"I don't mind living in a man's world, as long as I can be a woman in it."
A hopeful new member with an affiliation to a neighbouring charter shows up in Charming, looking to get in with the infamous Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club. The only problem...
Sydney's worries about her seat at the table are abolished as Clay assures both her and her past that history will not be repeating itself this time.
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General trigger warnings for this story: Language, smut, mentions of rape, mentions of drug use/overdose, violence/death, racism/gang activity.
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"The feds are in there questioning her." Tig paced up and down the ramp outside of the hospital. "I don't like this, Clay."
"We expected this." In less than a day, Clay's plan would finally be put into motion, everything would be out on the table, and everybody would be protected - he just needed Tig to stay calm until then. "She knows what to say. We'll get it all sorted out tomorrow, brother. I promise."
"Yeah... Okay." Tig forced his rage to simmer at the request of his President. "How's SAMDINO with all of this?"
"Eh..." Clay looked across the lot to the picnic table that was surrounded by antsy Southern Cali Sons. "Ain't happy but... Ain't exactly surprised either..."
"Yeah, I guess that's true." Tig chortled. At least that meant that there was one less phony explanation that he needed to come up with.
"How's she doin'?" Clay's tone softened.
"Better today." Tig nodded as he squinted under the sun. "I'm worried, though. She's... fragile. " He tried to find the right word. "I don't know how she's gonna feel showin' up in a wheelchair with everybody there."
"Whatever she wants, whatever will help... We make it happen." The older man nodded.
♕
"Baby." Tig blinked out of his haze as his eyes refocused on the photo of Pamela Anderson that he had zoned out to. "I thought that this was supposed to be putting me to sleep." She scoffed, reaching over and pushing the overhead lamp closer to where he was reading her the newest edition of Us Weekly in the chair next to her bed.
'Uh—" He quickly flipped the page of the magazine before he looked over to see Sydney narrowing her eyes. "You, uh—" He rubbed the back of his neck before flipping back to the glossy photo displaying the actress' latest shoot. "You look like her." He nodded eagerly as a bashful smile tugged at his lips.
"Mhmm." Sydney nodded, unconvinced as a knowing smirk came to her face. "Go closer to the back, I wanna hear what's in for winter."
"But it's August?" He scowled.
"Yeah but they always do it in advance." She rolled her eyes as if that was a fact that everybody should've known—even middle-aged bikers.
"How would they know what's gonna be in for winter if we ain't in winter yet?" He felt the muscles in his face contracting in confusion as he followed her orders, flipping past the montage of celebrity gossip until he finally reached the 'What's Hot for the Cold?' article. 'Suck in those stomachs and hit the ellipticals, ladies—" He began with a sigh.
