"What the fuck is that, Lala? Who the fuck is calling you now? It's fucking nine in the morning."
Lala's head was aching. It couldn't be described as a sharp pain by any means; it was a dull, undulating throb that resonated in her temples. Goddamned hangover. Ugh. She opened his eyes to a harsh, unforgiving June sun, and as she focused on the walls of her small hotel room, she felt like she was in hell. Slowly Lala sat up, feeling closer to her father's age than her own. This morning, eighteen was far from the fountain of youth. Eighteen was day old vodka and the lingering scent of cigarette smoke.
"Get me fucking go," Lala demanded. The boy next to her wouldn't budge.
"Ow! Goddamn Laura!" he yelped when her elbow slammed into his ribs. She giggled at the use of her name. No one ever called her Laura, not even her parents. Lala had been her name for as long as she could remember, and she loved it.
"I told you to fucking move, Charlie," she retorted. Free from the confines of the hot, sweaty, half-naked boy beside her, she reached over and grasped the phone from the nightstand. The number was a familiar one, and she smiled.
"Opie," she feigned annoyance. "What the fuck do you want?" The last sentence was said with a smile. Opie would know she was kidding. Opie's giggle on the other end told her she was right.
"Good morning to you too, Sister," she laughed into the phone. Lala's high brow creased in confusion. Opie's voice was a little to high-pitched, a little too giddy. She kicked her endless legs over the side of the bed. Clad only in tiny boy shorts and a sports bra, she found her cutoff shorts from the night before and yanked them on, balancing the phone between her shoulder and ear while she did it. Scanning the floor for her tank top, she found it and pulled it over her head. Opie sounded different, strange. Lala thought it best to take the call outside.
"What's up, Sister?" Lala candidly asked her twin. Silence echoed in her ears. "Opie, are you there?" The sun glittered on Lala's fair skin. It was the same fair skin Tara had, almost translucent. If she stayed out, she'd tan, but Opie, with her wicked ginger fairness, would burn. She loved the warm rays dancing on her skin, but she couldn't help but wonder what her twin was doing. As much as they fought, they needed one another just as much.
"Yeah," she sighed languidly in the phone. "I'm here. I'm just exhausted, that's all."
"Did you work late?" Lala questioned. She paced the concrete balcony. She wanted a cigarette, but she'd left them inside. Jax and Tara didn't know Lala smoked. It was one of many things they didn't know about their daughter. They also didn't know that Lala was banging Charlie on a regular basis. They thought she was off with her friend Abby almost every weekend. The truth was that Lala and Charlie spent almost every weekend in strange hotels fucking as much as possible. At twenty-two years old, Charlie was felt more like a man than Lala's high school counterparts. That's what she liked about him.
"Not too late," Opie replied. "I went out."
Again, Lala's brows raised. Lala was the partier. Lala was the crazy one, the wild one. Opie was the sweet one, the smarter one. She was the one constantly studying, while Lala tried to balance the parties with her studies. So far, it was working. She was graduating with honors, but Opie would have high honors. Her twin's achievement was well deserved, and even though Lala sometimes wished she could be as disciplined as Opie, she felt life was more than school work and accolades.
"You went out?" Lala laughed. "With Mom and Dad? Y'all get the AARP discount?" Opie laughed at the last statement.
"No, ar from it," Opie answered coyly. "I went out with Lucius."
Lala whistled through her teeth.
"Daddy's Lucius?" Lala asked. Lucius was a mechanic at their father's shop. He had been since he was eighteen. Now twenty, he managed a couple of less experienced guys. Jax had always praised the young man's skill, but the idea of the tall, ruggedly handsome boy being a partner to her pre-med bound twin was a difficult one to handle.
"Yeah," Opie quietly whispered into the phone. "We've actually been seeing one another for about a month now."
Lala stopped pacing. She was floored. "Is he your—boyfriend?"
Opie was silent for a moment. "Yeah," she answered. "I think he might be." Lala stood against the hotel's brick façade, unable to think. How did this happen? Where the fuck was I?
"Do Mama and Daddy know?" Lala questioned.
"No," Opie replied. "You're the only one, Lala."
Lala's heart swelled a little with that statement. At least she could say she was the first to know.
"Well, take it slow," Lala instructed. It was as if they were years apart in age, not minutes. "You just met—don't be like me and fuck on the first date."
"It's a little late for that," Opie murmured. Lala's eyes became huge.
"What?" Lala yelped. "What do you mean it's a little late for that?" She heard Opie sigh over the phone.
"We had sex," Opie replied. Like it's that fucking simple, Lala mind yelled. You meet a guy and fuck him. Virginity gone. The irony of her thoughts didn't escape her. For years, Lala had been the crazy one. Opie had covered crazy nights out for her twin since they were fourteen. Sometimes, Lala wondered how in the hell someone as sweet as Opie could be her sister, much less her twin. Lala was harder; she'd always been. When they were little, Opie was they shy one, and Lala was the flirty, talkative one. It carried over to their adolescence, and by fifteen, Lala had ventured out. By her sixteenth birthday, her virginity was long gone. The only one that knew any of it was Opie. Opie was Lala's gatekeeper. Now, it seemed, the tables were finally turning.
For a moment, Lala couldn't speak. She didn't quite know what to say. She didn't know how she missed it. Is this the way it's going to be when we go to college? They were going to separate schools in the fall. Are our lives going to go so fast that we're going to stop knowing one another? The thought was insane. Opie was her twin, her other half, and now, her sister lost her virginity, and Lala had no idea Opie was seeing someone.
"Do you love him, Op?" Lala whispered into the phone.
"Did you love Jake Rivera?" Opie quickly replied. Jake. Lala's first. They were fifteen when they pledged to love one another forever. If Lala squinted, she could still see the brown eyed blonde boy standing in front of her, sweet smile plastered across his face. She thought she loved him—until Ben Hefner came and changed her mind. Like that, Jake Rivera was gone, and Lala was on to the next one.
"No," Lala honestly replied. "I didn't. But this isn't about me, Opie. It's about you." The other end of the phone was silent. "Do you love him, Opie?"
"I think I do, Lala," she answered. "I think I do."
Lala sighed. She was afraid of that. Opie sounded smitten. She didn't know how real her sister's love for Lucius was, but it didn't matter. She knew she would support Opie through hell and back. That's what their love was. It was unconditional.
"Well then I'm happy for you," Lala said. "Welcome to being a hozilla." The last word was said with a giggle. On the other end of the phone, Opie rolled her eyes and laughed.
"There's only one hozilla in this family," Opie joked. "And you're still the queen—for now."
Lala laughed openly. It felt good. Suddenly, Lala heard the hotel room door open. She looked up and saw Charlie there. Six foot two, with golden hair and the bluest eyes she'd ever seen, it was impossible for her not to want him. He raised his arms and grabbed the door's threshold. His lean, shirtless body, clad only in loosely fitted dark indigo jeans, ripped with muscle. He was absolutely beautiful. Lala smiled and motioned to go inside. She stood to follow.
"I love you Sister," Lala quietly said.
"Love you Sister," Opie returned. It was the way they always ended their conversations. "See you soon."
As Lala ended the call, her eyes rested on Charlie's amazing belly. Overcome with desire, she walked to her conquest, ready to jump his bones. He bit his lower lip and smiled, knowing exactly what the dark haired vixen wanted. For a moment, they locked eyes, and everything around them was forgotten. Lala stalked towards him and ran a long, perfectly manicured fingernail down his washboard abs. He grabbed her hand and pulled her inside for another clandestine tryst, oblivious to the man staring at them from his room across the courtyard, but Lala noticed him as she turned to shut the door.
Who the fuck is he? He's looking at me like he knows me, she thought. The man looked had a large saddlebag slung over his shoulder. He's leaving. It was strange that he captured her attention, but she couldn't look away. His eyes cut through her, like they were staring at a ghost. He gaped openly at them. He was tall, probably as tall as her father, with a glistening shock of snowy white hair. The goatee on his otherwise clean-shaven face was the same color and well groomed. Clad in head-to-toe black, he cut a lean, striking figure against the white brick backdrop of the hotel.
Lala watched him squint for a moment, shake his head in disbelief, and begin his decent to parking lot below. Lala watched as he raced downstairs, crossed the parking lot, and straddled his bike. When he cranked it, and the pipes poured gutturals into the previously serene morning, she couldn't simply close the door and walk away. The man in black ripped through the parking lot at a breakneck speed, but it wasn't fast enough to miss the images sewn onto the driver's black leather vest. In the center of it was a scythe-wielding reaper, and above it were the words Sons of Anarchy, and below it read California.
Lala didn't know what was stranger: the fact that a Californian biker actually chose to come to middle-of-nowhere town in North Carolina or the fact that he'd stared at her like he'd known her since she was born. Both thoughts were unsettling.
"You coming, baby?" Charlie asked. In Lala's couple of minutes of hesitation, he'd managed to strip to his boxer briefs and sprawl wantonly on the bed. Wordlessly, Lala cast a glance to the parking lot, then turned towards the object of her desire, shutting the door behind her.