A/N: This was supposed to be part of yesterday's chapter but it got quite long, so I broke into two. It will seem more like a filler chapter because of that. Enjoy and please review if you can :)
Band this time is Nirvana.
Chapter 5: Blew
Alex couldn't sleep. She returned to the hotel, took a long cold shower, took Sid for a short walk and went to bed. She tossed, turned, grabbed the pills the doctor had given her but decided not to take them. She also did not turn her phone back on, just plugged it to charge.
"Jesus bloody Christ," she said under her breath and turned the bedside lamp on. Sitting up. She glanced at Sid who lifted his head up at her.
She reached for her pack of cigarettes by the bedside table and noticed it was empty. She sighed. Fine, she needed the walk. She grabbed her laptop from the safe and connected to the motel's spotty Wi-Fi, searching for a 7-Eleven. The closest one was in Lodi.
"There's nothing here," she said to herself as she continued searching for something that could be open at this hour. She glanced at the clock on the top right of her screen: 4 AM. She remembered passing a rest stop just outside of town.
"Well, I'm not sleepy, are you?" she asked Sid. He blinked slowly. "Sorry, love."
[xxx]
Alex stepped outside the gas station already lighting up her cigarette. She glanced at her Jeep parked in front of her and saw as Sid watched her from the passenger seat. She smiled to herself and took a long drag. She was wearing jeans and an oversized UCLA hoodie. It was much chillier now. She observed the calmness of everything around her, there was no one else by the rest stop but her and the Latino teen inside the store. She shrugged, smoking her cigarette quietly, lost in her thoughts. Trying not to think of Jax Teller.
A green truck pulled up and parked on the other side of her car. She watched as a man stepped out, he wore army green pants, combat boots, a tight wife-beater and an opened jacket. He was in what she could tell was his mid-forties, he had a permanent scowl on his face and a buzzed haircut. Between his clavicle she saw a symbol.
"Miss," he greeted politely as he passed by her, but the scowl stayed there. She nodded back and narrowed her look as he entered, looking down and searching her mind. She'd seen him before. That tattoo looked familiar too.
Then it came to her: this was one of the Nazis that arrived in the Mercedes. She recognized the hair, the scowl, even if briefly. He wasn't the one Jax pointed to, but one that stood next to the suited man. Her cigarette was almost done by then, but she lingered, taking her time. She heard as the door opened again and he walked out of it, also with a pack of cigarettes, making his way to his truck.
"You should go home, Miss," he told her, politely, and glanced back at the Latino teen in the store. "Never too careful around this kind," he added blankly before getting back in his truck.
She glanced at Sid on the passenger seat of her car. He was up, alert, observing. Then back at the man, she smiled politely and pointed at her car with her head. Dropping her cigarette and stepping on it.
Alex observed as the truck pulled out and watched the back, making a mental note of the plate as she walked to her car. She got in, grabbed a few pieces of paper and a pen, drew the tattoo as best as she could remember and noted his plate, then drove back to Charming. Disgusted at his comment and worse yet at his apathy towards it, as if it was a normal thing to say.
[xxx]
Before going to bed Alex wrote to her California State Police source, Mark Mills, asking him to run a few things for her. First, she asked him to get back to her as quickly as he could on the plate from the truck, and if it had any ties in Charming or surrounding areas. She also asked him to run a background on the League for her, and any ties to Charming as well. Lastly, almost guiltily, she asked him to run Jax Teller and any associates by the alias "Bobby". She wanted to know what last night was about.
Alex barely slept. She woke up at 7 AM, her thoughts racing, and decided she wouldn't fester in bed anymore. She got dressed with jeans, a Motorhead white t-shirt and a leather jacket - the day was a contrast from the day before, the weather had started to give in to the fall.
She checked her email and saw that Mills returned her message. He said he had info on the truck, but would get back to her with the rest and more on the truck owner. I feel like this is important, he noted on his email. She opened the file.
The truck belonged to one Aaron James Weston; 48 years old. No tickets. Nothing of note there, except that Mills said he'd return with more info on him as well. Damning. She noted his address and looked up, a trailer park just on the outskirts of Charming, very recently. Previous address was in San Bernardino.
"Bingo," she said lowly, writing the address down and the route. Didn't seem overly complicated. She grabbed Sid and hit the road.
Doing what she came here for would likely help her keep her thoughts away from Jax Teller. She looked at her phone buzzing, she had turned it back on in the morning. No Caller ID. She ignored it and walked out.
Suppressed; both of them.
[xxx]
Alex approached what she believed, hoped, was the trailer park. She slowed down on the road, lifting the map with one hand and checking. She lowered the volume of her music and looked out. Hm, this might be it.
Two Harleys zipped through traffic in the opposite lane, she noted quickly, Sons of Anarchy. None of them appeared to be Jax, no nice flowing blond hair under their helmets, but she wasn't sure. She watched as they went towards Charming from her rear-view mirror.
The sun had shined on her that day, it seems, because she noticed at once from her also from her mirror the green truck from last night leaving from a side road behind her, the same way the Harleys went.
"Ah, fuck," she said under her breath. "Sorry," she said to Sid and waited until the truck was a ways away and a another car passed by, and did a U-turn, following the truck from a safe distance.
The truck entered a fairly quiet road and started to slow down, following the Harleys from even farther way. Alex thanked the gods when the minivan in front of her entered the road as well, and followed. She slowed even more and parked, when she noticed Weston had parked conspicuously away from the other side of the fence of an old, seemingly abandoned, gas station. At the gas station the two Sons of Anarchy left their bikes, seemed to be waiting for someone.
Jax was not among the two, she did remember seeing them the night before though. One of them was definitely the one who had pulled the gun the night before. She lowered herself in her seat, and observed Weston observing them from afar, she grabbed her coffee cup from the console and took a sip. Now we wait.
She watched as a black Mercedes, not the same car as the night before, pulled up at the gas station. Loud rap music blasting from it. She grabbed small binoculars from her glove box (a journalist MUST have these, Jimmy said when he gifted it to her when she had her first undercover assignment). She noted the Mercedes plate in her notepad.
From the car a black man popped up, he seemed friendly with the Sons. She directed her eyes at Weston and shifted in her seat when she saw him pull a camera and a big lens, taking pictures of the gas station.
Motherfucker. She thought, he was gathering intel on them. Blackmail? Was that their move in Charming?
A police cruiser pulled up at the gas station, and from it she recognized the man who was with Jax at the diner when they first met. He seemed unbothered by scene, she noticed Weston seemed to keep taking pictures. Quickly after, the men in the Mercedes left. After a quick exchange the Sons seemed to leave in a hurry. Before they could though and while seeming getting ready to mount their bikes, Alex threw her binoculars on the floor by the passenger seat and left before Weston or anyone else could see her.
[xxx]
Alex arrived at the motel again and grabbed her laptop. She shifted sitting on the bed, noticing several emails from Mills. Each with a subject line: Aaron James "AJ" Weston, League of American Nationalists, Jackson "Jax" Teller, and Robert "Bobby" Munson.
"Come to mama," she said excitedly and opened the one on Weston first.
Member of the Aryan Brotherhood, AJ Weston was now part of the League of American Nationalists. He seemed to be high ranking in both organizations, a violent felon, having served time in prison. He did have two small sons though, of which he seemed to have full custody. God bless the system, she thought sarcastically.
She opened next the file on the League, it seemed to be growing quickly, a lot of the members names had been blocked. Odd, I know, read a note from Mills, make of it what you will. Huh, they had to be important people. The League wasn't your backyard redneck white supremacist group - its leader, the Hungarian-American church deacon Ethan Zobelle ran an incredibly profitable cigar business with stores in several Californian towns. He had a daughter, Polly, and his wife had been killed in a shooting a couple of years back.
Alex started to make sense of everything. She took a sip of her coffee and pet Sid who was lying on the bed next to her. Her phone buzzed, she looked down: No Caller ID. She shook her head and turned her attention back to the computer.
She lingered with the arrow on top of the email with the subject line "Jackson Jax Teller". She looked down for a moment, then at Sid.
"To open or not to open, that is the question," she said to the dog, and smiled faintly at herself. Fucking hell. She touched the laptop trackpad with her nails in a repetitive noise.
The phone buzzed again, and she looked down one more time. No Called ID. She turned it off and clicked the email, opening the file.
Jackson "Jax" Teller, son of Gemma and John Teller, and was born in 1978, only a couple of years older than her. She scanned the document and saw he'd been arrested in his teens for small stuff such as possession, misdemeanor, and such. He had other arrests throughout the years, though but her eyes stopped at the latest one on record, April of 1997 in San Joaquin County, Possession of Illegal Weapons, he served some time for that one.
Ok, that's not that bad, she tried to rationalize. Then she continued to read all the other times he'd be arrested for assault within Charming and subsequently released with no more than a day. You'd think someone who'd get in trouble this often for something like assault would have had something more serious brought to him by now. Then she remembered the police chief with Jax and the other at the diner, and earlier that day with the other two.
She wrote down a note to herself to look into the police department in Charming, then moved on to Bobby's file. The only reason she looked into him particularly was because of his recent "come back". Something told her he had not been on vacation.
And he wasn't. He read a charge of murder of Brenan Hefner, a port commissioner in Oakland: weeks after his arrest the case was dropped, after a witness went missing. Bobby was released thirty days later - yesterday.
Ok, she thought to herself, and closed her laptop. She thought of Jax's answer the night before when she asked him if he belonged there, when he said she didn't. Today, honestly, I don't know. She rationalized it again; something was pushing him away from this club, what could it be? She thought of how Jimmy told her to investigate the league, not the club. But they were connected at this point, the League was clearly targeting the Sons. She wondered if they realized that, if Jax did.
She grabbed the phone and turned it back on, looking down at it for a few seconds as if waiting for it to ring. When it didn't, she opened, and dialed for Jimmy.
"Hey Sunshine," Jimmy's chipper voice answered on the other side.
"Hey Queen," Alex said affectionately as she always did. "How's tricks?"
"Richie and I are at the Farmer's Market," he said. Of course he was.
"Oh, is this a bad time? I can call later."
"Absolutely not, tell me, how are things with you? How is Charming?"
"It's, uh, good," she hesitated.
"I'm listening," Jimmy knew instantly she was about to tell him more than just about the accommodations and local eats.
"I may have fucked up, sort of, slightly-"
"Yes?" his paternal tone kicked in for a moment. She could tell he had walked somewhere quieter.
"Well, I found some stuff on the League already, I followed one of their members today, they're definitely after the Sons of Anarchy," she said briefly. Let's start with the good bits. "I ran some things through Mark, I have a good start going."
"Ok, where is the fuck up part?"
She proceeded to tell him about meeting Jax and attending the party. Jimmy listened in silence, she got up as she talked, walking anxiously around the room.
"So, then we shared a spliff and we, uh-"
"Oh my god, did you fuck him?!" Jimmy interrupted.
"No! See, it's not that bad," Yet, she thought, but didn't say. "We kissed, it was a bit intense." she let out Scott's calls and her little neck incident. She heard Jimmy sigh.
"Listen, baby girl, I have no doubt blondie is hot as hell, but you gotta cut that shit out."
Alex knew he'd say that.
"Yeah, I know, but he doesn't want to be there, it seems. He's got something to say, you know?"
"Do not even start!" he half yelled across the line. "You're not there to write a piece on them, you're there to write a piece on the League."
"But-"
"I know the League is after him, his club, whatever," he interrupted her, knowing where she was going. "It doesn't matter, listen to me, these guys are dangerous. There are no innocents here, don't fool yourself."
"I am not, I am just-"
"Stop the self-destruction, Alex." he said gravely for the first time. He knew where this was going. "Listen, Scott can't reach you there, you're fine and we're going to sort this out. Richie is already looking into other ways to stop that son of a bitch, but you gotta listen to me, are you listening?"
"Yes," she said in a half-sigh and sat down on the bed. Sid approached, leaning is head on her lap, she scratched his ears.
"You do this, you know it, shit gets fucked one way and you run the opposite way hell bent in fucking other type of shit up," he continued the lecture. "Please, baby girl, do not get involved with him. Stay the fuck away from blondie."
"Fine," she said under her breath.
"Tell me you understand."
"I understand," she did. That didn't mean she agreed, but she understood. She thought about mentioning Scott and the calls, and how that drove her closer to Jax. It would've driven her closer to anyone.
"Go get a taquito and a vibrator and call it a night, for the love of god." she chuckled at that.
"Oh, that reminds me," she perked up again. "Last night, when I went for cigarettes and ran into Weston. There's no 7-Eleven in Charming. I know that in itself is not particularly remarkable, however odd, but listen to this: there are no other chains or major developments in Charming, nothing. It's like it's stopped in time, when all other small towns around are booming."
"Huh," Jimmy replied pensive on the other line. "Do you think this is why the League is in there?"
"Maybe?" she followed his trail of thought. On one hand glad he dropped Jax and seemed interested in the actual piece again.
"Maybe ask blondie? Isn't he born and raised there?" he asked.
"Wait a minute, I thought you told me to stay away from him."
"Yes, you can ask him without your tongue in his mouth and from a safe distance," he replied in a sarcastic tone. "I would hope."
Alex wasn't sure she could, but laughed and agreed.
[xxx]
Alex finished the call with Jimmy, gathered her stuff and decided to work from the diner where she met Jax, which happened to be across the street from the address Mark sent her Impeccable Smokes, Zobelle's shop, was being set up.
She was by a window seat where she had full visibility of the street and the shop. A notebook and a pen with her notes, a hearty late lunch half-eaten in front of her. She observed as Weston truck pulled up to the shop. She'd been watching for a while now; the door had been open and tall, burly, white men carried boxes inside the store. She also noticed Zobelle's car parked outside from the moment she got there, she caught a glimpse of the suited man here and there, directing others around. She had recognized the car and Zobelle from the night before.
"More coffee, darling?" a sweet young waitress stopped by her side. Alex looked up and her and nodded with a smile.
"Listen," Alex said with a charming smile as the waitress poured more hot coffee on her mug. "I am staying at the motel on Harbor," the waitress looked at her interested.
"I'm a writer, you know? Late nights," she glanced at her notebook full of notes, although careful not to make them visible. And continued her fishing. "Do you know of anywhere I could go for a late-night bite, if I needed? I noticed you're not open late."
"Oh, yes," she nodded in consent. "I'm afraid you won't find anything open in Charming. Maybe one of the gas stations on the road just outside of town? They usually have rest stops. It's a ride, though."
"We can thank the Sons for that," the waitress blurted out when Alex twisted her nose in disapproval when she mentioned she'd had to drive. Alex perked up, but tried to hide it.
"Oh?"
"I mean, it's a good thing," the waitress added in a rushed tone and managed a smile. "It makes local businesses stronger; you know?"
"Right, of course," Alex didn't press but noticed the slight discomfort. The girl excused herself and went back behind the counter to tend to someone else.
Her phone buzzed on the table yet again, she looked down. No Called ID. She stuffed the phone in her bag and turned her attention back to the cigar shop.
[xxx]
Jax Teller entered the clubhouse at once, he had just gotten a call from Half-Sack to come over. Bobby had been shot.
"Ah, Jesus Christ," he said as he saw Bobby lying against the pool table, a bullet wound on his shoulder.
Next to Bobby, Marissa, Neeta's kid sister and a nurse at St Thomas was putting gloves on to care for him. Neeta had been a friend of the club since he was a child and even babysat him and Thomas a few times, now she was Abel's full-time nanny. Her kid sister was in her early twenties, and the club had helped pay for studies. At least some of what his father truly wanted.
"Mayans, they crashed our little Niner delivery, man," Tigs filled him in.
"You ok, bro?" he asked Bobby.
"Yeah," Bobby grunted. Tough as ever. "I'm in good hands."
"They got away with two cases of the AKs," Half-Sack continued.
Jax sighed. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. He looked from Bobby to his mother standing by Marissa. She had bruises on her face and looked in bad shape; that car accident early that morning must have done a number on her. For a moment he forgot his differences with her and touched her shoulder.
"Aw, man," he said, gently. She smiled faintly at him. It was odd to see his mother like this.
"Yeah," she said faintly, as he approached to take a better look at her bruises.
"Jax, in here." he heard Clay's voice coming from the chapel. His tone was grave, he left the door opened and went back inside, waiting for him.
Jax sighed again and exchanged a look with his mother before walking to the chapel and closing the door.
"That little judgement call you made for the good of the club?" Clay started without ceremony, lying against the wooden table. Jax knew immediately he was talking about the day before when he pinned the Mayan death on the Niners.
Jax put his hands in his pockets and just waited. He knew Clay was savoring this moment, however concern he must be feeling for Bobby, giving Jax this lecture was probably worth it to him.
"It came back to bite us in the ass," Clay continued, his voice low. "Almost killed Bobby."
"I can see that," Jax said with a nod. Ready to continue to hear his bullshit.
"Whatever you may think, the truth is," Clay continued. "Everything I do is to protect what we got. It's never arbitrary. And it's never reactive."
Jax continued to stare at him, blankly. He knew that, he knew that planning Opie's death behind his back and the rest of the club had not been arbitrary, but it sure as fuck was reactive. He didn't say a word back, not the right time.
"I've been doing this for 30 years; I know a few things." Clay added, and reached for a glass of Jack Daniel's, taking a sip.
"Taking that tag off the Mayan was the right decision. You know that." Jax finally spoke up. He could feel the anger building inside him, but his tone was as calm as ever. The scowl on his face didn't hide much of his contempt though.
"You wanna challenge me? Fine. I don't give a shit," Clay completely ignored his comment. Then stood up, getting closer to him. Jax didn't move. "But the minute it stops being about this club, and it starts becoming personal, they'll know that," he glanced towards the door.
"They'll lose respect for you and they won't trust you anymore," Jax could hear the venom in his words. He knew exactly how to get to him.
"Then you'll be handling everything on your own," Clay continued. "Think about that," he stared walking past Jax and towards the door, then shot one last look at him and added gravely. "Son."
Jax didn't turn around as Clay opened the door and walked out. He put his hands on the back of one of the chairs and sighed, looking down. Things will work out, he repeated in his mind, change is slow. He was steering the club away from the guns, Cara Cara wasn't exactly pristine or something to be particularly proud of, but it was legitimate. He needed to start somewhere.
He turned around and walked outside, not without checking on Bobby first. Clay sat by the bar with Tigs while Marissa worked on Bobby, with Half-Sack's help. He touched her shoulder gently and thanked her before leaving. He walked to the fire escape, not the one he took Alex the other night, but the one right above the clubhouse.
He was surprised to find his mother seating by an air vent, joint in hand. He joined her in silence and she passed him the joint. He put his arm around her, and they smoked in silence for a few minutes.
"What's going on, Jax?" she asked gently, a rare sight.
"Nothing," he lied and looked down, grabbing his phone with his free hand.
"You need to talk," Gemma added, observing as he searched for a name and clicked on in. Iggy. She frowned, when he looked at her, phone on his ear, and gave her a brief kiss on the side of the head.
"Yeah, I do," he agreed. He waited as the phone rang, but no answer. He closed the phone and put it back on his pocket.
"Feel better, mom," he gave her another gentle kiss. Gemma observed everything but said nothing. He stood up after the kiss and walked out, he would try to find Alex at the motel.
A/N: Yeah, no Tara here, it wouldn't make sense, of course. But the club still needs a St Thomas connection, with getting shot all the time and stuff, haha. Hope you enjoyed!
