Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy.
"I'm just saying," Wendy whined, which as of late grated on her old man's nerves like nails on a chalkboard. "I don't like being treated like a cheap trick."
"Really? And just what the fuck would you have me do about it exactly, huh?" Huff said gruffly.
Standing in the doorway of the dorm's small bathroom wearing nothing but a damp towel, Huff eyed his old lady. Sitting on the edge of their bed, Wendy's assets were looking particularly fine with her crossed arms emphasizing her C-cup tits that were straining her hot pink halter top.
Actually, she'd look a lot better without that fucking' frown on her face, Huff grimaced to himself, quickly remembering why he was annoyed. The only time she wasn't frowning nowadays was when his cock was in her mouth.
The fact was Wendy had been in a perpetual funk ever since the homecoming party for the SAMCRO Pres—a party to which she had not been invited to attend. In fact, Fat Elvis had taken the opportunity to corner Huff at the Clubhouse to emphasize that, although he was certainly welcome as a brother and an officer of SAMTAZ, his old lady was persona non grata in the Teller home. Clay may not have kicked Wendy out of the Clubhouse when she and Huff first arrived, but you could bet your bottom dollar there would be a shoving match between Jax and his old lady in order to be the one that kicked Wendy the fuck out of their home.
Although Wendy had bent over backwards promising that she would stay out of the Tellers' way, Huff's hands had been tied. He had already paid the price for basically calling Teller's old lady a hooker at the bike rally and he still had the purple bruise on his chin to show for it. He wasn't about to incur the SAMCRO VP's further wrath by insulting his wife in her own home by showing up with Wendy. It was becoming increasingly clear to Huff that he was already being kept at arm's length when it came to the gun business. The SAMTAZ President was counting on him to pull this off for their charter and he wasn't going to jeopardize that for any pussy, not even his old lady. Especially since it was clear to Huff that the only reason Wendy wanted to go at all was to impress her croweater friends by thumbing her nose at the new Mrs. Teller.
In reality, with all the grief the hang-arounds were giving her, Wendy knew she would never live down the fact that she had been the only old lady not invited to the homecoming. And all because her old man lacked the balls to stand up for her.
The SAMTAZ VP sat down next to his old lady and put a burly arm around her shoulders. "Look, you knew coming back to Charming wasn't going to be an easy ride. I told you back in Tucson that it was probably better if you stayed in Arizona, but you insisted on coming, so you're gonna have to accept the terms of the agreement I made with Clay. I've already put my neck out for you trying to stick it to Teller's old lady. You're just gonna have to be satisfied with that."
Huff knew that the only reason Jax hadn't beat him within an inch of his life was because of Clay's accident. He was too busy dealing with his new responsibilities to take the time to treat him to a thorough beating like the one he had given Kyle Hobart for talking shit about his girl in Indian Hills. Secretly, Huff was grateful for that happy by-product of Clay's accident. At his age, Huff probably couldn't take more than one or two punches like the one that had laid his ass out on the blacktop outside the Clubhouse a couple of days after Clay had finally woken up.
"We can't afford to rock the boat here, Wendy. You're just gonna have to deal with this shit as best as you can."
Deal with it? Wendy could barely manage to keep herself from rolling her eyes at Huff. Maybe if you had a dick as big as Jax's I could deal with it better! As it was, if Wendy didn't have her own leverage to hold over Clay, the Sons would have run her ass out of town again.
Although Wendy had her own agenda for coming back to Charming, she was still human and it hurt her pride that she was being treated worse than a croweater by the other patches and their old ladies. Being the old lady of the SAMTAZ VP, Wendy had expected more of a courtesy than just mere tolerance of her presence. And she only had the fuckin' SAMCRO Princess to thank for that shit. God forbid anyone should be even remotely civil towards her because not only would they offend the bitch, but they also ran the risk of having their ass handed to them by the over-protective SAMCRO VP.
As Wendy listened to her old man, however, she realized that he, too, was also pissed about his own situation with the mother charter.
"Right now, I've got more of a grievance with SAMCRO than you. I've been here over a month and I feel like I'm being treated like a goddamned prospect."
Putting aside her own gripes about the Club, Wendy realized that Huff had just presented her with another opportunity to mine him for information. Stahl was running short on patience and Wendy wasn't sure how much longer she could stay on the agent's shit list before Stahl gave up on her and threw her to the dogs.
Wendy wrapped her arms around the older man and snuggled up close. "I know, baby, I know." She cooed. "You're absolutely right. I can't believe how SAMCRO is treating you. They should not be able to get away with treating a fellow patch and officer that way, even if they are the mother charter."
Feeling good that his old lady was in his corner, Huff continued his complaints. "SAMCRO has been earning the big money for itself running guns for over 25 years now. All SAMTAZ is asking for is a fair share of the pie. With the good profit they're making off the other charters, it's a miracle they agreed to let us handle our own transport. All we want now is to learn the assembly aspect of the business. Assembling our own merch would knock at least 35% off the price we pay to SAMCRO per gun." Huff got up to pace around the room. "If Clay and his kiss-ass VP think they're the only ones who can run guns it's because they're afraid SAMTAZ may outdo them and take over some of their business."
Wendy got up to wrap her arms around his neck. "Of course they are. You know what I think?"
"What, baby?" Huff trailed his hands down to Wendy's curvy ass, giving one of her butt cheeks outfitted in skin tight white leather a good squeeze.
"I think the reason Clay has kept you out of the loop is because of my ex. There's no doubt that of the two, you are the more experienced patch and officer. Jax probably dropped the bug in Clay's ear against you only to protect his own standing in the Club. With his new position as Acting President at risk, he's got a lot to lose if someone smarter and wiser were to show him up." Wendy cajoled.
Using the pads of her fingers tipped with razor-sharp nail extensions, Wendy massaged Huff's neck hoping to lull him into a talkative mood. Anxious to unleash her poisonous venom, Wendy continued with a chuckle. "You know, it's been on the rumor mill for years that the only reason Jax ever hooked up with Clay's daughter was because he wanted the President's patch for himself. I believe it too, after all, I was married to the man for over a year. Trust me, there's an ugly side to that pretty boy. I, for one, think that the timing of Clay's accident was quite convenient for Jax, don't you? With SAMTAZ poised to take over their own gun running trade with Clay's blessing, Jax needed to get the crippled old bastard out of the way to keep that from happening. Now as Acting President, he can keep SAMCRO on top of the food chain by keeping a smart and capable man like you busy doing protection runs instead of learning how to make the real money." She purred.
Wendy could see Huff's back straighten, his chest puffing out with arrogance and pride. If he were a peacock, he'd be preening and strutting around right about now, Wendy smirked to herself.
Marinating over what Wendy had just said, Huff realized that she was a lot smarter than he gave her credit for and probably right on the money. In a desperate grab for power, Teller probably had caused the accident that had nearly killed his own President. If Huff could prove that, he'd have the new Acting President by the short hairs, which could prove quite lucrative for SAMTAZ. If true, and if such proof existed, it would take a long time and hard work to find it. He needed to think long and hard on this.
In the meantime, Huff decided to play along. He and his patches would handle every shitty protection run handed to them without griping, making sure his SAMCRO brothers saw him as a team player. Hunger for power could sometimes make a man sloppy and Teller was bound to slip up, making an error in judgment that would damage the Club. If and when that happened, Huff would use it as leverage. He'd make sure that word of a weakness in the leadership of SAMCRO wouldn't spread in turn for cutting SAMTAZ a bigger piece of the gun trade.
Huff decided that it wasn't time to bounce ideas off of his old lady just yet. He would use his time on the upcoming protection runs he'd been tapped to handle for the Club to strategize his next move.
Dropping his towel, Huff turned around and started to back Wendy towards the bed. "You know baby, I think you're on to something, but it's gonna have to wait." Untying the strings of her halter to reveal her ripe plump breasts, Huff groaned. "I'm going to be gone ten long days. You need to give me a little something to keep me going 'til I get back." Lifting Wendy up, Huff fell with her onto their bed.
Shit! I got nothing! Turning him on before getting the info I need is a mistake I have to stop making, damn it, Wendy thought as Huff started going to town on her tits.
Stahl has been harassing her for updates, but she hadn't been able to get any new Intel as the Club kept sidelining her old man with matters unrelated to gun running. Wendy tried to keep Huff talking, but with his dick currently hardening against her thigh, she knew the time for talking was over.
Feeling her own stirrings of desire finally taking hold, Wendy decided she might as well enjoy the ride. Stahl was just going to have to get her granny panties untwisted until she could make some real headway with Huff, which with him on the road sure as hell wouldn't happen for at least the next ten days.
Finally squirming her way out of her leather pants, Wendy rolled on top of her old man and smiled. There was only one tried and true method of getting herself off while fucking the old man and that was thinking of her Dahlmer as she rode Huff's cock hard and fast.
She was due for a break from her old man and Dahlmer was just what the doctor ordered. Ten days of mind-blowing sex and indulging in her drug of choice with no fear of repercussions.
Yeah, baby! Let the good times roll!
Deputy Chief Hale watched as Agent Estevez left his office after declining his offer to join him and Agent Wright for lunch at Nicky's Diner. After their brief conversation regarding the status of the ATF's investigation, Hale had lost his appetite. With his jaw clenched as tight as his stomach, Hale suddenly threw the pen he had been using to sign off on some reports across the room and dropped his head into his hands, his elbows on his desk.
He could hear her now-familiar boisterous voice booming as she spoke to one of her agents over the telephone. She had sent Agent Smith back to the Stockton office early this morning to retrieve some necessary paperwork and was wondering what the hell was taking him so long. As he heard her sign off on the call, Hale pushed himself away from the desk and headed down the hall. His mouth set in a grim line, Hale stood in the open doorway of Stahl's tiny office. He didn't knock or ask if he could enter. He just did, and slammed the door soundly behind him.
Without flinching, Stahl continued perusing the files on her desk as she drained her coffee cup dry. Placing it on her desk, she finally looked up and made eye contact with Hale.
"Good afternoon, David. I'm going to jump to a conclusion here and assume that you would like to speak with me." Stahl smiled, one eyebrow arched.
Hale had no time for pleasantries, so he just cut to the chase. "I just had a brief conversation with Estevez and was hoping you could fill in the blanks." He replied through the thin set line of his lips.
Agent Stahl narrowed her eyes at David Hale as she noticed the grimace on his face, his tight shoulders, and his hand resting on his holster precariously close to his service revolver.
"If I can, I will. What's on your mind? You seem a little tense." She said casually.
"What's on my mind is your 'Plan B' for taking down SAMCRO." Hale started. Stepping towards Stahl, Hale placed his hands on her desk, his finger spread out, and leaned forward. "If what I was told is correct—and I hope it's not—I cannot believe what you are doing to Jolene Teller."
Stahl leaned back in her chair. The smile that she had greeted Hale with was fading into a cold, hard stare. Picking up a gold Mount Blanc pen she had received from her foster parents when she graduated high school, she idly twirled the pen between her fingers.
"Are you getting soft on me, David?"
"Soft? As in, soft on SAMCRO? No, never." Hale shook his head emphatically. "I'm living for the day when that white trash crew of bikers is hauled off in federal custody, along with their suppliers in the IRA. But it's one thing going after them and it's another thing entirely to go after their women. As deputy chief, my job is to protect and serve the citizens of Charming and I cannot support your decision to use an innocent as bait, no matter—"
Stahl abruptly slammed her fist down on her desk, sending the empty coffee cup flying so that it smashed into pieces on the floor.
"OH PA-LEES! Spare me the sentimental bullshit, David! Jolene Teller is no innocent! Her father is the President of a vast criminal organization. Her old man is his second-in-command and the man who practically raised her is their Treasurer, so don't you dare stand before me and defend Jolene Morrow-Teller as an upstanding citizen! She may not be a patched member, but according to my files she has been a member of the most exclusive club of all since she was 18 years old. She's an old lady and probably has as much blood on her hands as her old man because she's the one that cleans them off for him! She's guilty by association. I may never get her convicted of shit, but she will pay for her participation in all of this. Plan B guarantees that!"
The Deputy Chief looked at the suddenly angry Agent, noting her flared nostrils and barely pent up rage. "That's a little harsh and a bit extreme, don't you think?" Hale argued.
"It's harsh because it the fucking truth! And do I think it's extreme? No, I don't and I suggest you take off the kid gloves when dealing with her. Do you even remember why Agent Reinhart pulled Jolene in for questioning all those years ago?" Stahl barked.
David crossed his arms. "Yes, I do. He wanted Intel regarding the shooting in which she was the victim."
"Well, it's obvious to me—and his reports bears this out—that he felt there was a strong connection between that incident and the disappearance of Kyle Hobart."
"He may have mentioned as much." David said noncommittally.
He briefly thought about the Son who had fallen off the map several years ago and his own suspicions that the bastard had been the one responsible for the attack on Jax and Jolene. If his suspicions had been correct, there was no doubt in Hale's mind that SAMCRO had been responsible for Hobart's disappearance.
I guess Stahl has come to the same conclusion.
"Well, it seems that the Club has a history of coming to Jolene's rescue. Kyle Hobart wasn't the first asshole to pay with his life for taking aim at the Princess. I guess you don't know about the fallout that occurred as a result of her rape." Stahl fought to keep herself from smiling as she saw the mixture of cold dread and hot anger seep into wide eyes.
"The hell you say! Jolene Teller, raped?" Hale was incredulous.
Stahl shrugged her shoulders. "I misspoke. I meant to say 'attempted rape'. It happened when she was 17 and living with her mother in some shithole in Seattle as part of her probation." Stahl pulled out one of her files and slapped a mug shot of a man on her desk. "The alleged attacker was one Ricardo Hernandez. He was known as Pretty Ricky and was her mother's pimp."
David rubbed the bridge of his nose with his index and fore fingers. After pulling her over for speeding so many years ago, he had made it his business to find out as much as possible about Jolene Morrow. Again, during her self-imposed exile in Seattle, Hale had used government resources to not only locate her, but to learn as much as he could about her life in Washington. He thought he knew it all, but the one thing Hale did know for sure was that he had never seen a police report regarding an attempted rape, but he had a feeling Stahl was going to clue him in as to why.
"You said attempted rape. What exactly happened?"
"What do you think happened? Our little MC hellcat fought back and got away." Stahl explained.
Thank God, Hale almost sighed.
"I see that's a great relief for you." Stahl said sarcastically. "Yes, she got away, but not before stabbing him in the thigh. According to her mother, the asshole nearly bled out in her living room as 'lil ol' innocent Jolene ran her ass back to Charming. Just days after her return, Pretty Ricky went missing and has since been declared legally dead." The Agent crossed her arms under her meager chest.
"One thing doesn't necessarily have anything to do with the other—" Hale began.
Stahl leapt to her feet. "Give me a fucking break, David! Are you so twisted up by a pretty face and a tight body that you can't see the connection? It's the same fucking scenario! Someone threatens or hurts the SAMCRO Princess, she fingers the man responsible and the Club takes off to eliminate the threat. Jolene Teller may not have pulled the trigger, but the Club took care of Hernandez, just like they took care of Hobart. That's two deaths that your little school teacher is involved in. Between us, however, I have absolutely no case against her and she'll probably get away with her part, so don't expect me to cry her a river. The darling of Charming refuses to cooperate to bring SAMCRO to justice, so if I have to bend a law or two to bring down those one-percenters in order to get to the Real IRA, then that's what I'm going to do because that's my job. That MC whore has already made the choice to stand by her man and her daddy, so now she's going to have to live with the consequences of that decision."
Stahl headed towards the door to her office and turned to look back at the troubled face of the Deputy Chief. "David, the ball has already been set in motion and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I don't know what I can tell you that will ease your mind other than if her family loves her as much as she believes they do, then you have nothing to worry about."
Long after Stahl and her crew called it a night, David Hale was still sitting at his desk sipping a lukewarm cup of coffee. The sole source of light in the darkened office was a lamp on his desk, which illuminated some tedious reports he was supposed to have signed off on earlier today, but never got around to completing.
It was quiet in the station house. The third shift had started about an hour ago, and Hale should have already been long gone home to his small house on the other side of town. But he couldn't because Hale wasn't the type to leave work at work. No matter how mundane or trivial, work always followed him home. Tonight, the work that he would take with him was a matter of life or death and he knew trying to get some sleep would be useless until he was exhausted. His mind was racing, not with the reports he was reading with unseeing eyes, but with the plan Stahl had set in motion against Jolene Teller.
For the second time since he had met June Stahl, he had been exposed to an eyeful of her darker side. Hale, who always had a clear picture of who the good guys and the bad guys were, was starting to believe that the agent's objectivity was blurred at the very least and questionable to non-existent in the extreme.
Hale massaged his forehead to alleviate the headache he could feel coming on. Who am I to question her objectivity? Stahl's absolutely right about mine being painfully lacking when it comes to Jolene.
Although he had put away his feelings for the young woman and was currently in a new long-distance relationship, Jolene still held a special place in his heart. While theirs had been just a brief encounter, Jolene would always be the one woman he would look back on and wonder "what if". But even though there was no doubt in his mind that she would be far better off away from the Club, there was no denying just how much love Jolene had for her old man and her family.
Stahl must be crazy to think that Jolene would ever flip on SAMCRO.
With this new plan that Stahl had up her sleeve, Hale had to wonder just what exactly had Jolene done that put her in Stahl's crosshairs. If he was to believe what Agent Estevez had told him was true, there was only one way Jolene would come out of this. And that was dead because, after their conversation, it was clear that Stahl had every intention that some kind of harm be brought against Jolene.
Maybe it was his small town mentality and the protectiveness he felt for all residents of Charming, but Hale could not believe how lacking in empathy the agent had been in relating the circumstances of Jolene's attack in Seattle. Stahl had been cold-hearted and clinical, not exhibiting the least bit of sympathy for what had to be a terrified young girl in fear of her life and safety.
Although Stahl seemed to think so, Hale wasn't naïve. She was probably right on the money that the Club had taken care of both men. He had thought as much with the Hobart situation, but he hadn't wept any tears when the man had fallen off the grid. To his shame, it was probably the only time in his career in law enforcement that he had sided with SAMCRO. Hale could still remember the night of the shooting on Main Street as if it had happened yesterday. His feelings of utter uselessness when Jolene had stopped breathing and her heart had stopped beating. Hale had literally watched her life slowly seep out of her and onto the asphalt. Yeah, if Kyle Hobart had been responsible, he for one was glad he was probably dead and left to rot in the desert.
As a man who prided himself in upholding his sworn duty to the law, it was a bitter pill to swallow to finally realize that not everything was in black and white. Although he could never bend the law the way Stahl was doing to achieve her goals, he couldn't bend to the will of SAMCRO either, even if it was for the good of the town. But Hale was smart enough to realize that sometimes the only justice that would suffice in certain situations was outlaw justice.
The side of June Stahl that he had seen today troubled him deeply. Deep enough to have him considering doing some detective work of his own because regardless of Stahl's determination to bring down SAMCRO and the RIRA, Charming was his town.
And I won't allow innocents to be hurt on my watch.
"You look tired."
The comment came as Jolene was taking a sip from a tall glass of peppermint iced tea Neeta had made. The cool drink, while refreshing in itself, was also a great cure for Jolene's recent bouts of morning, afternoon, and evening sickness and calmed her ever-queasy stomach. It was a cure that Jolene wished she had known about during her first pregnancy. Neeta was a godsend and had no clue just how much Jolene appreciated having her around.
Jolene, however, wasn't a tea drinker by choice, which no doubt was raising the eyebrow of the woman directly across the patio table from her.
Looking at Gemma, Jolene smiled. "I look a wreck, don't I? I barely got any sleep last night."
Gemma laughed, assuming that her son was keeping his old lady up all night as he rocked her world. "Sweetheart, you really need to tell Jax to lay off and let you get some sleep. You need it."
Jolene grinned, glad that Gemma had drawn the wrong conclusion. "Well, therein lies the problem. See, I don't sleep soundly unless I get put to bed properly, if you know what I mean, and Jax came in really late last night and left early this morning."
The fact was that Jax had spent the evening bringing the Club, minus her father, up to date on the Stahl situation. Jax had indeed kept her up last night, not rocking her world, but filling her in on the Club's reaction. While all who sat at the table were pissed to the extreme, it was her Uncle Elvis who had nearly gone off the deep end when he heard the Intel.
Gemma was about to respond when three screaming children and an excited, loudly yipping puppy ran past them. Grabbing a hold of the lead culprit, she slapped a hand over his mouth. "Hey, keep it down you three. Grandma needs a break. Papa is taking a nap, and I don't want him waking up any time soon."
"Sorry, Grandma, we'll be quiet. C'mon, guys." Abel said as he, Kenny, and Ellie ran towards the swing set and jungle gym the Prospects had set up for them in the backyard.
"I can't believe you are leaving me here with these three," Gemma said as she sipped her coffee. "I think I'd rather go to lunch, too."
"Oh, no you don't," Jolene said. "I need a break and me and Donna need a little time to chit chat."
Putting down her coffee cup, Gemma reached over to her bag, pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit up. "Speaking of a break, I think you need one, and I don't mean a lunch date."
Warily, Jolene eyed her stepmother. "I'm fine, Gem."
"That's not what your father thinks." Gemma said as she blew out a trail of blue smoke. "He thinks that you're running yourself into the ground and don't tell him I said so, but I have to agree with him."
Jolene straightened up in her chair. "Now, Gem—"
"Don't 'Gem' me." She retorted. "You know as well as I do that your father has a sixth sense when it comes to you. He never really gets it right on the money, but he can tell when you're not yourself, and you haven't been. Not for a while, and the more he worries about you, the less concerned he is about his own health and I don't want that setting his recovery back."
Holy shit balls! How can I possibly throw these two off my scent and quick?
Jolene was not yet ready to tell her family about the new baby on board. At least not until she had seen Dr. Negron and with her father under the Teller roof for less than a week, everyone was still in the "settling down into a routine" stage. With Dr. Negron unavailable for the next couple of weeks, she wanted to get the all clear before she and Jax shared the good news.
Also, a part of her knew that once it was out, her life would change considerably, and she was hoping to put it off for as long as possible.
"Look, you're probably right. I have been burning the candle on both ends, but I will start to take things a little easier, okay? Neeta's already been a big help in that area, helping out with the cooking, shopping and housework. She's really taken a load off me and now all I need is to get a little more sleep and things will be back to normal, I promise."
"They better. I can't have my one ally getting sick on me. I need you in my corner to deal with the bear that is my old man and your father."
Taking Gemma's lead, Jolene continued the conversation, hoping to steer it away from her. "He wasn't too happy about breakfast again, was he?"
"Hell no, and if that's anything to go by, he's going to like lunch and dinner even less." Gemma snarked.
Because of Clay's high blood pressure and high cholesterol, Dr. Wallace had referred him to a nutritionist. The doctor believed that with a few, but significant changes to his diet and lifestyle, Clay would be able to regulate both without the need for medication. Even though Clay hated popping pills, he hated eating what he called "rabbit food" far worse. But so far, in spite of his griping at every meal time, he managed to choke down what was given to him even if he wasn't happy about it at all.
The discoloration on his lungs was another matter altogether and what had Gemma and Jolene concerned the most. The belief was that Clay's love of Cohiba cigars—to the tune of four a day—was responsible. The doctor ordered Clay to quit, and had even prescribed patches for him to wear.
Gemma got rid of all of his cigars and put her foot down in the Clubhouse. No one, on pain of death, was to sneak any cigars into the Teller household. "The HBIC has spoken," she had declared, giving each patch a hard glare. Gemma, in deference to her husband's suffering, smoked her cigarettes and joints out of his line of sight.
Working as the tag team from Hell, both Gemma and Jolene cracked the whip when it came to following the nutritionist's guidelines. Hence, Clay's healthy breakfast on his new program consisted of cut oats cooked down with apples and walnuts, followed by four egg whites with a couple of slices of turkey bacon and a mixed fruit salad.
Clay had been less than enthusiastic, to say the least.
At the breakfast table, Clay took one look at the beautifully arranged meal that Neeta set before him and cut loose, forgetting that his grandson was at the table. "What is this shit?"
Abel looked at his grandfather with big eyes and shook his head. "Ooh, Papa, you said a bad word." He then held out his little hand. "That's five dollars for the swear jar." He coolly informed his grandfather, grinning.
Clay glared at his daughter. "Five bucks? That's a lot of money for me saying shit about this shit."
"Mommy, how much is 5 + 5 + 5?" Abel said gleefully, as his father, sitting at the other end of the table, tried not to laugh as he dug into his hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon and sausage.
"That's fifteen, honey." Jolene bit her lip and coughed.
Abel smiled. "Papa, maybe you better eat your breakfast before you say any more. You can give me the fifteen dollars later."
"What is this shit?" Clay growled the words that were quickly becoming his mantra during meal times. His lip was curled in disgust as Neeta set his lunch before him.
"That last time I checked, shit was brown." Neeta retorted, her arms crossed as she gave him the stink eye. "That is tofu 'chicken' and stir-fry vegetables with a nice berry and mango fruit salad."
"I don't understand how anybody expects me to get better eating fake-ass meat and rabbit food." Clay huffed as he poked the food on his plate with a fork.
"Whether or not you understand is not my problem. You just have to eat it while I take care of the laundry." Neeta advised. Looking around and not spotting the Prospect, she eyed Clay. "Where's Phil? It's going to take me a couple of hours to do the laundry. I know Jolene is upstairs with Abel, but I don't want to leave you out here by yourself."
"Oh, Phil will be back in a minute or two." Clay said hurriedly. "You go on. I'll be fine. Go on, now," He said waving his hand to shoo her off. "I'll be fine."
Seeing the older man once again making tentative stabs at the food with his fork, Neeta nodded her head as she headed toward the laundry room.
It smelled like heaven on earth.
"Finally! What took you so fuckin' long?" Clay growled, the cold food on his plate forgotten as Filthy Phil walked into the kitchen's dining area.
"It was busy at Nicky's, sir. The lunch crowd had packed the diner out, so it took a little while longer than I expected." Phil said as he placed the large Styrofoam container on the placemat in front of Clay, the cold tofu and veggies being ejected from its former resting place. "Sir—"
Clay waved his good hand at him. "I thought I told you to stop calling me 'Sir'. There's no need to be so formal. Just call me Clay."
Phil tried again. "Clay, do you really think this is a good idea? I'm sure Neeta will be upset and I know Mrs. T won't like it at all. I don't even want to think about your old lady." A chill ran down Phil's spine. Thankfully, Mrs. Morrow was working at T-M today.
"Look, Prospect. What them three busy bodies don't know won't hurt me, okay? It's bad enough that I've been beat to shit, now my doctor and my family are trying to slowly starve my ass to death. With the exception of my welcome home party, I haven't had a decent meal in over a week. I earned this. And if you ever wanna patch in, you'll keep these little runs to Nicky's to yourself." Clay's mouth was literally salivating at the smells emanating from the container. He couldn't wait to sink his teeth into his meal. "Get the air freshener from underneath the kitchen sink. We have to cover up the evidence."
As Filthy Phil walked towards the sink, he shook his head.
Something tells me that these runs are going to get my ass in a shit load of trouble.
"This laundry is gonna take all afternoon to do." Neeta lamented to herself as she sorted the clothes into several different piles.
Working in the Teller household was a lot different than working for Gemma. While the Morrows home was beautiful, the Tellers' home had been recently modernized, making it a really sweet place to work. And as Jolene gave her free range to call the shots, Neeta knew she was getting spoiled rotten.
It's going to be a shock to the system going back to Gemma's where I have to fuss and wheedle to get what I want. I always do what I want anyway, but it's so nice not having to take on the Queen of Charming every day.
She had been in the laundry room for about twenty minutes, but Neeta was starting to get worried. As Neeta finished sorting the first batch of clothes, she cocked her head.
It's pretty quiet out there.
"Damn it, anything happens to that old man because I left him alone and Jolene will have me in a cast to rival her father's. The way he speeds around in that wheelchair like it's a Harley, he's gonna end up breaking his neck." Neeta said as she set her first load to wash.
However, all sympathetic thoughts left the woman's head as she opened the door leading her down the hallway and into the kitchen.
WTF! That ain't no stir fry I'm smelling! I smell bacon! Jolene had better be making my baby boy his lunch or there's going to be hell to pay!
For a big woman, Neeta knew how to be quiet. Walking around the corner to the kitchen entrance, her eyes widened as she saw Clay's one good hand hovering over an open container of food, getting ready to dig in. The young Prospect, standing across from him, rocked back and forth on his feet with a nervous expression on his face.
Clay, who was so intent on scarfing down his meal, didn't realize that he and the Prospect were no longer alone. Neeta nearly gasped as she saw the huge bacon double cheeseburger, smothered with onions, lettuce, tomato, and mayo sitting on a huge pile of French fries. Literally snatching up the entire container, much like a hawk latching onto a terrified rabbit, she nearly caused the old biker to have a heart attack.
"What the fuck?" Clay roared as before his eyes, his meal disappeared. Using the controls on his motorized wheelchair to back away from the table, he turned to see Neeta heading towards the garbage disposal.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Saving your life, old man." She retorted. Just as she was about to scrape the whole mess into the sink, Neeta felt Chopper's front paws on her leg as he barked in excitement.
"You know what, I have a better idea." She smiled as she removed the two huge burger patties with cheese and bacon from its bun and then dropped them into the overjoyed puppy's food bowl, located by the side of the French doors leading to the patio.
"Aww shit, Neeta!" Clay moaned as he saw his grandson's dog tear into his burger. "That was my lunch, damn it!"
"Was? Nuh huh. What you think was your lunch is now a nice treat for little Chopper here. In a world where Hell has not yet frozen over, your lunch is sitting right there on the table." Neeta marched back to the sink and picked up the container.
Seeing what she was about to do, the second President of SAMCRO was reduced to pleading with his housekeeper. "Not the fries. Can I just eat the fries? It's a vegetable." He reasoned hopefully.
Neeta looked at him as if he had lost his damn mind. "These are potatoes and they're double-deep fried in oil and loaded with salt, but I tell you what." Neeta smiled as she walked over to Clay with the container of food. Clay smiled in relief that was short-lived. "You can keep the tomato and the lettuce." Using the fork that was lying on the table, Neeta slapped the fixings on his plate.
Looking in shock at the plate of cold stir-fry with the lettuce and tomato now sitting on top, the older man couldn't believe it when Neeta came back again. "On second thought, give me back the lettuce. There's mayo on it." She snatched it back.
Finally dumping the rest of the food and washing her hands, Neeta confronted both men. Clay was about to rip Neeta a new one but decided against it when he saw the grim look on her face. Then she opened her mouth.
"You try this stunt again, and patch or no patch, I'm going to sic that tiny lap dog you call your daughter on you." She stormed.
"You wouldn't." Clay said bleakly.
"Oh wouldn't I?" Turning to Filthy Phil who was trying to slide his way out of the room, Neeta cut loose on him too. "And you! Jolene would be so disappointed in you."
"Oh, c'mon, Miss Neeta. Please don't tell Mrs. T." Filthy Phil pleaded.
"That depends. Just how many other food runs have you gone on for this one?"
Filthy Phil shook his head mournfully. "I'm sorry, Miss Neeta, but I ain't no rat."
Clay nodded to himself. Good looking out kid.
"Fine, and I hope that works out for you, Phil 'cause I'm of a mind to reinstate your cereal diet. No more smothered pork chops with baked mac and cheese for you to take back to your room." Neeta threatened.
Clay glared at the Prospect. "What? You been holding out on me? You ain't never patching in."
"Don't you blackmail that boy. Jolene is only a few steps away. Now you try this stunt again or you try to hold this over poor Phil, and I'm dropping a one-ton dime on your ass. Now eat your damn tofu before I take your fruit salad away too." Neeta threatened. "And just think, I was gonna give you a fat-free chocolate pudding cup with low-cal whip cream for dessert tonight."
"Oh damn, Neeta. Give a guy a break. I really like that shit."
"Well, if you clean your plate, I'll think about it. And don't even bother trying to get Phil to dump it in the disposal." Neeta said over her shoulder as she headed back to the laundry room. "And don't try feeding it to Chopper either 'cause he won't eat that garbage."
"But you expect me to?" Clay roared indignantly. "I guess that makes me the red-headed step-dog around here, huh?" He called out after Neeta's retreating figure.
How do they expect my blood pressure to go down if I have to deal with this dragon all day? It's not my diet that's killing me. It's Neeta Benson!
"Mommy, this is fun!" Abel said as he moved the mouse around on the pad, his little tongue sticking out the side of his mouth in concentration.
"It is, isn't it, baby?" Jolene kissed the top of her son's head as he sat on her lap.
It was early afternoon and mother and son were sitting at Jolene's desk in her office.
Needing her own personal work space, Jolene had turned the smallest of the spare bedrooms into an office. Located at the far end of the house, it was a quiet space where she could work on lesson plans and grade exams, as well as take care of the financial matters for her family.
Set up with a cozy loveseat and armchair on one side of the room, the other side featured a large L-shaped desk, a credenza with a printer on it and several rows of long shelves on the walls, filled with books, including textbooks, and other paraphernalia.
On the desk were two computers, one dedicated to her work for Excelsior Prep, the other on which she handled all of the Tellers' household finances. It also housed a number of child development programs that were specially designed to make learning fun and, at the moment, both Jolene and Abel were enjoying themselves playing a preschool game which incorporated simple math skills.
Jolene hadn't realized how much she had missed having quality alone time with her baby. Abel was growing up so fast and she wanted to spend as much time as possible with him over the summer. With her father in his current banged up condition, the Teller family's vacation plans had been put on hold. Jolene hoped that before the summer was over they would be able to get away as a family. In the interim, she was making the time to spend with her little boy, getting him prepared for his new experiences in the Fall when he started pre-K.
"Mommy, I like working on the 'puter," Abel declared, looking up at his mother. "But I'm kinda hungry now."
Jolene glanced down at her watch and was amazed at how quickly the morning had flown. "No wonder baby, it's almost 1:30. I'm hungry too. Let's get something to eat."
She picked up her son, who squealed with laughter as she managed to piggy back him down the hall and down the stairs.
Whew, I won't be able to do this for much longer.
Putting Abel down as they reached the foyer, Jolene saw the mailman through the beveled glass in her front door pulling out of their driveway.
"Abel, you go and find Miss Neeta while I run out and get the mail."
"Okay." Abel turned and ran his little legs towards the back of the house while his mother headed in the direction of the mailbox.
Wearing nothing but at tank top and a pair of short shorts, Jolene flipped the lid of the box and retrieved the mail. Kicking the door closed behind her, she idly flipped through the envelopes, discarding the junk advertisements and putting aside the circular for Murphy's Stop-N-Shop to go through with Neeta later.
Jolene thought there was nothing of any real importance until she saw the familiar envelope and noted the return address: Cook County Hospital. Jolene sighed as she looked at the small envelope.
"I'll be old and gray before I'm done with these people." She muttered to herself.
Deciding that she might as well get the monthly chore over and done with, Jolene headed back upstairs to her office. Rummaging for a pen on her desk, Jolene dug out her checkbook from her handbag and went online to pull up her bank account.
Cook County Hospital, located in Seattle, was the hospital that Abel had been born in. Shortly after the birth, Jolene had lost her first job as a substitute teacher, losing her medical insurance as well. It was during that time that Jolene started to amass a substantial amount of medical debt in relation to Abel's urgent care. With no healthcare, Jolene quickly found herself in over her head until landing at Westbrook.
But thanks to Stahl, she lost that job as well and was once again unable to clear the massive debt. It was only when she returned to Charming and had started working, first at Cara Cara and then at Excelsior, that Jolene had managed to make a dent in the debt.
Jolene had convinced her husband that it was in their best interest as a family, and for the Club, if she continued making the monthly payments out of her salary. Using Jax's income earned through the Club would clear the debt a lot faster, but it could also raise red flags with the Feds, bringing a world of trouble down on them. Jax had agreed with her reasoning and Jolene continued making reasonable payments from her salary knowing that it would take years for the debt to finally be cleared.
So nothing could have shocked her more than when she opened the envelope.
WTF?
Picking up the phone on her desk, Jolene started dialing the number to the hospital's accounts receivable department.
Somebody made a really big mistake over there.
Bobby Elvis was sitting at the picnic table, sipping on a mug of coffee with a plate of chewy fudge brownies sitting in front of him.
"Shit, brother, I smelled those a mile away." Tig's blue eyes sparkled with a kind of crazy glee as he plopped himself down at the table and grabbed a brownie.
"Well, be careful brother. Chocolate may be a natural high, but these brownies will send you into orbit." The heavyset biker replied as he sampled another serving of his creation.
"Damn, you put hash in these?" Tig reached to grab another. "Excellent! Did I ever tell you how much I love your shit, man? You know, I always had a problem with a man that baked, but brother, you changed my mind when I joined this charter. This shit is phenomenal, man."
"It makes me happy to make you happy." Bobby snarked. He was about to snatch the plate out of his brother's reach when he heard tires peeling. "That's a familiar sound."
Sure enough, Jolene's Mustang tore into the lot and pulled to a stop only yards away from the picnic table. Slamming her car door, Jolene sauntered over to Bobby and Tig.
Jolene had been slightly hesitant about showing up at the Clubhouse. It would be the first time that she confronted the Club since Jax had filled them in on the situation with Stahl. Even though she trusted her old man's recounting of how his brothers had taken the news, she was still a little anxious.
Bobby hopped off the table and was walking towards her with a grim look on his face, closely followed by Tig, who was popping something into his mouth. Reaching his goddaughter, Bobby looked at her sternly and then suddenly pulled her into his arms.
"Kit, I should really put you over my damn knee." He said brusquely as he hugged her tight.
"I'd put you over my knee too," Tig said with a salacious grin on his face, "For a different reason, but your old man would kill me."
Jolene pulled away from her uncle. "I guess I'm on your shit list, huh?"
"You should be. Keeping us all in the dark wasn't one of your best ideas, Kit."
"Hey, Doll Face held her shit together. I wouldn't expect any less from Clay Morrow's kid, but you realize that you're not alone any more, right?"
Jolene looked at the two men that she had known and loved forever. "I know."
"What brings you down? I thought today was your day off from the office?" Bobby asked.
"It is, but I need to talk to my old man. Is he around?"
"Yeah, he's with Juice in the Chapel." Tig responded. "Is everything okay?"
"I'm not sure. That's why I need Jax." Jolene turned and headed towards the Clubhouse.
Sitting at the head of the Redwood table, Jax was listening to Juice as he filled him in on the progress of the protection runs headed by Huff when a knock sounded on the Chapel door.
"What?" Jax yelled, annoyed by the interruption.
"Hey, baby, it's me. Can I talk to you?"
Jax got up to open the door. "Hey, darlin'." He wrapped his arms around his old lady and practically dragged her into the room, his hands on her ass as he pressed a big smooch against her lips. "This is a real nice surprise. I could use the distraction." He winked at Jolene before looking over at Juice. "Are we finished here?"
Juice grinned. "I guess we are now." As the Intelligence Officer rose to exit the room, Jolene put a hand out.
"Wait, Juice, I need you to stay." Jolene reached behind her to close the door, while her husband quirked an eyebrow at her.
"Babe, you know I love you, but I do not share my muffin with anyone." He teased, but after taking a good look at his old lady's face he realized that she wasn't in a joking frame of mind. "Jo, what's up?"
"I think we should sit down."
Jax didn't like the sound of that.
After settling down at the table, Jolene dug into her handbag and pulled out an envelope and handed it to Jax. "What is it?" He asked, bewildered.
Jolene sighed. "I just got the monthly statement from the hospital for Abel's medical expenses. Check out the balance owed."
Jax opened the envelope and pulled out the statement and reviewed it. "It's got a zero balance. How the hell is that possible?"
Jolene ran her hand through her hair. "That's the problem. I thought it was an accounting error, so I called the billing department. They told me that a wire transfer came in and paid off the whole amount. At first I thought you had gone behind my back and paid it off—"
"Babe, I wouldn't do that. I agreed with you that paying it off in one lump sum wasn't the smart thing to do."
"Is this something I really need to be here for, bro? Sounds like you got some personal financial shit going on." Juice said.
"Juice, I think we're going to need your help on this." Jolene replied. "Many organizations have been brought down on tax evasion. In order to protect the Club, Jax and I agreed that I would continue making regular monthly payments with what I earn from teaching. It was gonna take years, but paying it off in one lump sum using Jax's earnings with the Club would only serve to raise a red flag if the Feds decided to dig deeper. According to the hospital, the bill was paid in full ten days ago to the tune of $238,000."
Juice's eyes widened. "Shit, that's a lot of cash to pay in one shot."
"Yeah, and I know I didn't do it, so I told the hospital it was a mistake, but the accounts receivable department assured me that it wasn't. I don't know what the fuck is going on, Jax." Jolene said worriedly.
Jax reached out to grab Jolene's hand. He didn't like the places that what he was hearing was taking his mind to. "It's okay, babe. We'll figure it out. Did you get any information regarding the wire transfer, like where it came from?"
"At first, the Clerk wouldn't give me any information, but eventually I wore her down and she finally gave me the name of the bank that made the transfer. It came through the First Bank of Stockton. She also gave me the wire transfer confirmation number." Jolene pulled out a slip of paper and handed it to Juice.
"What are you thinking, bro? You think you can track the point of origin?" Jax asked his Intel officer.
Juice bit his lip as he nodded. "I can try hacking into the Bank's database, but that could take hours, days even. I do have some contacts at Charming Savings and Loan. I'll reach out and see if my guy has a connection up at the bank in Stockton first. If not, as long as time is not an issue, I'll work on getting the Intel myself."
"Time might be an issue, bro." Jax shook his head. "Press your guy for as much help as he can give us and have him put a rush on it. I promise I'll make it worth his while."
"No problem. I'll let you know what I find out ASAP." Juice rose and exited the Chapel.
"It can mean only one thing, Jax." Jolene said as soon as Juice closed the door behind him.
Jax nodded. "I know, darlin'. I've been waiting for her to make the first move. Looks like this is it."