Tattoos & Leather

Head Gaskets & Harleys

Myself, my three duffle bags full of belongings, my old 69 Chevelle that my uncle Bobby gave me for my recently passed eighteenth birthday, a trunk full of weapons for supernatural bullshit, and 10,000 dollars that I have been saving since I was thirteen and old enough to learn credit card scams and I was off to figure out the rest of my life. I honestly have no idea. Do I keep hunting? Do I stop? I pulled over to the side of the road. I could head towards California. That's where Stanford is, where Sammy is. It would be nice to be near my twin brother, even if he doesn't answer my calls.

I had been driving for about a week, headed to find a home to plant down roots somewhere in California. I had stopped three days ago to deal with a small vampire problem that I had caught wind of. It was a small nest. Only four vampires and they weren't very smart. I had just entered a small town called Charming when my engine started overheating and smoking. I slowly pulled my car over to the side of the road, killed the engine, and popped the hood. Stepping out, I was immediately greeted with the California heat. I shrugged out of my black leather jacket, which left me in a white tank and threw the jacket into the driver seat before closing the door. My black boots crunched in the small pieces of asphalt as I made my way towards the front of the car. As I lifted the black painted hood, more smoke came flooding out. Peering inside, I immediately noticed the issue. A goddamn blown head gasket.

My attention was dragged from my still smoking car by the sound of a herd of Harleys coming in the same direction I came from. I redirected my attention to my blown gasket and racked my brain trying to come up with a solution to my problem until I heard the sound of the bikes pulling along the side of the road behind me. I looked over my shoulder as they cut the engines and they all began to dismount. They all made their ways towards me with a very tall older man with grayish white hair leading the pack. They all wore the same leather vests and it pinged in my brain. They're in an MC and judging by this man, he is their president. They walked right up to me.

"Car trouble, sweetheart?", He asked me. I sighed and gave him a sheepish smile.

"A blown head gasket.", I told him.

"Well, I own an Auto shop. We can get you towed there and I'll have one of my guys take a look at it. What's your name?", the man finished by asking me.

"Thank you so much. I'd normally take a look at it myself, but I'm not exactly somewhere I could do that. I'm Mia, you are?, I told him.

Clay Morrow, sweetheart. I'm the President of the Sons of Anarchy mother charter. This is Jax, Chibs, Tig, Bobby, and Piney.", Clay informed me as he pointed at each of the other members with him. "We're gonna have you ride with us and we'll send someone to tow the car. Get you out of the heat, sweetheart."

"That's great, Clay. Thank you guys so much.", I spoke to him gratefully.

"It's no problem. You can ride with Jax, he won't mind.", he said as he pointed at the blonde who waved at me with a smirk. I gave a half wave before I made my way around to the driver door and grabbed my leather jacket and purse before I locked my car and made my way to Jax's bike.

"Hop on, Darlin'. I don't bite.", Jax quipped with that smirk plastered on his handsome face.

"How do you know that I don't?",  I bit back with a small smile. All the guys laughed.

"You're gonna fit right in, Mia.", Clay laughed. With that, they all fired up their bikes and we were off.

It wasn't very long before we were pulling up to an auto repair shop that read Teller-Morrow accompanied by another building that was marked with the same reaper emblem that was on the back of the guys' kuttes. Jax pulled his bike in line with the other motorcycles, then used one hand to help me off. Clay slowly ambled over to us.