Tara clung tightly to Jax as they sped back toward Charming on his two-wheeled death machine. She'd never understood the allure of motorcycles, and her up close and personal experience was doing nothing to convert her. She was terrified. If it had been anyone else offering, she wouldn't have accepted the ride. But no one said no to Jax Teller, not even a social misfit like herself.
Her head was spinning , and not just because she was hurdling through the California countryside at speeds unknown, with nothing but a bowl-shaped helmet and the clothes on her back protecting her from the unforgiving pavement below her. She was confused. She was conflicted. She'd started her day hating the world and birthdays and normal families and her dad. And now, just a few hours later, she was grinning like a Cheshire cat and day dreaming about rainbows and unicorns and shit.
What was happening to her? She was completely smitten, borderline obsessed, with a boy who'd been nothing more than an idea the day before- an unattainable dream who was the object of affection of every school girl within a hundred mile radius. And somehow, he seemed to be smitten with her as well. Her. Tara Knowles. Miss Plain Jane USA. Or was he? Maybe he was just that good. He certainly seemed genuine, though. And when he kissed her- well, there was just no faking what happened between them when they touched. It was exhilarating. It was petrifying.
When they reached the city limits, Jax began driving more conservatively. Tara was almost able to catch her breath. Almost. Jax turned down side streets and back roads until Tara wasn't sure she was even in Charming anymore. She wanted to ask him where they were going, but she was sure the wind would steal her breath if she even tried to open her mouth. Either that or she'd inadvertently swallow a bug. How embarrassing would that be?
Finally, Jax turned onto a dirt service road that took them back into familiar territory. Tara recognized the auto repair shop Jax's family owned to her right. It stuck out like a sore thumb, what with the barbed wire privacy fence surrounding it. She'd passed by it many times before, but never been inside the gates. Something told her that was about to change.
It was the middle of the day, so the front gate was open and the Teller Morrow lot was accessible to the public. Jax rode in like he owned the place, which Tara supposed was fitting, since he sort of did. He parked his bike alongside at least a dozen other bikes and helped Tara down more easily this time. She unfastened her helmet and handed it to Jax, again trying to smooth down her windblown hair before anyone saw it.
"You alright?" he asked, studying Tara's face. "You look a little green." Embarrassed, she felt the blood rush to her cheeks.
"I'm fine," she assured him. "I just get a little motion sickness sometimes. I thought you said we were going to lunch?" she asked, taking in her surroundings. The inside of the fortress was exactly as she'd always imagined it- full of motorcycles and flashy cars, dangerous looking men dressed in leather and slutty looking women dressed in next to nothing. Tara was definitely out of her element.
"We are," Jax said, smiling as he brushed a wayward strand of hair from Tara's cheek. He took her hand and led her toward a building that stood apart from the repair shop. The sign over the door said 'Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club.' Tara wasn't sure what that even meant. She'd heard rumors all her life about the outlaw motorcycle gang that ran Charming, but she never knew what to make of them. As she and Jax approached the building, they ran into two young men sitting at a picnic table just outside the door, having a smoke.
"Jackie Boy!" exclaimed one of them in a thick Scottish accent as he stood up and patted Jax on the back. "Shouldn't ya be in school?"
"Whatever," Jax muttered. The man laughed a hearty laugh. Tara couldn't help but smile. "Tara, this is Chibs," Jax said. "Chibs, this is my friend Tara."
"Very niiiiice," Chibs said to Jax with a wink before turning his attention to Tara. "Nice to meet ya, young lady," he said. Tara reached out timidly and shook his hand.
"You too," she said quietly. The man was tall, well built, probably in his early 20's. He was wearing the same leather vest as most of the other men on the lot, with a dirty white t-shirt and jeans underneath. He had dark brown hair that was greased back, and brown eyes that crinkled in the corners when he smiled. His smile was…off putting. Tara could tell it had once been a lovely smile, but even the thick goatee he was sporting couldn't hide the fresh scars that went from the corners of his mouth to his cheek bones on each side of his face, creating a strange, permanent smile. She could still see the tiny holes where his stitches had likely been. He reminded her of a circus clown. A very scary circus clown. Tara hoped there was a logical explanation for the scars- a surgery following a motorcycle accident perhaps. But she doubted it.
"Prospect!" Chibs called out to the other man seated at the picnic table. "Come greet Jackie's new friend." Tara felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck as another tall, muscular man in a leather vest approached her. He smiled, but there was something about the way he looked at her that made her uncomfortable. He had short black hair that looked like it would be quite curly if he let it grow, and a long, slender face with a thick mustache. His piercing blue eyes cut right through Tara, and she shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
"Tara, this is Tig," Jax announced, not nearly as anxious to introduce her to him as he had been to his other friend. "He's the new guy around here."
"Hey," Tig huffed, shooting Jax a dirty look. "Who's wearing a kutte and who's wearing a leather jacket his mommy bought him from Sears, asshole?" Jax gritted his teeth, moving aggressively toward Tig, but Chibs stepped in between them.
"Knock it off," Chibs warned. "Not in front of the lady." Jax looked at Tara, whose eyes were wide with fear.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, taking her hand in his. Chibs grabbed Tig, who was still snarling at Jax, by the collar with both hands.
"Apologize to the lady," he demanded. Tig spit at Jax's feet, not taking his eyes off him.
"Sorry," he sneered, turning to Tara. She swallowed hard, unable to speak. Chibs gave her an apologetic smile as Jax led her into the SAMCRO clubhouse. As soon as they were alone, Tara let out the breath she'd been holding.
"I'm so sorry, Tara," Jax repeated. "Tig's an asshole. My old man hated him, refused to let him into the club. But the new president had different ideas. He's still on probation, so I'm really hoping they don't vote him in. I don't want to spend the rest of my life riding with that asshole."
"So it really is a gang?" Tara asked incredulously. Her heart was pounding, and not in a good way like it had been when she and Jax were out in the country together.
"A club," Jax corrected her. "A motorcycle club. Not a gang."
"Sorry," Tara said. "And you're in this…club?" Jax smiled, shaking his head.
"Nah," he told her. "Not 'til I'm eighteen. I'll prospect for a year, then be voted in on my nineteenth birthday. Once that happens, I'm goin' after my dad's gavel. All this will be mine someday," he said, spreading his arms wide and laughing. Tara wasn't sure whether to be impressed or mortified.
The clubhouse was dark, with very little light filtering in through just a couple small windows. The walls were dark wood, as were the tables and mismatched chairs scattered throughout the room. In one corner was a well used pool table. In the other, a bar lined with worn leather bar stools. On the far wall, beside a set of wooden double doors, was a photo collage. It took Tara a minute to realize what she was looking at. Mug shots. Dozens of them. Some people she recognized from around town, and some she hoped to never run into in a dark alley at night.
"Jesus," she whispered to herself. Jax followed her gaze, tensing up beside her. He didn't want to overwhelm her, and he was afraid the club's wall of infamy might do just that. He had to distract her.
"Hey, Ma," he called loudly, his voice echoing through the empty clubhouse. "You here?" Almost instantly, Tara heard what sounded like very tall high heels clicking against the linoleum, coming toward them. The kitchen door behind the bar swung open, and a beautiful, frightening looking woman Tara recognized as Jax's mother appeared before them.
"Jackson," Gemma Teller lamented. "Why the hell aren't you at school?" She hurried toward them, wrapping her son in a tight embrace and kissing him on the cheek. Tara bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. While Gemma's actions were very motherly, her appearance definitely was not. She wore skin tight jeans that were ripped at the knees, and black hooker boots with two inch heels. She had on a tight red bodysuit and matching costume jewelry- all gold and oversized and gaudy. Her jet black hair was streaked with blonde, and she was wearing thick black eyeliner and bright red lipstick. She smelled like patchouli and cigarettes. "Who's this?" she asked coldly, eyeing Tara up and down.
"Mom, this is Tara Knowles," Jax said. "Tara, this is my mother, Gemma." Tara reached out her hand to Gemma.
"Nice to meet you, ma'am," she squeaked. Gemma shook her hand firmly, her long nails digging into Tara's skin.
"Knowles," Gemma repeated, as if she were trying to remember where she knew the name from. Jax and Tara had been in school together since kindergarten, but they'd never been friends. "Ah, yes," she finally said. "Tara Knowles. I remember you. Nice to see you again." She offered Tara a sympathetic smile, her face softening just slightly. Who didn't remember the poor little Knowles girl with the dead mommy and the drunk daddy?
"We came for lunch," Jax announced, rubbing Tara's back reassuringly. "What'd ya make today?"
"What the hell do I look like?" Gemma scolded. "Your goddamn personal chef?"
"Yeah," Jax responded. "Sorta." Gemma smiled, shaking her head as she made her way back behind the bar. Tara smiled, too. Even Jax's own mother wasn't immune to his charm.
"You're in luck," Gemma told them. "I haven't started lunch yet. What do you want?" Jax looked at Tara, his eyebrows raised.
"Oh, I don't care," Tara said politely. "I'm not picky."
"It's your birthday," Jax reminded her. "You pick."
"It's your birthday?" Gemma asked. Tara nodded. "Well, Happy Birthday! How old?"
"Sixteen," Tara said.
"Wow," Gemma breathed. "Sixteen. That's a big one." She paused for a moment, tapping her nails against the bar top as she thought. "You like fried chicken?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am," Tara told her.
"Call me Gemma," she insisted. Tara smiled nervously. "You like chocolate?" Gemma asked.
"Who doesn't like chocolate?" Tara replied, sounding snarkier than she meant to. "I mean y-yes, ma'- Gemma. Yes, I do." Gemma nodded, half amused and half offended.
"Good," was all she said before disappearing into the kitchen. Jax led Tara to a table near the jukebox, which looked like it hadn't worked in years. She giggled when he pulled out her chair for her.
"Such a gentleman," Tara teased. Jax smiled, taking the seat across from her.
"I try," he said. "So?" Tara looked at him, confused. God, he was beautiful. If his mother wasn't in the next room, she'd be all over him. She could still taste his lips on hers, but she needed more.
"So…what?" she asked.
"I know you've probably got a shit ton of questions," Jax explained. Tara shook her head.
"Not really," she said. "Well…just one."
"Hit me," Jax insisted.
"That guy…Chibs? What happened to his face?" Jax smiled, seemingly amused that that was her only question.
"Not sure," he explained. "He came to us like that from Ireland a couple months ago. Looks way better now than he did then. That shit was nasty. He's a good guy, though. I think I like him."
"But you don't like the other one…Tig?" Jax's expression changed at the mention of his name.
"Nobody likes Tig," he sneered. "Except for Clay."
"Who's…" Their conversation was interrupted by the wooden double doors on the far side of the room opening as four men wearing identical leather vests appeared, all of whom Tara recognized from the mug shot photos on the wall. The tallest one had dirty blonde hair that was turning white in spots, and cool blue eyes. He was muscular, his tattooed biceps stretching his black t-shirt thin, and had a very unique face. His vest had a patch on it that said 'President.'
With him was a short, chubby man who looked like a former hippy with his long, wavy, graying hair and a beard that went halfway down his chest, and a tallish, slender man with long brown hair that fell in careless waves around his face. He had his sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, displaying an impressive amount of ink. The fourth man, the one with the intense eyes and gruff, booming voice, Tara recognized at once as Opie's dad. She saw him at school all the time. Individually, the men would have been intimidating. Together, they were terrifying. Tara tried to act naturally, but she was sure she looked like a deer caught in the headlights.
"Jesus, boy," the club president growled when he caught sight of Jax. "Don't you ever go to school?"
"Overrated," Jax chuckled. He introduced Tara to Clay, Piney, Otto, and Bobby. Tara quickly shook all of their hands, and then let out a sigh of relief when they moved to the bar, not interested in keeping conversation with a couple of teenagers.
As the smell of fried chicken filled the air, people began making their way in from outside, filling the empty seats and tables. Apparently lunch time was a community event at Teller Morrow. Every time Tara began to feel overwhelmed, Jax commanded her attention by squeezing her hand or asking her a question, even once leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. He could tell his world was a bit much for her- hell, it was a bit much for him sometimes. But he still seemed eager to share it with her.
Despite her earlier reservations, Tara was relieved when Opie and Donna walked through the door. Donna Lerner was by no means her favorite person, but at least she was a familiar face. Jax was happy to see them as well. He waved them over as they surveyed the room, Donna much more in her element among the rowdy crowd than Tara would ever be.
"What's goin' on?" Opie asked as he took the empty seat beside Jax. Donna reluctantly sat down next to Tara, not saying a word to her or Jax.
"Just chillin',bro," Jax offered casually. "Mom's makin' fried chicken for Tara's birthday."
"Well Happy Birthday, Tara," Opie said, clearly more excited about the fried chicken than he was about Tara turning sixteen. Donna couldn't have cared less about either.
"Thank you," Tara responded. Jax smiled at her. In a room full of brutes and gashes, she was a breath of fresh air and manners. Within minutes, Gemma and a few other women who seemed more than happy to follow Gemma's lead carried out several trays of fried chicken. It smelled delicious. It tasted better. Tara gobbled up everything that was put in front of her, sucking down two root beers in the process. She hadn't realized how hungry she was.
As Jax and Opie were fighting over the last of the fried chicken, Gemma reappeared from the kitchen holding a serving platter with a homemade chocolate cake on it, complete with sixteen lit candles. She led the crowd in a very odd rendition of 'Happy Birthday' as she made her way to Tara. Even Donna joined in. Tara knew the cake and the candles and the celebration were for her, but she was in disbelief. No one had sung to her or baked her a cake since her mother died. She fought back tears, not wanting to make the moment more awkward than it already was.
This dangerous bunch of outlaws and delinquents was a family- a dysfunctional family, no doubt, but a family none the less. They weren't Tara's family, but they could be. And as she readied herself to blow out the candles on her cake, Jax reminding her to make a wish, there was only one thing she wanted- to be a part of this world. To be a part of Jax's family. So she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and made the wish that would change the course of her life forever.