Up In Smoke - Jax Teller

five

We know what we are, but know not what we might be
- Hamlet: Act 4, Scene 5.

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Alex is far from right on her judgment of her day. After a few rounds of sex with Jax, she was called into work on her day off because Melinda's daughter has a court hearing for custody over her kid. Jax told her he'd bring her truck by for her while she was pouring drinks but something with the club came up instead. Sig isn't at the bar unlike usual, something about checking in with a distributor so she's by herself on Half Price Saturday and it's slammed.

"Holy fuck." She mumbles under her breath as she takes a basket of fried pickles to a table of well dressed, obviously out of place, men. "Sorry 'bout the wait, y'all. We're a little short handed tonight."

"No problem, darlin." One of them says. "Thanks." She blushes at the smile he gives her as she heads back behind the bar. Alex finally gets a break from demanding customers and she drops her exhausted body on the barstool next to the liquor shelves.

The door jingles open and Opie walks in. "You alright?" He asks when he sees her sitting with her head against the wall. He leans against the bar with his elbows on the counter.

"Peachy." She mumbles, sitting forward with elbows on knees with her head in her hands. "Melinda and Sig are off tonight so it's just me."

"Holy shit."

"Hey! Can I get a drink or what!?" One of the suited men ask. He's about average height, maybe a little taller but stocky. He has red- almost brown- hair that looks like it's glued to his head with how much product is in it. A pair of round glasses hang from the front of his white button up shirt with a burgundy blazer on.

She sighs as she stands, "What can I get-"

"Rum and Coke." He snaps, rolling his eyes, bringing his hand up to scratch his clean trimmed beard.

"That's a rice watch. Rolex?" Opie comments, looking at the shiny gold piece of jewelry on his right wrist.

"Opie..." Alexandrea warns through gritted teeth.

The man scoffs. "Like I'd be caught in that garbage. Audemars Piguet." He looks at the diamond bezel. "The best of the best."

"Wow. How much did that set you back?"

"Opie..."

"Forty five G's." He winks at Alex who forces a fake smile, setting his order in front of him. "It's higher quality than a Rolex. With Audemars Piguet, I don't have to worry about the crystal falling out or the minute hand stopping." The man fiddles with the
two-tone strap around his hairy wrist.

"Huh."

The man looks down at his drink in disgust. "Are you fucking stupid? I didn't order this." He pushes it away like it has cooties.

"Rum and Coke? Yes you did." Opie bites his lip knowing this argument isn't going to end well.

"I asked for a fucking Martini. Two olives."

"We don't do that here." She chuckles. "This is a dive bar not a club. So," she forcefully sets the drink back in front of him. "Here's your Rum and Coke."

"Get me a fucking Martini and get rid of this piss you call a Rum and Coke." He tosses the contents of the glass at her. She gasps as ice hits her and falls down her shirt.

Opie immediately stands. "Sit your ass down, Winston." She snaps, grabbing a towel to wipe her face with to get a clear view of the asshole with a snobbish grin. "A martini, huh?"