#KingAndVixen

[king-and-vixen-blog]

#Love & Chaos ~ Part 1

Original Characters Face Claims:

Sal Angelino - Russell Crowe 

Angel Angelino - Alysha Nett 

Angela Angelino - Blake Lively

New York 1968

He sat emotionless as the voices became monotone and eventually blended with one another in such a way there it was inaudible muffled sounds that filled the multimillion dollar board room.  His well-manicured hand tugged at the necktie that strangulated him like a noose. Sal Angelino was aware most men would give their soul to the devil to sit where he was right now, and all he wanted to do was run from it. His eyes narrowed in on the lawyer as he unfolded the last will and testament of his father, Frank Angelino. The cock sucker had never been a man to leave one detail unchecked in life, and Sal damned well knew in death he would spell it all out as well. The empire his father had built in a country where he had sought refuge as an immigrant so many years ago, he didn’t want it. The truth of the fucking matter was Sal didn’t know what in the hell he wanted, he just knew it wasn’t what awaited him in the last written words of his father.  

“Mr. Angelino, did you hear what I just said?” The balding man that had been his father’s advisor peered over the rim of his glasses as he awaited an answer.

“My father was Mr. Angelino, I’m Sal.” He replied flatly his look of defiance growing.

“Very well, Sal.” The man paused for a moment after putting great emphasis on the shortened name, only continuing after laying the legal document upon the table. “You have inherited a very large responsibility as your fathers only son.”

“I don’t want it.” Sal replied as his hands moved upwards tugging the necktie free. “None of it.”

“You have no options here Mister, forgive me Sal.” The aged man shot back knowing his ability to intimidate Sal was zero to none. The only man that had ever accomplished that successfully has been his father Mr. Frank Angelino. He was sure the dead man was currently making Lucifer his bitch.

His balled-up fist hand hit the table as if it were a sledge hammer. “I have every option.” He spits the venomous words back at the old man as his 5’10” frame rose from the seat.

“Who will lead this family if you don’t Salvatore?” The lawyer’s eyes grew big as Sal’s body rose, while he wasn’t as large as his cousins or even his father, Sal was not a person he wanted to piss off. His nature had been cold, in many ways colder than his father Frank Angelino.

“Frankly, I don’t give a flying fuck.” He ended his words with freed neck tie thrown onto the table as he left the conference room never looking back.

Biker Rally, Midwest, 1970 

The dust rose as he walked through the bikes that were from the various charters of Angels of Death that had sprung up over the years. When Sal Angelino had walked out of the board room two years earlier at the age of 20 he had never anticipated that he would be leading the life he now found himself in. He hadn’t founded of the Angels of Death, but he had built the once dying biker club into the powerhouse it was, in just five short years. When Red, the current president of the club stepped down, it would all be his and this inheritance, unlike the one he was born into he wouldn’t deny.

“Fuckin’ tits and ass man it’s what keeps a man like me young and healthy.” The older man nicknamed Red for his once fire engine head of hair coughed out the words as he pushed his lanky fingers through his thinning gray strands.

“Yeah, I suppose.”  Sal grumbled under his breath as he walked through the crowd that parted for them like the sea of fuckin’ Jordan.

The old man eyed the younger stout man beside him, he and Sal had met by accident years earlier when his father Frank was still alive. The club had done handy work for his old man back in the day, the kind of meet and greet shit that a classy, well refined business man like Frank Angelino didn’t participate in. Sal had bucked the silver spoon future that was planned for him, and traveled a route that no one could have foreseen.

‘Course Red supposed inevitably his future would have be resulted in the same role, that of a leader, just in a different manner than the one he had walked out on.  He shook his head. Kid was full of rage and anger though, and no one seemed to know the origin, not even Red, but it served its purpose well where AOD was concerned. Sal was a heartless savage when it came to taking care of business.

“Sal why don’t you find one of these fuckin’ sweet butts and get your dick wet, ya been a real motherfuckin’ bear lately, give the brothers a break why dontcha.” Red's eyes immediately caught sight of the swaying asses in front of him, distracted like a kid in the candy shop he followed them without hesitation.

“Horny ol’ fucker.” Sal grumbled as he watched the distance grow between him and the old man he respected more than his own father.

He shook his head, fuckin’ old coot was gonna end up in the ground 10 feet under if he didn’t slow the fuck down on the pussy, bastard had already been treated twice in twelve months for dripping dick he caught not wrapping up. Veering off to the right Sal stopped to look at some biker paraphernalia strewn on a table. The silver angel caught his eye immediately, true enough he hadn’t named the club, but the name had struck a chord in him from the beginning. Stretching his forward his finger fished through the other insignias to reach what he sought, but what his fingers touched however was something he hadn’t expected.  Lifting his brooding blue eyes he blinked rapidly to make sure he wasn’t seeing an aspiration. Standing before him was the perfect angel.  

“Seems we have similar taste.” Her feminine voice drifted toward him, and like the fuckin’ Grinch that stole Christmas he felt his ice-cold heart begin to thaw.

“Seems we do.” He held tight to the delicate fingers she was trying to retract. “Seems we do.”

[Seven years later, AOD Montana compound, 1977]

“SAL!” She burst into the round table room with no regard for the business that was taking place.

Everyone knew when it came to Angela Angelino everything else could just fuckin’ pause, so the abrupt appearance of the angelic looking blonde, during some trying negotiations with a west coast charter didn’t seem irregular to those wearing the AOD patch. The grimace that adorned Sal’s face turned instantly to that of a man more love-sick than angered, he laid his cigar in the ashtray turning his full attention to his wife. She was just as beautiful seven years later as she had been when he set eyes on her at the biker rally. Sal had always heard soulmate true love bullshit from others, stupid ass babble about knowing when you met the one. Hearts, roses, poetry all that bullshit wasn’t him, he didn’t make love, he fucked, until Angela. She had turned his world upside down, when he looked into her eyes he felt like he was the man she saw, not some piece of shit murder.

Her innocence, had captured him, made him want to protect something for the first time in his life, and he found it no coincidence that her name was almost a mirror of his now dynasty. Marrying her just a few short months later hadn’t been the only changes over the last many years. The ink was barely dry on the wedding papers, and honeymoon still ongoing when Red had stepped down as president of the mother charter to spend his retirement years with his cock in a sweet butt’s mouth, pussy, or ass whichever he could get. It had all fallen to Sal. Some said the quick retirement came because Red had seen a change in Sal he felt was needed to be a true leader. Angela balanced him.  The club had grown thrived even more than it had in the first years when he and Red had joined up. They had strong charters from the East Coast to Midwest, and if Sal had anything to say about it he would take over the West Coast one day in the very near future.

“You all know my wife, Angela.” He nodded turning his face back towards the five men he wished he could just shoot between the eyes and put to ground, but fuck the time just wasn’t right yet.

Above all thing he had learned over the last many years timing was by far one of the most important. Sal had thought the time was right to take over, war or not, but the West Coast president had made him rethink his original plan. Not because he was some great negotiator, but because the fucker was weak, even though he didn’t realize this trait in himself. Sal had seen disillusioned pricks like him for years, given time he would destroy everything he was working to build and AOD would step in. The club he sought would be clean pickings, no war, no bankroll lost, and more important no risk for Angela. Sal knew he thought shit out more carefully now that she was in tow. Her safety was more important to him than just about anything. It had made him more cautious in ways that had probably saved many lives, including his own.

“Ma’am, pleasure, think we met while back.” The leader spoke up as his other soldiers nodded in respect to the first ol’ lady of AOD.

Sal’s eyes turned back to the leader, narrowing momentarily, fucker was a pussy. His wife on the other hand a ball breaker, how that combo worked he wasn’t sure. He figured she was the true backbone of the charter, and her husband was just a puppet she pulled the strings too. One had to admire such manipulation from a woman as young as she was, made him wonder what she would be like in the years to come. He made a mental note she might eventually need to be snuffed out along with her old man.  Sal knew some would frown on him for killing a woman, but he didn’t give two fucks, business was business and it had to be dealt with pussy or cock.

His attention turned back to his wife, in all the years he had never allowed anyone to refer to her as an ol’ lady. She was so much more than that to him. He found himself almost smiling, as he her small hand brushed her long blonde hair over her shoulders. She had always worn her hair long at his request, one of the few request he had ever made of her. As many times as he looked at Angela he couldn’t believe she was his wife. Sure, he had sweet butts constantly flinging themselves at him, but they weren't worth losing her over. Angela was different, special in a way no other woman could touch. He hadn’t been unfaithful to her since the day they had met.  He nodded his head, a smirk growing on his face, as he looked down at her simple converse shoes, she looked nothing like the typical ol’ lady either. Her style was quirky and oddly enough suited her. Angela was sweet, too sweet for the likes of him, and Sal thanked whatever fucker was hovering over them in heaven every day that she didn’t realize just how below her pay grade she had married. He wasn’t good enough for her, and in his heart he knew he never would be, but she was his and he would cherish, and protect her for the rest of his life.

“Everything ok babe?” He tried not to sound too much like a school boy with his first hard on, but fuck she made it difficult.

“I’m pregnant.” She burst out the news her gleeful giggle filling the room as she estatically pressed her palms to both sides of her face.

“What?” Sal looked at her puzzled as if he didn’t know they had been trying to have a kid.

He had given Angela the sun, moon and fuckin’ stars but still she had wanted something he really wasn’t willing to give her, a kid. Every time he thought of bringing a kid into the picture a sense of doom took him over. It was stupid as fuck, most of the brothers had started families, but he had put her off all this time. The last two years though, she had been badgering him for a kid every damned day. Many had been surprised she just hadn’t let it happen, but unlike the other whores of the club she was too respectful, didn’t have a manipulative bone in her body. She wanted it to be something Sal was ok with. Finally, he had relented to her begging a couple of months back, still he hadn’t expected immediate results like this. Fuck, hadn’t one of his brothers tried to knock his ol’ lady up for months on end, a damned year for another. The ringing sounds of cheers and pounding fist on the round table where they sat was deafening. He felt disorientated as if the room was spinning around uncontrollably, spreading his palms out on the table for leverage he attempted the best smile he could.

“No shit.” That was all he could manage.

“Sal, fuck sake man you’re gonna be a father, this calls for a fuckin’ celebration tonight. This shit can wait until later.” Red announced from the opposite end of the table as he rose from his chair.  “This is good news babe.” The old man hugged Angela to his old creaking boney chest.

Red eyed Sal’s reaction curiously, before turning back to Angela. She had been a god send for Sal, changed him in ways he needed changing. Angela had swept in and given him a conscious where he needed one, turned some of his cold demeanor into something else, gave him a little patience and caution where there had been none. The club had thrived, and Sal hadn’t lost his soul to the unknown demons that haunted him on a regular basis. She was his guardian angel, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“Congratulations man, my ol’ lady is knocked up too.” John Teller offered the friendly words hoping the news would ease some of the crackling tension between the two rival charters.

He glanced to his side to see Otto his new sergeant of arms relaxing his crossed arms. His eyes peered to his best friend and VP Piney whose tense shoulders were now falling. His kid Opie wasn’t even old enough to be walking yet. They all had shit to lose if this meeting went south. John looked back over at the blonde before him, she was a fuckin’ god send, a damned angel in disguise. For the first time in hours he breathed a sigh of relief, before she had burst into the room he really didn’t know how the meeting was gonna land. Sal was known to not take bullshit, and John realized they could very well disappear if the man before him felt things weren’t progressing in the manner he wanted them too. John didn’t want war, fuck he didn’t want half the shit they had gotten themselves into with the club they had named The Sons of Anarchy. They weren’t even but a few years into shit officially and already stuff was just spiraling outta control. He and Piney had, had a different vision for the band of misfit brothers, but for now though they were up to their ears in debt getting shit off the ground, and with Gemma his new bride knocked up what choice did they all have. They had made a name for themselves, otherwise they wouldn’t have been summoned by the great Sal Angelino, and with the Irish connections they had, gun running had fallen into their laps. A lot of charters had wanted the Irish trade, and a lot of men had died trying to obtain it. The man before John was different than all the rest, he truly was a heartless, greedy fucker. JT as he had been nicknamed by those close to him, could feel Sal’s demons, and until the blonde had entered the room he had even doubted the man had a heart. He did though, a weak spot, and it was the woman before him.

“No shit.” Sal turned his gaze towards the weak excuse for a charter president, cursing himself silently that he couldn’t say more than two words since Angela has made her announcement.

He reached up combing his fingers through his shaggy hair. FUCK! The word screamed in his mind, what was he going to do now? Having her in tow was risky enough, and now a fuckin’ kid too. Teller had gotten lucky not just because of his weak stupidity, but because of the kid Angela had inside her. He would do nothing now that being the chance of a war.

“Yeah man, we both got things bigger than us now, legacies about to be born. Maybe we can work some shit out, keep the peace.” John looked him in the eyes holding a steady gaze. “Keep the peace for the things that mean something more to us then this shit man.”

“We’ll see.” Sal’s upper lip snarled as he responded, pushing the chair backwards the raking sound of the legs silenced the room as he rose. He was aware all eyes were on him as he made his way towards Angela pulling her into a hug, a display of affection he normally didn’t show in front of guests.  The need to protect her ten times of what had been just minutes before. “You happy babe?” He whispered in her ear.

“Happier than I have ever been.” She cooed back where no could hear but him.

“Then so am I.” His grip tightened around her, and he pushed back the fears that kept rolling towards him like a wave, fears of what he had no clue, but for now what made her happy, made him happy.

1981 Location Unknown

She pushed the stroller down the hallway until she arrived at the door that belonged to them, fumbling for the keys she slowly opened the unlocked the knob.

“Hungreyy.” The little blonde headed girl waved her arms as she said the single word.

“I know baby, let’s get you inside and see what we can fix.” She put the keys back in her bag and stepped back behind the stroller to push it inside.

Rolling into the dimly light living room she had furnished as cozy as possible she stooped down brushing her hair back. Wind-blown hair tamed, her fingers worked to release the young girl, despite being at the park for hours she was still full of uncontrollable energy.  She was only glad her daughter wasn’t at the age she could ask a lot of questions, although she tell by looking in her daughters eyes she was confused at times. Springing free once the strap was released the little girl bounced through the living room towards the kitchen with more balance than most three years’ old’s her age.

“DADDY!” The tiny voice rang loudly into the living room.

Angela swallowed hard as she heard her daughter Angels voice call out the name of the one person she loved more than anyone. From birth, it had been that way from the moment he had held the swaddled bundle in his arms, Angel had been Sal’s, always a shadow, on his heels and before that by his side in a stroller, car seat or on the floor rolling on a blanket. Sal had even taken Angel into round table meetings with him, talking business that no one should hear while he bounced her on his lap. She was without doubt the princess of the club whose name she bore. Angela made the slow steps towards the door to greet her husband.  Sal was a good man, she refused to believe otherwise, but he was a man that didn’t have the capacity to love more than one person unconditionally.  Angela knew he loved her, would die for her, but their relationship had shifted since she given birth to their only child, so much so they had gone from being inseparable to separate rooms. Angela had become resentful, done regrettable things. The rift only grew until she couldn’t reach him any longer, couldn’t balance or steady him like she once had. Only Angel had that power now and she was just a mere child.  The age of innocence was lost, Angela now more mature than her 17 years of age when they had met, realized all that Sal truly did to keep the club on top. The veil of innocence had fallen from her eyes, he had fallen from his pedestal, and she wished to God every day she could go back, but she couldn’t.  She had learned too much, knew too much. The man she had once loved she now feared, she didn’t know who or what he was anymore.

“Sal.” She stepped into the kitchen area, Angel already bundled in his arms, the warmth of the men stepping behind her already being felt on her exposed flesh.

He had come with men in tow, of course he had, had she hadn’t expected any less when she fled from the walls of their compound with Angel in tow five months prior.  She had hoped as the weeks went on that he had become too distracted with club business to continue the hunt. Of course, in hindsight as she glared into his once again cold eyes, Angela realized her mistake was settling in one place for too long. She had been so careful in the beginning, but as the money had dwindled the mistakes became careless, with no family to turn to what choices did she really have.

“Angel, go on over to your Uncle Troy.” Sal lowered his daughter to the ground not releasing her until her feet were steady on the ground.

His eyes lifted to his wife, Angela, the woman that had once been his salvation, his saving grace, his guardian angel. He knew she had been responsible for saving his life many times over. Now though, no none of that mattered. She had betrayed him, turned evidence to the feds for money, and fled with his kid. Her sins were unforgivable. She had fallen to the ground from the heavens, and she had taken him with her. The shred of decency that had existed within him for the last few years was gone. Now all he cared about was his daughter, fuck everything else. The bitch has been sly, he would give her that, barely missing her on several occasions, but ultimately, he had found her.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find you, you stupid bitch.” His voice remained calm and steady even though his words were cutting and venomous.

“Sal… please.” The tears welled up in her eyes. “If you ever loved me.”

“Loved you?” His head whipped around to the soldiers that had appeared behind her. “You take the kid to the van and you wait by the front door... NOW!” His voice rattled the windows with its volume.

The men scurried from the kitchen to the front door, Sal waited until he heard his daughter’s voice drift in the distance before continuing.

“Loved you? You fucking bitch, I exposed a side of me that no one, NO ONE ever got to see, and what did you do? You betrayed me.” He hissed the words at her feeling the rage build in him.

“You checked out on me Sal, Angel…” She lowered her head, the blonde locks falling around her, as the tears began to fall plopping on the linoleum. His warm hand, once gentle, touched her chin jerking it up so her eyes were once again on his.

“My kid didn’t cause this, you caused this shit, not believing in me, sticking by me.” He inhaled deeply pushing his hair back with his fingers.

“I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll go back …” Her frail voice stopped mid-sentence as her eyes drifted down once more.

“There’s no going back.” Sal could barely hear the words spoken, his heart pounded in his chest, so loudly. Then he felt it, the twinge of emotion that always welled up in him where she was concerned. He knew she was right, he had turned his attentions to Angel, but fuck, he had told her straight up he couldn’t balance it all.  Still he had given her what she wanted, a kid, and it had destroyed them.  He pushed the emotions back down, he couldn’t forgive her.

He couldn’t take the chance of her betraying him again, even though a part of him knew he never should have involved her in his life to begin with, been so open. The fact was angels belonged above him, not beside him. Now, now she was just nothing, and regardless of where the fault lay, he couldn’t allow his emotions for her to overtake him again, never would he be vulnerable to a woman again in his life. He was an outlaw, and love and all that shit just didn’t work with who he really was. The true Sal. They had lived a fool’s dream and now that dream was over, as the thought left him, the last small flicker of light in his eyes that seeing her had created extinguished.

“Sal.” Her voice cracked as she looked at the man that she had loved, she knew him well enough to know there was no persuading, no forgiveness once his mind was set. Angela realized as she peered at him the man she had loved wasn’t there anymore. The pain in her chest overtook her as she reached up and placed her hand over her heart. It was broken. This was it and somehow, she didn’t care. “Take care of our daughter.”

With no words, he walked past her making his way towards the front door. “Get rid of her.” He mumbled to his brother. “Be merciful and quick.”

November 13, 1993, Charming California, St. Thomas Hospital

Her long dark almost jet black hair hung past her shoulders fashionably straight, her face devoid of any emotions that would be considered weakness, the tears and sniffles in the distance were enough. She had to hold strong, how this affected her determined how it affected her son. She would not have her son become a sea of confliction like his father.  Her dark eyes glanced over to the seat where Jackson sat his shoulders slumped and arms resting on his legs. His head was bowed, only being held up by his palms and Opie who had a strong brotherly arm around his best friend’s shoulder.

She and Mary, Opie’s mother, had never been close the way JT and Piney had; Gemma had considered Mary a pathetic excuse for an Ol’ lady, and part of the reason for Piney’s failures where the club was concerned.  Gemma, the Queen of Samcro, had been more than willing to take Opie under her maternal wing and nurture him as if he was her own when Mary cut out. He was the future of the Sons just as Jackson was, even if his father was a drunk and mother a dumb cunt. The boys had been inseparable since childhood, and it gave her comfort Jackson had a brother even if he was not blood related, since she had been unable able emotionally to give him another. Enduring the loss of another child was not something that Gemma knew she would pull through.

“How you are doing?” Luann sat down next to her best friend as her ol’ man Otto continued on towards the group gathered by the coffee machine.

“Fine.” Gemma answered with no emotion.

“C’mon Gem, this is Lu you are talking to, cry, scream, do whatever you need too.” Luann slipped her arm around her best friend.

Gemma pulled away from her friend’s attempted hug. Normally she was more compassionate, and a better friend to the woman next to her, even enjoy the lightness the relationship offered. Today no, the circumstances were too big for Gemma to just be herself, even with her best friend, and christ only knew they had been through their fair share.

“That shit ain’t gonna help nothin’ sweetheart.” Gemma responded flatly.

There was no mourning process she needed to go through. John had made his choice, he had been weak and undermined all that the club had painstakingly built over the years. Gemma had tried to persuade him to see the correct vision and path for SAMCRO, until she no longer cared and pulled away from him entirely. Truth be told, shit hadn’t been right since Thomas died, while grief made some stronger it crippled others. John had been crippled. Gemma had been made stronger. He lost his way. Gemma had found her way. When he began writing until all hours of the day and night he had checked out completely.

She knew there were hushed mumbles that his bike brakes had been tampered with, and other mumbles that he had committed suicide. Gemma knew the truth however, she had murdered him. Not with her own hands, but with her coldness, and by just letting him walk out the door two mornings prior. She had known when John made love to her the night before it was goodbye, a woman could feel that shit, but she had chosen not to stop him. Instead she had allowed him to kiss her good bye feebly and wonder out to his bike and disappear into the distance. The call had come two hours later, and Gemma had been relieved until she arrived at the hospital and found he was still alive, and the rumors had begun to surface. She snuffed everything out but the possibility tampering of his Harley. The last thing they needed was the biker world knowing the King of Charming had checked out like a pussy. Better to have a little hatred towards the mexicans or blacks surface, or a little blood shed like war for retaliation sake than everyone to know what a pussy John really was. She wouldn’t let Jackson go through that shit, carry that legacy with him for the rest of his life.’Course John could have done it right, quick and easy, but instead he had to place his bike right in front of an 18 wheeler.  Now it was a waiting game, would his will to live overcome and triumph or would he succumb to the grim reaper hovering above him. Gemma hope to hell he just fucking died ‘cause she sure in the fuck didn’t need a vegetable to take care of for the rest of her life. A man needed to die a good death and be done with it. John hadn't even been able to that right.

“Mrs. Teller?” The white coat called her name as he pushed through the double doors of the intensive care department.

“Yes.” Gemma inhaled deeply rising slow and steady, no weakness she chanted silently to herself. John had made his own choice, and so had she.  

“Mrs. Teller if you will step over here.” The doctor motioned to a more private area out of earshot.

“No.” She stood firmly. “You can say whatever it is you need to say right here.”

“Mr. Teller didn’t make it through our last efforts to save him. I am very sorry for your loss ma’am.” He dipped his head in a show of respect.

“Thank you.” She responded moving as if she were robotic over towards her son Jackson. The look in his blue eyes wrenched her heart as she stooped down and hugged the Legacy she had born. “We are going to be ok sweetheart.” She whispered the words into her son’s ear as he began to sob.

The wailing sounds of the women gathered around began, along with the muffled sounds of the men attempting to not give way to their feelings. She rose from Jackson walking back over towards Luann who looked at her wide eyed with tears welling. Grabbing her purse slung it over her shoulder, heading in the direction of the hospital exit. She stopped as she came to Piney who was openly weeping. He was the current Vice President, the one everyone had expected would take over. She spoke no words only placed her hand on his shoulder before continuing on; he would not hold the President’s seat.  The arrangement had already been made under the table shortly after John had arrived St. Thomas. Piney was too drunk and to distraught to run a group of boy scouts much less the Sons of Anarchy. He would remain in the VP seat, for a few more years anyway.  Sure, the official vote had to take place but a new King would be placed at the head of the table before sun down.

“Sweetheart what can I do.” Unser looked her in the eyes as he spoke, he had been a lifelong friend, his hopeless love for her kept him loyal.

“Nothing.” She retracted her hand from Piney and continued the long walk towards the double doors. The sound of biker boots following behind her echoed faintly off the walls.

Pushing open the glass doors Gemma stepped from St. Thomas hospital, and for the first time in 2 days felt as if a heavy burden had been removed from her shoulders. She looked towards the heavens,  allowing the sun to penetrate her core. It was over, the conflict, turmoil, push to move the club in a legit direction finally over. Now the Sons could move forward with no bullshit and no reservations. Her son would inherit an MC of power house, not a group poetry filled idiots. She knew they were gathered at the top of the stairs,  all eyes were upon her as the rumbling Harley pulled to the curb. Just as she had done at the age of 17, Gemma was about to take another ride that would change the course of future.

“He gone?” The deep voice asked as he handed her a helmet.

“Yes.” She placed the black piece on her head before rummaging through the bag slung over her shoulder for her sunglasses.

Slipping her leg over the leather seat she settled in behind the large frame wrapping her arms around his waist tightly. He would protect her, and her son, and more importantly push SAMCRO towards the future it should have. Keep her Son’s legacy intact until the time came he could run it himself. Looking back towards the hospital doors she saw the Sons of Anarchy family gathered at the top of the steps watching their Queen. She knew her actions at that very moment would send the message of what she expected.

“Let’s go Clay, your seat waits.” She whispered in his ear.

1996, Montana The sweet scented smoke of his cigar, created an eerie fog that surrounded him. Years had passed, but Sal was still the king of the castle or in his case compound. The once smaller building that had resided in the middle of an ungodly amount of land was now a large building that housed several club members from the mother charter. Those that didn't live in the main building often had smaller homes scattered on the land. AOD's Montana head quarters was small village surrounded by solid walls. The only thing harder to penetrate than the great walls that surrounded the Angels was Sals heart. Losing his guardian angel had changed him, and the general consensus was not for the better. Words were never uttered about what had really happened to Angela, but everyone knew. Red had been furious with Sal. The rumbles of the two men's voices had shaken the walls of their sacred meeting room. No one had expected either man to emerge from the room, not alive anyway, but both men walked from the doorway of the round table room. Red not only walked from the room, but kept walking straight out the front door never looking back. Some of the older member followed suit, but most stayed loyal to their King. Sal never spoke again to the man who has in many ways been a father to him. When the founder of Angels of Death died in his sleep mysteriously about a year later no one was surprised, and once again everyone knew. Even in a band of outlaws there were certain lines, boundaries one didn't cross. Sal erased all boundaries, and those that walked with him either remained loyal or went to ground. His eyes roamed the room eyeing the scene before him. The men had earned the celebration they were receiving. The push past the Midwest had been made, and with the untimely death of the founder of the Sons of Anarchy a few years earlier, the promises made so long ago were no longer valid. Sal had no intentions of stopping until his reign spread from east coast to west coast. His eyes continue to search through the sea of bodies; A wry smile overtaking his features as he watched his VP bicker with his ol' lady, the scene a cross between funny and pathetic. Same old shit, different day, they had been fighting since the day they had met. Sal grabbed up the brown long neck bottle on the table before him, he washed down the hops taste as his eyes zeroed in on the only woman that he loved. Angel Angelino, his only kid, she was the only female that would ever own his heart. He refused to very be the vulnerable disillusioned sap he had been over Angela. Angel was his everything, and combined the the club it was all he needed. His eyes shifted as he watched his daughter play pull with his VPs kid. Fucker was about the same age as Angela, and proudly wearing the AOD prospect Kutte. They had grown up together, fuck all the kids had. Not only was the compound a village, but they were a family. When Sal had returned home with Angel, they ol' ladies had each become a mother to her. He nodded at John as he looked his way, kid would make a fine solider one day as long as his cock steered clear of his daughter. His face softened as he watched Angel take her shot, growing up as the only child of the President of Angels of Death she was the Princess to every man that wore the patch. They like Sal would die for her without hesitation.  Many had suggested to Sal he needed a son, but he had no desire. Angel was his sole heir, and just to make sure of the fact she would remain the one and only, Sal had gotten his nuts snipped before Angela's slaughtered corpse was even cold. He lifted the beer to his lips once more, swishing the beer around before swallowing. The sounds of a woman's voice coming from the jukebox caught his attention. His brooding eyes came to rest on a honey blonde who was tossing her waving locks over her shoulder. He watched her intently as she spoke in an animated fashion with her hands, moving in all the right ways, laughing at the right time. She intrigued him, stirred him, not because of an angelic innocence, but something more, she was hurting. He figured to those that surrounded her, she was a girl looking for a good time, but the hurt hidden in her eyes, underneath the surface, was undeniable to him. She was a survivor of a cruel fate, broken in many ways, let down by love even though she appeared so young; a kindred spirit in a way. As he continued to watch her something happened that hadn’t since 1981, he moved across the room to speak to a woman first.

[Case residence, 1987]

The high pitched laughter that escaped the joyful little girl was music to her mother’s ears. The sound of her only daughter warmed her heart in more ways that she could even attempt to describe. Wendy Jane Case was the apple of her mother’s eye and her daddy’s pride and joy. With her legs curled up under her and an afghan from her very own mother covering her lower body, Jolene watched on as her nine year old laid alone in the centre of the living room floor, her eyes focused on the cartoons that flashed bright colors on the television screen. The aged carpet caught her attention as Wendy laid belly down on the floor, her knees bent allowing her little feet to kick in the air as she scribbled different shades of color on the newsprint of her coloring book. It reminded Jolene of their time spent in the two bedroom bungalow they built their family around. A small, intimate family, but family nonetheless. The midday sun showered the little girl with warmth as she laid there completely unaware of the world around her. Unaware of how her world was about to change with the recent news her mother had only days ago received. Cancer had invaded their perfect lives and as hard as the realization was, someday Jolene would leave behind the little girl she loved so much, her and her daddy. Jolene was still as madly in love with Wendy’s father, John, just as if it were the first day they had met way back in ‘64. Their lives in many ways were perfect; a marriage that was full of trust and respect, loyalty and laughter. A daughter that was conceived at the perfect time in their seemingly perfect relationship. They were financially stable, not overwhelmingly made of money, but they were comfortable. Their daughter did not want for anything. Jolene made sure of that after her own upbringing. Her father a drunk, her mother a dirty whore that worried more about her next high than the well being of her own flesh and blood. Jolene swore to herself when she was young that she would never bring a child into a world like the one she was raised in. Meeting John, a well known entrepreneur; handsome, kind and most of all loving, which was something Jolene longed for from her parents and never received. John gave her all the important things in life she wanted and needed, even a baby girl they named after her grandmother.

[4 weeks later]

Wendy sat on the one end of the sofa, the warm salty tears trickling down her cheeks as her parents explained her mother’s illness, one she didn’t even understand let alone want to process and accept. The single word was a death sentence in her mind. Just a single thought of being without her mother caused Wendy to collapse into a flow of tears and emotions, her small hands clapping over her face to shield the overwhelming emotions that ran out of her. Sadness turning to anger. How could this happen her her mother? To her? To their family? Her mother was the glue that held them together. There was no way possible way Wendy could grow up in a world that her mother had no longer existed in. As much as she didn’t want the thoughts floating around in her mind to go to death it was the only thing she could concentrate on but the one thing she wasn’t willing to accept. At such a young, tender age Wendy didn’t know exactly what it all meant, what it would mean for her mother, father and even herself. But she knew one thing; it was a disease not many survived from and that scared her more than anything. She didn’t want to lose her mother, she couldn’t. The brief thoughts of her and her father in a world where Jolene no longer existed caused an uncontrollable rush of pain to soar through her heart, her sobs wetting the silk blouse her mother wore as she held her only daughter tight in her embrace. It was the security of those arms Wendy refused to believe would someday not be there when she needed her most. Wendy needed her mother for all the important aspects of her life; her first date, her wedding, her first child. She was only young but every little girl dreams of those things in which her mother is supposed to be present for. Jolene, if anyone could, would beat the disease they were now presented with and live a long, happy life with her father by her side. At least that was the version Wendy so very much needed to believe in.

[October 1991]

Staring straight ahead Wendy felt her emotionless body being pulled into her father’s side as the song ‘Amazing Grace’ filled the church where mourners lined the mahogany pews. Her eyes focused on the varnished oak box that rested only feet from where her and her father stood. The sniffles and sobs were noticeable despite the sorrowful sound the words of the song created. Even with the many people that had attended the service for her late mother, Wendy saw no one, only the vision of her mother on her deathbed days prior. Her mother’s dying wish was to spend her last days in the home she loved with the people that meant the most to her. Wendy, now thirteen, almost resented her mother for that choice, leaving her with a daily constant reminder of how they were all robbed of a woman that meant so much. A woman that loved life and her family more than anything that was dealt a hand so horrible. Watching the strong woman fade into such a frail shell of the person she once had been Wendy knew would haunt her memories for the rest of her living life. As she stood there staring at that silk lined casket, that was now her mother’s final resting place, she swore she could feel the touch of Jolene’s warm palm on her now flushed cheek. The mirage of it all caused a single tear to finally fall from the wetness that had been lingering in her eyes, the ones Wendy had fought so hard to keep hidden. Even in death she wanted to be the strong one, the piece that was now going to hold her family together, even if that now only consisted of herself and the man standing next to her, holding onto her for his own need for comfort in their time of grieving.

[April 1994]

“Wendy!” The sound of her father’s drunken, slurred words bounced off the walls of the small room he now barricaded himself in. She hated his voice, just the sound of it made her skin crawl. But not answering him would cause more grief than it was worth. The pencil dropped to the notebook where unsolved math problems laid in waiting, a heavy, frustrated sigh escaping her while she tended to the man she wished sometimes would have been the one laying in that casket three years ago. How their lives had so drastically changed the day her mother took her final breath. Once having the perfect life, Wendy now existed only as a slave to her alcoholic father who could not cope with the passing of the one woman that was the solid piece to their little family puzzle. Not only had they lost Jolene but they had lost everything that reminded Wendy of her. Once a child that had every wonderful thing her heart could desire, now a teen that wanted nothing more than to escape the daily grueling life that now made up her existence.

“Here,” Wendy tossed the cold, brown bottle towards her father as he slouched back in the torn, ragged lazyboy chair, the sound of football on the television in the background. It wasn’t as if he was watching it; Christ she was sure his eyes were so glossed over he couldn’t so much as see a foot in front of him. She had never imagined life to get as bad as it now had. She asked for help, but help never came. People had their own lives to get on with, not worry about the loss she and her father had suffered. Everyone lost someone of significance as some point in their life, you picked up and moved on. But in Wendy’s case the image of her passed out father day after day made her begin to realize at some point things needed to change or she would get dragged down a dark path, one that she had no intention of following.

[June 2, 1996  - Wendy’s 18th Birthday]

“The boots. Definitely the boots!” Nora exclaimed as she tugged the skimpy black dress up over her unshapely hips and flat chest while giving her best friend some fashion advice. Wendy stood in front of the full length mirror, one knee high black suede boot, one silver glimmering high heel shoe. One by one Wendy stepped a foot forward, checking out how each piece of footwear looked with the mini skirt and halter she already had on. Nora was right, definitely the boots.

“You sure about this Nora?” Wendy questioned with slight concern mixed with excitement as she fussed with her hair, attempting to get it to look just right. She had never been to a biker party before; to say she was nervous was putting it a bit mild. She heard the stories that floated around town about the Angels of Death motorcycle club. Every girl in Montana wanted to ride bitch on one of their Harleys, her included. And with her eighteenth birthday finally arriving, her and her best friend were setting out to do just that.

“Would you stop worrying, Wendy? Just have some fun for a change!” Nora squealed as she rushed towards her friend, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she turned, needing help with the zipper of her dress.

“I will, just….you’re sure Angel Angelino told /us/ to come? I mean, she’s not really what you call trustworthy.” Giving the zipper a pull up, Wendy closed the back of Nora’s form fitting dress.

“Yes, I told you. They always welcome girls like us. Don’t you want to get on the back of one of those Harleys?” One wouldn’t believe Nora was a year and a half older than Wendy; her best friend was not developed quite the same as herself. To look at the eighteen year old Miss Case, one would guess she was at least in her early twenties. She was used to the attention she received from boys and men alike. Her 36C’s were most definitely a positive attribute in Wendy’s mind.

“Girls like us?” Wendy’s eyes rolled dramatically as she processed the words Nora had just spoken. “You mean ‘easy’ girls huh?”

The audible sigh the brunette released caused Wendy to turn to look at her. She had never imagined in her eighteen years of life /that/ would be what she would be referred to as. Since her mother had died though, Wendy became a mere fraction of the girl she could have and should have become. Her life had not turned out the way she would have expected and heaven forbid, she was sure her mother was rolling over in her grave as Wendy pushed her tits up in her halter to be sure she would get the attention she was looking for. The whole reason she agreed to attend the party they were getting ready for, not to end up on the back of a Harley. Even if it meant showing a bit of skin and a little tits and ass, it was attention. Maybe not the good kind, but it was still what it was. She longed to be seen as more than a slave to her drunken father. Day after day, night after night cleaning up after him, being at his every beck and call because he chose not to accept her mother’s death. Her life had been consumed by his alcoholism. But this was the day she put that all behind her.

“Just grab your damn purse and let’s go!” For the last time, Nora and Wendy alike checked their hair in the mirror, giving their lipstick a quick reapply and in a mad dash headed for the Angels of Death clubhouse where the bikers, and the attention Wendy sought, would be waiting.

#SOA #LoveAndChaos #KingAndVixen