" Welcome to my cage, little lover. "
He saw her. Sitting alone amongst the crowded bar. She looked so out of place. She's like a swan amongst crows. Too elegant, too gentle for any rough man within the building.
She was the first thing he noticed, sitting at the bar. Drinking a Sex on the Beach. Gazing up at the television mounted on the wall above the shelves of bottles and draft beer. That night, the square box flickered football. No one paid much attention to the game other than this out of place beauty.
Her caramel skin complements the black skintight cocktail dress hugging her curves. Long box braids rest on her shoulders, cheek bones sharp like glass. One leg crossed over the other, high heels giving the illusion of long beautiful legs. Fingernails painted red, matching her lipstick stained lips. Small tattoos going up and down her thin arms.
He was so fascinated with this stranger, everything around him didn't matter. Just his desperation to find a way to start a conversation.
A arm throws itself around the on looker, his eyes snap away from the lone woman sitting at the bar. Startled by his drunken mentor.
"Whatcha lookin' at Juicy Boy?" Slurred the Scottish man. His short hair needing a combing, deep scars permanent upon his cheeks.
Juice diverts his gaze, going back to his eye candy. His tongue gloss his lips, fingers squeezed the brown beer bottle. Refusing to admit his lustful gaze from before.
"Nothing," Juice chuckled sheepishly, taking a quick swig of his drink. "Just watching the game."
"You don't have to lie to us boy!" Another older man with curly hair and shocking blue eyes plopped himself in a chair beside Juice. Slamming a hand onto Juice's forearm. "You looking at that fine piece of chocolate over there?"
Juice's cheeks flushed with a soft tent of pink. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip. Was it that obvious? So obvious that a very drunken Alexander Trager and Filip Telford—also known as Tig and Chibs—noticed his wandering eyes.
Chibs chuckled, putting the young lad into a lazy headlock. Kissing the shaved side of Juice's head.
"Go talk to her, Juice!" Chibs blurts out. Loud enough for anyone near could hear. "Or Tiggy here will."
Little did Chibs know that his encouragement or sleazy encouragement would start a chain of events. The butterfly effect. One small ripple of change in the timeline of here and now could set off fireworks of phenomenons. Just one little push causes large effects.
Therefore, once Juice made his ultimate decision, setting in his fate for the rest of his life. The butterfly effect began to roll slowly.
"Okay," Juice threw back his head and chugged down the rest of his beer. Chibs and Tig roar with laughter. Clapping him on as if he'd won the presidential election. Their commotion bringing attention onto themselves. The woman sitting alone at the bar, she too took a glimpse at the rowdy men. Unexpectedly, the corner of her mouth curl into a smile. Studying the three men before going back to the television screen.
Juice stood, tugging at the lips of his cut. Inhaled with excitement. He slowly walked towards the bar, a little hesitant at first, reaching the half way point, but pushed himself to continue.
She doesn't notice his presence at first. Not even seeing Juice settle himself on the barstool beside her. She was now looking down at a small book. Pages filled with words. Words no one spoke in this century.
Juice kept his gaze straight until the bartender asked what he would be having. Hearing his voice, the woman raised her head. Looking at Juice's side profile with her lips slightly ajar.
This guy, he too seemed out of place. He rocked a short mohawk, two identical tribal tattoos on each side of that mohawk. Most normal people in Charming, California had normal haircuts. Hell, everyone in this small town with an ego the size of Europe couldn't identify with Juice.
The bartender placed a regular beer in front of Juice. When he looked back at the woman with the tight dress, she was studying that small little book again. Her chin rest upon her palm and her index finger kept the pages in place.
"What you reading?" Juice questioned with as much confidence he could bring to the table.
Looking up, the woman met his gaze. Her chin raise from her hand. Juice admires her pretty face from heaven, stunned by how radiant she is close up. Big hazel eyes, pouty lips, freckles painted across her semi-pointy nose. Skin flawless. He could smell her perfume, mixture of rose violets and carnations. A scent so sweet, Juice's insides grew warm with delight.
"Excuse me? I can't quite here you over your friends shouting." The woman'a voice was even sweeter. Her English accent strong, yet soft. She squints her eyes filled with black eyeshadow.
Took Juice a few seconds to break his gawking stare, glancing back at Chibs and Tig playing with the arcade machines. The back of their cuts showing;
Sons of Anarchy = California. Their signature logo, a reaper holding an AK 47 attached to a scythe wedge between Sons of Anarchy and California. The whole of Charming knew of the Sons and knew it would be wise not to mess with the two men screaming at the vintage gaming conical. No matter how much their appearance could hurt opening night.
"Sorry, I was asking what you were reading." Shouted juice over the loud voices, leaning a bit closer.
"Oh," she lets out a small laugh, closing the small book. She picks it up, showing him the cover. "It's just really old poetry. Elizabeth Barrett Browning."
"Who?" Juice squinted.
The woman giggled, placing the book back onto the bar top, brushing her fingers through her braids. Juice shifted in his seat, his heart flutters every time she laughs or smiles at him. Sending shivers down his spine.
"She's a poet of the Victorian era. Sonnets from the Portuguese? Aurora Leigh? Any of that ring a bell? I'm sure you've learned about her in high school."
Juice scratched the back of his neck, looking down at his beer with conflict. Of course she knew of things he had no clue of. His life surrounded Samcro, motorcycle mechanics, and hacking. If he had his laptop he could do a quick search and act is if he knew what in the world she was talking about.
"Uh, no. I dropped out of high school around junior year," Juice admits nervously.
"That's too bad, but that's also okay. School isn't for all of us," she says with a smile.
Juice looked back at her with a glistening grin. Surprised by the fact that she didn't go back to her reading, ignoring him completely.
She's not like the Croweaters back at Teller-Morrow Automotive Repair. No, she's special. Different or so Juice thought.
"Juan Carlos," Juice held out his trembling hand, itching to touch her skin. "What's your name?"
She flicks her hazel eyes down at his hand before taking it. Her skin soft to the touch. Her thumb grazed his knuckles, fingers gripped around the back of his hand. A small tattoo in cursive of someone's initials inked down her thumb; AK.
"Jinx," she grinned.
"Jinx? That can't be your real name."
Jinx tilted her head ever so slightly, reaching out for his face. Her index finger and thumb pinched the tip of his nose, like he was a child. Juice winked, taken aback by her close encounter.
"I don't give out my real name to bikers with silly hair cuts," Jinx teased, tugging at the lapel of his cut with her other hand. "Especially not Prospects."
She let's go of his nose, looking up at the television. The winning team had scored a few more points, causing the crowd to go wild.
Juice self continuously pat the front of his leather vest, the only flash he had sowed on the front of it: Prospect. Not a lot of people knew what that meant, but she did. Which made Juice even more intrigued.
Explaining their laws, rules, and ways of a MC could be tiring. He had a feeling he didn't have to explain to Jinx. She seemed intelligent enough. Reading Victorian poetry in the middle of a bar, speaking as if she knew what a prospect was. She definitely wasn't a Croweater.
Jinx tops off her drink, placing down the now empty cocktail glass down gently. Juice sat up straight, turning to the bartender. "Another - whatever she was having."
Jinx raised her head, looking at Juice. Smiling.
"Sex on the Beach," she tells the young bartender. Now at Juice, "You don't have to, Juan Carlos. I'm highly capable of buying my own drinks."
Juice shrugged, twisted his mouth to the side, and says, "I was hoping me buying you a drink would at least give me your name."
"Smart, but no. I'm not easily manipulated." She grinned as the bartender placed the freshly made drink down before her. Jinx picked up the drink, raising it in a small 'cheers' like motion, and took a big gulp. Nearly swallowing down all of her drink without much of an hassle.
Juice nods his head, taking a swig at his own drink.
Silence followed. The two young adults sat side-by-side. Having nothing else to say between the awkward space. Ever so often, Juice would look at Jinx. Trying to figure her out. She's friendly there's no doubt about that. Giving him the time of day when most women like her, classy women, just rolled their eyes in disgust and walked away.
However, he felt as if she was giving him mixed messages. Like her kindness was just her way of getting him away quick.
"Let's get out of here, Juan."
Jinx spoke while sliding off of the barstool, her heels clapped the floorboard when she made contact. Juice perked up, surprised. They look at one another, gaze melding together. She grabs her things, holding out her free hand with that goddess like smile.
Juice couldn't help but to smile so wide, his cheeks began to hurt. He pays for their tab and stepped down, taking her hands into his.
"GO JUICY!" Chibs shouted as the two start for the exit.
"I can't believe he did it," Tig leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.
Chibs let out a hearty guffaw, wrapping an arm around Tig's neck. "Don't be jealous, Tig. I've got you." Chibs jabbed his finger at a very overweight middle aged woman sitting at the bar. Who wore baggy clothes and hair sat in a messy ponytail. Tig fights Chib from off of him, clearly upset with the choice.
Outside of the bar, Juice guides Jinx to three bikes parked just at the side of the building. They stop in front of his bike, he reaches for his skull cap helmet. Handing it to her. Jinx takes it with a small thank you, placing it onto her head.
Before Juice could mount onto his bike, Jinx reaches out for the lapel of his vest again. Pulling him into a kiss. Their lips collide hard against one another, the smell of mint from Jinx's breath tickled his nostrils. Her lips soft just as he'd imagined them to be. They clumsily back into the building. Lips smothering one another like their life depended on this kiss. Jinx is the first to pull away, giving him a playful grin.
"What was that for?" Juice spoke breathlessly. As if her kiss took away the oxygen from out of his lungs.
Jinx pinched his nose one more time stepping back, "Kind of an apology for this." Balling up her fist, Jinx swung at his jawline. Surprisingly, doing more damage than what it seemed she couldn't do. Juice felt the pain of her punch right away. Falling back onto the brick wall.
The mysterious woman dug into her purse, pulling out handcuffs. Locking one cuff around his wrist and the other around a pole.
Cupping his jaw with wide eyes, he looked up at Jinx with shock.
"I like you Juan, but I have things to do. Your drunk friends would have been easier to handle, but for some reason you decided to come up to me. Kinda disappointed," Jinx explained while going through his pockets. Pulling out his keys.
"What?" Juice stammered, breathing hard.
Jinx stood, hovering over him. "I just wanted your keys," she holds them out, giving them a jiggle. "Thanks for the drink. We should do it again sometime."
With a wink, Jinx spun around and struts to his motorcycle. She fixes the straps of the helmet and mounts onto his bike. Placing her items into the pouch attached to the back of the smooth ride. Pushing the key into the ignition, flipping it on. The Engine roar to life loudly. Juice tugged at the cuffs keeping him in place, kicking the random pole with desperation.
"Hey! Wait! Jinx!" He shouts over the engine.
"Tell Clay I said hi." With that, she pulls out of the parking lot and starts for the Main Street. Leaving a distraught man alone.
All Juice could do was stand there, thinking how heels were bad for riding, how'd she know Clay, and how'd he let a small woman like that take his damn bike.
[ a/n ]
Did my best to edit what I felt was wrong out. If I for some reason missed an error, please let me know.
Feedback is appreciated!
Criticism ( negative or positive ) is allowed, just don't go too far with the negativity.
Thank you for reading the first chapter.
See you all next week!