"So in keeping with the wonderful cause started by a Charming resident we know and love, I am proud to announce the beginning of the Keep the Charm in Charming Initiative..."
Mayor Bollinger felt the perspiration beading at the back of his neck as he stood at the podium in front of the courthouse underneath the banners. Situated at the back of the crowd was a line of kutte-clad men, comprised of both SAMCRO and the Mayans staring at him on the stage, addressing the entire town. Jax Teller in particular had a great deal vested in this going as planned.
"In particular, I am committed to protecting Charming from being overtaken by businesses which do not have the best interests of our town at heart, which is why I am standing before you today and would like to introduce you to a special guest, Wenya Hon."
The crowd looked amongst one another as Wenya now showed herself, immediately locking eyes with Happy in the back row - his jaw was clenched tightly, but he nodded. Wenya had to do this, for her own freedom, for the good of the club, for the good of Charming.
"Hello," she said, her voice unusually timid as she cleared her throat and made her first appearance at the podium. "My name is Wenya. I've lived in Charming about six months. I was..."
She paused, and her eyes darted briefly to the Mayor to confirm that he wasn't bolting, that he was still committed to this.
"I was brought here to be sold for sex by a crime ring as part of a human trafficking scheme," she said, steeling her gaze and holding her head up to stare at the crowd. "I was shuttled from nightclub to nightclub, and locked up every time I tried to escape. I wouldn't be here today if not for Mayor Bollinger and SAMCRO."
"SAMCRO provided me with the information that a nightclub, the Lin Kwan Lounge, opened up just outside of our town and planned to expand into Charming with help from their new investor," the Mayor said, leaning toward the microphone. "I infiltrated the operation and met Wenya upon first entering. She recognized me and found a way to relay a message to me that she needed help."
Bollinger gesture to the projector screen behind him where one of the more tame photos of himself and Wenya appeared on the screen, where she appeared to be whispering in his ear. The people again gasped in response to the realization of something so malign coming so close to Charming.
"SAMCRO aided me in rescuing Wenya, and she has been settling in, starting a new life in our town and helping us to bring the Lin Kwan Group to justice for their actions - which starts by cutting off their investor, August Marks of Marks Incorporated."
The gasp was amplified in response to the news, and Bollinger gestured with his hands until the din subsided and the crowd turned back to listen to him.
"What I ask from the people of Charming today is simple - do not sell. Do not negotiate," he said with a sharp slap of his palm on the podium. "Run your businesses, keep them open, stay in Charming - I know times are hard. I know things are rough. But do not sell. As a town, let's send a message to August Marks - not here!"
"Not here!" The crowd repeated with cheers.
"Not in Charming!"
"Not in Charming!"
They erupted into chants and cheers, and Mayor Bollinger basked in the glow of appearing a hometown hero. Meanwhile, Jax was walking towards the podium to bring Wenya back to rest of the club, back to Hap, but as he wove his way through the crowd, he was approached by a woman accompanied by a camera - a news reporter. He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows gently, questioningly, not understanding. This wasn't his day. He was merely the puppetmaster, there was nothing to ask him. What did they want?
"Somethin' I can help you with?" he asked.
"There's been a lot of talk that the Sons of Anarchy motorcycle club has had dealings with prostitution in the past," the red-haired reporter woman said, gesturing for the cameraman to keep the camera rolling. "What do you think about all of this?"
"I think it's about time the Mayor started crackin' down on the right people."
"So SAMCRO doesn't have a hand in this cookie jar?" the reporter asked in disbelief. "Nothing to do with it at all?"
"Ma'am," Jax began, the wheels in his heads turning again as it clicked in his mind that this was going to be seen. This was public. This was an opportunity beyond measure. "All I have to say is that my club isn't in the business of trying to hurt this town - August Marks is. And I have a feeling he's hurt someone very important to us."
"Is that right, Mr. Teller?" the news reporter asked. "Tell the viewers at home - maybe there's something they can do to help."
"Absolutely," Jax said, a winning grin spreading onto his features as he was quickly distracted from his earlier goal of simply collecting Wenya and disappearing into the woodwork. "One of my SAMCRO brothers and his wife and little girl are missing. They've been on Marks' bad side for a long time now. Juan Carlos Ortiz, Denise, and Sofia," he elaborated, looking straight into the camera lens. "If anyone out there can help us find them, we just want 'em home safe."
"Shit."
Denise was relieved thaat Sofia was asleep when she used Juice's laptop to pick up a livestream of news in Charming. It had started because a local paper reported that a Bay Area businessman named August Marks was now wanted for involvement in a prostitution and human trafficking ring, and Juice and Denise knew to some extent that this had to be SAMCRO.
And Denise realized that Wenya had to have come clean. Knowing this, they scoured the internet until they found the news clips they needed, realizing that SAMCRO and the Mayans had now publicly come out as a combined force against August Marks, and getting the mayor onboard. It was almost relieving, until she realized that Jax had just gone on television and told everyone watching to be on the lookout for them - right when they were finally able to start over.
Juice and Denise had just spent their first night in their new home, which was still largely unfurnished. They were sure they had gotten away this time.
It made Denise feel a little sick to her stomach. All of this was wrong. This wasn't the way it was meant to go.
"Jax is setting us up," Denise said dismally, looking at Juice. "This is gonna be a mess. This is gonna be a scandal, it's gonna go to court!" she rambled shrilly. "And they're gonna want lawyers. They're gonna want witnesses. He's gonna try and get Gemma on the stand, and he's gonna try and get me -"
"He's gonna try," Juice said darkly, his jaw almost locked in anger. "He's not going to find us, baby. We're done with that -"
"What if they find us?"
Juice felt himself freeze. What would they do? Walking away once had been hard. Could they do it again? Would they even be allowed to, after abandoning SAMCRO at such a dark time in its existence?
"In other news, we are sad to report the passing of our intern and colleague, Melissa, who has passed away due to injuries sustained in a brutal attack a few weeks ago..."
Denise's face paled as she looked back at the screen, which was still playing news from one of the TV stations in the Central Valley. She immediately reached over and grasped Juice's hand tightly, and he felt her fingers trembling. Melissa was dead. One of the few true friends Denise had ever had was dead, and she couldn't even go back to say goodbye because they were here, hiding. This feeling of being on their own was something that neither of them had completely learned to deal with, but dealt with all the same.
"You can't go back there," Juice said carefully, knowing that his wife regretted not being there, not being able to say goodbye. Melissa was a good person, without whom so much of this never would have happened. The carnival would never have happened, Denise may never have caught Juice and Wendy. But even before that, Juice knew that Melissa dragging them to the club that night in Stockton was the reason for their first kiss. She had been part of their life, part of their story, and now she was gone. Juice wanted more than anything to stop the fact that tears were filling his wife's eyes, to somehow make it possible for her to see her friend one last time, even just to pay her last respects. He struggled, he strove to find a way in his mind so fervently that he almost felt the friction of gears grinding in his head. But there was nothing. "We can't do it, baby," he said in a defeated voice. "We can't."
"I know."
"I'm sorry."
"There's nothing we can do about it," Denise said with a quavering breath. "Right now, we need to worry about not getting brought back to Charming."
Denise looked at the mirror at hers and Juice's reflections, their hands intertwined. She had cut her hair short, Juice had grown his hair out. She had taken to wearing sundresses and sandals, he'd started wearing khakis and oxford shirts. They belonged in the suburbia they were trying to settle in. They couldn't get brought back to Charming, because they were no longer the same people - it had to be that simple. It just had to.
Juice knew the drill by now, knowing that his wife was starting to feel just as overwhelmed at he was, so he welcomed the warmth of her nestling into him, burying her head in the crook of his neck. He liked being the one who comforted her. He needed to be that person because being that person made him feel stronger than he perhaps actually was. She needed him, and he needed to be needed.
"Babe," he said as he held her near him, his voice muffled into her hair. "Do you trust me?"
"More than anything," she said, not pulling away until she realized that upon hearing her reply, Juice tensed. At this, she let go of him and leaned back eyeing him almost fearfully. "What?"
"You meant, that, huh?" Juice asked with a lopsided, almost bashful grin that slowly expanded over his face. Denise smiled back, leaning over and pressing her lips to his. This was something familiar. This was something that felt the same - something to hold onto, even when everything else was up in the air.
The proximity also reminded him of something else, seemingly out of nowhere - he and his wife had yet to break in their new home. Every new beginning warranted a bit of a honeymoon, didn't it? They were entitled to a little bit of happiness. They'd earned it. He pulled back from the kiss with a mischievous, boyish grin. "Fifi should stay asleep for a little while longer, shouldn't she?"
"Fifteen minutes?"
"Twenty."
"Game on."
"Mulligan's going to meet us at the safehouse?"
"Yes, Mr. Marks."
"Make damn sure of it."
August Marks was not one who took kindly to being tested, and certainly not one who bore slights without vengeance. He was ruined. He had gotten out of his luxury condominium just in time in the champagne-colored Mercedes with tinted windows driven by Charles Kwan, but getting away for a short moment didn't change the fact that he was now a wanted man because someone had betrayed the only ammunition that he possessed against the mayor of Charming.
He had lost control, and that was one thing he simply could not tolerate.
The safehouse in Chowchilla was the only place he had to go on such short notice that wasn't listed as a property under his name, and so, he had ordered Harvey Mulligan to meet them there. Mulligan, as it turned out, was as close to an ally as Marks had been able to find recently because of his desire for revenge against SAMCRO - and now, he too was in need of a place to hide after his wife's death.
They needed one another.
When Charles Kwan pulled the Mercedes into the two-car garage of the safehouse he found that Harvey Mulligan was already waiting inside in his own car, and as the garage door shut, the men stepped out to meet one another.
"You have it, then?" Marks sneered. "Your investigator was able to get what we needed?"
"Just in time, before the news broke about that yellow hooker bitch," Harvey said, holding an envelope out to August, who opened it to reveal the printout it contained. He smirked to himself as he glanced over the papers and handed them over to Charles for his own examination.
"Your baby sister is the proud owner of a new home in New Mexico," he said, his teeth bared in a cruel, horrible smile. "I believe it's time we paid her a visit."
And for the first time, Charles hesitated. Denise had managed to get away - and a small part of him respected her for that. He admired her determination, even if it was perhaps futile. But he stared blankly at August Marks, awaiting his next direction because he was too far in it now.
"No doubt, Teller sent her away to keep her... safe," Marks said, raising his eyebrows gently - Charles made no motion to contradict. "We'd best collect them both. Call Tyler. Let him know that we'll be requiring the Niners' manpower."
A/N's
I know! I disappeared off the face of the Earth again. I had a little bit of a hibernation of inspiration after a few really harsh anonymous messages here and on Tumblr about my story title, but I'll just reiterate for the last time that I'm happy with it, and I'm very grateful to everyone who likes it for what it is.
Anyway, not a very long chapter, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless we're going to be getting back to some action in the chapters to come, and now that August Marks has fallen from grace, we're going to see him even more off-kilter. So, buckle up, kids! I'm warming my muse back up again, and I'm hoping to make this a fun ride!
I'm also working on the next update for 'Flown South', and I'm hoping it doesn't take weeks and weeks. Until next time, cheers!