The clubhouse is quiet tonight. Most of the members are off doing their own thing. It's a rare occurrence, the silence here. Last time I heard it this quiet is when I first came back from Vegas. There's almost an eerie feeling attached to it, and it's not peaceful to me.
Sitting sideways on the seat of Jax's bike, I stare up at the stars, mentally drawing a line from one to the other as I wait for Jax to finish up inside. Stars used to amaze me as a child. To me, it seemed impossible that the phosphorescent objects could be light years away. I couldn't wrap my head around how the brightness they emitted could shine down for my eyes to see if they were truly that far.
A lot of childhood memories have been popping into my mind as the due date of a particular Teller boy draws closer. This kid will have more love and support than he could ever imagine. I know I did. Growing up as a member of the SAMCRO family, there were people to help me out with any problem I came across.
When I failed a math test in middle school, Bobby sat with me, helping me solve problem after problem until my brain finally comprehended algebra. He was more excited than me when I got an A on my next exam. Chibs voice of reason calmed me down anytime I got angry. Apparently, I tend to be irrational when angry. Though, I still think smashing my cheating ex-boyfriend's car was a fabulous idea, and he deserved much worse.
Happy's visits to the clubhouse brought endless entertainment. Most of my wildest ideas came from our conversations, and he loved hearing about all the trouble I caused while he was on the road.
Gemma claimed me as her own daughter from a young age, taking me shopping before the start of every school year, giving me advice on everything under the sun, and loving me unconditionally.
Last, but certainly not least, I had JJ, Jax, and Opie constantly around me. Opie kept me in school, demanding I do my best. I graduated with honors because of him. JJ watched over me like a hawk, not allowing anyone to hurt me or let me caused too many problems. And Jax, he played along with all my schemes, put a smile on my face every day, and eventually made me fall in love with him.
"You ready to go darlin'?" Jax's voice returns me from the past. Here comes my smile, the one only he can paint across my face. Speak of the devil, and the Prince of Charming shall appear.
"I have been ready, pretty boy. It's you who took too long closing up," I say teasingly, swinging my leg over the other side of the motorcycle. Taking one last drag of his cigarette, he chuckles as he blows out the smoke away from me.
With Jax taking permanent residence on my couch, I tinkered with the schedule, so we arrive and leave work at the same time. Why wastes gas when I can have this sexy motorcyclist carting me around? If I ever need to run an errand, I steal Gemma's Cadilac, Jax's truck, or I make Half-Sac go for me.
"Once I pick up your favorite take out and some beers, you won't even remember it took longer than usual," Jax says as he hands me my helmet. He's right, delicious food and good alcohol is the way to make me forgive and forget, well when it comes to the little things.
A loud exploding noise catches us both off guard. Jumping slightly, I swirl my head towards the sudden racket. Holy shit, what I am seeing is almost surreal.
Sliding off the motorcycle, I gawk at a giant cloud of orange flames and black ash rising in the air. The only time I have seen an explosion like this is in action movies. It's kind of awesome to be able to experience a real blowout in person, but a part of me acknowledges this means trouble. And it's taking away from my awe.
You see, nothing occurs in Charming without the Sons knowing about it, that's a standard the club lives by. With the expression of pure shock on Jax's face right now, one can assume the club had no idea this was going to take place tonight, or ever for that matter.
"Well, it appears your day isn't over," I get back on the bike, "You are going to have to dig up your box of money. The Sons will need to fork over wads of cash to cover this up."
"This is stupid, I'm like a prisoner in my own home," Wendy screeches over the phone. I lay my phone on my desk, turning on the speaker option. If I continue to hold the cell to my ear, I will surely have my ear drum burst from her yelling.
Following the fiery incident last night, all the boys were called into the clubhouse bright and early. Together, they rode to the site of whatever blew up last night. This left the Teller-Morrow shop short-handed, so Gemma and I have been running around trying to keep today in order. Since I got to work, I have been rearranging the schedule of whose car to fix when, and who can come to pick up their automobiles today. Customers have been less than pleased by the changes.
With every Son needed, we are left with only the ordinary workers. And also no babysitter for the junkie, Wendy. So, I rigged my all too convenient security system I set up at Jax's house to phone Unser if Wendy tries to leave. It's the best option we have right about now, and I personally don't care if she hates being trapped inside, alone.
"One, you are at Jax's house. Secondly, I am thrilled it makes you feel like an inmate, because prison is where most people would be if they got caught attempting to shoot up heroine when they are pregnant!" Shoving part of my bacon and egg breakfast sandwich in my mouth, I roll my eyes.
She's confined to her ex-husband's house, because she got caught trying to shoot up crank. Yet, she assumes I should treat her like the Queen of England? Wendy is lucky I answer he calls.
"I am hungry, and there is nothing to eat in this shit hole," she complains. I can hear her opening cabinets in the kitchen, moving stuff around to search for food. Chewing my own food, I mimic her talking with my hand. God, she's annoying the shit out of me today.
"We left you a credit card. Have groceries delivered or order in. I already told you no one can come by till after work," I explain once again. Either Wendy isn't paying attention to me, or her pregnancy brain is causing severe damage to her listening skills.
A loud groan comes from my lit up phone, "Whatever, bitch."
"Bye, junkie." I hang up, not able to tolerate her whining any longer. All she had to do was stay clean, and she would be freely walking around. Which now that I think about it, is a scary thought. I am glad I caught her.
"Hey, there's someone on line two who needs a tow," someone shots from inside the garage. I can barely hear them over the power tools.
God, I hate the average workers, they don't even have the decency to talk to me face to face. Yelling from across the auto shop as if I have super sonic hearing. If those boys are afraid of me, they would never survive the club.
Standing up, my chair slams into the wall. I am already irritated with today; I won't have these idiots making it worse. Appearing in the doorway to the garage, I settle into it, crossing my arms over my chest. "Hey, assholes, if you want to talk to me, come in the damn office. Screaming at me while you are working is rude, and frankly, I refuse to put up with your bullshit today. Got it?"
Their answers come in grunt noises and the nodding of heads. No, yes ma'am or alright boss? If Gemma were here right now, she would put them in their place, but truthfully, I have no interest in giving in to these boys rudeness. They would get pride out of garnering up a reaction from me.
Spinning around to head back to my desk, I slam into someone. Pushing myself off the person, I feel their leather cut under my palms. Real leather has a distinct texture to it, and the feeling is grained into my brain by now. The boys aren't back yet. Who the hell is this? Stepping back, I stare up to see a smiling Happy Lowman.
This man happens to be one of my favorite members. He has done all of my tattoos except one, which he is still disappointed by. No one has more of a unique personality than this man, and I don't care if people think he's a little off, I personally love his stories.
"No way could you really be THE Happy Lowman. I mean, I haven't seen the guy in six years so I could be confusing you for him. I have been back in Charming for two years, and Happy would have surely come to visit me sooner," I lightly push him, "in case you haven't caught on, you should know I am offended."
"Man, you are the who left without saying goodbye," Happy snaps back, with a laugh. People find the Washington member intimidating, scary even. If we go places bystanders will stop to stare at him, whispering who knows what to each other, but right now, as he sits opposite to me with a grin on his face, I only see a kind hearted man.
The flashing red light on the office phone reminds me of the call on line two; this better be a life or death situation. I am one whining customer away from pouring myself a glass of whiskey.
Answering the call, I flick Happy off in response to his lame reply. Sparatic is my middle name; coming and going without hello's or goodbye's is my thing. No one else, except for me, has an excuse for being so rude.
Hanging up the phone, a mischievous smirk spreads itself on my face. Turns out the call is going to make my day considerably less monotonous. "Happy, you wanna go on a tow job with me?"
"No," he scoffs at me while leaning back in the office chair. Yeah, he is about to change his mind here in a second.
Grabbing my leather jacket, I shrug my shoulders at him, "Well, guess you will miss out on the deer stuck in someone's windshield. And it's really a shame, because I already have a brilliant plan on what to do with the head of the deer."
Just as predicted, Happy gets to his feet, wanting to join me. Throwing my left over garbage from breakfast away, I find myself thinking about Wendy. Leaving her in Jax's house alone isn't optimal; I have a bad feeling she is going to get herself into trouble.
Driving into the Teller-Morrow Autoshop, I notice all the boys are back. Their motorbikes all in a line, like usual; it's a beautiful sight. Working when they are gone is tedious. I need people to mess with throughout the day. And a nonmember can quit pretty easily, which leads to Gemma yelling at me. It may or may not have happened once or twice in the past.
"Happy, will you bring me the chainsaw," I ask, jumping out of the tow truck. A light breeze skims the exposed skin right above my jeans; it sends a shiver up my spine.
Gemma called and told me to get back to the shop ASAP. I thought I would be arriving to complete chaos, but the morning rush has almost come to a standstill from what I am witnessing. Maybe my wish of being able to head to Jax's sooner is coming true.
The impaled deer has grabbed the attention of all of the guys in the garage. Most of The Son's mozy over to inspect the car I brought in. It's not every day that Crazy Casey drives the company tow truck, most times I run when people ask me to tag along. Unquestionably, I am up to no good, and they know it.
Half-Sac pales at the mammal and its blood covering the windshield. Perfect, the intended victim of my plan is here. Samcro's newest prospect, also my brand-new roommates, is a vegetarian. Needless to say, he is not a fan of meat. So, when a man called asking for a tow, due to a deer stuck in his car's windshield, I knew the perfect person to deal with this problem, Half-Sac.
"Some days, you're the Beemer. Some days, you're the goddam deer," Jax says as he walks up to me. His smile is infectious, and I find myself grinning back at him. Sweeping the explosion under the rug must have gone in The Son's favor, thank goodness. We just got Opie back from jail; no one better go back behind bars anytime soon.
"He's a beauty, isn't he? Too bad Crazy already has a plan for him." Happy hands me the chainsaw, and JJ immediately steps closer to me, ready to rip the power tool from my hands. I am not allowed to handle their equipment, though it's occurred without them knowing.
With a clenched jaw, JJ surveys the other Son's reactions. With none of them speaking up, he steps in. JJ's voice drops to protective mood, "Whoa, baby girl. What do you think you are doing with that?"
"Me? I won't be doing anything, but I thought this would help Half-Sac with the deer," I smile, glancing over at the prospect. Paling further, Kip takes a tiny step back from the car. He better not faint on me, a bloody deer is tasteful compared to the horrendous things he will come across if he gets patched in.
"Wait, wait what?" Half-Sac stutters over his words, staring at me in disbelief. Sorry kid, no prospect flies under the radar, no matter how much I like them as a person.
"You heard Crazy, get to taking care of this," JJ demands, bringing down a hard hand on the boy's shoulder. The sooner the chainsaw is not in possession, the sooner JJ will be able to relax once again.
Half-Sac slowly walks over to me, taking the chainsaw from my hands. I swear he is slightly trembling at the idea of cutting the buck in half. Jax slings his arm onto my shoulders, laughing at his brother frightening the clubs prospect. Ahh, this day has become terrific.
"Bad news Cas, you can't stick around. Gemma has given the two of us a job to do," Jax informs me.
"Really," I scoff in disbelief, "The shop is slow. Can't your mom go and I stay here to see Kip possibly pass out."
I did not go on a tow job just to not be able to see Half-Sac become all squirmy while cutting the deer up. I already have a bet with Happy for if Half-Sac is going to puke or not, and I have a unique plan for the head of the deer. I thought up a way to get all my boys at once, and it's one of my most simple projects.
"Nope," Jax holds out my bike helmet for me, and I sigh in discontent.
"Okay, let me do one thing first!"
Running over to Half-Sac, I take a folded up piece of paper out of my back pocket. Pulling him in close, I whisper to him so no one else can hear me. "Listen carefully, put the buck's head in a box, one big enough to slide under the pool table in the clubhouse, and stick this sign on one of the antlers. Betray me, and you will regret it."
Walking away, I wink at the prospect. Half-Sac won't do me dirty. And within a couple hours, or maybe a day, someone will smell the rancid deer. Then they will open the box to find a deer head, with a note on his antler saying:
Oh deer, I bet this smells awful!
Surprise, you bastards.
-Crazy Casey
It's a mild and tame prank, but hey, it's making me smile.
Opening the door to The Teller's storage locker, a stale smell pours out. Dust and dirt fly every which way as the wind kicks up the particles off the boxes, floors, and walls. No one has touched this place in years. Boxes are stacked up across the back and left wall, leaving us little to no clue as to where we should start searching for baby stuff, other than the obvious left out stuff.
Gemma wants to start decorating the nursery, and once Jax told me our errand is to start scoping out this contained space for baby toys and clothes, I became overly excited. I am beyond delighted for baby Teller. I love kids, and I don't know why that fact tends to surprise people.
"Let's grab the car seat, baby bouncer, and opened toy box first. Then I will search through the boxes in the back, and you can start up here!" Without waiting for an answer, I grab the dust covered car seat. Cleaning this stuff is next on my list of to be done today.
After taking care of the items out in the open, we start sorting out the boxes piled up. Ten boxes in, I still have yet to find anything of importance. Well, nothing a baby could use. Then something catches my attention, I brush the dirt off the top of a box with a name I haven't heard in a long time. John Teller. Technically JJ's name is John Teller Jr, but no one calls him by his birth name.
"Jax, I think you might want to open this one," I tell him, signaling him to come over.
John Teller is a name not spoken; bringing him up around his sons and ex-wife almost feels scandalous. I solely ever hear his name when my father is telling stories of his days during the war, and when the club started forming. Other than those days, dad talks about his past, no one mentions the fallen Son.
Jax wanders over to me, cocking his head as he looks down at the box I now have in my lap. His eyes trace the words written on the lid, his father's name in black sharpie. Towards the end of his life, John was on the road a lot. He was out of state when Thomas, JJ's and Jax's younger brother, passed away. Gemma still holds resentment for John, because he wasn't there when she needed him the most.
Settling down on the ground next to me, Jax removes the top of the box. Inside are tons of pictures of the early club days. There's one of Gemma and John; Gemma has barely aged since the photo, still as beautiful as the day it was taken. So young, and naive as to the tragedies yet to come.
Jax laughs as he hands me another of John and my father on their bikes. The men are staring over at JJ with this expression of pride on their faces. JJ is sitting on his sixteenth birthday present, a slightly used motorcycle. You can practically feel his joy when you look into the image. In front of JJ, Jax has me hanging off his back, I'm barely able to hold on through my laughter. Opie is admiring JJ's bike, a huge smile plastered on his face. We are all so cheerful and full of life.
Flipping the photo over I see 1992 written in the top right-hand corner; one year before John died. And there is also a message written in the center of the back. It's hard to read, but I think it says 'may they grow up happy, never knowing a day where their hands are stained with blood' -JT. At the bottom, John scribbled down are all of our names: JJ, Jax, Opie, and Casey.
"Jax, did you read the back?" My voice is barely above a whisper. What he wrote down makes little sense to me.
JT was one of the founders of SAMCRO, one of the first nine. He built the club up, alongside my father, Clay, and the other six original members. To turn his back on an empire he built, something terrible must have happened. Though I can only assume.
But, that doesn't help me to comprehend why my name is on the list with my brothers and the Teller boys. I am a girl; girls aren't allowed to join the club. Hence the name of the club.
Never knowing a day where their hands are stained with blood. Those words are haunting. To define yourself as having hands stained with blood, you must have killed your fair share of people. I may not be able to speak for JJ, Jax, or Opie, but can talk for myself. I have never killed anyone. There was a time I wanted to murder two people who caused me the worst pain in my life, but someone gutted them before I got the chance.
Jax's lips curl downwards as he runs thumb over the words. In the past, Jax has tried to tell me the violent crimes he's committed, but I didn't care to hear what he had to say. No story is going to change how I feel for Jax Teller. The lifestyle The Son's lead can be bloody, violent, and gruesome. They do what has to be done to protect one another and this town.
Getting past the memories saved on glossy paper, I find a binder containing a manila, clasped envelope. Opening it, a manuscript written by JT slides out.
'The Life and Death of Sam Crow. How the Sons of Anarchy Lost Their Way.'
For my sons: Thomas, who is already at peace, JJ who may already know too much, and Jackson...may he never know this life of chaos.
I should warn you now; the next chapter is going to emotional and has a dark undertone to it! What happens with Wendy next is going to bring back some unpleasant memories Casey has tried hard to bury deep inside. Plus, finding JT's book is going to have her questioning the club for the first time ever. Be ready for emotions.