Heat rising. Translucent waves dancing up towards the sky like a peace offering from the parched asphalt below. Listen closely and you can hear it sizzling under the scorching sun, pleading for relief. Black haze lines the earth just on the horizon, oily patches almost thick enough to touch. You can see it just ahead, but get within reach and it disappears like all those sweet nothings he used to whisper in your ear.

This is Northern California in July, just the way she remembers it. For the past six years she's been trying to forget, praying the day will come when she no longer thinks of him and that particular summer when they realized there was no turning back. Yet the reprieve never comes. The memories are stuck, a memorial sno-globe where all the water has leaked out and the glitter has dried to the bottom. She wants to throw it out, to forget everything it represents, but she can't bring herself to let go. So it sits there, in the back of her mind, its brokenness an everlasting reminder of the beauty that once was.

Even now as she speeds down the I-5 in her brand new black Dodge Challenger she can still feel those little strands of blond hair, the ones that were always peeking out from under his skull cap helmet, tickling her cheek. When she takes a deep breath she can still make out the faintest hint of worn leather mixed with cigarettes and his Irish Spring soap. And though she would give anything not to, she can still recall the exact the way her body fit so perfectly around his own as they flew like birds in the wind on the back of his brand new Dyna Super Glyde.

She swore up and down to herself that she would never come back here, that she wouldn't feed the memories with any sort of tangibility. Being there, where their lives had once been so intertwined only made the loss that much worse. She couldn't bare it then, and was almost certain she couldn't bare it now. But life always did have a funny way of bringing her around, of catching her at the exact moment when she really started to believe she'd gotten out only to pull her right back in again.

Welcome to Charming, the name says it all.

"Who the hell is that?" Half-sack questioned as a beautiful black muscle car pulled into the Teller-Morrow lot.

Juice turned his attention away from the car he was helping the prospect unhook from the tow truck just in time to see a stiletto sliding out from under the steering column of a black Dodge Challenger. "No idea," he answered.

Slowly pulling his sunglasses down his nose to get a better look, Juice watched as the second heel made contact with the pavement and a set of long shapely legs propelled the mystery woman out of the car. She was a solid eight, maybe even a nine, standing around 5'7" with long blonde hair cascading around her shoulders and down her back. Definitely not a size two, but still well toned with tight curves in all the right places. In other words, exactly his type, even if she did dress like she was about to represent him at his next deposition.

Juice licked his lips, muttered a "hot damn," and started making his way towards the mystery hottie, leaving Half-sack to his own devices. "Can I help you miss?"

She turned, her sunglass wielding eyes to focus on him. "That depends," she began, her voice like velvet, "can you tell me where I can find Clay Morrow?"

For the first time in his life, Juice could honestly say he would give his left nut, and the right one too for that matter, to be Clay right now. "He's in the clubhouse, I can take you if…"

The girl pivoted on those sexy shoes of hers and walked right past him. "That's alright, I know the way."

He paused briefly to enjoy the view of her walking away. Juice had never really been one for fashion, but something had to be said for the skinny trouser pants this chick was rocking. Pant suits didn't do much for him, or any guy that he knew really, but her version was making his imagination go crazy. Which was new, given that he typically preferred a style that required very little work on his part to figure out exactly what was going on underneath.

Realizing she was getting away, Juice forced himself to relinquish his fixation with her perfect ass and went to catch up with her. "So, you the club's new lawyer or something?"

She didn't bother to look in his direction, but he could see the corner of her lips turn up into a smile. "Yeah, something like that."

"Here let me get that for you," he offered, jumping in front of her and opening the door.

She mumbled a "thanks" and stepped over the threshold, not bothering to discard her Ray-Bans. He watched as she looked around a bit, before turning expectantly back towards him when she found the place empty.

Boldly placing a hand on her lower back, Juice steered her toward the bar. "If you want to have a seat, I'll see if I can find Clay for you."

"Don't bother," a voice said from behind them. "He's right here."

The pair turned to find Clay coming out from the table with Jax, Chibs and Tig in tow.

"Now that you found me," Clay began as he brought one of his trademark cigars up towards his lips. "You uh, mind if I ask who's lookin'?"

The girl stepped forward, removing her glasses to reveal a pair of the most brilliant sapphire eyes Juice had ever seen. She didn't say anything, just let them all take her in for a moment like she expected them to already know who she was and why she was here.

Looking to his brother's for some sort of explanation, Juice noted the looks of recognition and shock slowly filling their faces. Especially Jax, who's pasty ass was going even whiter than normal.

Finally Clay stepped forward, breaking the odd Mexican standoff that was taking place. "Veronica?" he breathed with a puff of smoke as he pulled the cigar out of his mouth

The girl flashed a perfectly straight pearly white smile before standing on her tiptoes to embrace the President of SAMCRO. "Hi Daddy, long time no see."