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Come With Me Tonight	By : copperleaves Category: S through Z > Sons of Anarchy Views: 2633 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Sons of Anarchy, and I'm sure as hell not making any money off of this. I do own Olivia Gable and any characters associated with her history.

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pretty little dirtmouth, can't you see we're talking?

all i'm doing is trying to get by

the road is getting narrow

i'm flying through the arrows

your sentences are sparrows flying through the sky

Bob Schneider, "Dirtmouth"
The sleek black car—a 1970 Plymouth Cougar—rumbled into the lot, and the sweet sound of its purring engine lured both Chibs and Juice from the garage and Tig and Happy from their spot at the picnic table. The car pulled into a parking spot and the muted roar went silent as the driver cut the ignition. The men met in the middle of the lot and waited.
Juice hung back from the others, his eyes wide and his body rigid. He knew that car. It couldn't be her, though. That would be crazy. He hadn't stopped thinking about her since the other night, and part of him had hoped they'd run into each other around town; he hadn't really expected her to just come roaring into TM. But she'd said she was a mechanic…and was in town for a job…and how many 1970 Cougars could there be in the San Joaquin County area? He caught sight of the plates and swallowed. New Mexico.
Fuck.
"Ten bucks says it's a lost college shit head who doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground," Tig said.
"I'll take that action," Happy said.
"Mid-life crisis," Juice said. He tried to keep his voice level, but if it wavered no one seemed to notice.
"Nah, then it'd be red."
"That's not a requirement, Tig, it's just the cliché."
"Clichés are clichés for a reason, Juicy," Chibs said.
The driver's side door opened and a leg appeared. Then another. "Well, lads, looks like you were all wrong." Chibs cast a grin over his shoulder and strolled toward the car and the young woman who now stood beside it.
She locked the door and walked out to meet him, her gait easy and confident. She was a little thing for such a powerful car, he thought: she had to be almost a foot shorter than he. Her hair glinted coppery in the sun, and she had it braided into a sort of crown around the top of her head. She had on black slacks, a white button-down blouse, and a black leather jacket tailored to fit her curvy frame.
"Hey, darlin'," he said in his warmest voice. "You need someone to take a look at that car?"
She slid her sunglasses off and regarded him with cool green eyes. "No, my car's fine. Thanks, though." She carried a legal-style folder in one hand and tapped it against her leg. "You wouldn't know where I can find Gemma Teller, would you?"
"She's in the office," Tig said as he and the others joined them. "I'll show you."
Her mouth quirked. "I think I can find it." She peered around them and her smile deepened. A dimple flashed in her chin. "There's a sign and everything. Thanks for the help, boys." She started toward the building, but Juice's voice stopped her.
"Sure you don't need somebody to check out the car?"
Her stride hitched just a bit, but her face was impassive as she turned to study him. He felt that look down to his bones, and he shivered with it. She glanced back at the car, then at Juice. Held up her keys. He raised his hands and she tossed them to him.
"Check it out all you want," she said, "just don't ooo and ahhh too much. It'll go straight to his head." She threw a grin over her shoulder as she sauntered toward the office, the heels of her sleek black boots clicking smartly against the pavement as she went.
Tig let out a low whistle as they watched her go. "Shit, man. Nothin' like a curvy little redhead in a sexy car to get the blood flowin'. What?" he said in response to their expressions. "You were all thinkin' it, so don't fuckin' judge me."
Juice let out the breath he'd been holding and spun her keychain around on one finger. Jesus. She'd looked at him like he was a stranger. Had she known the other night that they would be seeing each other again so soon? She hadn't seemed surprised to see him. Maybe that had been his imagination, though. Maybe she'd been as shocked to see him as he had been to see her. Maybe she was just a really good actress.
Chibs took advantage of his distraction to grab the keys and toss them in the air with one hand to catch them with the other. "Let's see what she's got under the hood, eh, boys?"

Olivia tried to ignore the frantic pound of her heart as she paused for a moment at the office door and cast a look behind her. The guys who'd met her in the parking lot were huddled around her car. Good. That would keep them busy and away from her. Not that she was worried. Not exactly. All of them except the Scottish one were wearing cuts that identified them as prospects or members of the MC, and she knew they wouldn't actually mess with her.
She just had an aversion to large men in groups. Of course at her height nearly every man was large to her, but those guys had been big. And keen on more than just her car.
She made a very specific point not to think about Juice. His blank face. The odd tone to his voice. Hopefully she could put off any sort of one-on-one with him for a while. She had no interest in answering any questions—mostly because, despite her best efforts, she hadn't been able to stop thinking about him, or to stop feeling a tiny bit guilty about not telling him the whole truth.
She realized she'd been standing at the door long enough for it to become awkward. She smoothed a hand down the fine wool of her slacks and knocked. A voice—a woman's voice, she thought with relief—bid her enter, and she stepped inside.
The woman sat behind a desk. She had black reading glasses perched on her nose and looked to be somewhere in her mid-fifties, but she had aged extremely well. Her hair was dark, but streaked white-blond through the top, like Rogue from The X-Men. Olivia had always liked Rogue.
Olivia cleared her throat and smiled a little. "Hi," she said. "I'm Olivia Gable. Pete Avett sent me about the open mechanic position. Are you Gemma?"
Gemma Teller-Morrow—for surely that's who she was—eyed her over the top of her glasses. Took them off and dropped them on the desk. Sat back with a long, complex sigh. "Yeah, I'm Gemma," she said. "You're Pete's ace mechanic? The one he claims can fix anything with an engine?" A pause. "He didn't say you were so small."
She lifted a brow and stepped closer to the desk. "Compared to Big Pete I'm kind of average sized."
Pete Avett was five foot five if he was an inch, but he carried it well, and somehow he'd avoided the seemingly inevitable Napoleon complex. Olivia guessed it had something to do with the ironic joy he took in a nickname he'd had since before he could walk. The layer of easygoing affability that disguised a shrewd judge of character and a ruthless business sense had helped him ascend to president of the Las Cruces Sons charter. It was his good word that had gotten her this interview. It was his intervention that had (hopefully) gotten her the protection she sought in Charming. Now her only obstacle was Gemma, and Olivia knew she could blow this whole thing with one wrong word.
She tore her thoughts back to the present and slid the folder across the desk with a wry smile. "I don't want to put words in his mouth, but if that's what he said…sure."
"This your resumé?" Gemma said as she tapped the folder with a black-tipped finger. She sounded bored.
"Sort of," Olivia said. "Not exactly. More like…references."
Gemma sat back in her chair and eyed Olivia up and down. It was an acute, penetrating study, and Olivia had no illusions about her ability to hide much of anything from this woman. Gemma Teller saw through bullshit like a pane of glass. Big Pete had warned her, but it didn't matter: anyone with half a brain could see that much in one glance. Olivia squared her shoulders and met the other woman's gaze without flinching. Finally Gemma slid the glasses on again and flipped the folder open.
"That's my car," Olivia said. "Or was my car. If you go to the end you can see what it looks like now."
Gemma studied the pictures with a frown. It was a long time before she said anything at all, but eventually: "You did all this? Yourself?"
Olivia shrugged a shoulder. She recognized Gemma's tone no matter how hard she tried to sound neutral—grudging, growing, slightly disbelieving respect. It put her more at ease. "In my spare time, yeah. I'm surprised Pete said such nice things, actually; he was pretty pissed when I wouldn't sell it to him."
Gemma scoffed and slid the folder back toward her. "What the hell would Big Pete do with a car?"
"He wanted it for his old lady."
"That bitch," Gemma said. "I bet he was pissed. She can make anyone's life a living hell."
Olivia dipped her head to hide a smile. "I wasn't gonna say it, but. Yeah. Pretty much."
Gemma took off her glasses again and stood. Smoothed her already impeccable top down over her hips. She walked around the desk and crossed her arms over her chest. "You really want this job?" she said.
"I do," Olivia said. "Pete told you what I can do. Those pictures should've made it clear if he didn't. I work hard. I don't fuck around. I'm on time and I don't flake out. All I ask is that your guys;" she tilted her head toward the parking lot; "leave me alone to do my job."
Gemma made a low noise and her eyes narrowed. "My guys know better than to fuck with the help."
"I'm sure they do. I just like to make sure everyone's on the same page."
Gemma regarded her for a while longer, and just before Olivia gave up and started to squirm, she relented. "I was planning on hiring you anyway, but I wanted to hear what you had to say for yourself." She paused. "I like to make sure everyone's on the same page, too."
It surprised her into a laugh. "Fair enough," she said. "So does this mean I have the job?"
"Be here tomorrow," Gemma said. "Eight o'clock. I'll have someone show you around." Another long, loaded silence. "I'll be sure to talk to my guys in the meantime."
Olivia hesitated. Then, "I guess Big Pete told you about me."
A nod. "Enough. Anything else I can fill in for myself. I guess it wasn't bullshit."
"Pete isn't really known for lying."
"Didn't say he lied."
Olivia's mouth quirked. "It sounds implausible, but it's true. All of it."
"Yeah, I know," she said in a grim voice. "So why Charming?"
"I came for a job." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, toward the garage. "Not easy to find a mechanic gig where getting your tits ogled and your ass grabbed isn't considered par for the course."
"I can't make any promises about your tits. They're men, after all. Ogling is an ingrained reflex." Gemma took a step closer and her expression softened. "But nobody's gonna fuck with you here, Olivia. We take care of our own."
"Even the help?" she said and lifted a brow.
"Sassy little bitch," Gemma said with a twist of her mouth. "I think you're gonna work out just fine."

When she crossed the parking lot this time, Olivia didn't have to fake the confidence in her step. She'd gotten the job. Big Pete had assured her she would, but from what Olivia had heard about Gemma, she hadn't been quite so confident that she would get hired on Pete's word alone. Hence the folder.
She unzipped her jacket with a soft sigh of relief, but then stopped short halfway to her car. The little crowd around it had grown. A blond guy with a young Brad Pitt vibe and a giant Chewbacca type had joined the other guys to peer under the Cougar's hood.
"Fantastic," she muttered. Well. She might as well get used to dealing with them now. They sure as hell weren't going anywhere, and she planned on keeping this job for a while. She took a deep breath and waded in.
"Sorry, boys," she said, "but I gotta take your new toy. Time for Caligula and me to head home."
There were general sounds of disappointment, but Juice let out a sharp bark of laughter that he tried to muffle. "You named your car after a despotic Roman emperor?" he said.
She met his gaze through the crowd, and a brief, wordless exchange passed between them.
You didn't mention that the other night, his eyes said.
You didn't ask, hers replied.
I had other things on my mind. His gaze raked her up and down and she looked away. Her hands were trembling, he saw, and he realized at least some of her swagger was just for show.
"No, actually," she said aloud. "It's just a nickname. Sometimes. When he's acting fussy." She wanted to ask him how the fuck he knew who Caligula was, but she didn't want to insult him. Instead she said, "Most people don't recognize the reference."
He shrugged and grinned. "I spend a lot of time on the internet."
The Scottish one—Chibs was stitched onto his shirt, and she recognized the name from Juice's ill-timed phone call—laughed and smacked him on the back of the head. "Aye, lookin' at porn. Musta been a porno starring your emperor," he said to Olivia.
Her mouth quirked. "Supposedly Caligula slept with all three of his sisters before his own guards assassinated him. One hell of a porno."
The guy who'd offered to show her to the office poked his head around the car hood. "What's this movie called?"
"There's no porno, Tig," Juice said.
The biggest guy lowered the hood and pressed it shut. "You got some real nice custom work in there. Who's your mechanic?"
"I am," she said. She peeked in the driver's side window and smiled. "Oh, good, keys in the ignition. That makes it easy." She reached for the handle, but Chibs got there first and opened it for her.
"You did all that?" the tall guy said.
"Um hum." She opened the folder and pulled out one of the pictures. Handed it across the top of the car with a smile. "Poor guy was a wreck when I got him. Had to basically start from scratch."
"Whoa, whoa," the blond said. His badge read "V. President," and the others seemed to defer to him accordingly. "You rebuilt this car? By yourself?"
"Weellll, I tried asking the car faeries to come and help, but alas. Car faeries are notoriously fickle creatures, and I didn't have a first born to offer them, so I was pretty much on my own."
A couple of them laughed, but Mr. VP just blinked. The patch made it click for her, and his name popped into her head: Jackson Teller. Jax, they called him. Gemma's son and the heir apparent. Pete had made sure to fill her in on that colorful backstory.
"Your problem, lass, was offerin' 'em your first born. The car fae work for nothin' but high octane fuel and spark plugs," Chibs said with a shake of his head.
"That explains it. Silly me." She passed Jackson the folder of pictures. "Keep them," she said. "I'll get them back from you tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" he said. "What's tomorrow?"
"You should ask your mom. She just hired me as your new mechanic." She slid into the car. "Thanks for the chat, boys," she said and shut the door. Started the engine. As she backed out she offered them a little wave and a grin, and none of them looked away until the car was through the gate and out onto the street.
"Huh," Tig said as he paged through the folder he'd taken from Jax. "Well don't that just beat all?"
"Mechanic?" Opie said. "Is one of us fired?"
"Probably Juicy," Chibs said as he looked over Tig's shoulder. "He's better with the computers anyway."
"At least I'm good at somethin' besides standin' around the garage holdin' my dick all day," Juice said.
Chibs held up a finger and peered at Juice over his reading glasses. "I do not hold my dick in the garage. I get one of the lovely ladies to do it for me, and that usually happens in the clubhouse."
"Anybody catch her name?" Jax said.
"It's in the front of the folder." Tig flipped back through the pictures. "Yeah, here it is. Olivia Gable," he read.
"Huh," Chibs said. He glanced up at Juice with shrewd eyes. "Classy name. Doesn't sound like a hooker."
"Why would it sound like a hooker's name?" Opie said. "She just said she's a mechanic. Stop thinkin' with your dick."
"Everybody's obsessed with my dick all of a sudden," Chibs said with a snort.
"Don't listen to 'em, Chibs. I've been obsessed with your dick all along," Tig said.
Chibs waved him off. "I gotta get back to work, unlike you lot. I'm the one who's not fired."
"Remember who loved you first, baby!" Tig called to Chibs' back as he retreated into the garage, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

Reviews/crit con/comments are always welcome, loves. Thanks for reading. :)
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