Masquerade

I sat and stared at the inside of my closet. It was like the ultimate Yin and Yang shop inside it. One half was full of the dresses and skirts I never let anybody see me in and the other half was full of those “gender appropriate” clothes my parents had always forced me into. The superhero shirts, the witty text tank tops, the endless rows of baggy jeans and plain old t-shirts.

Every day I wished I could just finally break out of my shell and tell the world that the scrawny boy they knew wasn’t really a boy at all. He was really a she and instead of being called Andrew Holt she chose the name Andrea Case. Ironic since someone once told me that both Andrew and the feminine form Andrea meant ‘manly’ or 'masculine’.

I gave up trying to picture life as I wanted it to be and threw on something from the 'boy’ side of the closet. Today was a big day anyway. Today, after two years of grunt work and being called 'Prospect’ all day I’d finally know if I’d be patched in as an official SAMCRO member. Being a Son would give me the family I’d always needed and maybe one day give me the strength to tell the world who I was underneath the mask I wore every day.

Walking into the Clubhouse was nerve-wracking. Everyone else was already in Church for the vote and the only people out in the bar were Gemma, Chucky, and Lyla.

'Hey baby.“ Gemma greeted me with a one-armed hug. "You nervous?”

“If that’s code for 'you need a shot of whiskey?’ then yeah.” I laughed, taking a seat at the bar next to Lyla.

“I think you’ll be patched in no problem.” Lyla said encouragingly. I always liked her optimism, sometimes the guys could be so pessimistic and negative it almost drowned me. “They’re probably in there comparing beard lengths to make us all nervous.” She laughed and while I appreciated her light mood my nerves were just to shot to respond.

Gemma slid a double shot of whiskey down the bar to me and I shot it down in one gulp, hoping the burn would help my nerves calm down a little before the guys finally decided to pile out of Church and hit me with the news.

I mindlessly rubbed the collar of my cut while I waited, Lyla telling me I should be careful not to wear a hole in it before I even got patched in. I tried to stop but only moved my nervous tick down to the hole that was already showing in my jeans. It had grown to twice its size before the guys finally piled their way out of church.

The only words I remember hearing after finally seeing Jax were “Welcome to the family kid.” The next thing I knew I was in the middle of the biggest clubhouse party I’ve ever seen or been a part of. And this time it was all for me, to celebrate the fact that I was now and officially patched in member of the Sons of Anarchy.

“Andy my boy!” They never listened when I asked them not to call me that, just one more thing I had to deal with. I turned around to find Chibs and Tig coming over the where I was leaning against the bar. “Surprised you’re not face down on the floor somewhere.” Chibs laughed drunkenly. “You lasted longer than we expected.” The joke was entirely on him because I had only had two drinks tonight, wanting to fully enjoy the fact that this party was intended for me.

“For someone so scrawny and built like a girl, you can party.” Tig added, clearly unaware that I was in fact the most sober person on the property. Aside from the Prospects in the corner, looking on like lost dogs.

The next few weeks sailed by with comfort and ease, I enjoyed being a member and not a personal maid with the title 'Prospect’. Being a prospect wasn’t always such a pain but it was a whole lot better to actually be patched in. Aside from the severe cut to my personal life I had to take. I felt like I was constantly on call for the club and couldn’t go to my old stomping grounds anymore, and I couldn’t leave my other bars and show up to the club in a dress and nice blonde wig without raising some questions.

But on occasion we had a club sanctioned free weekend, something for those with old ladies to spend time with their families and a weekend for the rest of us to do whatever the hell we wanted. It was on one of these free days that I felt my entire life collapse in on itself.

I enjoy frequenting an old karaoke bar off the beaten path, plus it was about as far away from TM as you could get without completely leaving Charming. I had gotten a little extra dolled up for the night since I hadn’t been able to go out and be myself for a few weeks and as I was taking my turn on stage, belting our some new Taylor Swift song one of my brothers walks in the door.

I saw him immediately and nearly choked, not only screwing up the song but bringing every eye in the room onto myself. Tig looked me up and down before locking eyes with me and holding my gaze for what felt like forever. He took a step towards the stage and I ran for the bathrooms, hoping he wouldn’t follow me.

I hid in a stall for twenty minutes before braving the bar again, of course it was too much to ask that Tig would have gotten bored and left. Instead he was standing at the edge of the bar, his eyes trained on the hall to the bathrooms and when he saw me I instantly regretted not just sneaking out the back.