SINNERS, SAINTS & FOOLS.

Wyatt had been on the scene when the prospect was declared dead and the rest of the Club disseminated. The death would not fall back on the Club, it would inevitably end up on the Aztec's front door. However, Wyatt knew better than to think that there wouldn't be Hell to pay for the slain prospect-- it was just a matter of time. He could still hear the mother wailing beside the coffin of her son, Wyatt doing his best to avoid any and all eye contact before shuffling away from the crowd. He didn't belong there, he belonged at the Sheriff's office solving the case. But then again, did he really belong there either?

He'd helped Andy out while in prison, ensuring visitors were free to meet and passing along messages when they couldn't. However, there's still an awkwardness of Andy not showing up in an orange jumpsuit and hands cuffed, meanwhile, Wyatt is out of his uniform, finding himself in jeans and a black t-shirt instead. It's a new era for them, starting off with a bang. "You look better out of the orange, man. And now you're a fashion icon in your cut. It's a new you," he snickers. "I hear you have something for me?" he asks. Wyatt's not one to push but if Andy's willing to give information so he can bring home a win to the Sheriff's department and the Club by putting away an Aztec idiot, that's damn sure what he's going to do.

But now, they stood as two “civilians”, no longer having to communicate in coded language and eye contact. Eyes narrow as Wyatt speaks, already annoyed by their conversation as soon as it began. “Yeah, black is more my color.” The sarcasm is evident in his tone, eyes rolling as he takes another inhale of his cigarette. Given that they’re standing at the clubhouse, he doesn’t bother skirting around his answer. “I need you to kill anythin’ comin’ up about Scott.” Andy answers, giving Wyatt a serious look. “It’s club business, we’ll handle it.” Eye for an eye, of course. But the kid didn’t need to know the details. “We’ll keep it quiet, as long as you keep SJP off our asses.”  

who: @dcathbecame

Rhett sat in the familiar kitchen watching his uncle move back and forth. "Do you need any help?" He asked while he twiddled a pen in his hand. There was a lot of lingering anxiety after what happened at Rhea's party. Talking about it seemed weird without any real question to ask or anything to add to the conversation. The speculations were just causing more harm than good. Instead he was more focused on listening closer to the conversations going on around him and gathering information. Rhett was convinced someone among their ranks tipped these assholes off. Maybe even paid them to take out one of his uncles, well, step-father or uncle. "I think Maddie is going to ace her SATs." He said to talk about something a little more light hearted, maybe get out of his own head for a second. "Ivy league bound, for certain."

So she can't help the bitterness that comes through her tone when she talks to him these days — can't hold back the frosty exterior she presents when she's around him. Reina's never exactly been a warm person to begin with, but Andy's certainly been feeling her bite more than anyone else lately. "If you'd like to explain to your mother why a brawl broke out at her birthday party, be my fucking guest," she continues, and she's got half a mind to add that he doesn't really have room for error here in terms of getting involved in a fight, but for once Reina keeps her comment to herself. "Otherwise, I've got anything having to do with a situation like that handled."

"Didn't seem like just beratin' and emasculatin' him was going to do the job." Andy points out with a shrug, both knowing it's the truth. Reina is someone held in high regard being that she's the President's Old Lady, and the Vice President patch on Andy's cut pulls a certain respect, but after one too many drinks -- Anyone feels bold enough to go toe to toe with them. The drunk man sitting on the curb outside of the parking lot was an example of that. "Gettin' rid of that idiot is helping keep the peace." Eyes roll as he speaks, wishing he had a beer in his hands. Even a cigarette would do. The party had gone off without a hitch -- Thanks to Reina and Rowan, with Andy and the rest of the boys finishing whatever tasks the two women dealt. "So you can go ahead and take the stick outta your ass, and just enjoy the party."

The prospect's death was a light fee for what could've happened. They looked weak allowing another Club in their town, in their clubhouse and the Aztecs hadn't even lost one of their own. It was downright pathetic. Cronus must be rolling over in his fucking grave somewhere around this graveyard knowing the Aztecs hadn't paid the price. "Get your fuckin' panties out of your ass," he tells Andy, pulling out his own cigarette from the pack and lighting up beside him. Seth and Andy had known each other for over half of their lives, their tiffs were always a given but like it or not, their eventual pattern of moving on would follow too. "'S fucked up that it's been this long and nothing's being done and you fuckin' know it."

“Fuck off,” His annoyance is clear, eyes rolling as he takes another inhale of his cigarette. It wasn’t uncommon for Andy and Seth to buttheads on club matters, though they always eventually found some kind of middle ground.  He appreciated the man’s devotion to the club, but his short fuse was something Andy had a feeling would catch up to them eventually. Pushing smoke from his lips, he spares a glance back at Scott’s mother, still inconsolable after they buried her son. “Of course I fuckin’ know it,” he points out, shaking his head. “This ain’t the time or fuckin’ place, man. Prospect’s body’s not even cold.” Andy points out, shaking head. “We decide this shit as a club, not just you showin’ up with an AR 15.” 

Andy was young when he became a dad, much younger than Wes. "You did get a head start. But still, you're a good one, man." He didn't abandon his kids. Andy was a good dad. "Hey, he'll get there. Benny loves you, dude." He wasn't good at reassuring, though he did try. "Benny's just gotta get used to it is all. It's hard for change when it comes to kids." He knew he knew that, but it might've been nice to hear it from someone else. It had been a few months, sure, but it was still a life change for Benny. "Benny's got some of your best traits, you know that?"

He’s comforted by Wes’s insistence, though it doesn’t ease his anxiety as he watches their sons play together. Andy can see Benny is trying to get used to having his dad back around, after having only known him from behind a glass. For a majority of Benny’s life, he’d been the man they went to visit once a week. “Here’s hopin’.” Andy answers simply, hoping Wes is right. At the mention of change being difficult for kids, he can’t help the scoff that passes his lips. “Jury’s still out on Maddie.” It pained him to see the way his daughter had slipped through his fingers, having quite literally sat back and watched their relationship fall apart over the years. A small smile finds him as Wes continues, eyes rolling as he speaks. “You start sayin’ my kid got my big head and I’m gonna kick your ass.” Andy teases, trying not to be overwhelmed by the sentiment.  

"I'm sure she's gonna forget about it after a little while. There are so many people she knows from back in the day, AJ's gonna be the last thing on her mind." She nods to her mother in law now, sipping on a beer and sitting in a lawn chair exchanging stories with a founding club member Rowan's only met a handful of times. "I think it's gonna be your mom pickin' the fight, babe." She corrects him with a raise of her brow. No one in their right mind would try to take on a seventy-seven year old woman, especially Rhea Thane and especially at her own birthday party with her family around. She softens at Andy's next words, leaning a little further into his side. "Feels weird?" She asks, unsure if that was the word he was looking for, but it seemed fitting to her. "Or maybe surreal." They had been waiting so long for this, it was strange for it to finally be happening — but not in a bad way, of course. "Everyone's glad to have you here," she reassures him, giving a gentle squeeze. "Me especially, obviously."

"You're right," he answers simply, two words he's said to Rowan more times than he can count. It's not just for flattery -- More often than not, she hits the nail on the head. "M'pretty sure Paul's gonna have her goin' on about the Glory Days for the rest of the night," Andy can't help the small laugh that comes with it, most stories involving mentions of him as a toddler. The conversation shifts as Rowan leans in closer, he instinctively pulls her just that bit closer. He wrinkles his nose, before answering. "A bit of both?" He was enjoying every second of being home, even the harder parts -- Purely because now he was around to even experience them at all. But there's still a strangeness to it, the ways that life carried on without him there, and how he's still trying to catch up to it.

"Feels like it's been a whole lifetime since we've been at a club party together," he points out, "Come to think of it -- M'pretty sure this is the first time we've both been sober at one, too." A small chuckle passes his lips at the thought, as odd as it sounds. Andy tries to ignore the voice in the back of his head, reminding him that he was always the drunker of the two. "We're gettin' old." He laughs lightly at his own words, leaning over to kiss the side of her head again. "Not bein' with you was one of the worst parts, ya know." They'd been together for nearly thirty years, spending six of them separated by a glass wall was excruciating. He turns so that he's better facing her, pushing a hand through her hair before it gently rests on the back of her head. He kisses her slowly, savoring the moment purely because he can now. Returning home made him far more openly sentimental -- Especially when it came to Rowan. "I owe you everythin' for keepin' our family afloat." His voice is lower, so that only she can hear him. "I don't know what I did to deserve someone like you, baby. None'a this would'a been possible without you." Andy points out, 'this' spanning far beyond his Ma's birthday party. "I love you."

Rick decided early in the evening that he wasn't going to drink. He wanted his head level, he wanted to be able to absorb everything without the cost alcohol brings. But it's this decision that makes Rick understand why people become "social drinkers". He silently fears that he may fall flat without a beer in his hand and the courage liquor brings. Still, he persists, pouring himself a soda at the bar. He adds a few ice cubes before swirling them around in the glass, allowing the beverage to cool. From the corner of his eyes, Rick sees his younger brother approaching, which causes weight to lift from his shoulders. A weight he didn't know he was carrying. These days, Rick needed Andy. After losing their father, Jason, and now their mother in slow increments, things felt heavy. Heavier than usual, at least. Having him back after a stint in prison was one of the only things keeping Rick afloat.

He takes the stool next to him, leaning an elbow on the bar top as he sips his drink and looks around the clubhouse, to the woman in question. It was difficult to see their Ma like this -- The decline in her health, the way she didn't recognize them most days. It left an ache in his chest he couldn't name. (Or didn't want to, for fear that sooner or later it'll swallow him whole.) "I think she is," he answers honestly, giving Rick a half smile. It fades as his brother continues, and the two acknowledge the harsh reality in front of them.

"Sometimes me either. Well bein' around you and yours all these years has sorta helped too." Him being a dad wasn't a new concept for him seeing that Diego had been around for four years but Andy had been the slammer for all of those years. "I know what a good dad is cause of you." Though he was still having trouble being a good one, the best one that Diego deserved. "It's jus' hard sometimes tryin' to do it all." Balancing club life and family was fucking hard. "She can't live with me and she can't live without me. Am I right?"

Forcing himself to ignore the guilt that comes with the thought of how much he missed, Andy bumps shoulders with Wes. "I kinda got a headstart on fatherhood and all'a that shit." He states the obvious, finding it hard most days to believe that Ryder is full grown adult now. Another joke about being a veteran when it comes to be a parent, but it dies on his tongue as Wes continues. He hadn't expected the sentiment, admittedly caught off guard by it. Clapping a hand on Wes's shoulder, he gives him a nod and serious look. "You just keep doin' everything you can, ya know?" Andy advises, before letting out a sigh as his hand drops back to his lap. "S'what I keep tellin' myself, I guess." A beat passes, leaving him wishing he hadn't left his cigarettes inside the clubhouse. "Kinda hard to raise a kid from behind bullet proof glass." He finds himself admitting as he looks over at their sons playing. "Benny looks at me like I'm complete fuckin' stranger." Andy surprises himself with his own words, though if there's anyone he trusts with the confession it's Wes. Shaking his head, he tries to move on with the conversation, trying to move past the tightness in his chest as anxiety settles in. "That's one way of lookin' at it. We're lucky she puts up with any'a us."

The Clubhouse

"Uncle Andy, you gonna have some shots with me?" He had no clue if his uncle was drinking at the moment, or what, but he figured he should offer. He had a lot of other things to be concerned with than what his uncle was drinking or not drinking like avoiding Rhea's advances. However, being drunk meant that he became a lot more friendly and he wanted Andy to celebrate. This was his mother's party after all. "Or has Aunt Ro got you all whipped tonight that you gotta watch Benny?"