Five
Now, this was how things were supposed to be.
Music blaring, glasses clinking, club family and friends talking and laughing in their packed-out headquarters, the party even spilling out into the yard, where fires blazed in disused oil drums. Word of a party had gotten out, so they'd decided to deliver, hoping Seth wouldn't think they were trying to steal his thunder. It'd be a pretty poor fucking show, in their minds, if people couldn't let loose two nights running. It was the weekend after all, and Friday nights with Samcro had once been legendary.
This wasn't quite like their heyday, but it was as close as it had been in a while. Sons from visiting charters, hang-arounds, croweaters, all just focused on having a helluva good time.
Chibs smiled sadly to himself from his place by the bar and clinked his glass against the bottle of whiskey in a toast of sorts. "Cryin' shame yer missing this, Jackson …"
But he forced himself to push aside memories of those they had lost. Tonight wasn't the time for maudlin thoughts. Not when they were all actually enjoying themselves for a change. Even Charlie was lapping up the attention as some sweetbutt cooed over his injuries. Chibs saw the moment Tig spotted that too and recognised the devilish look that crossed his face, catching his eye and warning him off with a little shake of his head. Let the boy have his moment.
Tig huffed an exaggerated sigh of disappointment and turned on his heel, only to come face-to-face with not one, but two busty redheads. His eyes lit up excitedly and he slung an arm around each of them, to giggles and throaty purrs of encouragement. That was his entertainment taken care of after all.
Chibs cast another look around the crowd, presiding over his kingdom he supposed. That's what Jax would have done. Or Clay. He still didn't quite feel it yet though, beyond the weight of responsibility that would crush him if he let it. But beyond that, his new role still hadn't quite sunk in, even after all the months that had passed since he'd been forced to take over the gavel.
Lyla extracted herself from a gaggle of her former Red Woody colleagues and came to join him, weaving her way on impossibly high heels through the bustle of what passed for a dancefloor and finally pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I might be slightly tipsy," she giggled, trying to straighten her skin-tight dress. "It's okay though, the kids are with my mom."
"You deserve a night off," Chibs said warmly. He was fond of Lyla, appreciated everything she had done to stand by the club, even after Opie was gone. He knew it worked both ways and they were a source of both income and protection for her, but they could have parted ways and yet they hadn't. She had chosen to stay, when none of them would have blamed her for running a mile. "Enjoy yerself, sweetheart. You're coming tomorrow, right?"
"Wouldn't miss it," she nodded, running her fingers through her loose blonde waves. "Got money on Hap."
"Smart girl," he grinned. "What ya drinkin'?"
"I could handle more tequila," she said, after a moment's consideration and with a coy little smile that made her look even younger than she was. "If you shoot some with me."
"You tryin' ta lead an aul' man astray, missy?"
"Too late for that, I'd say," she winked.
She was probably right.
Seth had called in for a couple of beers, but Saturday was going to be huge for him and he couldn't deal with a hangover on top of all that, so he'd bounced early – leaving Eden with his part-time receptionist Lisa and a warning they'd both be needed the next day, so on their own heads be it if they were suffering.
With that in mind, Eden at least was nursing only her third beer of the night as she listened to Lisa – a former regular round the clubhouse – lament the absence of past patches. "Such a goddamn waste," she slurred, sipping yet more gin that Eden could only assume had barely seen tonic water. "I mean, I know Jax was always off limits while Tara was around, but ugh … He was a beautiful, beautiful man … Never did get the chance to find out if he could back that up between the sheets … Kozik though, now that's another story – I wonder where the hell he went? With these guys, ya don't like to ask questions …"
The last thing Eden wanted was to be a killjoy, but neither did she fancy the inevitable night of holding the blonde's hair while she puked if she carried on at her current pace. "Do you think maybe you should … slow down, Lise? Like, just a little. I mean, a night out's a marathon, not a sprint, right?"
"Mmm, maybe," came the vague response.
"Hey, we could dance for a bit?" Eden tried hopefully. She'd been expecting a lot of heavy-drinking bikers, but she hadn't been prepared for a night at the clubhouse to actually be … fun. And it looked like everyone on the dancefloor was definitely enjoying cutting loose. She hadn't actually had a proper night-out since before … Well, she didn't want to think about that.
In fact, when Seth had asked if she was sure she wanted to go and then if she was sure she didn't mind him leaving, she'd forced herself to dismiss his concerns more easily than came naturally. It was hard, but she was having a good time – despite not having caught up to Lisa's standards of drunkenness.
She hadn't spoken to Chibs yet either, despite meaning to at least go and say hello. It only seemed polite, given that he was the one who had invited them, or that was what she was telling herself anyway. But anytime she spotted him, he seemed caught up with other people – talking loudly with his brothers, the conversations punctuated with roars of laughter and back-slapping hugs. She couldn't help smiling to see him so obviously in his element.
Seeing him end up on the dancefloor was a surprise though, pulled there despite his seemingly half-hearted protests by a laughing slender blonde in a skin-tight pink dress, who shrieked and giggled as he gave in and twirled her suddenly while she tried to find her balance on her stilettos.
The smile on Eden's face felt strangely frozen.
"You could give a girl a complex, Mr Telford …" Lyla teased, having to practically shout in his ear to be heard over the thumping Celtic-influenced rock music someone had found, no doubt thinking it might please him.
"What?" he shouted back, confused by what he thought he'd heard.
"Checking out other women. Actually, no, not women plural – just the one," Lyla smirked. "Oh, please, don't play dumb, Chibs. You've danced with me, you've danced with Hollie, Jade, even Tig when he tried to grope you or whatever the hell he was doing, but you've only got eyes for one person. The chick sitting with the wasted blonde – don't pretend you don't know who I mean. The brunette one who's a bit girl-next-door, if your neighbour happened to be a Victoria's Secret model or some shit. Ugh, she's gorgeous – why is she wearing jeans? Although leather skinnies, I bet her ass looks fucking fantastic in them … What? Women can appreciate other women – we're not all bitches," she added, slapping his chest in reprimand as if he had suggested they were, instead of just gaping at her slightly stunned by her hundred-miles-an-hour commentary. "Are you gonna go over there?"
"Uh, no!" he declared firmly, swigging down the rest of the pint in the hand that wasn't snaked companionably around her waist. "I mean, I was maybe thinking about it. But hell no, not now you've made me paranoid I've been staring at the poor lass all night like some sorta fuckin' pervert."
"Chibs!" Lyla groaned, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. "You can't just leave her sat there ... Oh, I love this song! I'm gonna go get her – and I'm taking the tequila …"
"What? No! Lyla … Jesus fuckin' Christ …" he groaned, suddenly realising exactly how she must have run rings around Opie.
Bloody women.
If there was one thing Lyla could handle, it was her drink – she could get pretty buzzed, but still stay sharp. And she was already sharper than most people gave her credit for, which wasn't always nice, but at least it gave her an edge they didn't expect. Chibs didn't usually underestimate her though. Not in the ways that mattered – he trusted her to keep her shit in check, raise the kids right, and to run the business side of the club's garage. And he'd always been kind to her, so she had a soft spot for him as not quite a father-figure, but close. A crazy uncle maybe. One who'd have your back and keep you from going off the rails, but turn a blind eye to the occasional spliff or two … Or the better part of half a bottle of tequila.
It had been easy to lean in as if to hug him and then snatch up the bottle from where it sat on the bar just behind him, and the accompanying glass full of lemon slices, giggling as she trotted off on her impromptu mission despite his protests. She didn't know why he was worried. Sure, the chick he seemed to have on his radar was a little young and she was definitely beautiful, something that stood out all the more given her low-key style - but Lyla had been around the clubhouse long enough to know rough-around-the edges Chibs, with his vicious scars and kind eyes and a silver tongue croweaters reported he definitely knew how to use, had always been considered a catch.
"Hi!" she said brightly, plonking herself down on a free chair at the girl's table and setting the bottle on it expectantly. "Tequila?"
"Uh, I dunno if I should …"
"Oh, come on, live dangerously," Lyla smiled, reaching into the tiny zippered purse she wore on a long delicate strap across her body to produce a salt shaker. "What?" she shrugged, in response to the quirked eyebrow. "People kept stealing it and you can't slam tequila without salt. Here, give me your hand …"
Without waiting for a response, Lyla grabbed her new friend's hand, pulled it across the table and shook salt into the hollow of her thumb. Then winked at her, licked it herself and downed a shot straight from the neck of the bottle, before popping a slice of lemon in her mouth. Shivering at the bitter, sour taste explosion, she threw back her head and laughed. "Your face! Come on, tell me that's not a great way to introduce yourself? I'm Lyla. Sorry, I've got three kids – I don't get out as much as I used to."
"You've got three kids?!" Eden exclaimed, looking from her youthful face to her slender figure. "What did you do? Grow them in a plant pot?"
Lyla dissolved into giggles again. "You're so sweet, uh …"
"Eden. Eden Moore, Seth's sister."
"Well, Eden Moore, Seth's sister, you're sweet. I think you're gonna be Eden Moore, Lyla's friend, okay? Now, your turn for tequila …" Lyla grinned, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. "Where d'ya want the salt?"
