That's it! We're halfway there! Halfway through! I'm having so much fun writing this story! And posting it! Thanks for reading. It means a lot to me, when I look at the story traffic stats!
As usual, I don't own the SOA characters, or anything SOA related, that was created by Kurt Sutter. I won my own characters, the Gallegos family, Jack, Esther and Everett. The Russians, Vassiya, Buka, Klavdiya, Lavrentiy. Silk, and Carla.
At the nightclub, they find Vassiya rather easily, she's bossing her staff around in Russian, she's hoping to make manager, soon, that used to be something Buka aspired to do, but after the old man died, she had to shift her priorities, being the eldest in her family.
-Vassyia!
-Da? Hey! Sit at bar, have drink! I'll be right here.
Now Vassiya Markovich, that was another beautiful thing put on Earth to torture Tig. Tall, thin, nice knockers, ginger hair, blue-green eyes, and a crap-ton of freckles on her face, even her lips had freckles. And she would never give the time of day to any of them, unless it was business.
Finally, she comes over, she's wearing a nice business suit, her hair pulled up, she's got paper in her hands, she places them on the table, with her bottle of water.
-What do you guys want?
-I just went to visit Marko, this morning.
Her eyes light up, now she's interested in what they want. Until now, she had only allowed them to sit because perhaps she could strike a deal that would put money in her pockets, she has three kids to feed.
-Marko is well? Dolboy'ev judge will not want me to visit anymore.
-Yeah, he said that. We put a bit of money on his card.
-How much? I pay back.
-No, no. I went to see him with a request in particular. Listen, I don't want to get you involved in our business too much, but we need you.
-For what?
-Get to Clay. Smoke him out.
-You're the kind of thing he likes to look at.
Hap has a nod at what Opie just said, letting Vassiya formulate their request in her mind, just as he did Marko. You don't walk up to Lodi's Russians and ask them plainly to play sluts for your own agenda. That's what allows you to make it to fifty. You don't mess with these lady Russians.
-What is it Marko say?
-If one of your hair is harmed, we're all cat food, basically.
-Cat food is too nice. You turn into pig slop. Where is Clay?
-Don't know yet. We got Tig on looking for a lead. You know I'd never ask you and Marko for this if I hadn't figured another way to go at this.
-Clay in Charming is bad business for Little Odessa in Lodi. He make wars that are bad for business. I help you, but I have price. I have three child I need feeding.
-What's your price?
-Same price as when I hook.
-That was twenty years ago! You had three kids!
-Can you tell by looking?
She lifts her camisole to show them her stomach, and while Hap had expected her to maybe be a little soft but still pleasant to look at, he certainly did not expect a full on eight pack under there, and not a single stretch mark, she had twins, then another kid less than a year after first giving birth.
-I cost 500 dollars a night.
-It can never get to Clay's ears that we're paying you, Vass.
-But I'm not for sale, anymore. And I have prison clause. And I just so happen to have an attraction to older, ugly looking men.
-You're the best, Vassiya.
-You lucky to have a good reputation, Lowman, because I ask pay upfront, usually. I only agree because you take care of Yegor.
-He asked you sleep with one of his shirts, or write him a letter, for me to bring next time I go and visit him.
-I write letters. Thank you, Lowman.
-No problem. Tig's gonna call with with the details.
-Not Tig. You or Opie. Yegor never trust Tig.
-Ok.
-I start tomorrow, I work tonight.
They thank her plenty before leaving, and heading back to Indian Hills. As much as Happy is dying to go to Gardena and make sure Jack took Esther and their daughter out of harm's way, he can't. He did what he could in the immediate of the situation, now he needs to keep his head on straight. Let Jax know that the plan was in motion, check on Silk, on her grand-kid, get a full night of sleep.
That, he caught on Silk's balcony, guarding the back door, she woke him up in the morning with a nice breakfast for him, Chibs that guarded the front door and Opie that had stopped by to check on things.
-So, what are you boys doing today?
Opie was spending the day with Lyla and their kids, and waiting on Tig's phone call to set things in motion with Vassiya Markovich, Chibs would stay over all day, maybe take them to the park. Himself had no clue until he stood up to go and rinse his plate and put it in the dishwasher. He would go to Bakersfield, and go visit his mother.
After coming all this way to see his mother, he expected to be welcomed into her small one bedroom apartment with a glass of lemonade, a warm hug and a ton of kisses, his mother was always expansive this way, the French in her, she always said. He loved visiting his mother, he got to take his kutte off a few hours, play gin rummy, drink lemonade while chewing on a toothpick because she did not stand him smoking and drinking beer. And he missed her, he expected her to be even more expansive than usual.
But when she opened the door, he got himself a pair of slaps, he tried dodging them; the last time she slapped him was when he told her he and Silk were through, that had pissed her off to no end.
-Ow, ow! Ma! What? What have I done? Arrête, stop! Maman, stop! What did I do?
-Esther had a baby? Vraiment, Happy? And you never told me? How dare you tell Gemma, but you never told me?
Gemma! He would murder her, he thinks as he's dodging his mother's purse, her hands must hurt, if she's retorting to that. But he would never think of touching her, whatsoever, not even to bring her down into a more controllable humor. If she beats him for half an hour, so be it.
Marjorie ends up leaning against the wall, out of breath and hugging her purse, her purse has some sort of belt buckle on it, it's decorative, but she hit him well, he's got a few scratches on his forehead, and it's bleeding down his nose. He's out of breath himself, and he's not even mad at her, he could not be. Ever. He loves that woman with the purest parts of his heart and soul. Would never even consider raising his voice at her. Much less putting a hand on her.
-I was going to tell you today, mom. I never wanted you to learn from Gemma, of all people, or over the phone.
-I am so disappointed, Happy.
-I know, maman. I'm so sorry I never told you. I haven't told much people. I told Gemma because I had no other choice but to. She kindly offered to go and kill Esther. So I told her why she couldn't.
There a long silence, before his mother raise an arm and points the inside of her small apartment.
-You will march to the bathroom, Happy, and clean yourself up. Then, you will make a man out of yourself, and tell me everything that has been going on. Compris?
-Yes, mom.
He obeys, goes and cleans himself, it's the first time he takes a second to look at himself in the mirror, holy hell, pot calls kettle, huh? He looks like a scarecrow as well, right now, with his healing shiner, and all the scratches he's got himself since he got out of jail.
He spends nearly four hours giving his mother the big picture over tea, everything that happened with Clay, with Esther, how she had left, and kept their daughter from him, all of the confusion she had been harvesting on him for still taking care of his mother, and kissing him, then trying to kill him, he had hoped talking it out with his mother would help him sort himself, but he felt, with all of her questions, that it had just made it worst.
But then, her favorite advice was to sleep on it, she made him a comfortable bedding on the couch, after feeding him a nice steak and some mashed potatoes, did his laundry after lending him her bathrobe, so he would have something clean to wear in the morning, and put him to sleep with a glass of warm milk.
In the end, he spends nearly a week in Bakersfield, taking care of his mother and uncle, and making up for lost time. Taking her to her doctor's appointments, bingo and the Indian Casino, telling her funny tales or scraps he'd gotten into in the slammer, and listening how many of his cousins got married or had kids, and how they made a legit living. He didn't quite care about how his cousin Greg was about to make CEO and had his fourth kid with his wife of fifteen years. And his mother knew he cares very little about the corporate world, but it's these things she can have control over, trying to keep their family together. She could never be the glue with his father's family, but she would do everything to be the glue on her family's side.
So on his last evening, he did her bidding, put a nice shirt and a tie on, and went to a big family dinner, knowing his cousin Greg would be there, all bragging about how much money he makes and how he drives a Volvo, and how his kids go to private school. He wanted to just sit there, drink the closest thing to beer he could get his hands on, right now, red wine, and keep as quiet as possible, and avoid the spotlight. He knew that asshole would one way or another shine it right on him and ask what he's been up to, the past ten years.
-Happy, cousin! What have you been up to lately?
-Not much. What I'm normally up to.
-Oh, yeah? What's that?
-Being helpful to society.
He didn't mind the laughter that rose around the table, one bit. It had been a joke of his uncle Pierre, nearly twenty years before, that he was more helpful to society behind bars. A good old running gag that did not hurt, anymore. And it ended up being his cousin Spencer's girlfriend that got the butt of the joke, when she got all interested, and asked if he was volunteering in Nicaragua, it was something she was really interested in.
He had one cousin he got along pretty well with, and it was his cousin Bruno. The other black sheep of the family, the bookie. So it was really nice to just escape through the back door and smoke a few cigarettes together, and catch up on what's been happening in Bakersfield, and to hear his cousin's offer to check on Marjorie once in a while, just to make sure the staff of the nursing home was good to her.
-Yeah, sure, but you just got out. Why not stick around?
-Esther?
-Really? You're still onto that?
-Bitch got my kid. She's keeping her from me, I'm gonna make sure that shit don't stick. My kid's gonna grow up knowing her father.
-Any support you need form me, brother, you just let me know, you hear? We're family, we got to look out for one another. Not like these snobby bitches sitting around that table.
-Thanks, cuz. I really appreciate that.
-Got a favor to ask in return.
-Anything, brother, you know I got you.
-One of my dude skipped payment. Hear he may be hiding in the bay area. He's Russian.
-Got a name?
-Krupic. Krupin?
-Leon Krupin? Of the Lagunov family?
-Yeah.
-In jail, cuz. Got picked up recently.
-Shit.
-He'll be good for it. Lagunov only have one word. He'll either send his old lady, or someone he trusts to pay off.
-You sure he got picked up?
-I went to see Marko, and Marko said he was in, too. So he must have gotten picked up after we got released. That's less than 2 weeks ago.
-Settled, then. Thanks, cuz.
His intention had been to stay one last night at his mother's, and take her out on his bike in the morning, bring her eat, early bird special or something, but a phone call from Jax pulled him out of his mama bliss, Vassiya had called, she would have Clay at Gemma's house in the next afternoon, somewhere between two and four. So he had to kiss him mom goodbye, become a Son again by donning his kutte, and haul ass to Stockton, T.O. and the Bastards had offered asylum for the night and day. And he had to rack up three thousand dollars to pay Vassiya for her trouble.
And the mayhem vote was in from most chapters, so far it was unanimous. A few were just too far to put in a vote that would matter, and one had decided it was internal shit, and they did not need to get involved. Otherwise, all others had voted to get rid of the nuisance, and have Jax's charter the only Charming Charter they would recognize. They would however, never be Redwood Original, Clay had destroyed that.
It was Chibs that had the most notions of Russian among them, so he's the one that took Vassiya's call to let them know that they were almost at Gemma's old house. And to hurry up, she didn't want to fuck Clay at all. Not even for three thousand dollars.
When they sneaked into the house, Clay was on the couch, the stereo was playing a sexy song pretty loud, and Vassiya was dancing for Clay, who looked pretty comfortable where he was. Three guns pointed down at his neck, the guy nearly jumped out of his own skin, as Vassiya hurried up to put her shirt back on. Happy made sure to be right in Clay's line of sight to hand her the money he owed her, she traded for the letter to her husband and a kiss on Happy's cheek.
-Thank you, Lowman.
-No problem, doll. I'll make sure he gets it.
She leaves, Opie shuts the music, and Jax sits in front of his former step-father, it gets really quiet, you could hear a mouse fly. Happy himself sits on the kitchen table, and waits.
-Why, Clay?
The house was long abandoned, Happy notices during another silence. There's a thick layer of dust. The nice clock Gemma really liked has gone silent, no one ever replaced the battery. This didn't look like Gemma's house, she was so proud of her house, and she hated dirt, dust and grime. She would throw a fit, if she set foot in here.
-That's just the way it is, son.
-I don't know what pisses me off the most, Clay. Nine years in the can, or you going after a blind lady. If you were trying to get our attention, you sure did the right thing, Clay.
There's a cup, on the table. Once upon a time, there was coffee in there, but it long dried and whatever powdery remnant been picked clean by flies and such, Happy takes it in his hand, feels the weight of it, before hurling it with all the force he can muster behind Clay's head.
-You killed her dogs, you fucking coward! Scared her grand-kid half to death.
-He killed the dogs?
Tig's voice is strangely equal, as his blue eyes pierce through the divider thing Gemma had picked to have between the kitchen and dining room, Happy regrets his outburst, already. He did not want Tig to know. Opie, Bobby and Chibs are barely enough to contain Tig who just launched himself at Clay, the dude was weird from weird, but he was so fond of animals.
-...you son of a bitch! I'll skin you, and wear you like a fucking coat!
There's blood running down Clay's neck, from the ceramic cup. Happy's glad of having drawn first blood, even if what he'll be allowed to do will be so pale compared that what he would want to do. He would have to save it for when he'd get his hands on Esther.
-The club voted, Clay. Redwood Original exists no more. No other clubs around the world will recognize it. All but four voted for you to meet Mr. Mayhem. And those that didn't vote in favor simply said it wasn't any of their business. So I'm gonna let my boys give a little retribution, before putting you out of your misery myself.
Hap is patient. Some people have been waiting just as long, but known Clay much longer, the sting hurts them even more. he got the occasion to have a fight with Esther and play GTA in Charming, so he's let a little bit of steam out, already. But when he's allowed, tough, oh, does it ever feel good. Clay had remained stoical until Opie had avenged Donna a little bit, Opie had been really hard on Clay, and Hap, Hap just decided to poke the holes that were already there. Squeeze the broken bones. Paint a symphony of screams and bellows.
Beautiful. Gorgeous. Maybe, with the right pokes, he could make Clay scream the Ride of the Valkyries? Wouldn't that be awesome?
But no, Clay ain't feeling the Ride of the Valkyries, Happy is very disappointed as he lets Bobby have a piece of the cake. He lights a cigarette, takes a few long drags, before deciding that he had to have an OCD fit right then. He hates seeing Gemma's house like this.
Strangely, as soon as Bobby saw him cleaning in the kitchen, trying to make Gemma's kitchen shine once more, he lets go of Clay, and joins him, silently as other guys enjoyed inflicting pain.
-Hap. Chibs.
He had practically finished shining the counter when Jax called him over to hold Clay up. No parting words, Hap didn't care about them anyways. Four shots fired, and Clay went limp. Sayonara, you mother fucker.
-Grave in Chigger Woods?
-Not even. Dump the fucker for Skeeter to burn. I don't give a shit what they do with the ashes.
Happy lets go of Clay's body, all he cares about right now is getting the house ready, so Gemma can come back, have Wendy and Abel over. Fatigue at one point gets the best of Bobby, but Happy just can't find himself to care for his fatigue. He keeps on going until the kitchen and dining room are spotless, before going to his place to get some rest.
Welp, welcome back to Charming. Time to take it back.
I know mouses don't fly. I just like the way it sounds.