Living with the Club

Sovereign

"Juan, you literally told me two nights ago that we would talk about when we're getting married AND when we were getting out of Charming. And a week before that. You keep putting club shit before me."
"Fuck, Veronica. Not everything is about you."
"Fuck, Juan. Sorry I'm not your world like I used to be. Sorry I'm a fucking nag. Sorry I don't fucking want you to be involved with that damn club anymore. Sorry if I'm just fucking done."
"You are so dramatic. I told you we'd get to talking about it and we will, but you can't fricking bombard me as soon as i walk in the door."
"I didn't bombard you as soon as you walked into the door. If you could recall, I was doing dishes and I let you be for a good half hour, waiting for you to bring it up. But you didn't."
"I had a long day, okay--"
"A long day, fucking around with guns and drugs."
"This is the one place I thought I could get peace and quiet, but you just don't want to shut up, do you?"
"Fuck you."
He said nothing, grabbing his keys and walked out.
"Look more passive aggression! This is fucking healthy. I just want to fucking talk to you," Veronica follows him out the door.
"When you are calm and collected...that's when we'll talk," he said, fastening his helmet and driving off.
she scoffed, agitated.

Juice walked into the clubhouse and was bombarded with more stuff.
"Niners torched the truck. Everybody's all right, but cops will get the blow," Rick tells Juice.
Juice waves him off, walking toward his dorm, "Wake me if shit gets real."
With that he threw himself on the bed and dreamed of a better life with Veronica after the club. He dreamed his brother was there along with him, unharmed by the club, but he imagined that was too good to be true.
Rick wakes up Juice, "heading to Clay's. Let's go."
"What time is it?"
"Ten in the morning."
"I'm so tired."
He reluctantly got out of bed and slid on some fresh clothes before following Rick to Clay's new place.
He hadn't talked much to Clay since he stepped down from his seat because he knew Clay must have got himself into deep shit and Jax must have found out. Jax was a better fit, it was good he took the reigns from Clay when he did, otherwise who knew where they'd be.
"Who's he on the phone with?" Tig asks, walking in and seeing three of his brother's lounging around.
"Gaalan. Heard about the niners attack," Juice tells him.
"How's he doing?" Tig asks.
"Moving slowly, but...seems okay. Misses her," Rick tells him, referring to Gem.
Clay hangs up and Rick and Chibs walk toward him.
"How'd that go?" Chibs asks.
"Not good," Clay responds.
"Did you, uh, tell him the attack on the truck was because of me, had nothing to do with the guns?" Tig asks, laying blame on himself.
"Doesn't matter. The Irish are hanging onto this cartel deal by a thin red hair. On more snafu, they bail."
"All right. We got church this afternoon. We take it to Jax," Juice says.
"Yeah," Clay agrees.
"Hey, you need a lift to Piney's memorial?" Tig asks Clay.
"I think I'll, uh...sit this one out."
"He was first nine."
"Yeah, I'm aware," Clay says.
Juice finally stands, watching Clay walk out of the room with no more explanation.
Tig tries to follow him, but Rick stops him, "hey, I don't think he's ready to deal with that kind of shit."

"Where's Jax? I hear he's your new president," Roosevelt asks, approaching the picnic tables by the clubhouse.
"He's not here. What do you want?" Juice asks, sitting on a picnic table with his back to him, surrounded by Rick, Chibs, Hap, and Tig.
"Are you guys aware of the violence that's happening in Charming?" Roosevelt asks, causing Juice to spin around, "two home invasions in less than a week."
"Contrary to popular belief, we can read," Juice comments.
"Why you think we had something to do with it?" Tigs asks, on the defense.
"Three weeks ago, an unidentified man ran down Veronica Pope in what we can assume was an attempt to hit Laroy Wayne. No witnesses came forward yet, but...some folks are saying they saw the one-niners chasing after a group of guys on motorcycles."
"Really?"
"The first home invasion was Lynette Brice, one of your crow eaters. 2:30 in the morning, Wade Steiner was attacked in his own kitchen. He's a mechanic here at the TM. Do you, uh, see the pattern here?"
Juice shakes his head, seeming uninterested in Roosevelt's words.
"If these home invasions are retaliation by Pope or the niners--"
"We ain't heard of any beefs, man," Tig cuts him off.
"No?"
"No."
"Hm. Then who would attack your auto parts truck outside of Modesto last night?"
"Angry pirates?" Happy says, his face straight, no humor in his tone of voice.
"I don't give a shit if Pope blows every goddamn truck of yours, but not in my quadrant," Roosevelt gives Hap a hard gaze, "one innocent gets hurt, and I make Pope look like an alter boy, you understand?"
"I see what you did there. I love Catholic jokes," Juice smiles at Rick.
"You know, remember those two nuns?" Rick says.
"Yeah."
"They walk into a dyke bar..." Tig trails off seeing a TM truck pull in containing Bobby.
"Bobby!" Juice calls and all the guys except Rick engulf the car.
"Munson's free. RICO'S dead. I guess you're free and clear, too, huh?" Roosevelt asks Rick as he slips on his cut and walks toward the TM truck with Rick beside him.
Rick doesn't reply.
"Don't worry. I'm not gonna out you. But...this Pope thing spills over into Charming, I expect you to tell me. Good faith gesture," Roosevelt says before turning and walking toward his police cruiser.