If I Die Tomorrow (Sons of Anarachy)

Twelve

It was Friday and I was going to the dinner. To say I was a nervous wreck would be an understatement. I'd gone out shopping for this dinner and literally bought multiple outfits. None of them seemed good enough.

I didn't want to come off as a hoe and show to much skin. It was a family dinner for Christ sakes. At the same time I didn't want to be overly dressed and look completely out of place. I couldn't find a happy medium.

What was the normal for a motorcycle club dinner? Black? Definitely. Leather? Eh might be pushing it. I had no one to ask if I looked alright, neither Dalton nor Collins would give me a straight answer. If I were to ask them then it'd open up conversation to where I was going and I couldn't have that.

I'd never lie to my family. If they outright asked me about spending time with SAMCRO then I'd tell them the truth. They wouldn't ask unless I gave them reason to. So vague answers that were truth just without all the details was what I was going for.

After I tried on every combination of outfits I thought could be suitable, I settled on something. A pair of distressed skinny jeans that looked like they were well loved from the shade of blue, even though I just bought them. They accentuated my legs and butt perfectly. I'd never owned a pair of jeans that fit my body so well.

The top I'd chosen was a black camisole that was shorter in the front than it was in the back. It barely showed my mid section but I'd adorned a long belly ring that glittered in the light, on the off chance my shirt came up. A small red bow sat below my right breast and a red band wrapped completely around me. It had a clasp in the back like a bra as well. Below the clasp the back turned to a skull lace pattern that I doubted anyone would notice unless they stared.

Casual, a tiny bit sexy, and suitable for a dinner. The lace showed off my lower back tattoo as well as my breast one. I felt I'd fit in more so in the tattoo department as well. Not that anyone cared I'm sure.

One day I wanted to have full sleeves. I wanted to decorate my body with art that reflected me and my life but I'd have to wait until my money came through. Good tattoos weren't cheap. For now my memorial tattoo on my thigh I'd gotten for the guys in my unit who'd lost their lives, my skull, pistol and roses lower back piece and my cherry tree branch on the left side of my chest, was enough.

I'd gotten my hair recolored today as well. My blonde was so platinum it could've been mistaken as white. The black half of my hair was the blondes exact opposite. The blue was the extremest neon I'd ever seen. When all my color was redone it was hard to say which side the electric blue popped more in.

My stylist had parted my two toned hair perfectly and styled it down. Adding a touch of curl to my layers, my hair reminded me of a princesses. Elegant yet simple. I made her do my usual makeup too. I figured I'd go all out today.

Staring at myself in the mirror I was full of anxiety. What would Juice and Jax say? Would they think I was creeping on them? That I was so desperate I invited myself? Maybe I should call Gemma and cancel? Tell her I was sick.

Taking a deep breath I calmed the whirlwind that was inside my head. I was overthinking. I was invited to this dinner. In no way could I be considered being desperate. I don't ever go out and socialize and that needed to change. I wanted to try and make friends, wether it be amongst guys in the club or just Gemma. I wasn't going to be picky.

Slipping silver chain like earrings though my first set of holes, I grabbed a pair that were studs for the second. Grabbing my clutch off my dresser, I rolled on some of my favorite perfume before walking out the door.