"Alright, your appointment is booked for this Friday. Remember to wear something comfy and keep your skin dry and clean. That's a request from me to you as your artist."
"Whatever you say," Veila agreed, nodding as though he could see her through the phone.
"Are you sure you want a tattoo on your hip and thigh, though? The skin there can be very tender."
She laughed and looked down at her left arm, her most recent project. It took her twelve hours and two different appointments, "Yes, this is exactly what I want to complete my side piece."
"Sounds like a plan. I won't turn your money away," He didn't sound so sure and hung up without a goodbye.
A laugh sprang from her lips as she set her phone down. This artist was her kind of person. Straight to the point and honest.
The doorbell rang, and when she opened the door, she came face to face with a short, fat man, "Hello."
"I have a delivery for Veila. So. ko. Iva," his face twisted, trying to pronounce her last name.
"Yep, that's me."
He gave her a once over with a leary glare, "You bought a lot of shit."
Her brow rose as she gestured to the house, "Yeah, I just bought this house. I kinda needed it."
He rolled his eyes, "Leave the door open, my team will bring it in," then he leveled a stern glare at her, "We don't assemble shit."
Veila nodded and propped the door open before going to busy herself in the kitchen. She didn't know what to do while someone else technically working for her was doing their job.
Did she make small talk?
Ignore them?
Give orders? Take orders?
She had no idea what to do, so she washed the counters with invisible stains.
"Where do you want the couch?" a man called, grunting.
"Living room, to the left."
The short, fat man grumbled and complained under his breath as he and his partner carried through a large sofa.
She gave directions for almost two hours while the fat one bitched. She had bought a lot for her three-bedroom home, but she figured he would be nicer with the money they were getting paid for the job. The other men moved all the furniture without a word.
When they were finished, she handed a fifty to each man and then twenty-five to the small one, "I've got twenty-five more if you tell me what your problem is," she held the cash out, feeling brave.
He looked taken back by her statement and narrowed his eyes before turning on his heel and striding away with only half his tip. The other men followed him out, grinning and laughing under their breath.
Veila followed behind to shut the door, but a boot was in the way when she tried to shut it.
"Hello!" a soft voice exclaimed, pushing it back open. A tall woman stepped through dressed in tight blue jeans, a black tank top, and a black leather jacket. She was the epitome of a biker girl.
Biker woman?
"Hello?"
The woman smiled and held out a glass foil-covered tray, "I've brought cookies."
Veila held her hands out and took the tray, "Thank you, that's very sweet of you."
"I just noticed the movers leaving and thought I'd pop over before it got too late."
"Well, thank you again..."
"I'm Gemma. Gemma Teller-Morrow, my son, Jackson, lives a few houses down."
Veila held out her hand, "I'm Veila Sokolova."
"So where are you coming from?"
Veila stepped aside and waved Gemma in, "I just moved from New York."
"Wow, that is quite a way. Are you on your own? What about your mother and father?"
"I am on my own, and my parents are dead," Veila told her uncomfortably as she shut the door and walked to the kitchen.
"Oh, darlin. I'm so sorry I brought it up."
"It's fine. They've been gone for almost ten years now, but it doesn't seem to get easier."
With a sad look, Gemma wrapped Veila in her arms and squeezed, "I know how you feel. When my mother passed, it was awful. Now, my father is on his way out, too. It's heartbreaking."
Gemma sat on the brand-new couch and brought Veila down with her, "You have to put all these boxes together?" Gemma asked, dragging her gaze around the room.
"Yeah, it's not a big deal," it was. There was a whole house's worth of shit to put together, and already looking at the boxes was stressing her out.
"Don't worry about it. I'll send some of my boys over tomorrow afternoon, and they'll get all this taken care of."
The offer surprised her, but she knew she couldn't accept it, "No, thank you. I can handle it."
Gemma gave her a look, "I bet there's even more upstairs, isn't there?"
"Well, yes..."
"Then it's settled. My boys and I will be over tomorrow, and they'll get to work while we go out and have a little girl time."
Before Veila could protest, Gemma hugged her and was out the door a second later before she could protest.
Veila didn't know what to do. This woman came in like a storm and took control. Now she had plans she didn't think she wanted, and even more, people in her personal space, touching things.
The idea revolted her, but Gemma intrigued her.
Veila spent the rest of the night way too uncomfortable for her liking and only ended up putting together her bed frame before giving up. The instructions were painful, and the little tools were small, even for her hands. The highlight of her night were the cookies Gemma had brought over. They were chocolatey goodness and precisely what she needed.
That night, the couch was better than moving the bed and boxspring from the hall into her room, but not the best for a restful night of sleep.
When the sun came up, she was up. Her back ached along with her neck, and the bags under her eyes were so dark she could pass for the undead.
She was no stranger to sleepless nights. Whenever this happened, she knew exactly what to do. Coffee, but because she didn't have her maker yet, she needed to get one.
That meant she needed to shower and look a little more alive.
The last thing she needed was an overzealous nutcake trying to make her into the real deal dead. So she showered, put her hair up, and slapped on the minimum makeup to make her look human.
"That should do it," She muttered as she tugged on her jeans and an old sweater that belonged to her brother. Gathering her wallet and keys, she set out for her much-needed bean juice.
The neighborhood that surrounded her was quiet and beautiful. The trees were lush, and children were playing in the streets. It was everything that she wanted and more. Her imagination did no justice at all. Deep down, she knew this was the place for her. Far from the business, she was running after her father died when her brothers bitch ass ran off with some woman he had met at a strip club.
Veila shook her head to clear the negativity from her mind. This was her fresh start. She was positive now, not so pessimistic. Her brother was back now and running things while she was gone.
Technically, she was still the boss, but maybe one day, if he could grow a pair, he would take over, and she could live a peaceful life without worry. If not, she'd put a new man in charge and relocate the business here.
She liked it in Charming. So much so she wasn't even mad when an asshole shoved her leaving the coffee shop as she entered. She just smiled and took a deep breath.
Feeling centered, she ordered a large vanilla coffee with extra sugar and looked around the little shop as she waited. It was quaint. A bit dark, but warm and homey. A perfect place to stop and relax with a good book.
The smell of coffee surrounded her, which was more potent when she was handed her drink. Vanilla and sugar burst on her tongue as she drank deeply.
Walking out, she held the door open for the man outside instead of bumping into him and smiled when he nodded.
"It's a good day. It's a good day. It's a good day," She chanted, walking home, but the world has a way of fucking with you.
Her phone rang a second later, with her brother's name flashing.
Another deep breath, "What do you want, Connor?"
"Is that any way to say hello to your brother? Can't I ever get a hello or a how are you?"
"What the fuck do you want?" She growled, feeling her blood pressure rising.
"Fine. G. wants a meeting."
"Why the fuck are you calling me for? Can't you handle this?"
"I tried. He wants 'his pretty lass.'"
Veila turned onto her street, "When?"
"Saturday."
"Time?" She sighed, taking deep breaths to calm herself.
"Five am for you, I think."
She was almost home now, just a few houses away, "Give him the cell number. You know which one. I'll be awake."
"I'll let him know."
Her house was in view now, but it wasn't how she left it, "That it?"
"Can't you ever ask how things are going?"
She hung up.
Outside her little house was a small mass of men. Dressed in leather, wearing shit-kicker boots.
"What the fuck," she groaned. She really didn't want to deal with this. Whatever it was.
Not wanting to take chances, she reached inside her sweater pocket and palmed her knife. They were laughing when she approached, "Who are you?"
They ignored her.
"I asked who the fuck you are," she said louder, this time drawing all of their eyes.
A blonde stepped forward, his pants slouched around his hips and an oversized shirt covering his frame, "You Veila?" he asked grinning.
"Obviously. You're standing in front of my house," She cocked her hip and sipped her coffee, "Now who the fuck are you?"
"Whoa, there darlin. Gemma sent us."
Veila rolled her eyes when he flashed his grin. The one she knew he used to make women melt or let him in their pants, "That isn't what I asked, dumbass."
Still grinning, he held up his hands in surrender, "I'm Jax, Gemma's son," he pointed to the other men, "Hap, Opie, Chibs, and a few prospects."
"You're all here to help put together the furniture?"
His men grinned, "Yeah, she said you could use a hand or four or six," an Irish voice popped in from the mass, giving her a wink.
Her eyes found his scarred face, grinning at her behind his graying facial hair, "Let me guess, you're Chibs?" she clapped slowly, "Very creative," she gestured to her face, "because of the scars."
They separated and gave her enough room to pass through, only looking a little pissed.
The man she taunted stepped forward, and her grip on her knife tightened. When the door was unlocked, she let it swing open before looking back, "Well, come in. We don't have all day before Gemma gets here."
"I'm already here, sweetheart," Gemma's loud and cheery voice called out from the sidewalk. Gemma hugged her and smiled, "I hope they weren't giving you any trouble."
"Only a bit surprised. I wasn't expecting boys in leather on my front lawn before eight in the morning."
Jax and the Irish one smirked.
"Turns out they work this afternoon, so they're here now," Gemma gave her a wink, "Now we can go a bit farther to shop, and by the time we're back, they should be outta your hair."
"Alright, let's be on our way then. I need a proper tour around Charming," Veila suggested before walking away from her open front door with Gemma by her side.
Gemma gave Jax a pat on the shoulder and smiled, "Boys, we'll be back around one. Be done by then."
Veila allowed herself to be driven away by a woman she hadn't known for more than a day and left her almost empty house open to nearly ten bikers.
Their cuts had said Sons of Anarchy California. She'd have to look that up later because it wasn't ringing any bells, and she liked to know what she was dealing with.
Gemma drove her around town in her Cadillac, observing Veila with curious eyes, showing her everything there was to see in the small town. She also showed her favorite stores, where she insisted she help Veila find new clothes, shoes, and tops. Before Veila knew it, she was dressed in a new outfit that pushed her tits practically up to her chin. The shirt was way too tight and showed off her curves.
"Wow, a lot of ink you got there?" Gemma commented, turning Veila's arms over to see everything, "Are they real?"
"Yeah. You get one, and all of a sudden, you can't stop."
"That's gotta cost a pretty penny. What do you do?"
"Things. I'm looking for a new job now. I was hoping to get into teaching…"
She raised an eyebrow, looking doubtful, "Really? Last I heard, unemployment don't make enough for all of this."
Veila blushed and tried to hide her arms, "I know some people back in New York."
She looked skeptical, "You're not a whore are you?"
A nervous laugh escaped under Gemma's gaze, "You know that's the third time someone has called me a whore since I got here."
"Well?"
"No, I'm not a whore. That's why I'm not too comfortable in this shirt." She explained, trying to adjust her breasts to fit.
Gemma knocked her hands away, "You've got nice tits. If you're not a whore then at least show them what they can't have."
"Fine. Just this once," She planned to change as soon as she got home into something more conservative.
"Come on. Grab your bags. We should go check on the boys before they burn your house down."
"That is the last thing I need to hear, Gemma."
"Don't worry, they're good boys," She drove them back to Veila's house, chatting about how much she loved her boys and her grandson Able.
"He sounds adorable. How old is he?"
"He was just born about a month ago. He had a pretty bad heart problem and hasn't been able to come home yet."
Veila's eyes went wide, "Shit. Is he alright?"
Gemma wiped the corner of her eyes, "He's fine, just recovering in that damn 'toaster,'" She took a deep breath, "I can't even hold him."
Veila reached for Gemma's hand as she parked and squeezed, "That's devastating."
Gemma nodded and gave her a small smile, "Come on, let's go in."
They walked arm in arm, laughing now when they found 'the boys' sitting around the new table drinking beers they must have brought and smoking a few cigarettes.
"Finished here?"
"Just about. We needed a break. Those sheets are a bitch."
The Irish one nodded, "Most of it was in Spanish, and Juicy boy can't read for shite."
Veila squeezed past them to open the patio door. When she turned her back, a hand grabbed her ass, "Lookin good."
Without thinking, she reached into her waistband and flipped open her knife to press it under the offending man's chin drawing a bead of blood, "Do it again, I fucking dare you," she whispered an inch from his face as her anger pushed her forward.
The knife dug deeper into his skin as she glared at him, but he didn't seem concerned. His eyes were focused on hers, mesmerized by the anger and the violence that she was showing.
The room was silent as they watched her, no one moved, and it seemed as if they held their breath, waiting to see if she would slit his throat.
Veila took a deep breath, pulled the knife back from his neck, and flipped it closed before quickly heading upstairs to change.
"Fuck I knew there was a reason I liked her," Gemma laughed, breaking the tension that lingered in the air.
The room erupted into laughter, but Happy held his neck, looking off where Veila had gone. The image of her ass hugged in her jeans burned into his mind as he wiped away the blood on his neck.
"Damn, Haps, you okay?"
"She did get you good."
His heart was pounding in his chest, "I think I'm in love."
More laughter exploded from the group as they teased him.