone else to start leaving, a bunch of the club women leave next, their rapid exit telling me without words that the clean-up is done inside and it's safe to go back in there. Eyeing their feet as they go I don't spot my shoes anywhere, which makes me breathe out a sigh of relief but my brow furrows in confusion as to where my missing shoes may be.
Trying to remember everything I'd done the night before is making my brain hurt but I'm more worried about my missing footwear. Letting my eyes drift over the tables and chairs still in the lot I'm started out of my train of thought by a voice behind me.
"Lookin' for something?" Miles calls from the doorway, fresh pot of coffee in his hand, "Refill?"
"Yes on both counts." I reply, picking my cup up and heading over, picking my way through the gravel on the concrete.
"Ahh." He refills my cup. "The items you have lost are safely behind the bar."
I frown as we walk inside, trying to remember when I'd put them there, seeing the still vacant look on my face Miles chuckles. "You left them there after you just about fell off them dancing on a table."
My cheeks are instantly red, the table top dancing I suddenly remember, after another shot or two of vodka with both Lyla and Al the three of us had decided we wanted to dance, and with nowhere in the clubhouse with enough room, and it having gotten quite cold outside, we'd decided it was either the stage, complete with stripper poles, or the tables. Needless to say we avoided the poles, leaving them to the less dressed women that had been occupying that space.
I remember with vivid clarity climbing onto the table, Juice in the corner watching Al's movement with a wicked gleam in his eyes while Lyla covertly watched Miles who was still hard at work behind the bar, even with the lessened amount of bodies that are present the demand for beer, whiskey and other spirits seems to be just as high as it was hours earlier. A few slices of memory of the following minutes are there as well, but major gaps are obvious as well, that must be around the time I decided I'd had more than enough, hearing the song playing rapidly change from whatever song it had been on to the old ZZ Top favourite 'Legs' causes Al to shake her head and point a finger in Juice's direction, and not a very polite one either.
I don't exactly remember pulling my shoes from my feet, I remember wearing them, slipping in something off the table and just about falling on my ass but being stopped in mid fall at the last second by a combination of Lyla and Al who managed to grab my flailing hands, and one of the random guys who had been happily watching from the pool table close by.
What suddenly slams into my brain with the force of a freight train are the few seconds following that series of events. Me struggling to get my feet back under me, my heels slipping with whatever they've ended up covered in. The hard male body behind me, refusing to let me go till I scream, finally managing to stand up and yank myself out of the hands which had started to wander, I remember stumbling to the bar, practically throwing my shoes at Miles and turning around just in time to see the owner of the wandering hands be knocked out by one punch from Clay's massive fist, the silent conversation that happened in several looks between Tig, Happy and Clay before the two enforcers gathered up the unconscious man from the ground.
I close my eyes for a second before opening them again and looking at Miles. "Is that guy still alive?"
Miles grins, "Ask them." He motions behind me and I spin around on the bar stool I'd sat down on and watch Tig and Clay enter the main room from the passage that leads to the dorms. "Here, you might want these first."
Miles hands me my shoes and after gathering several tissues to clean the bottom of the heels I slide off the seat and walk over to the 2 men standing by the wall of mug shots.