The Only Female Son (A Sons of Anarchy Fan-Fiction)

Chapter Forty-Seven

{Hello lovelies. A slightly long chapter, but don't worry you get a treat at the end ;) Enjoy!}

CHAPTER FOURTY-SEVEN

"Gemma, I'm supposed to look like the commander of hoes, not the queen of hoes." I told her as I saw another dress that she put over the change room.

I heard her scoff and say as I threw the little black dress back over, "well we've been to how many stores, Rowen. I'm trying to find something for you."

I told her, "something classy and sophisticated. Besides Gemma I don't have your boobs, I can't wear low cut and it'd give the same response if you wore it."

I heard her laugh and answer, "fair enough. But we've tried basically everything."

"Well short I think that short and strapless will make me look to clubish and young." I answered to her through the changeroom door.

"Okay so we're thinking long with strapless or short with sleeves?" she asked.

"Yeah. It's more classy and sophisticated I think." I answered as I sat in the change room bench, "and remember that I have a better ass than I do boobs."

She laughed a little out loud before saying, "alright, I'll see what I can find."

"Gemma, I'll be out in a sec to help you." I answered with a sigh, grabbing my shirt and putting it over my head before getting up to put on my shorts and cut, "it'll probably make things run smoother."

"Alright, I'll be around." I heard her. I quickly fixed my hair in the mirror before going out.

After the club made a plan of our way into the gangster, now all we had to do was pick a time and get ready to visually play the part. Which meant that I needed a dress. I went through my closet, but all I could find were things I'd go to the club in. A different message would come across. And none of Gemma's things fit, not that she had too much for that stuff anymore. And I knew Donna wouldn't have anything. She wasn't the type to wear anything like that. So, that meant shopping and Gemma was more than keen to come with.

I stepped out of the changer and looked around the expensive dress shop. These things were way out of my normal budget, but classy came with a price and I needed to look a part. Besides, I could always wear it again to some other event.

I saw Gemma looking around on the racks, going past dress after dress before I went next to her and went to the next rack. I saw Gemma 'tisk' at something before she said, "you repeat this to anyone I will kill you, but I'm really glad you asked me to come. I never had daughters, never really wanted any, but raising Jax I sometimes wished that I could go dress shopping with a girl. I never got to help with a prom dress or even graduation dresses, Jax and his father did that and I just smiled and sat back. I don't want daughters, too much hassle and if she was too much like me I don't know if we would have a good relationship. That's what happened with me and my mother. Not to mention but the drama teenage girls can get into is too much for me to handle. Plus, a guy in this life can make it...a girl can't. But sometimes seeing Jax and John get close, sometimes I wished that I could have a girl to spoil, go shopping like this."

I looked over at her, but she wasn't looking at me. She was looking at the dresses still. I gave her a small smile and looked back. I could tell that she didn't want to admit this but she did anyway and I felt a little honoured. I wouldn't say anything though, make her regret sharing. Gemma tolerated me at first and like with everyone else I had to earn my place with her. Even for just being a mechanic. And we warmed up to each other. And to be honest, I think she liked having someone around that wasn't a propane tank of testosterone or someone who had cum constantly dripping down some part of their body. She may say she hates girls, but she hated the drama, how catty they could be, but she liked conversations. She didn't know what to think of me, someone who wanted to work on cars and wasn't doing it to get into someone's pants or show off but to actually do their job. I was someone around who's end goal wasn't to sleep with a Son, especially hers. Or her Old Man.