CHAPTER FOUR
The Sons sat in their usual spot in the prison courtyard looking like a flock of crows – mean but tired.
Tig's arms spanned the back of the bench where he sat, his restless gaze darting here and there. "I'm telling you, man - the warden is just being a dick. We ain't the only ones getting the treatment. It's the fucking Mayans we need to deal with."
Juice blinked sleepily, his chin on his fist. "Or the Nords. They're in here – maybe working with the Russians."
"The Russians can eat shit! And Nords? Fucking really?" Tig snorted dismissively. "Hey, the ones that got you? They covered their faces but had white hands, right? Don't worry, bro. We'll get them too." He shrugged. "Random Aryans maybe. But they're acting alone, without orders."
"How do you know?"
"I just know. But I'll tell you what - I will kill. Right now. Clay?"
Clay stood with hands in his pockets, looking down between his feet. "We got forty-three days, gentlemen."
"And then the crow flies high and hot," Happy added in his customary ominous rasp.
Annoyance flowed from Tig in palpable waves. "What the hell's wrong with right now? Clay, I got it set up. I just need the word."
Bobby stared at Tig incredulously. "Set up what with who?"
"You set up something without a vote?" Clay's frown seemed to squeeze his face inward. "Well you unset it up, you hear me? We're almost outta here and you want to start a jungle rumble now. It ain't happening."
Tig looked disgusted and mutinous but said nothing.
"Tig! We'll deal with whoever when we get out. Is that clear?"
The other man looked away into the distance. That was all Clay would get out of him and he knew it.
Juice looked back and forth between the two of them. "Look, forget all that. If our enemies couldn't kill us off in a whole year, they won't now - at least not in here. What I want to know is, why's the warden screwing with Jax so much? This is the second time in ten days he's been taken to that office and he's been acting really weird lately. What's wrong with him and what the hell's the warden up to?"
Clay looked at the youngest full member of the club. Juice had definitely gotten harder in the past year. He no longer smiled so much. Even while sporting a mustache he still looked young and probably always would, but he didn't act like a boy anymore. He was no longer so laid back. To Clay's way of thinking prison had been good for Juice and now Juice was better for the club.
"Maybe the warden's a wrist twister and likes blonds." This came from Happy who as usual spoke with a poker face. You could never tell when he was joking so it was always safer to assume he wasn't.
Tig sighed, exasperated. "Aw, man. Come on, can't you see? The warden is nothing. Jax just rubs him the wrong way – "
"I can damn sure sympathize," Clay muttered.
" – and the chucklehead's got nothing better do with his shit job then mess with random prisoners. Now, we've seen with our own eyes who's been flexing at us from day one. So I say we bust some Mayan and Aryan ass before we leave up outta this bitch."
Happy's eyes were gleaming with anticipation but Bobby looked concerned when he said, "I think Tig's right about the Mayans but Jax said Stone asked him if he was involved in that fight in C block. Now Stone brings him in again. Why? I think there's more to the warden than meets the eye. Or Happy's right and dude's got a li'l crush on Jax. Either way, I don't like it."
Clay sighed and cracked his neck. Prison might have given Juice his manhood but it was eroding his own. He felt tired all the time, unenthusiastic about club business – which they conducted on the outside primarily through Opie and Piney. Sometimes the guys had to tell him something twice before he heard them. He was becoming a fucking space cadet! Clay felt a spurt of anger about the fact he was just starting to face. His age and his health were working against him. The club needed strength in leadership. What if he didn't return to normal when he got out? He'd damn sure know the truth if Gemma started looking at him the way she looked at John before he was killed….
"Fuck it!" he barked suddenly and they all looked at him. "We all keep our heads on straight for six more weeks – like we been doing for a year. We'll take care of whoever needs it after we get out. That's the goal. Getting out alive is all that matters."
/
Walls. All around him. All the time. And the same lying faces. The exact same day lived over and over again behind gray walls...
"It's for your own good, Teller."
Jax stared back at Stone's round, pockmarked face as if he hadn't said anything. The warden frowned.
"It's for your own sake. Let me go over this one more time.I've had nothing but trouble ever since the Sons entered this prison. You guys seem to have a lot of enemies. I also noticed that undesirable activity is increasing the closer you get to your release date. Evidently there are some people who don't want your little group leave. And you in particular seem to incense them more than all the rest put together. I wonder why that is, Teller. Can you enlighten me?...No? Well, that's alright because I have a solution. To prevent a catastrophe for you and a mess for me you'll be held in the Special Housing Unit for the duration of your sentence – starting right now."
Special Housing Unit – i.e. solitary confinement.
Jax knew better than to respond in any way. It was no secret that the warden hated biker crews and so he took the man's harassment in stride. But six weeks in SHU? That was pretty g*ddamn nasty and clearly another attempt to break him just for the hell of it. It wasn't really the idea of seclusion that bothered him. Jax had been placed in the hotbox before – just nowhere near the length of time the warden had in mind. Something else concerned him more though. He was already more anxious and jumpy now that freedom was within reach but he held it in. The constant looking behind his back had gotten to him. The routine of imprisonment had gotten to him. Shit, the fact that he hadn't ridden his motherfucking bike in over a year was trippy enough by itself – not to mention the effect of everything on his relationship with Tara and his son. His visits with them became little more than the pleasure of looking at them without saying much. Abel barely paid him any attention anymore even when he held him. Jax might as well have disappeared from the boy's life like a deadbeat dad. The more his frustration grew, the more wound up he became. The more tightly he held it in, the more he played mind games with himself like counting seconds or the grains of rice on his plate to prevent an explosion. During his time in Spee he put on The Face to ward off suspicions of weakness but the truth was – he was all fucked up inside. Invisibly bent and twisted at wrong angles. He could feel it.
And Jax doubted that solitary confinement for six weeks was going to fix that.
His mouth twisted in a bitter semblance of a smile as he stared coldly right through the warden's head to the dull gray wall behind him. He'd been waiting for the next shoe to drop and this was it. No visits, no interaction with anyone, except the club's lawyer from time to time whose sole purpose would be to let everyone know whether or not he was dead.
Because contrary to popular belief it was relatively easier to kill someone in solitary confinement.
/
The day had come.
Gemma had planned a gigantic welcome home celebration. The fact that a few members were being released from prison wasn't an unusual event and the scale of Gemma's endeavors far exceeded what was expected but no one was complaining. Not out loud anyway. During the entire process she had worked all the croweaters, prospects and Lyla and Tara nearly to death, although the latter got a miniscule pass because of her type of job. SOA members from all the various western charters were invited. Everything was in place except the final preparation of some of the food. Actually as long as there were more than enough kegs, nothing else was really needed but Gemma believed in the counteractive power of lots of food and the presence of children to ward off at least the more obscene antics that the Sons often indulged in at their parties. That's why the invitations strongly encouraged the men to bring their families. As a result most who began to arrive as early as 1am that morning remained fairly sober and well-behaved.
Around 9am Opie, Chibs and Miles prepared to leave for the long ride to Spee to greet their brothers upon release. They were taking two of the prospects, Ratboy and Zero, with them. A bunch of Sons and croweaters hovered around them in the square for the customary send-off.
Piney walked over and stood in front of Opie who sat astride his bike. "Don't you think they can find their way home by themselves? They ain't babies."
"What's wrong, Dad?"
"That's a long ass ride just to play escort to some jailbird Sons."
Opie smiled slightly. "Well, you're not going, old man. So what's it to you?"
Piney lowered his voice. "You need to be here protecting club property. Gemma got all these beer-guzzling freeloaders around. There's too many roosters in this coop."
"You got Kozik, Dylan, Phil and a bunch of shotguns. So what is it?" Opie eyed him thoughtfully. "You worried about me?"
"Pshaw! Hell no. Get outta my face, boy." Piney looked offended and went back inside.
Chibs shook his head. "What's wrong with him, a chara?"
"Nothing. Just him being him. And Nick Lane of Samtaz busted the last bottle of Cutty Sark."
"Shyte. Piney luvs that stuff."
"He'll live." They all fired up their bikes and rode away with Opie in the lead.
Piney went back into the kitchen. He kind of wanted to go to Spee with them but he didn't feel too good. Plus that dickhead from Arizona wasted a full g*ddamn gallon of Cutty Sark all over the g*ddamn clubhouse floor! But his ire mostly faded away when Abel came running over to him. The little boy grabbed his legs and beamed a toothy grin at him.
"Huggy!"
"Boy, you always want a hug." Piney bent over as far as he dared to give in to Abel's demands. When he straightened up, Tara was standing in front of him with a smile. She looked tired.
"He's been asking about you ever since he woke up this morning."
"Ha! Has he now? Well, you'll have to come with me outside, young cub. There's too much commotion in here. They might try to put my old bones to work. Come on!" He took Abel by the hand and they slowly walked to the canopy in the back yard and sat down – or rather Piney sat down while Abel ran circles around him, pretending to be an airplane.
Samcro would finally be released from Stockton Penitentiary West at 12pm after serving a fourteen month sentence. They were expected to arrive at the clubhouse around 3pm. When the time came Piney received a call from Chibs that the group was about 30 minutes away from home, having just passed through Lodi. Grinning from ear to ear Piney ambled into the kitchen where Tara was stirring yet another bowl of potato salad.
"Jax is coming, gal! Drop that spoon and wait outside with the rest of 'em."
Tara stopped in mid-stir, looking like a deer caught in headlights. "But I thought they wouldn't get here until 3. It's only five after 2."
"So? I suspect someone's in a hurry to see someone." Piney eyed her meaningfully. "Aww, don't look like that, gal. Sure, he might be mean and ornery when he gets here but there's only one thing to take care of that and you're it, so don't you worry. But you better save your strength, honey." And then the old curmudgeon laughed heartily at her expression.
"Piney! You in here being a nuisance?" barked Gemma as she bustled into the kitchen with three harried croweaters, carrying heavy packages following behind her. She eyed Tara critically. "So you're wearing a skirt. Where's my baby?"
Piney belched. "Opie's gal has him."
"Shit. Did she at least baste those chickens?"
"You're asking me?"
"No, I'm asking the Dalai Lama." She shook her head when she spied Lyla laughing and being chased by Abel and several other small children all over the yard. "I asked her to help me and she's playing with the kids. I swear, Lyla acts like a damn two-year-old herself sometimes. Opie sure can pick 'em, can't he?"
"Excuse me," Tara said rushing past them and leaving the kitchen.
Annoyed, Gemma stared after her. "Scram for a minute," she told the three croweaters who were grateful to get away from her.
"Piney, what the hell is wrong with her?"
He took a big swig from his beer can. "Why don't you leave that girl alone, Gemma? You been riding her like a racehorse ever since she came back to Charming. She's good people and she's good for Jacky. Leave her be."
Gemma had picked up stirring the potato salad where Tara left off. "I'm not leaving anything 'be.' I don't want her acting flaky when Jax gets here. He's been caged up like a zoo animal for 400 days and in solitary for the last 40. The last thing he needs is Tara in one of her damn moods and wearing that ugly frown of hers. Why he picked that dark grim uptight girl is beyond me."
Piney stared at her with his mouth agape. "j*s*s chr*st! Who's more dark grim and uptight than you? The Doc does almost everything you ask her to. She's been raising Abel as her own kid, taking care of Jax's house, been the unofficial, uh, medical officer for the club, and she took that long ass ride damn near every week to see that boy of yours – more than you did. And I know for a fact that Jax ain't always sweetness and light to deal with because I've known him all his life. And do you also remember that Tara performs life and death surgery and shit on babies? So you ain't got no right to expect a damn thing more from that kid's old lady. Clay and Jax being away makes you nuttier than you want to admit and you're taking it out on that girl. Stop doing that, you crazy old gash."
She waved a spoon at him. "You're the only one who can get away with talking to me like that – once. That girl's a runner, Piney. She left my son's heart in shreds for ten years. She finally came back only because she had a big problem and then she decided to stay – right before she left again. Now it's clear she's attached to that baby who she's taken care of every day. I know you won't believe it, but I do give her big points for that. But that's not enough. What about Jax? He's not gonna be the same. And when he's up close and personal every day and the thrill of finally being able to fuck wears off, I wanna see if she sticks – with him. Until then, she's on my hook and I don't give a damn who don't like it."
Piney waved his hand dismissively at her and grabbed another beer from the fridge. "I ain't got nothing else to say. Just stay away from me, woman. I'm going back in the yard with the kids."
"Yeah, you do that. And slow down on that beer before you keel over and die and ruin my party. Tracy, Diane! And, uh…The Chick With The Bony Ass – get back in here!"
/
Sons of Anarchy were everywhere. Even though hardly anyone paid her any attention Tara felt like she was walking a gauntlet through the main room to the open square outside. They were out there too. Everywhere she turned that grim reaper on everyone's back was taunting her. She had to get away! There was a light on in the garage office so she tried the door which was unlocked. Tara discovered Filthy Phil in the rear file room which was little bigger than a closet. He was slouched in a chair, staring into space. He'd stolen her idea.
"Uh, Doc! Please don't tell Gemma. I just needed some down time. She's working my ass off. I know I could stand to lose a few pounds but damn!"
Tara couldn't help but smile empathetically. "It's okay, Phil. I'll go somewhere else."
"No, ma'am! I gotta get back anyway." And he hurried out stealthily.
Tara was glad to be completely alone but she didn't know how long that would last. She peeked outside and looked at the roof. Good. No one else was there. In minutes she was sitting on hard stone, averting her gaze from the noisy scene below to study the cloudless sky above. This was one of Jax's 'thinking places.' Tara missed him so much. These last six weeks had her twisted up in sad knots. She could only imagine in her nightmares what solitary confinement had been like for him. She had sent letters to him that she knew he wouldn't get until now if at all. He told her a long time ago that he didn't know who he'd be once he got out. At the time she'd been pretty confident that it wouldn't matter, that inside he'd still be the same boy she fell in love with in high school. Actually, she'd been secretly in love with him since grade school, even though at the time she thought boys in general were 'gross.' She knew she should have faith that they were still on solid ground. Surely, six weeks couldn't obliterate the relationship they'd been building through bulletproof Plexiglas for a year. A niggling voice inside reminded her of how he quickly he could shut her out of his life when he wanted to. She had forgiven him but it would be foolish to forget. Honestly, she was afraid to deal with a Jax who'd gone six weeks without seeing his son or even his brothers, who'd been alone and constantly on alert for someone trying to kill him. But this was exactly the Jax expected to arrive in about 15 minutes.
Suppressing a shudder she wandered down from the roof. Just before reentering the office Tara saw Gemma standing with her arms folded in the doorway of the clubhouse, watching her. She'd been watching her a lot this past month. Something was on her mind and judging by the way she was walking towards her, Tara figured she was about to find out what it was.
Gemma aggressively pushed open the door that Tara let close in her face. "Is your head on straight enough to do this today? Because if it isn't, get it straight."
"I'm fine."
"I don't give a shit if you're fine. You picked the very day he gets out to pull this crap. You gotta welcome him home the right way, Tara. There are two things you don't mess around with – a Son going to jail and a Son getting out of jail. You don't start any shit. You stay sweet – at least for the first week….Oh for g*d's sake. Why do you look like I'm speaking Swahili? If you can't handle this, then leave. I mean it. Because I could name at least – " Gemma paused dramatically as if she was thinking hard. " – five true 'ride or die' MC bitches who would know exactly what to do for Jax today."
"Gemma, I'm fine! I've been handling all of this, him, you and everything else for quite a while now, okay? And I handle well. I'm the goddess of handling! I'd love to see your five precious 'MC bitches' even try to do what I do. Until then, back off."
Gemma threw up her hands. "And now he's coming home to a deaf broad! It's not about you being fine or what you've done, princess. You make sure he's fine. That's all you have to do."
"Well how about this? Stay out of my face! That's all you have to do!"
On that note Tara stalked out of the garage office. Her nerves were so frayed that she was close to punching the Queen of Anarchy in the face, the repercussions of which would send Jax's homecoming straight to hell. She went back into the clubhouse to get Abel from Piney. Several bikers eyed her up and down. Some had heard about the Samcro prince whose old lady was a pediatric surgeon. The situation fascinated them.
As soon as Tara entered the kitchen Abel burst in from the yard with Piney following. Abel laughed and hugged her legs.
"Ma!"
She forgot her anxiety for a moment when she picked him up and kissed his cheek. G*d, she loved him! She could not feel more like Abel's mother even if she'd actually given birth to him.
"You okay?" Piney asked gently, patting her shoulder.
She smiled ruefully at him. "For some reason it makes people mad today when I say 'I'm fine'"
"Yeah?" Piney responded knowingly, making a path for her through the throng in the main room. "Well, you ain't gotta worry about 'people.' There's only one, er,…" He paused to tickle Abel who squealed and tried to burrow into his mother to escape. "…make that, two, people you got to care about. The rest can shit and die."
"Promise?"
He laughed harshly. "Come on, gal. Time to go out front and welcome your man home. He needs to see you out there first thing." With that admonishment he left her to take a seat behind the bar to watch over the liquor.
Getting more nervous with each step Tara held Abel's hand as she walked over to where Lyla and Gemma were standing, positioned in front of the crowd in the square. She had agonized about what to wear but in the end kept it simple. She decided on a black blouse with short slightly puffed sleeves and a deep V-neck. Her black silky skirt flared out a little around the hem which rested higher above the knees than she was used to. She had chosen her black strappy 2-inch heel sandals for comfort more than fashion. She had cut about an inch and a half of her hair all around and it was short enough in front to make soft bangs, giving her a delicate look. But it was still long, just the way Jax liked it. A breeze relieved the dominance of the hot afternoon sun and briefly lifted her hair off her shoulders.
Tara's breath caught as in the distance came the first rumbling of the bikes. She would never have admitted it if asked but she wanted nothing more than to grab Abel, run to her car and drive away. But of course she wouldn't. Some Sons and their groupies stood in the street outside the gates. They clapped and hooted when they caught that first glimpse of the gang turning the corner a block away. Tara breathed in and out deeply in an attempt to remain calm but her heart would not stop fluttering wildly in her breast like a bird trapped in a cage. The sound of over half a dozen motorcycles became deafening. The people in the street began to cheer raucously over the noise and made way for the grand entrance of the returnees into the Teller-Morrow square.
Abel's eyes grew round as saucers as he seemed to look everywhere at once and he held her hand tightly. Laughing suddenly, he began to jump up and down, recognizing someone in particular despite all the identical helmets and sunglasses, the sharp glare of chromium plates and the general bedlam surrounding them.
"Dad-dy!"
No, she wasn't going anywhere. This was what she came back for.
There would be no more running.