Chapter Forty One
San Joaquin Valley, outside Charming, California
Aralyn hadn’t driven for ten minutes, headed back towards Interstate 5, when the car stopped running.
The acceleration suddenly dropped, the engine cut out, and the music shut off.
“What the Hell was that?” Aralyn demanded.
Tiffany sat up, looking up from her book. “What happened?”
“I have no idea. The engine just cut out!”
“Oh, crap. Pull over.”
“I’m working on it!” Aralyn turned the hazard lights on and drifted off to the shoulder.
There was little traffic headed out of Charming, California. It was a small town they had wandered into out of boredom, with not much to see, other than a town that seemed to be stuck in a time warp, with an old fashioned barber shop and the look of the 80s. With lots of biker boys and their rides. Real ones, not the souped up, flashy bikes the girls drove, but big, beautiful Harleys.
Aralyn had drooled over them as they walked by the row of bikes parked backwards outside a barber shop. Beautiful machines she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about.
“Did you hear anything?” Aralyn asked as she turned the key to off.
“I couldn’t hear anything over the music. I didn’t feel a hit or anything either.” Tiffany answered. “Even if we blew a tire, it wouldn’t shut the engine off.”
Aralyn opened her door and got out, popping the hood. She studied the engine for a few minutes. Nothing looked out of place or broken, which wasn’t good. The deeper in the engine the problem, the more difficult it was going to be to fix. There wasn’t steam or fluid spewing or dripping, at least not that she could see, when she got down on her knees and looked under the car. No trail of fluid either.
“Crap,” she sighed, pulling out her cell phone and hit speed dial #2.
“Hi, Princess.”
“Hi, Daddy. Got a minute?”
“Of course. You all right?”
“The car just died. While we were in it, and moving.”
“You hurt?”
“Nope. But I’m standing here looking at it and I don’t see anything.”
“That could be a problem, Sweetheart.”
Aralyn laughed. “I know, Daddy, that’s why I called you. No fluid, no leaks, nothing looking broken.”
“Did you hear anythin’?” Bo asked.
“Nope.”
“Was the music up loud?”
“Define ‘up loud’.”
Bo Duke sighed. “Did you feel anything, like something came loose underneath you?”
“No. I just suddenly lost power.”
“It might be a timin’ belt. You’re dead in the water if it is. Call AAA and have them get you a tow to a shop. You know the rules.”
“Yep. No buffed fingernail technicians, only a greasy auto shop.”
“That’s my girl. Where are you?”
“Right on the town limits of Charming, California. San Joaquin Valley.”
“I don’t know anyone out that way but if you run into trouble, you call the sheriff. Nearest Marshal office is a few hours away.”
“I will, Dad, thanks.”
“Love you, Sweetheart. Call me later and update me.”
“Love you too,” Aralyn hung up.
Tiffany had moved to the driver’s side. “Any luck?”
“Dad said it could be the timing belt.” Tiffany made a face in response. “Yeah. I suppose that’s better than the water pump though.”
“Do you want to try the battery jump?” Tiffany asked. “You know they’ll ask first thing.”
“Sure, we can but I doubt it will help. I think it’s a bigger issue than a battery.”
After it was hooked up, Tiffany turned the key as Aralyn stood over the engine. Nothing happened. She leaned around shook her head at Tiffany.
A loud roar approaching made them both look. Two men on Harleys wearing distinctive black leather vests and half shell helmets were approaching.
“Should we ask for them for help?” Aralyn asked. “Bikers usually know a thing or two about engines.”
“Ari, they could be Hell’s Angels! This is California, you know!”
Aralyn shrugged. “A little politeness could go a long way.”
It seemed the riders were of mind to help the girls, as they pulled over. The bigger man, with a bushy brown beard and sunglasses stayed back on his bike. The other swaggered towards them.
And swagger was the word. Aralyn wondered if he was bowlegged from riding or just carrying a monster ego the way he walked, but he came right up to them with a smile. He had the short, light blond beard, framing a blindingly beautiful smile.
“You ladies having some trouble?” asked the deep voice.
“A bit,” Aralyn smiled back. Bikers were often mechanics. This could be fruitful!
Tiffany was eying him warily from the driver’s seat.
Aralyn guessed he was around six feet, nice broad shoulders, shoulder-length light blond hair poking out from his helmet. The rectangular patches on the right side of his vest over his pecs read V. President, and under that, Men of Mayhem. The right side patches read Redwood Original. On the lower left side was a white patch with elaborate lettering of SAMCRO, and one each side of the collar was a small white scythe patch. His pants were loose, he wore what looked like a zipped sweatshirt under the vest and flannel shirt under that. She couldn’t help but notice the spotless, blinding white sneakers. And the big knife hanging from the right side of his belt. It was sheathed, but big. A bowie knife, she thought. Something told her he knew how to use it, too.
The young man took off his heavy dark sunglasses and smiled at Aralyn.
Aralyn stared into the most beautiful, deep blue eyes she had ever seen. Clear and vibrant, soulful and tormented. For a split second she thought of another pair of blue eyes, and she instantly pushed Cam and the past from her mind. The present was standing right in front of her.
“So what happened?” he asked.
His voice low, with a sexy timbre, and she gauged him to be between twenty eight and thirty. Oh, he was trouble all right, Aralyn knew. The kind of trouble she wanted!
“We were just driving and the engine cut out. No warning, nothing. The battery won’t turn over at all.”
He walked over to the engine and peered over. “It looks okay from this angle, I’d have to take it apart. It could be the timing belt or a couple of other things. You girls from New York?”
Aralyn was startled but realized they had come from Charming, and would have seen the back plate.
“Yes, we’re on a roadtrip.”
“By yourselves?” his eyes twinkled at her.
“We can handle it,” Aralyn tossed her hair and smiled at him.
In the car, Tiffany groaned. Aralyn was flirting. Hard core. Granted, the guy was pretty cute, in a rough “I really am the guy your momma warned you about and your daddy dreads” way. And why was his friend lurking back there? He was a big guy, looked kind of menacing. Maybe he knew he was intimidating and didn’t want to scare them.
She turned her attention back to her cousin and figured she’d better get out and pour a bucket of cold water on Aralyn.
“I can have a tow here in fifteen minutes. Have you taken to the best shop in town.” He was still smiling.
“I suppose you know a good one?” Aralyn asked.
He grinned and held out his hand, over which he wore black riding gloves. “Jax Teller, of Teller Morrow Auto Shop. I promise a fair price and good work.”
Aralyn nodded. “Okay.”
He turned to where he had left his bike. “Hey, Ope! Call Half-Sack with the tow!”
"Ope” nodded and reached in his pocket.
Tiffany got out of the car.
“So where you lovely ladies headed to next?” he asked with a smile.
***
"Half-Sack” turned out to be a pleasant faced young man about in his early twenties with short, curly, dirty blond hair. He wore a similar vest to Jax and Ope, but it was plain except for the back that read PROSPECT.
When Jax turned around to call to Ope, the girls had seen the back of his leather vest. A white, detailed, bony grim reaper grinned and pointed out at them, holding a crystal ball in its skeletal hand. The tip of the scythe was red for dripping blood. Curving over the reaper was SONS of ANARCHY, and underneath it, CALIFORNIA. It gave Tiffany the shivers.
Jax proved to be courteous and entertaining, his eyes drifting between the pretty cousins. He and Ope, short for Opie, waited with them until the tow arrived. Opie had joined them reluctantly, and Tiffany wondered what they had gotten themselves into. Opie nodded to her politely but didn’t say much. She saw the heavy gold rings both men wore, and she saw the back of the leather vest before Aralyn did. They weren’t Hells Angels, but she didn’t like the sound of “Sons of Anarchy”.
Half-Sack hitched up the 4-Runner and Tiffany joined him in the truck cab. He seemed much less scary than the other two. Jax offered Aralyn a ride on his bike, which she didn’t hesitate to take. He gave her his helmet to wear.
“So, um, what are you a prospect of?” Tiffany asked the young man driving her.
“SAMCRO. the Club,” he replied easily.
“What kind of club?” she asked lightly. Now she could get some answers.
“Oh, you aren’t from around here, so you wouldn’t know. It’s a motorcycle club. It stands for Sons of Anarchy, California, Redwood Original. We’re the mother charter, but we have charters in four states and even in Ireland.”
“A motorcycle club?” she asked, digesting that. Wasn’t that code for “gang”? “And you’re a prospect?”
“Yep. I’m on probation for at least a year, until they decide if I can be a real member,” he said cheerfully.
“And what do you do for them?”
“Errands mostly. Keep an eye on their old ladies if they’re acting out or in trouble. Work in the shop, clean up after parties.”
“Grunt work,” Tiffany said.
He nodded. “I don’t mind though. I was in the army and got a medical discharge, so here I am. The guys are good to me.”
Better than a dishonorable discharge, she thought.
“And how did you get the name ‘Half-Sack’?”
He turned red. “Oh, that ain’t a story fit for your ears, miss.”
Tiffany nodded slowly. What the Hell had Aralyn gotten them into this time?
“I know they look scary, miss, but really, you ain’t gotta worry. Ope never says much and Jax never stops talking when there’s a girl about. He loves women.”
Tiffany smiled faintly. “That’s reassuring.”
“We’re almost there.” Half-Sack turned on the blinker and they slowed down to turn.
“Where did all those bikes come from?” Tiffany asked, sitting up. There was a line up of about 10. A couple of men in the black vests, full members she guessed from the reaper vests, hung about them.
“Jax and his stepdad own the place. It used to be Jax’s dad, but he died. They started up the Sons years ago, after they got out of ‘Nam. They really are a motorcycle club. The clubhouse is on the premises with the shop. And I must say, you will get the best auto repair done here. Jax and Clay don’t rip you off.”
I suppose I should be grateful for that, Tiffany thought.
He stopped the truck and hopped out. She was unbuckling her seatbelt and looking around when he came around to her side and opened the door for her, offering a hand to help her down.
“Thank you,” she said, surprised.
Behind them, Jax, Aralyn and Ope roared in on their bikes. Several men were out near the bikes, watching Jax’s arrival.
Tiffany spotted an older, gray haired man in sunglasses watching her. His brow was furrowed, but she had a feeling that was normal for this man. Something about the very authoritative and predatory air he had told her he was suspicious by nature. He and his friends wore the same vests as Jax, minus the elaborate lettering on the side. She couldn’t read their patches from here.
Aralyn was laughing as Jax brought the bike to the lineup and parked it backwards. He shut the engine off.
“How was that?” he asked.
“That was awesome! My cousin Dan has one but I haven’t been on it a while. And my cousin Tim swears it’s his next vehicle.”
“Can’t go wrong with a Harley,” Jax grinned at her as she dismounted from the bike and removed the helmet.
“Thank you very much, Jax, for getting us here.”
“My pleasure. Come on, I’ll get you two checked in.”
Jax directed them inside the tiny office. Aralyn peeked out into the shop, studying the mechanics. They were the real, old school deal. Mostly older men, tattooed up, grizzled.
“You looking for someone?” a female voice asked.
The girls turned to see an older woman in her 50s, wearing a decorated tank top way too tight for her age, and snug jeans, but she made it work. Her shoulder-length hair was dark, with chunky blond highlights on top. Her eyes were dark, but it was the thick, old scar that ran down between her cleavage that startled Aralyn.
“No, ma’am, I was checking to make sure you didn’t have any pansy boys with manicured fingernails and clean hair out there,” Aralyn gave her the Duke smile.
The woman snorted. “Not around here, baby, we’re the real deal. You the two Jax brought in?”
“Yes, Mom, they are. Aralyn and Tiffany Duke, from New York.” Jax came in behind them to make the introductions. “This is my mom, Gemma. She really runs the place.”
“What are a couple of nice girls like you two doing out here?” Gemma asked, looking them over.
“Road trip. Our car died and Jax and Ope came along to rescue us,” Aralyn replied. This woman didn’t like her. Maybe because she and Tiffany were both wearing very expensive clothes and Tiffany had nice jewelry on. This woman looked like she had had a hard life and seen a lot of things.
“That’s my boy, rescuing the ladies,” she remarked without pride, handing Aralyn a clipboard with a form. It didn’t seem to be a compliment.
“It might be the timing belt, but we’ll have to take it apart,” Jax told her. “We may not have the part in stock but we’ll try to get what we need tonight. It could be tomorrow before it’s ready.”
Aralyn nodded but Tiffany winced. “Is there a hotel nearby?” the younger cousin asked.
“Sure. It ain’t the Ritz but the sheets are clean and it’s safe.” The woman’s dark eyes studied Tiffany.
“It’s next to Lumpy’s Family Restaurant, not far from here. And Bobby Elvis might even have a gig tonight if you want some entertainment. I can check.” Jax smiled at them.
Aralyn laughed as she filled out the car’s information. “Y’all have an Elvis impersonator?”
“We sure do, and he’s pretty good.”
“We might have to check him out, if we’re stuck overnight.”
Tiffany sincerely hoped not. She wanted to get away from this place and these people.
Once the paperwork was filled out, Jax had Half-Sack take the girls to Lumpy’s, so they could relax and get some food. It was almost dinner time and he was relatively sure they wouldn’t get the car repaired until the next day.
“I’ll oversee it myself,” he promised Aralyn.
Gemma Teller watched the girls leave, expression thoughtful. Two rich young ladies popping up in Charming, in Jax’s path? Not likely. The ATF had been sniffing around again. Would they use a couple of young girls as bait? If they thought it might snare Jax, which it more than likely would, they probably would do so. If there was one thing Jax could be lured by, it was a pretty young girl.
Gemma walked over to the clubhouse. Inside she found a couple of the club members hanging around.
“Juice!” she barked.
The young man with the half-inch high Mohawk looked up. Both sides of his shaved head were tattooed in a lighting bolt pattern. The young man looked up guiltily.
“Yes, Gemma?”
“Stop playing with your porn and run a name and plate for me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He took the paper from her.
Jax came out of another room, followed by the older man Tiffany had spotted. “Mom, what’re you doing?”
“I don’t trust your little Princess out there, with the big blue eyes and pretty gold hair. She’s trouble.”
Jax rolled his eyes. “You think the ATF set her on me.”
“We can’t put anything past them.” The man who had followed him out moved to kiss Gemma on the cheek.
Clay Morrow, president and founding member of SAMCRO, studied his stepson. Clay was a big guy, over 6’3”, still muscle, with a slight hunch to his shoulders. Life hadn’t been easy on him, his hair was short and silver now, his slight beard gray as well. The voice was still deep, menacing when need be. The arthritis in his hands was starting to get him as he aged. But he was still a force to be reckoned with, and still in charge of SAMCRO. His patches read First Nine and President. They all wore patches ont he left breast with Redwood Original.
“One Aralyn Duke, coming right up.” Juice, a young man of mixed Hispanic heritage lived for his computers. Friendly and sometimes a little naïve, he took a lot of ribbing from his friends but there was nothing he couldn’t do with a computer. "The car is registered to Aralyn and Tiffany Duke."
“Get me everything on Aralyn."
“She’s a sweet piece,” another member, in his 40s, looked over. He was a mean looking man with wild curly black hair and bright blue eyes. His right side patch read Sgt. At Arms.
“Down, Tig. I doubt she's into your kink and I saw her first,” Jax said with amusement. “Mom, I can’t believe you’re having her checked out.”
“Here we go!” Juice announced. “Aralyn Duke, nineteen, graduated high school last Spring in White Plains, New York. Father is Bo Duke—”
“The NASCAR driver?” Tig asked.
“The Federal Marshal?” Clay asked.
“One and the same,” Juice answered, his dark eyes wide as he looked up.
“The Marshals are in on this hunt?” Clay demanded.
Jax held up his hands. “Hang on. What else you got?”
“According to her blog, she and her cousin are on a roadtrip and have been since they graduated. Tons of pictures posted here, dating back to last summer, it looks like. The cousin, Tiffany, is the daughter of one Luke Duke, oh crap, also a Federal Marshal, and Madeleine Wheeler, who is heir to the – holy shit! - Wheeler International multi-billion dollar fortune.”
The group was silent for a moment.
“Jax’s little princess is an heiress?” Tig answered.
“No,” another man answered. This one was older, with bushy gray hair, and overweight. Also wearing a vest with a Treasurer patch. “The cousin of Jax’s princess. The brunette.”
Jax rubbed his hand over his chin. This was unexpected. “It could all be coincidence, Bobby.”
The Treasurer frowned.
“No way,” Gemma shook her head. “Did you see the clothes those two were wearing, especially the brunette? That’s a lot of money and those shoes were Steve Madden. And who in their right mind lets two young girls fresh out of high school go traipsing off around the country?”
“She didn’t seem too thrilled we were there,” came a quiet, deep voice. Eyes turned to Opie. “She was pretty uncomfortable around us. But I don’t think they’re a plant. Blondie was on the phone looking at the engine when we pulled up, and it seemed real, like she was checking with someone about what could be wrong. She sure took to Jax pretty quickly though.”
“They all do,” Gemma said dryly.
“Look. If they’re faking the car trouble to get an in, we’ll know as soon as we take it apart. We’ll sweep it for bugs too. But you can’t fake something like a timing belt busting. And if they had cut a line, we’ll see it.” Jax pointed out. “Aralyn made a crack about pansy mechanics. If her old man was a NASCAR driver, he was probably something of a mechanic too.”
“You make a date with her?” Gemma demanded. Jax didn’t answer. “Jackson!”
“I gave her my number, told her to call me if they were here tonight and bored.”
Clay shook his head, Gemma sighed.
“How am I supposed to know she could be a plant for the ATF? And since when does ATF work with the US Marshals? You know those agencies got all pissy when one of the others steps on their cases.”
“To take us down, they’ll all work together!” Clay snapped. “The Marshals have jurisdiction anywhere in this country, just like the ATF. They’ve paired up before. One of them near caught Bobby and Happy a few years back, and held me and Tig for two days. What was his name, Morgan?”
“Mangan.” Bobby growled. He never forgot the officers that busted him or his club brothers.
Jax sighed. His plans for some fun tonight with Aralyn were rapidly changing. Was she really a plant? He sure hoped not.
“Who would let his daughter be used as bait?” he asked. “Knowing how bad things could go, what kind of asshole would put his daughter out there like that?”
“This is what happens,” Clay said firmly. “If the Princess calls, you’re too busy. And if your zipper suddenly takes over, your hand can finish it. Don’t touch her. Your body better not come within six inches of her. Stay the hell away from her. We don’t need that kind of heat coming down on us because you got a stiffy for a pretty girl with powerful connections. Don’t even think of taking her for a milkshake, let alone a drink or back to your room.”
Jax glared at his stepfather. He hated it when Clay interfered in his personal life.
“You hear me?”
“I hear you,” Jax growled, his eyes dark with anger.
***
Tiffany and Aralyn sat at the counter at Lumpy’s restaurant.
“I don’t have a good feeling about them,” Tiffany said. Her eyes strayed towards the door, where a very good looking deputy police officer had walked in. He was young, around 30, with intense dark blue eyes, cropped short dark hair, square jaw and full lips, Tiffany perked up a little.
“Relax, Tiff. It’s just the vests that scare you. They seem really nice.”
“Jax seems really nice,” Tiffany corrected her, watching the deputy walk in their general direction. “The rest of them are downright scary. I felt like a deer among lions. And that woman? His mother?” Tiffany shuddered. "I wouldn't want to run into her in a dark alley."
Aralyn grinned as she looked up from her menu. “Jax is totally hot.”
Tiffany rolled her eyes as she opened her menu but didn’t look at it.
“I think he’s trouble you shouldn’t have any part of,” Tiffany answered.
“It’s just some mechanic work. I’m sure it will be fine, we’ll pick up the car tomorrow and be on our way.”
“In the meantime, we’re stranded here.”
The deputy overheard Tiffany’s statement and paused. “You girls all right? I heard you say you’re stranded?”
“It’s nothing, officer,” Aralyn gave him a pretty smile. “We had some car trouble and will be here overnight while it’s fixed.”
“Do you need a ride somewhere?” he asked.
Tiffany smiled at him as she read his badge name. “No, thank you, Deputy Hale. We’re staying at the hotel across the street.”
“It’s a decent hotel. Mind me asking where your car is being worked on? We have a couple of less than reputable places and I wouldn’t want you two to get ripped off.”
“Teller-Morrow,” Aralyn replied.
It was impossible to miss the slight tensing of that square jaw, or the hardening of his eyes.
“Something wrong?” Tiffany asked. “Are they one of the bad ones?”
“The mechanical work will be flawless,” he replied. “But stay away from the SAMCRO boys. They’re nothing but trouble.”
Ha! Tiffany wanted to shout. She was right!
“Jax Teller happened by when we stranded,” Aralyn said coolly. “We were lucky he came along.”
“I know you girls are just passing through,” Deputy Hale said, “but please take me seriously when I say those boys are trouble. They do a lot more than run an auto shop, and the last thing I would want is two lovely girls like yourselves getting into trouble with them.”
“What kind of trouble?” Tiffany asked.
“Any trouble. The ATF is in town investigating them. Anyone associating with them could be picked up and harassed.”
“The ATF? What does Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms want with a motorcycle club?” Aralyn asked.
Hale just looked at her. “Please, ladies, be very careful. Pick up your car when it’s ready, and keep on your route. This is my card. If you two need anything tonight, please don’t hesitate to call me.”
Tiffany took it with a small smile. “Thank you, Deputy.”
“I’ll let you get to your dinner, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
After he had walked away to a booth in the corner, Tiffany turned to Aralyn.
“ATF? They’re gun smugglers, Ari!”
Aralyn nodded. “Alleged. And maybe not.”
Tiffany sighed and fervently hoped Jax wouldn’t call.
***
What Tiffany hadn’t counted on, was Aralyn calling Jax.
She came out of the bathroom of their hotel room to find Aralyn rummaging through her bag.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for something sexier than this,” Aralyn replied.
“Why? Oh, Ari, tell me you didn’t!”
“What?” Aralyn flashed a grin at her. “There’s nothing to do in this town, Tiff. Bobby Elvis isn’t playing and it’ll just be another night watching tv in the hotel.”
“You heard what the deputy said.”
Aralyn nodded. “I did. And I want to have some fun. And Jax looks like he can give me the fun I want.”
“Um, remember the last time you attempted a one night stand? In Hazzard?”
“That was different. Cooter Junior was only mildly attractive and kissing him was like kissing a dead fish.”
“Have a lot experience with that, do you?” Tiffany asked.
Aralyn rolled her eyes. “We didn’t get real far after that. Something tells me Jax doesn’t kiss like a dead fish. He’s smoking hot and looks like he knows how to give a girl a good time.”
“I think this is a mistake, Ari.”
“I know, but I didn’t ask you. Relax, Tiff. I just want to let off some steam.”
While Aralyn applied some makeup and combed out her long hair, Tiffany Googled.
“Aralyn, please listen to this. There are tons of articles on SAMCRO here: alleged gun running, ownership in a porn business, gang wars between them, the Niners, and the Mayans- other “motorcycle clubs” that are code for gang.”
“Tiff, I’m not looking to become someone’s old lady! I just want to have some fun with a super hot guy for a couple of hours.”
“It’s a mistake.”
Aralyn sighed. “So you keep saying. Look, Tiff, I get that you’re worried and you don’t want much to do with men at all, and I don’t blame you. But Tony was a long time ago, and it’s time you start finding some ways to have fun. Not all men are assholes like he was. Somewhere out there is a great guy for you, and in the meantime, I wish you’d let yourself have a little fun. You deserve it.”
Tiffany looked away.
“We don’t have much time left before we have to go back to White Plains and go to school. Which you might enjoy, but I don’t. I want to have as much fun as I possibly can, while I have the freedom. That’s all Jax is: just some fun.”
After Aralyn had gone out, once Jax’s motorcycle roared up, Tiffany picked up her phone and sent a one-word text to Natala. Moments later, Tiffany’s Skype account rang. She turned it on and found herself looking at her pretty cousin.
Tiffany noticed Natala didn’t look quite as skittish, her face had filled out a little and she looked rather relaxed at the moment. Nat’s reading was coming along slowly, but cell phones and Skype made it easy to stay in touch.
“Hi, Tiff!”
“Hey, Nat, how’s it going?”
They exchanged pleasantries for a few moments before Natala asked gently, “What’s going on, Tiffany?”
“It’s Aralyn,” Tiffany blurted out. “I’m worried about that danger you foresaw for us.”
Natala frowned and looked thoughtful. “No, it’s not quite time for that yet. I don’t sense anything negative around her right now. What’s happened?”
Tiffany launched into a brief explanation about the motorcycle club.
Natala listened, but the corners of her lips twitched.
“Am I overreacting?” Tiffany asked at the end.
Natala picked up her tarot cards and shuffled them around.
Natala hesitated. “Maybe a little bit. Tiff, I’m not getting anything dangerous from Aralyn right now. I think she’s fine. But that trouble I mentioned is in the near future, maybe the next few weeks, so please, be very careful. In fact, feel free to come home when you get the car back tomorrow.”
“You’re sure it’s not tonight?” she asked.
Natala nodded. “I think she’s just out having some fun. You should too,” she added. “You’re keeping yourself closed off far too much.”
Tiffany sighed. “You sound like Ari.”
Natala smiled. “You’ve got to open up again sometime, Tiff.”
Tiffany nodded. “I know. But I can tell you, I am seriously ready for this trip to be over. It’s been great but I’m so sick of restaurants and fast food. I’d kill for Daisy’s biscuits any morning. And we ate the last of the crabapple jelly Moms sent with us. Sometimes those Crabapple Specials are just what we need. I’m thinking May can’t come soon enough, even if it’s only February. ”
Something flitted across Natala’s face.
“What’s wrong, Nat?”
“I think you’ll be home before May,” Natala told her solemnly. “In fact, I’d almost guarantee it.”
Tiffany sighed. “I’m not surprised. I haven’t had a good feeling about this leg of the journey since you gave us that reading.”
“Don’t go looking for problems,” Natala smiled at her. “You can’t outrun Fate, not really. But I do wish you two would come home. I’m kind of tired of high school chatter about boys.”
Tiffany laughed. “I can imagine.”
They chatted for a few more minutes before logging off.
Tiffany kept researching. There was an article on John Teller’s death in a car accident in ’95. Jax had been arrested several times, as had pretty much all of the club members, but no one recently. His stepfather was the gray haired man she had seen earlier, and he looked kind of menacing. A couple of these guys were downright scary looking. What was Aralyn thinking?
Tiffany paced. Peered out the curtains. Checked the door locks. Ordered a pizza but barely ate it. She channel flipped. Tried to meditate. Played on the Internet but that just lead to more research on the club.
Late into the night, Tiffany was still reading. Aralyn wasn’t back, and Tiffany was worried. She thought about calling Deputy Hale. But she didn’t know where Jax might have taken her, or what they might be doing. She didn’t want to think about what they might have been doing. Aralyn had sent her a text message at one point. Stop fretting. FUN! was what it read.
Eyes burning, she was scanning an article when a very familiar name flashed across the page. Tiffany froze, a piece of cold pizza at her lips, and read out loud instead.
“’US Marshal Dan Mangan simply replied ‘No comment” when questioned about the reason behind this latest sting, a collaboration between the Alcohol, Tobacco and Fireams department and the Marshals. In federal custody now are Clay Morrow and Tig Trager, known members of the Sons of Anarchy motorcycle club. The Sons of Anarchy are long rumored to be running guns up the California coast and supplying the terrorist group, the True IRA.’ Holy crap, the IRA? Dan? ‘The True IRA are a splinter group that do not acknowledge the peace treaty.’”
Half-Sack had said they had a charter in Ireland.
Tiffany got up and paced the room. She could call Dan. But if she tipped him off that Aralyn was out probably having sex with a member of a gang whose members he had arrested, Dan would call Bo and they’d be on the next plane out here. Then all Hell would break loose and Aralyn would never forgive her.
She could call Deputy Hale. Surely he knew the gang’s hangouts and would have a good idea of where they could be. A recent article talked about how a building of theirs had blown up, and the two burned bodies found in a locker that disappeared from the crime scene.
Jax wore that giant knife, too. Tiffany was pretty sure it wasn’t for show.
Tiffany took a deep breath. She had to calm down. She hadn’t had a panic attack in a while, she didn’t need one now. She was overreacting. Jax was probably just a playboy who enjoyed his women. Half-Sack had said as much. Of course, Half-Sack didn’t strike her as an Einstein either.
She glanced at the clock. It was after midnight. She’d give Aralyn until one, and then she was calling Deputy Hale.
***
Tiffany had just picked up her phone and Deputy Hale’s card when she heard the motorcycle roar up outside. A couple of minutes later, she heard the key in the lock and a giddy Aralyn strolled in, locking the door behind her. Outside, the motorcycle roared off.
“Ari! Where have you been?” Tiffany demanded.
Aralyn giggled, leaning against the door, her cheeks flushed. Her hair and clothes were disheveled, and she was in entirely too good of a mood. The stale, offensive stench of a bar hit Tiffany and she waved her hand in front of her face.
“Wow. Tiffany, just wow. Jax is…wow.”
Tiffany shook her head. “I was getting ready to call that deputy! I’ve been worried sick!”
“Why?” Aralyn asked with a big smile. “I told you I’d be back later.”
Tiffany sank onto the bed. “Aralyn, I’ve been reading—”
“Jax really knows how to show a girl a good time!” Aralyn blurted out. “My God, Tiffany, the things he did—”
“Stop. I do not want the sordid details.”
“He is something else.” Aralyn giggled again. “He taught me a few things I’d never thought I’d learn!”
Tiffany shuddered. “Are you drunk?” she demanded.
“Not a chance,” Aralyn laughed. “When he found out I was nineteen, he told the bartender to only serve me Sprite.”
“Are you high?” Tiffany asked.
“Nope, not a chance there either. I’m just feeling really good. I call it the Jax Effect.”
Tiffany groaned. “Ari, you don’t know where he’s been!”
“We used plenty of condoms,” Aralyn replied.
Tiffany clasped her hands over her ears.
“I think you’ve lost your damn mind!” Tiffany exclaimed.
Aralyn shook her head. “No. But my God, did I have a good time. The things that man can do with his body…”
“No details!” Tiffany pleaded.
Aralyn laughed. “You know the reaper emblem on their jacket? Jax has it on his whole back. All of them do, he told me. Part of the club initiation.”
Tiffany cringed at the thought of all those needles and that horrible grinning reaper image permanently inked on.
“I’m going to shower.”
“Please do. You stink of cigarettes and sex.” Tiffany frowned at her, unhappy that her cousin was being so reckless.
Laughing, Aralyn walked into the bathroom.
Tiffany fell forward onto her pillows, groaning. At least Aralyn was back safe.
***
Late the next morning, Aralyn got a call about the car being ready. They were picked up by Half-Sack and paid Gemma with a credit card. Gemma eyed Aralyn suspiciously, but didn’t comment except to thank the girls for their business.
Tiffany took the wheel and they headed out of Charming as fast as she could legally get them. Aralyn stared out the window with a dreamy smile.
Meet the cast in full & see the family tree!
Author’s Notes
- A huge yee-haa to the ever-fabulous Ronda, and Lindsay for editing this!
- Do not panic, Aralyn will not catch a disease or turn up pregnant after her night out. But she will see Jax Teller again, someday. In the meantime, feel free to check out one of the best written, directed and acted shows on tv, FX’s Sons of Anarchy. Be warned for foul & vulgar language, violence and nudity. Yes, Bobby is an Elvis impersonator. No, I won’t tell you how Half-Sack got his nickname. But it is kind of funny.
- Word Count, 6,019
| 
