Sydney presents Tig with a test that he passes with flying colours, but not all of SAMCRO is so lucky when it comes to getting a good report card, especially when ATF is doing the grading...
General trigger warnings for this story: Language, smut, mentions of rape, abuse, drug use/overdose, violence/death, racism/gang activity.
Playlists are available on Apple Music (mssierraalexis), and Spotify (M.S. Alexis), links can also be found on the ARAC Tumblr (aravenamongcrows). Be sure to follow where ask and submissions are open, and m. s. alexis on Instagram (tracking #aravenamongcrows), for exclusive photos, updates, and more!
CHAPTER 64: POP QUIZ
;
Tig stalked out of the clubhouse with the hope that some fresh air would calm him down enough to be able to get through the remainder of the day without beating the prospect to a pulp, but not enough to completely abolish the rage that he was building in anticipation for a sweet release later this evening. He meandered through the various cars and group people scattered around the compound, taking himself through to the office where he found Gemma sitting at her desk with her hair tucked behind her ears as she fanned her face with a tire catalog.
"Air conditioning broken again?" He scowled as he eyed the sweat beading on her forehead.
"Nah," she tossed the catalog down onto the desk when it did nothing to cool her down. "It's these damn meds."
"Meds?" His face scrunched up further.
"Menopause." She explained as she rolled her eyes.
"Oh," He nodded attentively, taking a seat on the arm of the couch.
Gemma chortled as he acted as if he knew exactly what she was talking about, an appreciative smile coming to her face. "Be glad that you don't have to deal with any of that shit." She leaned down to grab her purse, walking over to him where she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "You're doing good, baby." She nodded, exiting the office in search of Clay.
Tig sat with wrinkled as he contemplated Gemma's words, finally understanding that she was making a joke about Sydney's age, but in his confusion he'd realized that menopause had to do with periods… And Sydney didn't seem to have any of those. He didn't know much about menstruation, but he had been around enough women to know that they usually happened once a month—and they had been sleeping together for almost two.
Gemma made her way to into the clubhouse where she found Clay at the bar, glad that she didn't have to work up more of a sweat by taking her search any further. "Hey, baby." He smiled, feeling far less stressed in the presence of his light now that they had a solid plan that everybody seemed to be on board with.
"Hey." She forced a smile. "I'm gonna head over to Cara Cara... Get that prescription taken care of." She narrowed her eyes.
"Okay." He nodded, knowing better than to say anything else about the new, and sensitive subject—the sooner that she took care of that prescription, the better.
"Mind if I tag along?" Sydney called from the end of the bar with a sickly sweet smile, grabbing her purse before she got an answer.
"You sure?" Gemma raised a brow, looking down at her leg.
"Yup." She smiled, skipping over to the older woman. "I'll make sure the girls are doing okay without her." She nodded to Clay, who just chortled as he shook his head, smiling knowingly at his wife before she begrudgingly followed the defiant girl out the door.
;
Sydney sat back in the pedicure chair at Cara Cara as Laura massaged the skin softening lotion into the soles of her feet, melting further into the buttery leather as the familiar experience brought back more of the much-needed normalcy to her life since the shooting—and distracted her from the lasting effects. She took a deep breath, inhaling the oddly comforting smell of chlorine and acetone as the pressure being placed on her feet managed to relieve some of the pressure in her leg.
"Missed it here?" The dark-haired girl chuckled as Sydney's muscles relaxed in her expert grip.
"You have no idea..." She opened her eyes slowly.
"Wish I could say the same." Laura scoffed.
"Luann will be back soon." Sydney frowned, assuring her with a sympathetic nod.
"It's not just that…'' The esthetician looked over her shoulder. "The new girl's been a nightmare." She nodded across the studio to the tall blonde, rolling her eyes as she turned back to Sydney's toes.
Sydney had easily assumed that Laura had been talking about Ima, who had already ruffled more than a few feathers since her arrival last month, but her eyes widened when she instantly recognized that the nightmare of a new girl whom she was talking about was none other than Cheryl.
"When did she get here?"
"Less than a week ago..." Laura noted Sydney's furrowed brows. "Seems like her last employers thought she was a nightmare, too."
"What do you mean?"
"Had some real bad bruising on her neck… Tried to say it was from a job, but working here? I've seen enough hickeys to know the difference." She scoffed.
Sydney forced a laugh before she went back to trying to sort out the confusion, her mind flashing back to the memory of Tig telling about Cheryl leaving the clubhouse when she was in the hospital, how confused she'd been about the untimely departure, how angry he'd been when her name was mentioned, how he'd frozen when he'd put his hand on her neck...
"Hey." Gemma smiled as she approached the two women, feeling much more at ease after a fresh diagnosis, and a trip to the bathroom where she'd doused her body in cold water. "You about ready?"
"Yeah, I'm almost d—"
"You go ahead." Sydney cut Laura off. "Tig's coming to get me later."
"Okay." Gemma nodded, grabbing Sydney's face and kissing her cheek.
Laura's brows were the ones that furrowed now as she listened to the two women, waiting for Gemma to walk away. "Thought you said you were leaving with her?" She shook her head incredulously after having spent ten minutes discussing how she'd had to hurry unless she wanted to end up on the wrong side of Gemma's hormonal wrath, at the beginning of the appointment.
"I got somethin' I need to do first…
;
Otto Delaney sat in the interrogation room at Stockton State Prison with his head down. The dingy, grey room wasn't exactly a place that he was unfamiliar with, but usually when he was about to be questioned, he knew why.
"Otto." Stahl greeted as she entered the room."Agent Stahl, ATF." She introduced herself to the man whose hollow, disinterested eyes stared straight through her. "Luann sends her best." She smiled wickedly, the line getting her half of the reaction that she was looking for as he perked up. "Too bad we don't have a sister prison… You guys could visit each other; go to the dance together." She searched his face for any kind of inkling that he was going to speak, but she got no such thing. "We raided your wife's studio. Found enough narcotics to put her away for a dime, maybe more." She placed Luann's mugshot down onto the table.
"Jesus Christ, Luann…" Otto sighed as he gazed upon the gorgeous face of his wife; the face that had aged after all of these years that he'd spent locked away from her...
"Yes, it's very sad. All those teenage boys with nothing to jerk off to…" She mused.
"What do you want?" He threw the photo down onto the table, cutting through her insults to him and his wife.
"Give me something on SAMCRO, and I cut your wife loose."
"You went after her to get to me?" He scoffed. "It's a waste of time."
Stahl sighed. "Turn the camera off." She turned to face the two-way glass behind her, waiting for the red light on the security camera to blink before she sat down at the table with her prisoner, leaning forward onto her elbows. "Alright, look, I'm gonna be straight with you, okay? I got this bullshit case dumped on me. The last thing that I wanna be doing is running around humping outlaw bikers. I just need something to take back to my bosses. If the intel leads nowhere? I really don't give a shit." She delivered her perfectly rehearsed spiel in the desperate whisper that she knew had done the job as the man's damaged eyes twitched, trying to decide if turning rat to save his wife was really turning rat if it didn't hurt the club...
"I know you have a parole up in three months…" She pushed further. "If you help me with this, I can make it happen this time." She kept her eyes fixated on the beautiful tattoo of Luann's name that he had scrawled across his forearm.
Otto began to nod slowly. His wife's freedom was one thing, but their freedom to be together, was another... "You'd throw me a recommendation?" He asked as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table now.
"Yeah, I would." She nodded sincerely. "Luann walks, you get out of here, and I get to move on to a real case. This is a win-win-win situation."
"Anything I know ain't plugged to SAMCRO anymore. It's all dead shit..."
"Well my boss doesn't know that, does he?" She raised a devious brow.
"I want it all in writing..." Otto sighed, knowing better than to trust the word of a fed—and a desperate fed, at that. "All of it. And a conjugal... I wanna see Luann."
"I'll try to make that happen." She tried to keep the fake smile on her face as the evil smirk threatened to break through. She had done it. She had actually done it.
"You bring me her, I'll bring you your useless dirt on SAMCRO."
"Deal." She nodded with a smirk. Nothing was useless with RICO .
;
"Hey!" Sydney heard from behind her as she leant against a wall covered with leopard fur, talking to Tina, turning to see Lyla running up to her excitedly.
"Hi!" She greeted the blonde with equal excitement, wrapping her arms around the skinny woman who pulled away quickly. "Come with me! I have to be ready to shoot in thirty." She nodded to her dressing room as she began pulling rollers from her hair.
Sydney bid Tina farewell with a friendly smile and a squeeze to her fake tan-stained hands, following Lyla who dropped her pink silk dressing robe the second that the door closed, scurrying over to the silver rack that held a mess of outfits that she began frantically rifling through in search of the right one.
"Oh, sorry." She picked up her robe quickly once she realized that Sydney was not accustomed to being around naked people all day, the way that the rest of the girls were.
"I don't mind." Sydney winked playfully, walking over to the rack where she began flipping through the variety of lingerie. "You looking for something specific?"
"Nah, I get to freestyle since Luann's gone." She chuckled knowingly. Even though Sydney didn't work at the studio, Lyla knew that she was more than familiar with how particular the older woman was about her films.
"Go finish your makeup, I'll pick something." Sydney nodded to the vanity.
"Thanks." Lyla smiled, happy to put her trust into the girl who she knew had amazing taste. "How're you feeling?" She'd only met Sydney a handful of times when she was at the studio for beauty services, but she and the fellow blonde had gotten along more than well enough for her to be concerned when she'd heard about what had happened to her.
"How do I look?" Sydney scoffed, looking down at her oversized dress, and white sneakers
"Like a snack." Lyla smirked.
Sydney giggled, rolling her eyes as an appreciative smile came to her face. "How are we feeling today? Dominatrix, or girl next door?" She asked as she picked out a few outfit options.
"I think the hair says dominatrix, but the face says girl next door…" Lyla contemplated the two as she looked at herself in the mirror, biting her lip as she tried on a montage of different sexy faces.
"Well, here, wear this..." Sydney handed her a baby blue set that consisted of a lacy bustier top, cheeky lace panties, and a matching garter belt. "And smooth the curls down." She began running her fingers through Lyla's voluminous waves, twirling the ends around her fingers to tone them down.
"I knew I could count on you." Lyla looked up at her appreciatively. "Do you get our flowers?" She asked as she turned her attention back to the mirror where she began applying a light pink blush to the apples of her cheeks.
"Yeah. I was making the rounds to thank everyone."
"Well, make sure you skip the new girl." Lyla scoffed. "She didn't do shit."
"Yeah, when did Cheryl get here?" Sydney scowled, playing dumb even if she already knew the answer. She needed to be absolutely sure that her theory wasn't too far fetched before she did what she was about to do.
"You know her?" Lyla's brows wrinkled.
"Yeah…" Sydney sighed.
"Girl, with that tone? You definitely know her." She giggled. "Does you knowing her have anything to do with those bruises?"
"That's what I'm trying to find out…" She drawled as she pulled out her phone, and pressed #1 on her speed dial.
"Hey, babe." She heard Tig's voice after the second ring, noting the deflation in his tone.
"Hi, baby." She played up the sweetness in her voice. "Do you think you could come pick me up?"
"Yeah. Gemma ditch ya?" He chuckled, any residual resentment that he had towards her, fading away. He didn't care about pent up rage anymore, he couldn't stay mad at her when she talked to him like that.
"I said she could go." She chortled. "I wanna see you…"
"You sound like you're in a good mood." He grinned. "I guess you like hanging out with the whores almost as much as I do."
"Mhmm, I'm right in my element." She joked back, hanging up the phone with a smirk.
"I didn't think pussy-whipped would be your type." Lyla eyed her friend with a playful smile. Cara Cara was very familiar with Tig, but since Sydney had moved to town, Tig had become unfamiliar with Cara Cara.
"Only when my pussy's doing the whipping." Sydney winked.
;
Gemma's Caddy rolled over the coarse dirt road that parted the thick pine trees, hovering her foot over the brake until she finally pulled up outside of the club's hidden cabin. She turned the vehicle off, not bothering to remove her sunglasses as she grabbed the paper bag from the front seat and kicked open the door, ready to deliver their fugitive his groceries just as Stahl had predicted. But she was hit by a rancid smell the second that the forest air entered her nostrils, looking around for the source of the putrid stench, finding it along the tree line where the sewage tank had been dumped the night before.
"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee—" Cameron cut his prayer short when a slender woman stalked through the front door carrying a bag of food.
"Excuse me…" Gemma apologized awkwardly, rolling her eyes from behind her barely tinted sunglasses as she turned to close the door behind her as quickly as possible.
"Sorry," Cameron dropped the rosary that he'd been clutching, sensing that Clay's wife was sensitive about the topic—as most Americans seemed to be. "Missed a few Sundays… Trying to catch up with that." He nodded.
"Yeah." Gemma scoffed as she made her way to the kitchen, happily inhaling the musty air of the old cabin.
"You a catholic?"
"I'm whatever I need to be." She tried to dismiss his questions as she began unloading the food that she'd brought him, ignoring the memories of her religious childhood that began flooding in, but a wash of relief took its place when her cellphone started ringing. Maybe there was a God...
"Hey." She answered, recognizing the number of Clay's burner.
"How's the Irishman?"
Gemma looked peered around the corner at Cameron who was sitting at the dining table, back whispering to that damn cross. "Divine." She scoffed.
"Alright, good." Clay chuckled, glad to hear that another one of his liabilities was soon be a settled debt. "Hap's gonna be here tomorrow, just gotta keep him up there until then."
"Okay. You be careful..." She warned, wincing as she heard the line go dead.
"What's going on?" Cameron asked as he peeked over his shoulder, watching her expression fall.
"Gonna be another day until we can get you out."
The bald man nodded. He had no problem with what they seemed to think was a delay in his departure; if it wasn't for them, he would still be hiding out near the ports with no end in sight. It was all by the grace of...
"Do you believe in God, Gemma?"
Gemma sighed heavily. "I believe in family." She answered with finality as she took the seat across from him.
"You think that's enough?"
"Who you kiddin'?" She scowled playfully as she swiped a cigarette out of the pack that was sitting in front of him, leaning down so that he could light the end. "Sitting here, ticking off Hail Mary's… You think that gives you some kind of heavenly pass?" She raised a brow. "God's gonna open the pearly gates when the next bullet hits its intended target?"
"It's all a little absurd, I guess." He chortled.
"Mhmm." She nodded knowingly.
"Truth is? I know I'm going to hell. Praying just makes my time here a little less miserable." He nodded solemnly, Gemma seemingly bowing her head understandingly. "A few acts of contrition could make you feel good too, love." He offered her the red-beaded rosary.
Gemma accepted the necklace, rolling it around in her hands. "There is only one way that these beads could make me feel good, love. And it involves a whole different act.." She smirked as she dropped the ornament down to the table.
;
Tig walked into Cara Cara with a smile on his face. He had missed this place, and even if he was only allowed to look these days, it still excited him, and what excited him even more was the fact that his girlfriend was the one summoning him to do it. He passed through the security booth, instantly being hit by the familiar smell of cheap perfume, latex, and sex; his eyes lighting up as they landed on the half-naked women that pranced around the studio.
"Hi." He heard a sweet voice beside him as a delicate hand landed on his arm, turning to see a blonde woman with bright blue eyes that matched the lingerie that sat on her petite frame.
"Hi, doll." He smiled politely, unable to remember anything about the girl other than that she was one of the ones that he'd never gotten to sleep with. "I'm looking for Sydney?" He stated his intentions before she tried to offer him anything, realizing as he looked around the crowded studio for Sydney, that this may have been a test...
"I'm Lyla." The short girl introduced herself to the infamous man who she never thought she would see getting nervous in a porn studio.
"Oh," Tig breathed a sigh of relief, recognizing her name from Sydney's deliciously graphic stories about her visits to the studio.
"Yeah, we were just in my dressing room. I'll bring you to her." She chuckled, reaching for Tig's hand where she led him down the hallway.
"Cher! Come on! I don't have all day!" Tig heard being yelled from an open door right after he passed it.
"Divas. " He rolled his eyes theatrically, making Lyla giggle as she turned the rhinestoned handle to the door on the left.
"Hi, baby." Tig grinned when his eyes landed on Sydney sitting cross-legged in Lyla's vanity chair.
"Hi, Tiggy." Sydney looked up at him with a smile, holding her hand out to him so that he could help her up. Once she was on her feet, she peered over his shoulder at Lyla who stood by the door, looking down the hallway before turning back with a nod.
"You get 'em brighter this time?" Tig nodded to the bright red claws that were wrapped around his hand.
"Yeah." Sydney brushed off his thoughtful observation, yanking him out the door after Lyla before her window of opportunity closed.
Tig scowled when he felt himself being pulled out the door, wondering if maybe this had been a test, after all… A test that he'd apparently failed. He hung his head as he let her drag him out, only looking up when he bumped into her stilled frame that had abruptly come to a stop. He scowled, expecting to see her looking up at him with some kind of explanation, but instead of her eyes, he saw Cheryl's.
A smile of pure evil spread across Sydney's face when the older woman stopped dead in her tracks on her way to Laura—just as they had planned. She reached up to her neck instinctively, covering the bruising that was still prevalent from where he'd slammed her against the wall. There had been no doubt in Sydney's mind that the bruises had come from Tig, but as she watched the fear fill Cheryl's eyes before she ducked into the nearest room, she now knew why they came from Tig.
Tig felt his breath being forced out of his throat as he was knocked back, blinking rapidly as he stumbled back into Lyla's dressing room where Sydney had shoved him, unable to properly comprehend what was happening until he felt her lips on his. As soon as she pulled away, his eyes landed on that sinister smile, one of his own forming as he shifting his gaze to her fists that were balled in his shirt. He knew exactly what was going on.
Sydney felt the unmistakable buzz of liberation under her skin as he yanked her back to him, ravished her body with no regard for her injury as they roughly bit, pulled, and sucked at any bit of skin that they could get ahold of. She slid her hands down his chest, raking her nails over his shirt until she finally arrived at his belt buckle.
As soon as Tig felt her undoing his pants, he reached for her hips, stopping her movements and lifting her up onto the vanity where he pushed her dress up her thighs, but he was shocked once again when instead of pulling him closer, she pushed him away. He scowled, watching her slowly shake her head as she got to her feet before pushing him onto the vanity, gripping his shoulders as she climbed into his lap.
Tig grinned again once he realized what she was doing, rolling her dress up and pulling her panties to the side as she lined herself up before lowering down onto his cock. He could tell by the way that she started bouncing before he even had time to move, that this was her round and he was just along for the ride—literally—and he didn't mind one bit. He gripped her ass, guiding her up and down as she thrusted violently against him, growling as she wove her fingers into the curls at the back of his neck and pulled, keeping his eyes glued to hers.
As soon as he felt her coming close, Tig got to his feet—lifting her into his arms as he continued sliding her up and down his length before setting her down onto the vanity, holding her in place with a fist in her hair as she had done to him.
Sydney felt her cheeks flush when he switched their positions, looking at her with that animalistic need that made her weak. She usually loved his dirty talk, but the silence in his authority as he fucked her exactly how needed him to, had her tightening around him in no time.
"Hey," Lyla nodded to Cheryl who was standing awkwardly on the sidelines while she waited for her scene. "Go grab me my lipgloss."
Normally Cheryl would've argued, or rolled her eyes, or refused, but right now? She was grateful for the excuse to get the hell away from everyone as she struggled to recover from the panic that her run-in with Sydney and Tig had ensued. She hated that the stupid little gash had managed to sink her skanky nails underneath her Sergeant's skin, dangling him in front of her like a first prize catch. She shook her head as she reached for the handle to Lyla's dressing room, Tig will find his way back...
But the second that the hopeful thought entered her mind, it was chased right back out by the gut-wrenching scene that came into view; Tig and Sydney, who she thought had left, fucking right there in front of her.
Her gaze fell to where Tig's hand was wrapped around Sydney's neck as he looked into her eyes, pounding into her while he told her how much he loved her. She felt her hand crept up towards the bruising around her own neck again as her dreams of winning the Sergeant back crumbled right before her eyes. The way that he had touched her was nothing like the way that he was touching Sydney, and it never would be.
She began to pull the door closed as quietly as possible, not wanting to risk another crippling moment of embarrassment, but unfortunately for her, quietly meant slowly… Slowly enough for her eyes to lock with Sydney. She felt her heart sink as she stared into those evil, purposeful green eyes, watching the devious smirk spread across her face.
There was nothing in this world that could've made the outcome of her plan any better once Sydney saw Cheryl trying to slink away. She wrapped her leg around Tig's waist, pulling him even deeper into her as she felt her orgasm coming on, leaning in and sinking her teeth into his neck as she came.
Tig held her against him, unloading his seed into her the second that he felt her harsh bite. "You are one crazy bitch..." He smirked as he pulled back to see her face glowing like never before, yanking her to his lips for another rough kiss.
"And you are one crazy bastard." She grinned.
"I knew I loved this place for a reason." He chuckled, peppering her swollen lips with kisses before pulling away, unwrapping her leg from his waist as he leaned down to grab her one of her shoes that had fallen off in their frenzy. "Finally ditched my paint job, huh?" He chuckled as he slid the sneaker over her glossy white toenails.
"It didn't match my shoes." She bit her lip as her eyes sparkled down at him.
;
Half-Sack stood behind the bar, sighing as he hunched over the countertop by the sink, scratching at some loose sealant as everybody trickled into the clubhouse for the relay before they set off to carry out their task for the night. They all seemed to be in good spirits as they drank and laughed around a table, ready to take action, but not him, because no matter what action he took, he would lose. He hated this… How could things have gotten so fucked up when they were going so good? Now he was in a situation where not only was his old lady in trouble, but his club was too, and safety for one meant danger for the other.
With a backlog of pain from the slough of unfavorable activity that Sydney had engaged in throughout the day, she was in absolute agony as she sat at the table with Bobby, Piney, Opie, and Jax, who were all looking forward to putting ATF behind them for good. She sipped on her beer as she tried to keep herself calm where she sat in Tig's lap, but the pain was only getting worse, and it was showing no signs of stopping anytime soon.
The laughing and hollering of the fired up men faded into the background as Sydney's ears began ringing. She knew that she couldn't handle any more, that putting on a brave face was only furthering the damage… But she also knew that couldn't get painkillers from a doctor who had given her strict orders not to do exactly what she'd been doing, which was what had her needing the painkillers, in the first place, and telling anybody about the true extent of her injuries would be as good as throwing in the towel at this point. There was only one thing left that she could do...
"Alright, baby," Tig patted her leg as the clock finally passed 11:00 P.M. "Let's go."
"Nah, it's okay." Sydney was pulled from the racing of her mind as she contemplated the risk, placing a reassuring hand on his bicep as she moved to a now empty chair while everybody stood from the table. "I'll stay with Half-Sack… Try and cheer him up." She told him quietly as she directed her perfectly curated, sympathetic gaze over at the prospect who was moping behind the bar.
"You sure?" Tig narrowed his eyes, his expression softing under her compassionate nod. "Okay." He sighed. He didn't love this idea, especially with the way that the clueless kid had been pushing his luck lately, but he supposed it was better than dealing with Sydney trying to sweet talk her way into tagging along. "You stay off of that leg, and you have him take you right home in the truck." He ordered firmly, making sure that this was really about cheering him up, and not about using him to do her dirty work.
"I will." She nodded with a chuckle, pushing herself up out of her seat to meet his lips.
"That's it?" Tig raised an eyebrow when she pulled away. "No eye roll, no argument, no cryptic line to have me shitting my pants all night?"
"Nah, you've done enough today." She smiled playfully.
"Okay." Tig nodded with a grateful smile. "I'll see you later." He kissed her temple before heading after his entourage, glaring at the prospect threateningly as he passed by.
;
Maya moved around the bar at lightning speed, her hands expertly maneuvering between pouring drinks, accepting money, and drying glasses. She'd barely begun her shift on the surprisingly busy Sunday night, but before she knew it, it was already 11:30 P.M.. Smoke break.
"I got you." Nina winked as she reached for the bottle of Peach Schnapps between Maya's black-painted fingers.
Maya chuckled, rolling her eyes lightly as she ducked under the counter to grab her purse. She'd never considered herself to be a predictable person, she preferred methodical. Hell, packing up and moving to a small town inhabited by outlaw bikers, in the middle of nowhere, all by herself after spending her entire life in a bustling metropolis wasn't what anyonewould've expected from her, including herself. Methodical. She slung the metallic silver messenger bag over her shoulder, digging through the mess of receipts and gum wrappers for her cigarettes on her way down the hall.
"Like clockwork!" Clayton called from where he sat in his office, his soft blue eyes sparkling with his ever-so playful nature.
"Yeah, yeah." Maya rolled her eyes, throwing her hand above her head as she continued out the back door, inhaling a deep breath of warm, summer night air before she tainted it with tobacco. She took her time smoking her cigarette, as she usually did; one of the perks of being Black Smith's best bartender—and Clayton's favorite.
She was sure that the dazzling affection of Mr. and Mrs. Smith's wildly handsome son had little to do with her quick hands and vast knowledge of spirits, but she paid the attention of the starry-eyed golden child no mind. Coming from somewhere as shallow as LA, she'd become immune to the boyish charm of trust-fund babies, her type was something darker, something brooding, something that rode a—
Her thought was cut off by the rumbling of Harley engines—a sound that she'd come to recognize in seconds, but it was a sound that she hadn't heard in almost a week... She quickly stamped out her cigarette, cutting her smoke break short and returning to her post.
Tig, Bobby, and Piney sat at the bar in the crowded saloon-style pub, listening to the corny country music as they scoped out the crowd, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. "Can I get you guys anything?" A petite bartender easily captured their attention.
"I think we're good, doll—"
"I'll take a beer." Bobby cut off Tig, grinning at the little blonde.
"Got a preference?" Maya raised a brow as she scanned the various red levers in front of her.
"Surprise me." Bobby mused, it wasn't often that they got to fraternize with the general public...
Maya nodded, taking inventory of the men through her clumpy lashes as she poured a Guinness, tipping out the foam. Happy wasn't among them, but even without their kuttes she recognized them to be SAMCRO; not from the gossip—she didn't pay any mind to that—but from around town.
"Anyone else joining you tonight?" She asked casually as she slid the bearded man his beer.
"Nah, doll, just us." Tig winked. Maya nodded slowly, feeling herself deflating to the point where the flirting of the creepy men didn't even bother her. "What, we ain't enough?"
"Enough." Piney sneered to the dark-haired man. "Sorry about that, darlin," he turned his attention back to Maya as he assumed the roll of the gentleman of the group—because apparently nobody else was going to. "He doesn't get out much." He winked.
Maya chortled, shaking her head with a playful roll of her eyes as she shook it off. "It's on the house." She nodded to Bobby, figuring that she needed to build up some credit with Happy's brothers if she wanted things to progress, if she even wanted thing to progress...
"Why don't we hangout here more often?" Tig held out his hands, shaking his head expectantly as the short girl sauntered away.
"Yeah, yeah," Bobby rolled his eyes. "You got plenty of that at the clubhouse." He scoffed bitterly as his eyes focused on the swinging hips of their spunky bartender who looked—and acted—nearly identical to Sydney.
Tig pursed his lips, nodding as he looked around for a subject change. "You ever get high off of this?" He asked as his ring-clad hand found Piney's shoulder, his other hand fiddling with the old man's oxygen tank.
"It's just oxygen…" Piney rolled his eyes at the perpetually exhausting man.
"No, I know, I know, but… Can't you turn it, like, all the way up? Get the blue velvet thing going on?" He asked as he turned the nozzle, making slurping sounds as Piney swiped the oxygen tank and turned his back towards him.
"What the hell is wrong with him?" He sighed to Bobby.
"That's a question you're just gonna keep on asking…" Bobby drawled as he lifted his beer to his lips.
"Bobby! We should do this." Tig urged as he placed his hand on Bobby's shoulder now, getting antsier and antsier by the second.
"Yeah." Bobby nodded, draining the pint before turning to follow the over-eager Sergeant towards their pre-chosen targets.
"Bob!" He turned back around to see Piney standing from his barstool. "Listen, I'll do it." He patted his shoulder.
"Alright." Bobby shrugged, retaking his seat as he watched Piney walk over to a table of cowboy-hat-wearing suburbans, whispering something to an older man who shot right out of his seat and decked Tig in the face, his brother waltzing back over where they sat back, and enjoyed the show.
;
Sydney sat at a table with Half-Sack in relative silence as time passed them by, bouncing her knee in a failed attempt to ignore the mounting pain while he drummed his fingers over the tabletop in a failed attempt to stop worrying about Cherry.
Half-Sack perked up when he heard the sirens whirling past the clubhouse, feeling a tiny bit of relief now that at least he knew the plan was in motion. He looked back to Sydney excitedly, but she didn't match his expression, she didn't even look up from where she seemed to have zoned out, staring into the bottom of her beer bottle.
"Hey, I'm sorry..." He shook his head dismally. "I'm just real worried about shit with Cherry, you know? I didn't mean to bring you down—"
"Kip." She cut him off, looking into his light blue eyes as she made her final decision. "I need your help..."
;
Songs for this chapter
Better Off - Elijah Woods x Jamie Fine
Crazy Bitch - Buckcherry