Chapter 15
JAX
Currently playing: This Life by Curtis Stigers, The Forest Rangers
Opening my eyes, I breathe in and out to calm my racing heart. It was only a dream—a nightmare from my past.
He can’t hurt you. Not anymore. He’s gone. Arnold is gone.
My entire body is covered in sweat, and I can feel the sheets wrapped tightly against me.
I can’t move. But when I look at my clock, I see the time and groan.
I barely got four hours of sleep and wish I had a day off to get my thoughts in order.
At least I have a dinner planned with Ollie and Eli later today.
Wait…I went to bed with her, but Soph isn’t here. Fuck.
Even though I have left without saying a word before, it’s the first time it has happened to me. And I hate the feeling. I hate waking up alone after the night we shared. If I had known that sex with her would feel so mind-blowing, I would have suggested it way earlier.
Unwrapping the sheets, I notice that even after my nightmares, my dick is begging for attention at first thought of her.
Wrapping my hand around it, I squeeze tight and feel my piercings against my palm.
I remember how Soph reacted, knowing I’m pierced in more places than my earlobes, nipples, and tongue.
Even thinking about her plump lips in an O-shape after finding out about my genital piercings makes me almost lose it.
With her on my mind, I get off quicker than I have in years.
I feel like a teenager with my less-than-a-minute wank.
It’s all thanks to a curly-haired vixen who keeps tempting me with those amazing brown eyes, beautifully colored skin, and snarky remarks.
And let’s not forget that holy fucking amazing body.
After the version of Soph I saw last night, I must figure how to not think about her naked all the time. Having Soph around the shop today will not help. But I need her help with my paperwork and other tasks.
At least I don’t have any appointments today because we have a strict rule that tattoo artists can’t operate when overly tired or hungover.
That’s why Rogue and Spade didn’t drink much last night, either.
They’ve got customers coming in today. Nelly and Dom get to enjoy their hangovers in peace.
But I still need to go to the shop and do admin stuff.
Arriving at the shop an hour later than expected, I’m not in a cheerful mood. There’s never enough parking space and driving takes longer with a car than riding Isla. She’s still getting fixed, and some spare parts take up to months to arrive.
I park my car in the alley behind the shop after another car leaves the area. Getting out, I try to find my key to the back door as it opens. Rogue is holding a cigarette between his lips, ready to light it up when he notices me. “Morning, boss. You look extra fresh this morning.”
“Zip it, Rogue. I haven’t had my second cup of joe yet and had a rough start this morning.”
He whistles. “Are you sure you should be driving around hungover?”
“I only had a few drinks, thanks for asking. Only tired after last night.”
Rogue offers me a cigarette that I accept without hesitation. I usually try to limit my smoking to when I’m drinking, but I feel like one could help calm me down. “Thanks, mate. This is what I needed.”
We stand there smoking in silence. Once we’re done, we drop our cigarette butts in the clear wine bottle that acts as our ashtray.
I follow Rogue inside the shop, where I hear a customer talking with Spade about their next tattoo.
They want to tattoo the motorcycle club logo from my all-time favorite TV show, Sons of Anarchy, on their back.
Spade tells them he doesn’t think it’s the best idea.
He suggests another placement for the tattoo and a much smaller size.
The customer keeps murmuring something before agreeing that somewhere else is better.
Many times, customers get something tattooed and regret it sooner than later.
I don’t recommend wasting money on something that can easily be avoided.
That’s why my guys know how to prevent these situations by suggesting alternatives and giving honest opinions.
That being said, I have that same logo tattooed on my right leg. My tattoos tell my life story, and finding Sons of Anarchy is a part of that story. That show spoke to me and reminded me how your family is what you make it to be. And Jax Teller makes me proud to be a Jax too.
I walk to the front desk but can't see Soph. She must be running an errand or something. Taking the binder with the latest paperwork, I’d like to know what I have waiting for me today.
All the unnecessary bureaucracy is making me sweat, and I need Soph’s help reading through everything sooner or later.
By the end of my fourth hour at the shop, I’m counting the hours until I can leave and meet up with my two best friends.
Soph’s been acting weird around me after her visit to the bank.
I don’t know whether I’m sending don’t-fuck-with-me-today vibes or if she’s avoiding me after what happened last night.
She only helped me with tax forms after I asked her three times.
I get lost in my drawings and tattoo ideas for my future customers as I can’t focus on anything else. I’m happy if I manage a day near her without pushing her against the wall or something.
Since I'm meeting the guys at the Indian restaurant three blocks away, I leave my car in the alley. It looks like birds have enjoyed having it as a target during their bathroom breaks. Fucktastic.
Locking up the shop behind me, I check my phone to see if Ollie and Eli are already waiting for me.
It’s common for them both to be early as Ollie likes to be responsible, and Eli is an overachiever.
I’m usually the one who’s late everywhere I go, but now that the restaurant is only three blocks away, I plan to arrive on time for once.
When I get there, I am surprised to find an unhappy Ollie, looking like he hasn’t slept for days. Hearing my footsteps, Ollie glances my way with his tired eyes and sighs. “Jax.”
“Tough day, man?” I ask, giving him a hug before sitting down.
“You don’t even want to know.”
“Ollie, it’s me. Get it out so that you feel better, bro.” I don’t expect him to talk without Eli here, so when Ollie starts speaking much faster than average for him, I’m flabbergasted.
“My sweet little sister told me last night that she’s expecting a baby.
A fucking baby. Can you believe it?” he shouts over the calm music coming from the overhead speakers.
“For fuck’s sake, Livia can’t even take care of herself, and now she’s supposed to become a mom next spring.
I’m so worried about that little niece or nephew of mine, and they aren’t even here in another five or six months. ”
I stand there frozen, processing his words. “Well, shit. I’m sure we can come up with something to help the situation. You aren’t alone in this. You've got Eli and me.”
“I really hope so, as I don’t know what to do, J. I feel so fucking hopeless,” Ollie replies while rubbing his eyes, stopping the tears. It isn’t hard to tell that he is stressed and worried.
Growing up, we called Ollie our Little Poet Boy because he’s the most sensitive of us.
He’s the brooding artistic type who hugs trees and saves babies from burning buildings in his free time.
I mean, one of his favorite pastimes is pottery.
You wouldn’t believe it based on how he’s had a hard life, but despite all that, he’s the softest boy ever.
It isn’t even that surprising that he’s having a tough time hearing the news from his younger sister, Livia.
Even though she has graduated high school, she’s still young and doesn’t have a long-term partner that we know of.
“Does Livia know the father, at least?”
“She told me there are two baby daddy candidates, but she isn’t going to find out before the baby is born next March. I have no fucking clue what she’ll do for child support and all that. She barely makes enough money to support herself at her job at the local supermarket.”
I’m beyond relieved when Eli walks in—he’s much better with the feelings than I am.
“Ollie, who do I need to hurt?”
“Livia’s pregnant and has no idea whose it is.”
Eli squeezes Ollie’s shoulder before sitting across from us. “What can I do? I can set up a college fund or come up with some other financial aid for the kid. Anything you need, brother.”
“Thank you, man. I appreciate it, I really do. But fuck, I still can’t believe it.”
“I know you’re worried about her future kid, but you know you’ll make the best uncle out there. Do you hear me? That kid is lucky to have an uncle like you.”
Ollie smiles a tentative smile. “Right, thanks, Eli.”
“No worries. I don’t want to see you worrying about something that can’t be handled right now.”
“True. It’s just hard as I haven’t even thought about kids myself,” Ollie tells us, and we start looking at the menu.
I let out a fuck this laugh. “I just know I don’t want them. When Tiff told me she was expecting my baby during our fight, I wished the ground would swallow me up. Even the idea of having kids makes me break into hives.”
“Wait, what, baby?” Eli looks at me with round eyes.
“Yeah, she only wanted to make me stay with her, so she lied about the pregnancy without knowing I’d chosen not to have kids.”
“Oh man, that’s fucked up.” Ollie shakes his head. “I don’t get why someone would lie about a baby.”
“I’m just glad I’m no longer together with her. Dodged a bullet there.”
“Definitely.”
Eli closes the menu in front of him. “So, should we order something before continuing this discussion? Sorry, but I’m starving and need food.”
We order a set menu for four people, even if it’s just us three, as we can always take leftovers home.
Eli orders us all two beers each. It was a smart move as Ollie downs his first drink in one massive gulp after the waitress brings it to him.
It’s rare for him to be this upset, so we keep him entertained with stupid stories from our childhood for the rest of the evening.
“You remember the time Eli tried to do that trick he saw on TV for the first time, and instead of spinning his skateboard right, he overspun it and fell,” I say as I add another helping of palak paneer to my plate.
Eli groans and hides his face in his hands. “Why did you have to remind me that time I broke my fucking wrist while skateboarding?”
I smirk. “It made Ollie smile for ten seconds, so it was worth all your memories, painful or not.”
My friends shake their heads, and I hear Eli muttering dickhead under his breath.
Ollie must have heard it as he snorts and covers his nose and mouth after.
That makes us all laugh, and I’m happy to see something other than worry on Little Poet Boy’s face.
Like Eli and I, he has had enough to worry about to last the rest of his lifetime.
There's no need for more. At least for tonight. Tomorrow is another story.