A Different Kind of Charming

Prologue

Issa Trager loves a good prank.

Which explains why she's balancing on her father's work bench at this very moment. Opie is reluctantly serving as her lookout while she tucks away a vintage doll behind Tig's toolbox. She found it at a flea market when her and her business partner Lyla went in search of tables for their new cake tasting room. Issa can admit that even she finds the doll creepy and she chuckles to herself. Because it is going to scare the ever loving shit out of her father.

"He's coming out of the clubhouse," Opie hisses at her.

She scrambles down, putting her shoulder length mane of black curls into a high ponytail. Jax always says he can spot her a mile away because she's the only woman in Charming with such thick, natural waves. It's also probably because there are only a small number of people that look remotely like her in Charming.

The town is not particularly known for its racial diversity.

Issa lovingly refers to herself as a California cultural stew - a combination of three cultures rolled into one. Before her mother, Marisa Santiago, succumbed to cancer, she made Tig promise Issa would know all of who she is - Black, Mexican and White. And he stuck by it, having Issa live with his in-laws during the school year, learning about both her Mexican and Black heritage, while immersing her in the life of SAMCRO on her Summer breaks.

And Issa is better for it. She is grounded, smart as a whip and not afraid to put someone in their place. Or put a doll in Tig Trager's work space.

Opie, always her not so willing accomplice, moved a car earlier to give Issa a good hiding place to watch her father's psychological trauma come to life. She is crouched behind it now, waiting for the inevitable scream.

It doesn't take long.

"Motherfucking assballs son of a bitch!" is followed closely by loud clanging.

"Isabelle Marisol Trager, get your ass in here!" Tig screams.

"Ooohhh he full government named you," Opie stage whispers to her.

Badly.

Her big lug of a best friend does not have an inside voice.

Issa frantically makes a shushing motion, not wanting Stretch McGee to give away her hiding spot. Unfortunately, her ex-Marine dad has eagle eyes and Opie has no idea what subtly means. Before she knows it, said creepy doll is being hurled at her.

Tig rounds the side of the car, all wild curls and righteous indignation.

"That was NOT funny! How the fuck did you even get here? Shelby's not in the lot."

Shelby is Issa's pride and joy - a fully restored, jet black 1966 Shelby GT350. Tig found it not too long after Marisa died. Grief stricken, he poured his pain into restoring the car Marisa always wanted. When Issa turned 16, he handed over the keys and for her, it was love at first sight.

"Caught a ride with Jax. He's in JT's office going over the final schedule for the bike festival."

The bike festival being the annual Charming-Redwood Original Motorcycle Rally. Everyone else calls it a rally. Issa, because she is an absolute shit, insists on calling it a bike festival.

And right on cue, both Opie and Tig squawk in indignation, "It's a motorcycle rally not a bike festival!"

Issa waves a dismissive hand in the air. "Semantics. There's funnel cake at these things. It's a festival. Get over it."

Even though she loves to joke about it, the rally is one of her favorite times of year. SAMCRO and the town of Charming work together to put it on every April. It's a weekend long affair, culminating in a big bash for Jax's birthday. SAMCRO Custom Choppers is the leading custom bike shop on the west coast and the rally is their biggest marketing event.

Or as close to a marketing event as a bunch of ex-outlaw bikers will ever get.

As the shop's managing director, a lot of the logistics fall on Jax Teller's shoulders. John Teller helps when needed but once Jax took over that arm of the SAMCRO business, his father happily stepped away from all rally duties.

"You're a goddamn menace," Tig points at his only daughter. "I could have had a heart attack and dropped dead because of that demon spawn!"

Tig is gesturing wildly at the vacant eyed (and quite honestly terrifying) doll now laying at Issa's feet. Which only makes her laugh harder.

"Payback for sending that batshit insane woman to my bakery last week. She is STILL trying to get me to cancel someone else's wedding cake order so I can make hers."

Said customer had come into Teller-Winston Motors for a tune up and gone on to drive Tig, Opie and even Donna to contemplate how hard it would be to get blood stains out of the parking lot.

"Even if we weren't booked solid that weekend, I am not making a giant replica of her out of cake."

"Aww baby. Are you mad you didn't think about doing the same thing for our wedding?"

Jax comes up behind his wife, trademark smirk in place. He slips his arm around her waist, not even acknowledging his best friend or father-in-law. His eyes automatically travel to the small peak of cleavage visible over Issa's white tank top.

"Eyes up here, buster," she teases him, using her fingers to move his face up to meet her eyes.

Jax lets his hand wander down to the top of her ass as he leans in for a kiss.

Issa loves kissing Jax. It's all consuming - from the way he moves his lips against hers to the feel of his hands as they inevitably move to cup her face. He kisses her with his whole being, lighting her up from the inside and turning her into a puddle of need and aching want. She's just about ready to push him against the nearest flat surface and ride him like a Brahma bull when her father's loud cough finally registers in her lust addled brain.

"How about you not maul my daughter right in front of me, asshole."

Issa feels Jax smile against her lips as he slowly moves away from her. But his hand stays firmly on her ass.

"It's kind of half your fault she's so fucking hot," Jax shrugs, not an ounce of shame in his voice. "Speaking of which, you may wanna wipe down your work bench a bit before you use it."

Both Tig and Opie scrunch up their noses while Issa lets out a mortified squeak.

Jax, however, looks like the cat that ate the whole damn bowl of cream. Which, in a way, he kind of did. Last night. Right where her father is currently leaning against his work bench.

"I don't need this..." Tig mutters as he stalks towards the office.

TWM has six locations throughout San Joaquin County. Tig and Opie manage the garages while Opie's wife Donna handles the business side of things. It was the very first business John and Gemma worked to turn legit after the club lost so many brothers during the war with the Mayans in the early 90s, including John's close friend Clay Morrow. Not soon after came SAMCRO Custom Choppers, a venture that took off even beyond their wildest expectations.

Now the SAMCRO family includes tattoo parlors up and down the west coast, the high end porn studio Redwoody and Redwood Originals, a line of craft beers and whiskies. Led by the Teller and Winston families, SAMCRO managed to turn itself around, going from outlaws barely surviving to one of the largest employers in Northern California's Central Valley.

To all the members and their family, the Charming-Redwood Original Motorcycle Rally means more than a weekend of choppers, parties and fun. It's a reminder of how far they have come and how lucky they all are to still be alive. The importance and meaning of the rally is not lost on Issa. She could have ended up an orphan had the club not turned itself around and removed her father from an almost guaranteed bloody death. But she's here, surrounded by her family and the man of her dreams. Life, she thinks to herself, can't get any better.

So of course fate has to prove her wrong and kick her in the teeth.

Hard.