Flower of Scotland

Freya Part 20

After driving for fifty miles I had started to feel nauseous, my head was pounding from the tears I had let fall and I desperately needed the toilet.
I stopped at a bar while driving through Oakland, pulling in and and getting out, I grabbed my bag off the seat next to me and looked around, taking note of a few bikes that sat parked outside. I didn't recognise any of them, and I needed to wee so badly, so I went inside.

It was dimly lit and not too busy, small clusters of people crowding here and there. I went to the toilet and took a seat at the bar,. Ordering a Whiskey, I threw it back signalling for another.

I looked up at myself in the mirror facing out from the back of the bar. My eyes were slightly puffy from the crying and the tip of my nose pink.

"You look like you having a rough night?"
Came an accented voice from a few seats down on the bend of the bar.

"More like a rough life." I replied without turning my head and sinking the next shot, tapping the glass again.

He chuckled slightly.

"So bad that it brought you to a dive bar in Oakland?"

"Just passing through." I said still not looking his way.

He nodded. "Do they know you came this way?"

I looked at him then, we wore a leather kutte and the patch on his chest read "President"

"Who?" I said feigning ignorance.

"Whoever your running from." He stated.

I looked back down at my glass, seeing that it had been refilled.

"I'm not running, just walking away."

The words sounded hollow even to my ears and I was reminded of when I had arrived here telling myself the same thing. Again I drank the Whiskey in front of me.

A man plopped down in the seat next to me and tired to engage me in conversation. He was more than a little drunk and I was instantly annoyed by his presence.

"And who are you then? He slurred at me.

I turned my face to him, trying not to gag from the stench of his breath.

"I'm a serial killer, and I'd fuck off if I were you because your starting to look a lot like my next victim."

I subtly flashed him the butterfly knife that I had pulled from my pocket and his eyes widened as he made a hasty retreat. Emptying my glass again I signalled the barman.

The man on my other side started laughing.

"I like your style."

"Hm" I voiced in response .

"You know, now that I think about it, you look familiar." He said peering at me.

I closed my eyes and huffed out a breath.

"Yep, I guess I do."  I drank again.

I didn't think I had met this man before. But I recognised his kutte, I knew his club had dealings with SAMCRO.

"You're the Scotsman's niece, no? The knife thrower. I've heard stories about you. Your men like the brag."

"Men?" I queried.

" Your Uncle and......The Tacoma Killer" He stated.

I made eye contact with the bar employee, he looked towards the man I was speaking to, who gestured for him to leave the bottle. I refilled my glass while saying.

"I would prefer if none of them knew I had been here. That ok with you?"

He held his hands up.

"They won't hear it from me."

"Do you know anyone that wants to buy a car? and then anyone who is selling a car?" I asked.

"You want to change vehicles to keep off their radar? Shit! What did you do?" He said the last part with a laugh.

"I.....didn't do anything." I said giving him pointed look.

"Ok, ok. Listen, there are rooms upstairs if you need to rest, have a shower......" He left the sentence open ended.

I looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

"You realise your sounding creepy right?"

He chuckled.

"I like your Uncle, he's an honourable man, plus if SAMCRO ever do find out you were here, I would prefer they know I didn't let you leave and drive after drinking so much. My wife and daughter are upstairs if that makes you feel less creepy. I'm Marcus Alvarez. President of the Mayans here is Oakland."

"Why are you being so nice to me?, apart from not wanting to get on SAMCRO's bad side." I questioned.

"Honestly." He replied. "You look like you need it."

"How do I know your not going to call them?, tell them I'm here."  I asked him.

He shrugged.

"You don't, but I give you my word that I won't, it's up to you what you believe."

I wanted to cry again, but I wouldn't. I was tired and the promise of a shower was extremely tempting.

"I'm Freya." I told him.

I accepted Alvarez's offer and he led me towards the back of the bar and showed me up to the rooms upstairs. Introducing me to his wife he explained who I was but that no one else was to know I was here.

She was a lovely woman with kind eyes and I couldn't help but give her a soft smile even though I felt atrocious and the Whiskey had definitely made its way into my system.

She took over from Alvarez after they had a brief conversation in Spanish that I didn't understand.
Showing me into the room I could stay in and pointing out the shower and fresh towels. I thanked her and she patted my cheek.

"Are you ok?, did somebody hurt you?" She asked softly.

"Not physically." I told her. "But I'm still hurt."

She nodded.

"When you are in love and you get hurt, it is like a cut, I will bleed but it will heal. Even if there is a scar left behind."

She left the room after that and left me alone. In the quiet. A quiet that I had craved earlier but right now, felt deafening.

"I already have enough scars." I thought.

The room was basic, bed, bedside table, chest of drawers with a mirror above and a window. The small en-suite bathroom coming off the room.

I sat on the bed, my head spinning slightly as I bend forward to pull my bag towards me. I reached in and pulled out some  toiletries so I could take a shower and change. I was suddenly very tired.
While I arranged my things I made a plan for the following morning, I would get up, get dressed, and thank the Alvarezes for their hospitality. Hopefully Marcus would know someone that would buy my car and then I could purchase a new one and be on my way.

I made quick work of my shower, threw on a reaper T-shirt and shorts and climbed in to the bed which was remarkably more comfortable than it looked.