Two girls gone, one more found dead in her apartment... girls are dropping like flies in Charming. Samcro has a problem on its hands, and it's not just because all signs point to one of their own as the perpetrator. Because the new girl in town is o...
"Oh man, the clubhouse is gonna be poppin' tonight!" Camille bounced from the van's front seat, rocking back and forth to the music blasting from the speakers, and lip-syncing along with the song, "Day to night to morning, keep with me in the moment. I'd let you had I known it, why don't you say so?"
The poor prospect sitting behind the wheel blew out an exasperated sigh, clearly already done with the music selections in this truck for the evening - but he still had three more stops to make before they could head to the clubhouse, if the handwritten list taped on his dash was any indication.
Grace and Luna had actually been the first ones picked up, probably because they technically lived the furthest away from the clubhouse - which, incidentally, probably also meant they'd be the last to be dropped off at the end of the night. The prospect, a baby-faced, curly-haired kid who introduced himself as Kip, had picked up Camille next, and apparently, as the van rolled to a stop in front of a non-descript apartment building, their next pick-up was Camille's older sister.
Clad in a faded jean skirt that just barely skimmed her ass cheeks and a skintight Harley Davidson tank top that was so thin she might as well have not been wearing it at all, Ima closed the door to her building behind her and strutted down the narrow sideway like it was a catwalk. She slid the door open, tossing some long blonde curls over her shoulder as she prepped herself to climb inside the van - and then she froze for just a second when her gaze dropped on Grace, who was seated right in the center of the middle seat, with Luna closest to the opposite side window.
Now, there were three empty spots behind them in the furthest bench in the van. But Ima lifted her chin and opted to slide into the middle seat, landing on the seat to Grace's right. Her eyes flicked up and down, starting at the same black strappy chunky heels Grace had worn earlier that day at the studio, and then drifted up to the black skinny jeans that were messily ripped at the knees before finally stopping right on the black T-shirt, crewneck and all. Ima's eyes narrowed just a touch, like it was right on the tip of her tongue to call Grace out for showing the least amount of skin as possible in a place like an outlaw biker clubhouse.
Instead, she sneered, "What are you wearing?"
"What?" Grace just shrugged.
"We're going to the clubhouse, not a fucking book reading."
Well, this was not the type of outfit she'd wear to a fucking book reading, if that was a thing Grace would ever actually do, but it was intended to be as non-threatening and non-flashy as possible. Attracting the least amount of attention tonight was the goal - and blending in with an all-black outfit seemed like a good start. Besides, this was exactly what she'd worn the first time she went with Dani and Joey to the Long Beach clubhouse. She'd blended in just fine there, tiptoeing around and narrowly sidestepping around the stripper pole and the semi-orgy on the pool table that went down about ten minutes before Grace excused herself for the evening.
Now, she glanced down at the vintage T-shirt she'd knotted in the front, proudly displaying the goddess herself in all her Bella Donna, hawk-wielding glory and just a hint of midriff. "What's wrong with Stevie Nicks?"
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