Roxanne had just managed to strip down to her underwear before she went into bed, completely exhausted, and fell asleep right away.
The first moment she woke up, she didn't know where she was and was a little disoriented. The apartment - basically just a bedroom, bathroom and small kitchenette - was located in the back of the clubhouse.
She got up and curiously looked around. The furnishings, though impersonal, were completely sort of the bachelor pad of a motorcycle freak Roxanne noted, not even surprised.
What else could it be?
She went into the bathroom for a long shower and to get ready for the day.
Her eyes sore and she resisted the impulse to rub at them when she remembered the contact lenses she had simply forgotten to take out last evening. She removed them and noted the whites of both eyes being almost completely red.
"Oh, fuck it ..." she muttered, exasperated, and made a face. Clad in black and with appropriate makeup, she would probably look like a zombie. There was no way she could put some new ones back on now, she could explain this irritation with conjunctivitis, it could even be one but how should she explain her eye color had somehow changed overnight? ... "Shit!"
She wrapped the used lenses in a few sheets of toilet paper, tossed them into the small trash can under the sink and was glad to have bought a second pair of 'more stylish' sunglasses after all.
Just as dark shaded as the big one, but at least they didn't make her look like a housefly.
After taking a shower she felt better, her eyes didn't sore as much, but they were redder than before. So only mascara, eyeliner and sunglasses then. The redrawing of the eyebrows still required precision work and Roxanne decided that the next time she had to redye her hair, she would treat them as well. She wouldn't even imagine if she thoughtlessly wiped it at work or elsewhere. She put on the same clothes as the day before, except for fresh underwear and a tank top. Since she wanted to look around in the city during the day, she could also go shopping. Any clothing stores should probably exist.
It was dim on the way to the club room, the dark sunglasses didn't make it any better and Roxanne had to be careful not to trip or bump into something.
Half-Sack was mopping the floor in a corner and looked up when she came in.
"Slept well?"
"Yeah." She stretched for a moment. "What time is it?"
"A little after three. Coffee should still be there, and if you want something to eat, the fridge is well stocked, so help yourself."
"Thanks." Roxanne gathered all the dishes behind the counter, fashioned a large ham, cheese and tomato topped sandwich and balanced it on a plate in one hand and a full coffee mug in the other towards one of the tables.
Half-Sack finished his work, went outside to empty the dirty water, and, after stowing mop and bucket in the storage room, joined Roxanne with an equally full coffee mug and sat across from her.
"Mind if I join?"
She just made a welcoming gesture with her hands, having just taken a bite of her sandwich.
"When you're done, you should go Gemma's office for the contract."
Roanne just hummed in agreement as she sipped her coffee.
She had already seen the door marked 'Office', which led to not much more than a small annex, and Gemma had to be the wife of this Clay guy, who seemed to be both the boss of the garage and the leader of the Sons of Anarchy. She had already noticed the 'President' patch on his vest, or rather cut.
"Why the sunglasses?" Half-Sack wanted to know, and Roxanne just managed to restrain herself from rolling her eyes, which couldn't be seen anyway because of the glasses. She wasn't really responsive before she had her first coffee.
"Headache," she just mumbled, and now it seemed he got it, because Half-Sack didn't say anything else until she was done with her sandwich and coffee.
"Where do you want me to take the dishes?" she asked.
"Never mind, I'll take care of it," he said, and stood up eagerly to clear the table.
Roxanne watched him and raised her eyebrows. They had trained him well, obivously. But as a prospect, she guessed he had to put up with a lot and take all the chump work.
"I'll go over to see Gemma, then," she said, and from somewhere behind the counter came a short "Okay."
The door to the small room stood open and after she had only half crossed the courtyard Roxanne could see a brunette with blond streaks sitting at the desk. She seemed so engrossed in her paperwork, however, that she didn't notice Roxanne until she knocked briefly in the doorway.
"Hello," she greeted, "Gemma?"
The woman looked up and smiled. "Yes. Hi. You Roxanne?"
"Roxy's fine," she said, and made a face. "Doesn't make it much better though, either way it sounds like a porn actress."
Gemma laughed. "You've got a point there! But the guys, especially Tig, praise you for other reasons, so I guess you ain't one." She eyed Roxanne up and down. "The year of birth is correct?"
"Yes." That was the only thing that was correct, she'd made a point of that. The day and month had been arbitrarily chosen by her passport faker. She was now half a year older, so to speak, but so what. "Why?"
"I thought now that I've seen you, you'd be younger."
Roxanne smiled. "Thanks!"
"Sit down for a minute, I've got your contract ready, just need to print it out."
A few clicks with the mouse, the printer, which had definitely seen better days, came to life, and a moment later Gemma handed her a clipboard.
"Take it with you and take your time to read it before you sign it," she said, "I'll be here for a while."
"Okay." Roxanne took a ballpoint pen from the pen holder, crossed the courtyard again, and sat down on one of the tables in front of the clubhouse.
Why so many sheets? she wondered before realizing it was duplicate.
A usual employment contract with details of working hours, vacation regulations and so on, but what was this declaration of confidentiality regarding all club matters that she was also supposed to sign?
Three motorcycles drove up, she raised her eyes before she turned back to the clipboard.
They would surely meet later, after all.
"Hey, Tig, we gotta ...", Bobby said, but broke off when his club brother walked purposefully towards the tables in front of the clubhouse.
"Let him greet his heroine first," Chibs teased, loud enough for Tig to hear and grinned.
Tig promptly raised both of his middle fingers without turning around and Bobby laughed.