Chapter Two
Jax had nearly spit out his coffee at the sight of the vintage beauty sitting across the lot from them. From what Hap could tell from the back of the driver's head, she was a petite young blonde. The woman was probably one of those stuck-up bitches with daddy's money to blow. Although Hap had to hand it to the gash, she put papa's cash to good use. The bitch had taste. Hap's mom used to always say, "Money can't buy taste," when referring to the mannerless individuals she used to work for. His mother had worked as a maid for some wealthy businessman and his family for the better part of 30 years. Working as a glorified slave for those fucks gave Ms. Lowman a relatively flexible schedule, which was necessary to raise the very rambunctious young Happy on her own. The family's mc-mansion was tasteless and tacky at best and seemed to match its owners to a T. Happy always felt bile rise into his throat when he thought about those monsters that fired his mother after decades of loyal service for no reason at all. The biker shook his head as if the physical action would rid him of his angry thoughts and focused his attention back on the driver.
The blonde turned off the engine, grabbed her bag from the passenger seat and stepped out of the vehicle. Now if the car had the power to grab half the lot's attention, its driver had the pull to put all work to a screeching halt. Standing about 15 feet away from him was the most beautiful looking woman Hap had ever laid eyes on. And he had been inside his fair share of good looking women over the years that was for sure. His position in the club pretty much gave him access to prime pussy from coast to coast, but this chick was something else entirely.
She stood leaning against the trunk of her car smoking a cigarette and balancing a cell phone between her ear and shoulder. Her body language indicated the conversation was not very engaging. The blonde looked to be in her mid-twenties and far too pale to have been in California for too long. Her platinum hair fell in soft waves down to her hips. As Hap's eyes roamed over this new specimen, each feature was more incising than the next. The woman's body looked like it had been plucked from one of Juice's Heavy Metal comic books: ample chest, tiny waist, curvaceous hips, and slender legs. Those slender legs were being hugged by a pair of pitch black, skin-tight jeans that connected to five inch stiletto boots with bright red bottoms. The blonde's face was being obscured by a rather large pair of sunglasses. Hap never understood why women felt the need to wear those ridiculous things. Bug-eyes, he thought. Happy's focus finally landed on the woman's lips. Fuck-me lips: plump, full, and dark pink. Hap was half hard just thinking about those lips around his dick. At that moment the little minx's enticing mouth opened to utter a goodbye to whoever was on the other end of the phone call. Hap was jolted out of his little daze when he realized Jax had moved from his side to directly in front of the blonde.
"Mornin' Darlin', anything I could help you with?" Jax offered, adding one of his signature smiles that makes women want to drop their panties on the spot.
The blonde tossed her cigarette on the ground and stubbed it out with the toe of her bitch heels. She gave Jax the once over and let a small smirk grace her face as her gaze zeroed in on Vice President patch on Jax's cut. And that's when he heard it. The bitch's voice was like honey: dark, rich and sweet.
"Yeah, maybe you can. I'm looking for someone. A guy."
"Just any guy? Gonna need to be a little more specific around here, Doll." Jax chided.
"Hmmm. I see...well, I'm looking for a real man, so I expect he sticks out in these parts. Bobby Elvis. Know where I might find him?" The blonde sassed back with a confident heir.
"You're here to see Bobby?" Jax asked in disbelief. Something that Happy was in agreement with.
"Yeah. Is he here?" she said tapping her foot, obviously getting a little annoyed with Jax's questioning.
"Maybe. Who's asking?" Jax replied now all business.
"An old friend," the blonde replied.
"Huh, this old friend have a name or should I make one up for you?" Hap could tell VP was reaching his limit with the girl's responses. It was like pulling teeth to get a straight answer from the sexy bitch. The irony of this was not lost on Hap though. It wasn't like he was much of a talker either.
"Monty," the woman finally relinquished.
"Monty? Strange name for a pretty little thing like yourself." Jax replied cheekily.
Monty's lips formed a thin line and Hap knew that behind those ridiculous glasses the girl's eyes had narrowed in distaste with the SAMCRO Prince.
"He'll know who I am," Monty assured.
"Alright, Monty. Gimme a sec," and with that Jax turned behind him and walked towards the clubhouse shaking his head the whole time.
Monty. What the fuck kind of name was that for a chick, Hap thought as Jax went inside to retrieve Bobby. He observed the girl again from his perch across the lot. Her arms were crossed over her worn Iron Maiden t-shirt that looked like it had been cut up and sewn back together. She took a long drag of the cigarette she had just lit and was shifting her weight from foot to foot. Her actions were a far cry from the snarky confidence she had shown the VP a moment ago. The girl was obviously more anxious about seeing the SAMCRO secretary than she was willing to let on. And who was this gash to Bobby anyways? She couldn't be his Ol'lady, could she? Maybe she was his daughter. But before Hap could further ponder this 'Monty' and her relation to Bobby the door of the clubhouse swung open. Hap watched as she lifted her head with the most beautiful smile gracing her face.
The cigarette fell from Monty's hand when she saw Bobby emerge from what she assumed was a Sons of Anarchy clubhouse. In seven years he hadn't changed one bit. She felt a smile spread across her face and before she even realized what she was doing, she felt her feet start to move from under her. Her pace went from a slow jog to a sprint across the lot where she promptly jumped and wrapped her arms around the burly biker. The entire lot had watched this display in complete and utter shock. 'Who the fuck was this chick,' was the general question every Son and mechanic's mind.
"Bobby Elvis! It's been too long." Monty said, still holding on to the biker firmly.
Bobby chuckled and gave the girl one more tight squeeze. "You too kid. You too." Taking Monty by the shoulders, the biker held the tiny blonde at arm's length. "Lemme get a look at you, little girl."
At that the young woman removed her sunglasses and revealed the most incredible looking eyes. They were a haunting sort of pale blue, like the skies of early spring. Well, at least one of them was. The other was a light but warm woody brown. Her mismatched doe eyes were framed by two rows of thick dark lashes. They were beautiful and yet completely disturbing. When she was little, Bunny was always slightly embarrassed about her heterochromia. It wasn't until later in life that she realized some of her idols like David Bowie and Christopher Walken were also freaks.
Bunny's best friend and 'brother-from-another-mother,' Trip, had told her that she should have been named after a wolf instead of a measly rabbit the first time they met. And after years of torture of rabbit related jokes at her expense, an eleven-year-old Bunny was very appreciative of this stance. From then on they had been best friends.
Bobby drank in the girl's appearance. His gaze zeroed in on the dark circles that looked to have taken up permanent residence under her large doe eyes. With a fleeting yet pointed look as if to say 'we are gonna have a chat about those bags later missy,' Bobby let out a soft chuckle and wrapped a heavy arm around the frail woman's shoulders. "Even more beautiful than I remember, little lady. Skinny as shit though. Still sticking to a strictly-carrot diet, Thumper?" The secretary goaded.
The pale blonde blushed at the compliment while shrugging off the biker's arm. Monty shook her head and playfully rolled her eyes at Bobby's teasing. Over the years she had heard every rabbit-related gag in the book. And while it had bugged her to no end as a kid, Bunny had grown to almost tolerate the constant barrage of bad jokes about her too short ears and unlucky feet. Really, the young woman just wished some remark would be remotely original.
"Actually I've become quite cannibalistic as of late," she teased right back.
At this comment the small group of bikers that had congregated around the girl in hopes of catching something other than croweater all donned confused and questioning stares. Noticing his brothers' perplexed expressions, Bobby cleared his throat and turned to address his fellow SOA members.
"Boys," Bobby gruffed as he placed a comforting hand on the small of the woman's back, "This beautiful young lady here is an old friend, Bunny Owens."
At this point Bunny, who had been staring at a very interesting piece of loose gravel on the ground, lifted her eyes to greet the men Bobby Elvis had called his brothers for so many years. Standing in front of her were six men in leather cuts. Her eyes scanned the congregation in front of her, noticing the subtle differences between the men. Nodding her head at the blonde VP who helped her before, she raised her hand to greet him first.
"Hey, nice to formally meet you. Bobby Elvis here has told me a lot about you," She told Jax. "Well, all of you I guess," her honey voice addressed the rest of the men standing behind the VP.
"Jax. And Bobby's never mentioned a word about you… Bunny, is it? Not Monty?" Jax responded in a slightly accusatory tone. After the weekend the club had just faced, the VP was in no mood to be toyed around with by some outsider this morning.
"Yeah, uh well about that…" Bunny stumbled.
"Ah, well you see there, I've known Bunny since she was a tiny little baby. Her father and I came up with the nickname when Bunny was around seven?" Bobby paused to look at Bunny to make sure he was getting his dates right.
"Bobby, no tales from the Dark Farm, okay?" she pleaded upon deaf ears.
"You see, Bunny here has never really loved her name, especially the host of the 'wabbit season' puns that so easily go with it. She would throw these humongous fits and get so angry. Madder than Gem when she cracked that Cherry in the nose with a skateboard." Bobby gave another couple of pointed looks to Tig and Happy before once again continuing. "Boss and I used to joke that Bunny here was the real life version of the Holy Grail's Killer Rabbit. Long story short, we started calling her 'Monty' because it was easier than calling her 'The Killer Rabbit' and she was more of a tomboy then anyway. The whole family has called her 'Monty' ever since."
Bunny tried to work up the courage to tell Bobby Elvis that he now made up the entirety of her whole family.
"Well now that they've had that lovely history lesson, maybe I could actually learn their names," Bunny quipped, distracting herself and buying more time.
"Oh, yeah, sorry about that, Monty Girl," Bobby apologized. Nodding towards the biker on the far left, "That there is Chibs."
"Lovely to meet'cha, Lass," the Scotsman offered, kissing Bunny's knuckles.
"My my, what a gentleman," Bunny giggled. Playing along, she fanned herself with her hand and swooned a little. She flirted back while batting her long lashes jokingly at Chibs, "The pleasure is all mine, Kind Sir."
"Alright, alright enough," Bobby interrupted. Going down the line of bikers, Bobby called out the rest of his brothers' names. "That retard there is Juice. The registered sex offender next to him's named Tigger. That's Half-Sack, but he's a prospect so he don't matter much, and that tattooed silent fucker is Happy," Bobby finished.
Bunny's eyes locked onto the man called Happy. He was tall and lean. His caramel skin was completely covered in colorful ink. His eyes were a deep chocolate brown. They were so dark they were almost black and they burned like coals as they bore into her. Now, Bunny had met with a fair share of intimidating people through her family and work over the years, but this man was a whole other animal. The silent biker oozed danger just through his stoic stance. And if she was honest with herself, Bunny had to admit this Happy dude was totally turning her on.
Realizing that she was off in 'LaLa Land,' Bunny shook her head and let out a cough before turning to Bobby once again. "And you make fun of my name? Tigger and Juice. What's next, Naptime and Mr. Rogers?" She exclaimed while pointing at the SAA. "And Half-Sack—I know I probably shouldn't be, but I'm morbidly curious as to why you're called that. And Happy, really? You all sound like a fucked up show on adult-swim. At least I have a reason for my ridiculous name since I'm a WASP," Bunny jested. Her New York sarcasm was making its entrance a little early this morning, that was for sure.
Happy let out a low growl at her comment. Much like Bunny he did not appreciate strangers making fun of his name, not that many had the balls to do it to his face.
"Oh shit! Would you look at that…The bitch has some balls on her." Tig said in an attempt to diffuse the tension between the overly candid, mildly offensive girl and the semicircle of bearded, leather clad bikers that towered over her.
"Solid Brass, actually," Bunny responded with a straight face. "A matching pair," she added pointedly and watched for the boy called Half-Sack's reaction.
At this everyone erupted into laughter and instantly the tension between the girl and her audience vanished.
Catching his breath, Bobby asked his old friend the question that was on everybody's mind. "So, what brings the lovely and talented Ms. Owens to good ol' Charming? Got some business out west—scouting the local talent pool like your old man back in the day? I assume Malory knows you're here since you've got Tilda with you."
"Um, well not quite," Bunny stated and shifted her weight from foot to foot.
Hap noticed the unconscious tick. She was nervous again. Whatever reason she had for being here, it was definitely not all sunshine and rainbows, judging from how uncomfortable the blonde now looked. Before Bunny could continue, her attention was drawn to the young mohawked biker.
"Hold on a sec," Juice interrupted, "you're Bunny Abrams Owens!"
"We've already established that, Shit Head," Tig said while giving the younger Hispanic biker a swift slap to the back of the skull. "Sorry about the retard, Doll Face."
"No, man. She's Bunny Owens," he said again, with gravitas, as if that clarified everything. Receiving only blank responses from his brothers', Juice continued on enthusiastically, "Lead singer, lead guitarist of VICTORIOUS DEAD. Producer. Model. Co-Founded The Factory New." Still nothing. Not a single spark of recognition among them. Only Bobby, smiling cheerfully down at the girl whose cheeks were growing pinker by the second. Blind to her discomfort, Juice continued on with his list of reasons precisely why they should know who Bunny Owens is. "Daughter of Boss Owens, the most epic producer of all time. Shit, she's like the baddest chick. I saw you at BAM in '03 with Johnny Cash. It was sick as fuck."
"Stalker," Half-Sack mock-coughed into his hand.
"I've never met a Fan-Boy in a cut before," Bunny added, never one to pass up an opportunity to mock a new acquaintance. "and I've never written a resume before, but that just about does it. Where are you from?" Bunny questioned recognizing the faint raising of vowels as the young biker spoke.
"Yeah, sometimes my accent comes out pretty heavy. I'm from Queens originally. Ridgewood, you know it?" Juice asked.
"Ridgewood. You can take the trash outta Queens, but you can't take the Queens out of trash." Tig jested.
"Hey, I hear ya. I start to sound like Mona Lisa Vito after a couple drinks," Bunny commiserated. "Speaking of which, how's your Chinese Food?" She asked with a thick Brooklyn accent.
Bobby, Juice, and Tig all let out a short bark of laughter and Bunny's last comment. Apparently they were the only ones to get the reference to the early '90s Joe Pesce classic.
"I like Ridgewood. It's quiet by New York standards. And it's practically Brooklyn. I used to spend a lot of time at bad punk shows in Bushwick."
"Really?" Juice asked unconvinced.
"Yeah... I even took the subway to and from!" Bunny exclaimed in a sarcastic fashion as she brought a hand to her chest. "You'd be surprised how many little rich white girls live in the 'Shwick now. Totally gentrified. All the art kids and hipsters are spreading out. I heard they're trying to rename Bushwick 'East Williamsburg' instead. Which is fucking bullshit if you ask me. But hey, what are you gonna do?"
"Shit, really? Is that why you left?" Juice asked, entirely wrapped up in the conversation and his home town nostalgia while the rest of his brothers had no clue what the two of them were harping on about.
"If you could quit being the President of her fucking fanclub for two seconds, Juicey, maybe she'd actually be able to enlighten us as to why she's here." Bobby told SAMCRO's youngest member. He obviously was slightly annoyed that Juice had interrupted him before.
Juice looked down at the ground sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. With Bunny as a witness, the quips and mockery that were so commonly aimed at Juice now made him uncomfortable.
Bunny looked over to Juice and gave him a small sympathetic smile before attempting to answer the two bikers. "To answer both of you, I needed to get away from the city for a bit. And I'd wager Malory hasn't had Tilda looked at since 1993, considering the amount of dust I found on her tarp." Then Bunny turned to face Bobby only. With a sad and distant look in her eyes she continued. "I guess Rosen kept his promise," she said in a low voice almost as if she was speaking to herself. "But mostly I came because I didn't want you to find out the way that I did. Especially, right out of jail… Yeah, I heard about your troubles down at the docks. Never let Big Brother put ya out of commision. Is there somewhere we can sit and talk while one of your boys tunes up Matilda?"
Getting slightly worried, Bobby nodded his head and grabbed the young woman's hand. Before leading Bunny over to the picnic table Happy and Jax were occupying earlier, the secretary told the prospect to grab Dog and get started looking at the vintage convertible. "Treat that car like you would an infant. You fuck anything up on that car 'n you'll never get your top rocker. Got that prospect?"
Half-Sack looked like he was going to shit his pants for a split second. Bunny almost felt bad for the kid but really, Tilda was more precious to her than anything else in the world. So if he fucked up her one remaining connection to her father, she wouldn't hesitate to ensure he became 'No-sack.'
Bunny followed Bobby to a set of picnic benches that were to the right of the clubhouse entrance and across the lot from where Tilda was now being moved from where she parked her to the garage. She was dragging her feet, trying to prolong the inevitable emotion filled conversation with the biker she thought of as an uncle. Bunny was never really one to talk about her feelings, even with those she was closest to. Something about showing any sort of vulnerability made her cringe and run in the opposite direction. But this was a conversation that needed to be had and Bunny was the best person to deliver it.
Bobby and Malory had a very interesting relationship that spanned a good thirty-some-odd years. There was really no clear way to describe the two. Her aunt was Bobby's landlord, once-upon-a-time lover, and drug dealer. And the biker had been Malory's protégée, confidant, and caretaker. They had been so many different things to each other over the years—each role developing naturally as time passed. How do you tell someone that a person who has been a staple in his life for over three decades was terminally ill for months and never bothered to tell anyone about it? They definitely don't sell How to Tell an 'Uncle' that His 'Significant Other/Landlady/Stoner-buddy' Up and Died While He Was in Jail for Dummies books at Barnes & Noble. Believe me, if they did, Bunny would have bought that fucker without blinking.
Bunny tossed her head back and let out a frustrated groan as she plopped down clumsily next to Bobby. As soon as her ass hit the bench Bunny's head fell into her hands so she could shield herself from the biker's questioning and concerned eyes. Bunny really did love her aunt. Malory was one of those magical people whose free spirited outlook on life, although never aligning with societal norms, seemed an effortless and natural fit to the woman in question. And normally Bunny revered her aunt's bohemian non-conformist ways, and even tried to emulate her aunt to a certain capacity. But right now Bunny was cursing the old hippie. Jesus Fucking Christ! Why couldn't Malory just give everyone a little heads up? Like:'Hey just soes' ya know, I have stage 4 breast cancer, and instead of going through a battery of useless treatments and losing my tits, I'm just gonna fuck off in Tibet for a month or two or until I just don't wake up.' Just a little notice...it wasn't so much to ask! But of course Malory just decided it would be better to do the last part of that. And to her aunt's credit, Malory had no idea Bobby would be stuck in federal prison for a month and a half.
"So what's up, kiddo? You're starting to scare the shit out of me here. Something goin on that you're not telling me? You in some kinda trouble?" Bobby rambled off worriedly.
Bunny sighed and raised her head up from its cradle in her pale hands where it had been hiding for the past five minutes. She turned her head and looked directly into Bobby's eyes with so much emotion that she was sure that if she waited any longer she was going to combust.
"Bobby, Malory's dead," Bunny blurted out like she was expelling poison from a wound. She let out a large breath that she didn't even know she had been holding and felt the tension that had been building up for the better part of a week escape from her body.
The biker just stared at the girl next to him for a moment, his mouth slightly aghast. Certainly he had heard his 'niece' wrongly. Sure Malory was a good 15 years older than him but the last time he saw her she was still doing backflips on the trampoline behind the main house. Christ, she just had her 67th birthday back in May! She was too young to die.
"Excuse me, but WHAT?" Bobby exclaimed. "You can't be serious."
"Oh, but I am. You think I would make a joke about that kind of thing? I mean she was the only family I had left!"
"Well, Nnno, but… How?"
"Apparently the old bat had breast cancer, stage 4. Found out about it a few months back and just decided to forget about it and not bother to tell the two of us. I guess that trip to Tibet she said was a birthday present to herself was more like a last hoorah. I didn't know she was sick until Rosen called me two weeks ago. I was planning on coming out to see her soon, this week actually. Wasn't lyin' when I said I need to get away from the city for a while—but that's a story for later." The relayed message was a string of morose quips delivered in half-mumbles. "When I met with Rosen last week to take care of Aunty M's Will, he told me you were still locked up but that you were getting out within the week. I figured the news would be better coming from me than that slimy fuck, but now I'm not too sure. I'm not good at this type of shit, although you'd think I'd be used to it by now," Bunny laughed morbidly.
At that comment, Bobby forgot all of his own grief. This poor girl had been through a lot of rough shit in her short twenty-six years on Earth—some things that he would never wish on his worst enemies. And yet here she was: beautiful, smart, successful. It was so easy to forget how many hardships this girl had faced. Bunny never spoke about it. But then she would say the smallest thing like being used to dealing with death and the misery that goes with it. And only upon knowing the punch line, could he connect the pieces, the little clues like breadcrumbs she had unknowingly left for him to find: the dark purple bruises under her wide eyes, her uncomfortable shuffle, her gaunt appearance, her defensive brazenness. He had seen this version of her before—seven years ago.
Hap watched as Bobby escorted Bunny or Monty, whatever her name was, to the benches where he was just sitting not ten minutes ago. Something was going on that she wasn't willing to let the rest of the club be privy to. Little did she know, they would all know in about it two hours when Clay called church. Hap walked over to the prospect and clapped a hand on the kid's shoulder. "How ya doin', kid? You ever worked on something' this vintage before?"
"Uh, ummmm…" Now Half Sack had heard many a tale about the Tacoma Killer in his time prospecting for SAMCRO. And if half of the accounts he was told were true, Happy was one scary son of a bitch!
Hap just stared at the prospect and waited for a response.
"Uh, well not this old or nice, but I've worked on a few '60s muscles, and Dog said he's worked on this exact car around 15 years ago: probably the last one to take a look at it." Sack replied with a little gusto—a small attempt to not sound so intimidated by the Nomad.
"Not worried about Dog. I asked about your experience, Shit Head," Hap rasped out. He leaned in so he was eye to eye with the young prospect, "Don't worry though, I'll supervise," Hap said in the most menacing voice he could muster—which was downright terrifying.
It took all the Killer had not burst out laughing at the sight of the prospects face. Fuckin around with prospects was one of Hap's favorite pastimes. And the look on the kid's face: like his heart leapt right out of his chest. Yup, he still had it, so why wasn't that blonde bitch now curled up in the SAMCRO Secretary's arms not terrified like rest? She was an outsider after all. She should have cringed away from him and yet the bitch had the nerve to call him and his brothers out. Who the hell was this gash, Hap asked himself as he watched Bobby wipe a tear that was threatening to fall from her face?
"Beautiful isn't she. Certainly doesn't look like any of the tail that hangs around here," Half Sack offered, noticing the Nomad's attention was now solely focused on Bunny.
"Don't know what you're ramblin' about, kid, but unless you want to be on bitch duty for the rest of your life I suggest you get to work and stop ogling the customers."
"But, I…" Sack began and then thought the better of it and went back to work. If the Nomad wanted to deny that look in his eyes, then the prospect sure wasn't going to call him out on it. He valued his life and liked having all of his (remaining) body parts in the correct places too much for that.
Hap gave the girl one more quick glance before redirecting his attention to supervising the prospect. The kid had some nerve—almost calling him out on gawking at the blonde. She really was gorgeous but that's not why his attention was so focused on her. No, there was something about her, something he didn't quite trust. Or at least that was the reason Hap was trying to convince himself of this newfound infatuation. No bitch, aside from his mother, had ever captured his attention for anything longer than a quick fuck. So the only reason he was putting so much thought into Bunny, was because he loved his club and even if her and Bobby were close, she was still technically an outsider.