What If- (Jax Teller/OC Fanfic) ⚠️ON HIATUS ⚠️

Chapter 8:

*Jax*

-Next Day-

We already knew Ethan Zobelle was chairman of the League of American Nationalists. Now we needed to know what the actual business he had in Charming was, other than his cigar shop Impeccable Smokes - which was clearly a front. Once we gained more intel on Zobelle, we learned he owned five cigar shops, he's a Deacon at his church, and a widower with one kid.

The thing that caught our attention was where the last place L.O.A.N put down roots. They were in San Bernardino, where, coincidentally, War Boys MC had crumbled six months later after they attacked Zobelle's cigar shop. The entire crew was behind bars for aggravated assault. War Boys dealt with guns, and Zobelle and his group didn't like it. So, judging by how hard Zobelle came at us for dealing guns to color; it was clear he and his gang wanted to force SAMCRO out of Charming. They intentionally provoked us in the hope that we would retaliate so that they could gain a legitimate foothold in town. Little did he know Unser was on our payroll, and we don't believe Deputy Hale would be team white power. L.O.A.N was simply another obstacle that we'd rip to bloody shreds in due time. They were in for a surprise once they realized SAMCRO isn't afraid of them.

However, Zobelle was the least of our concerns, because we had another problem arise earlier today. Kip and Opie spotted one of Darby's guys dealing crank while working a repossession job. Since Darby's Lodi cook shops were shut down, we figured maybe he went mobile. Clay didn't care who was behind it. He wanted the meth labs found today. We don't let shit fly around here, and Darby knows that.

We were in the process of discussing the situation when Andy and my mom stepped into the garage. "Ima called. Miss double penetration is ready for ya." mom said, placing a hand on her hip. Making eye contact with a displeased Andy, I cast her a soft, reassuring smile, only to watch her roll those beautiful blue eyes before marching back into the clubhouse. My mom threw me a displeased glare before following after her.

Sighing, my head falls towards my lap in defeat, wishing Andy would realize I only wanted her. She doesn't need to worry about anything happening between me and Ima. At this point, Ima is basically community pussy, I mean she literally fucks for a living. Might need to add crow-eater to the list with how she makes her way around the clubhouse too. So why would I want Ima - knowing she fucks everyone - when I can have Andy, knowing I'm the only guy she's fucking with?

The sound of the garage bay door opening brings me back to reality, and I look to my brothers, nodding slightly. "I'll be right back." I say as I push away from the table. "Gotta give her a safe ride." I state, turning to leave, only to hear Clay speak up from behind me.

"Yeah, a producer's work is never done." He says pettiness is evident in his tone. From day one, he hasn't bothered to hide his disdain for partnering with Cara Cara, and he can say that earning money through pussy makes his skin crawl all he wants, but I know it's only because it was my idea. Had he been clever enough to think of it, he'd be all for the partnership.

Biting my tongue to keep my anger at bay, I turned to face him to notice he was looking to the floor. I couldn't see the expression on his face, but I saw him watching me from the top of his sunglasses as I moved closer to the table. "You should've given me a heads-up about Bobby taking over Luann's books." I seethed, the anger finally coming forward ever so slightly. Clay looks up from the floor, studying me behind his sunglasses, his eyebrows arched. "I brought this to the club. It's my action." I stated matter-of-factly, pointing a thumb to my chest.

Clay slammed his hands down on the table, which indicated I had hit a nerve. "Bobby needs it! He did two months inside for us." his voice rises slightly as he pushes a piece of paper off the table and points his index finger at me before leaning back in his chair. "Maybe it's time you started thinking about something other than yourself."