'Shat a brick' is such a great expression and is severely underused in Austen fanfic for some reason. I'm going to remedy that.
Into You like a Train
Part One
Lizzie pouted; her bottom lip sticking out as far as it could go and her face scrunching up so that every freckle across the pale skin of her nose stood out. It was a dirty trick, the second best in her entire arsenal that had managed to work since she was very little. Maybe it was her big, brown, doe eyes that held all the power, or perhaps it was the adorableness of the aforementioned freckles themselves that rendered her victims helpless.
Whatever it was, Lizzie's pouty-face had specialized in getting her whatever she wanted since 1989 and it'd never let her down.
Until, now.
"Don't make that face at me," Jane warned, shoving the phone into her little sister's hand. "She's already filled our inbox up to capacity with hysterical messages and threatened Charlotte's life if she didn't get you on the phone. You've gotta call."
"But…Janie…" Her bottom lip began to quiver and her eyes widened to anime character proportions.
Standing her ground, Jane merely held up the copy of People Magazine for Lizzie to see:
ENGAGED
Fitzwilliam Darcy's America's #1 Bachelor No More!
The paparazzi photo of her and Darcy from their night at the Ivy stared back at her from under the bold print of the headline and Lizzie dropped her shoulders, taking the phone in defeat.
With overly dramatic sighs and groans of displeasure, she punched in the numbers and tried to keep herself from crying at the sound of the other line ringing.
"Hello, Bennet residence…"
Before Lizzie could even make a sound, the violent, unmistakable shriek of a putout teenage girl rang in her ears,
"I've got it! Jesus H.! How, many times do I have to tell you to quit answering the phone, Mary?!"
"I've got every right to answer it! I live here, don't I?!"
"Unfortunately…"
"Screw you, Lydia!"
"You should look into moving out. I'll help you."
"How's everyone doing?" Lizzie asked sarcastically, finally butting in between her bickering siblings. "Getting along better than ever?"
"Hey, Lizzie," Mary said cheerfully.
"Holy, shit! MAMA, LIZZIE'S ON THE PHONE!" Lydia took to shouting and Lizzie could've sworn she had just gone deaf in her right ear. "You have to tell me what it was like eating at the Ivy."
"Expensive," Lizzie replied dryly.
"Have you seen the library at The Darcy family ranch?" Mary asked enthusiastically. "I've heard it's the biggest private collection in the country…"
"Oh my god, I wish you could've seen Sasha Marlowe's face when I told her my sister was marrying Fitzwilliam Darcy! She totally shat a brick, I'm not even kidding," Lydia cut in. "Hey, I may have promised a couple of people rides in my new brother-in-law's Hummer," a beat, "he does have a Hummer, right? Cause, he would like suck at being rich if he didn't…"
The shrill scream of Lizzie's name over yet another phone line prevented her from answering. "Where have you been?! I've left message after message…Lydia, Mary, you can hang up now – Lydia, I told you to hang up I can still hear you breathing."
"Ugh, fine."
Click.
"I've just been, you know, working," Lizzie casually said.
"And getting engaged to rich and powerful men without even bothering to give your poor, suffering mother one, lousy phone call with the good news. After the week I've had, I could've used it," Francesca Bennet whined. "I had a horrible tanning bed accident – my poor legs; I doubt I'll be able to wear shorts this season…"
Lizzie rolled her eyes – it was just like her mother to make the 'plight' of a California housewife sound as if it were akin to Sally Struthers' starving Ethiopians. "Hopefully, it won't come to that," the sarcasm was thinly veiled and a tiny snicker was heard:
"Mary, hang up the phone," Fran sighed loudly.
"Sorry."
Click.
"I meant to call…" Lizzie began, lying through her teeth, "but, ya know, Darcy and I have tried to keep our relationship low-key. People broke the story before we had a chance to let our families know."
"Oh, well, it's water over the bridge…"
"Under the bridge," Lizzie corrected.
"Over/under, who gives a damn, my Lizzie is going to be a Darcy!" Fran screeched excitedly. "And here I thought you'd never amount to much at all."
Lizzie frowned. "Thanks, mama."
"You should have seen April Forester's face when I showed her the magazine; what's that expression Lydia uses all the time?"
"'Shat a brick'?" Lizzie offered with a snicker.
"That's it! April practically shat a brick when she saw it! And, to think of all that bragging I had to endure when her mongrel was dating one of those little alcoholics from that show Laguna Beach. This was the perfect revenge!"
"Glad I could help."
"Your father's barbequing this weekend – we expect to see you and Fitzwilliam drop by…"
"Oh, mom, I don't know about that," Lizzie said quickly. "Darcy's really busy and…"
"Busy?!" her mother squealed indignantly. "How, could he possibly be too busy to spend time with his fiancé and her family?! That's ridiculous, Lizzie! I won't take no for an answer and let us know what his favorite food is, we'll make it special." Fran hung up before Lizzie had another chance to protest.
As, if on cue Jane climbed to her feet and slipped a supportive arm around her little sister's dejected shoulders.
"I'll never understand…" Lizzie began with a deep sigh, "why one house needs so many goddamn phone lines."
Once upon a time, when things like roller disco and hot pants were all the rage, there lived a rather gangly, pale, Irish immigrant by the name of Sean Bennet, and a slender, well-tanned native Californian named Francesca Mateo.
'Fresh off the boat' as they say, Sean had traveled halfway around the world to make his parents proud by being the first in his family to attend college; while Francesca – whose volleyball skills prevailed over her lack of brain in the academic department, rode the wave of a full scholarship. With the size and massive social divide of the UCLA campus, chances that the two would make eye contact let alone speak to one another were slim at best, and yet they managed to overcome those terrible odds thanks to a crowded pub (the great equalizer near any university) and a drunken frat boy.
On this particular night, Sean sat alone at the bar with the intentions of drinking away the stress a fifteen-page term paper had caused when a commotion to his left piqued his interest:
There was a boy – huge and oafish, red-faced from his drink, which had his dopey bastard hands wrapped around the wrist of a tiny, blonde girl, who looked none-too-pleased about the fact.
Sean waited patiently, nibbled at a couple of his beer nuts, and rose to his feet at the cry of "I said, take your hands off me".
The humongous dolt puffed out his chest, balled up his fists, and was promptly knocked flat on his ass by Sean, who, despite appearances and his friendly nature had one hell of a right hook.
From that night on, Sean and Frannie were inseparable; sure, Sean wasn't the good-looking, football player type Fran was used to, but he made her laugh and he had that dreamy accent. On the same token, Sean found Fran to be a little bit ridiculous, but she was beautiful and could be quite smart when no one was watching, so he didn't mind her airhead moments.
They were married exactly two years later.
The Bennet's had five daughters: Jane, Elizabeth, Mary, Lydia and Kit.
Jane was a bundle of pure joy born just a year after the pair married; she was such a beautiful baby one wouldn't have hesitated to believe she had rode a cloud of stardust and sunshine down to earth. Her mother doted on her and her father had a hard time believing his genes had produced a human so perfect.
Seven wonderful years with Jane would pass before the Bennets welcomed Elizabeth – a screaming, wriggling, pink thing with flaming red hair and mischievous dark eyes. Lizzie (or 'Lizard' as her papa liked to call her) was the absolute antithesis of Jane. She had a penchant for getting into trouble and a bit of a flair for the dramatic, and she loved to tease (her mother especially). Lizzie was much more like her father and unquestionably his favorite.
Next to come was Mary, who was also wriggling and pink with flaming red hair, but she lacked Jane's beauty and Lizzie's fire. She was a quiet child, and this quiet nature somehow transformed into petulance and over inflated self-importance once she reached her teenage years.
And lastly, (thanks impart to a faulty diaphragm) came identical twins Lydia and Kit. The youngest and therefore most spoiled members of the family, they inherited their mother's ridiculous nature. Lydia, the more domineering of the two, was incredibly flighty and about as deep as a wading pool – but what she lacked in smarts, and wits, and all of that 'unimportant' crap, she made up for with big boobs and legs that wouldn't quit and despite her age, she knew how to work her 'assets'. Kit, was all too happy to follow her little sister's lead (she was approximately five minutes older than Lydia), and to this day the existence of Kit's own personality was questionable and getting a glimpse of it was quite like spotting Big Foot.
xx
Darcy ran over the Bennet family's stats in his mind; every quirk, every like and dislike, every single sentence that was printed in his little, red folder. His overzealousness had less to do with a desire to impress the future 'in-laws' and more to do with a struggle to keep himself sane.
For, you see, Darcy had been trapped in Charlie's ozone killing Escalade for twenty-two minutes. Sure, it only takes twenty-eight minutes to get to Reseda from LA, but when your pretend fiancé is still choosing glaring daggers at you over speaking, your best friend's pushy (and much too grabby) older sister is along for the ride for the sole purpose of feeling you up in the backseat and pissing off your already pissed off pretend fiancé, and your best friend refuses to listen to anything but the Top-40 radio station thus subjecting you to that goddamn 'Lips of an Angel' song every five minutes, a twenty-eight minute trip can feel like an eternity and you can't help but want to kill yourself and take the entire world with you in the process.
He was never as happy as he was when Charlie rounded the corner and the sight of the Bennet home at the end of the cul-de-sac came into view. Of course, judging by the amount of vehicles parked on the side of the road and in the front yard, Darcy was leaving one special brand of hell for another.
"Lizzie, you wanna help me grab those bags out of the trunk?" Jane, who had been a virtual mute the entire trip, spoke hastily to her sister as the party unloaded from the SUV. She didn't give Lizzie time to protest and dragged her to the vehicle's rear.
"Darcy and I can grab those, Janie," Charlie said in protest, but Jane waved him off.
"No, you guys go ahead; we'll be right behind you."
"Are you sure?"
"Will you c'mon, Charles?" Caroline groaned in exasperation, clutching her lone contribution to the cookout – a bottle of Grey Goose vodka.
Giving Jane and Lizzie a sheepish smile, Charlie reluctantly turned away and headed for the Bennet's backyard along with Darcy and Caroline leaving the sisters alone.
Lizzie cocked an eyebrow as Jane plopped a cheesecake into her waiting arms. "Something on your mind?"
"I think you should go easy on Darcy today," Jane told her quietly.
That got a scoff in response. "Are you kidding me? I did tell you what he said, right…?"
A nod, "Yes, you told me…you acted it out and everything."
"And, I did tell you about the standing me up for my appointment and the fact he chose to break an engagement story to People without a) telling me beforehand, and b) actually proposing to me like we agreed?"
"Yes, Lizzie, I know all of that," Jane began with a sigh, "but…"
"There are no 'buts', Jane! The man's a complete jackass and I think I've been going pretty easy on him considering."
"But…" Jane attempted again, casting a sympathetic look in the direction of the house, "he looks so miserable."
Lizzie rolled her eyes. "He always looks miserable."
"I honestly think he feels bad and maybe he's just crap at apologizing. He could use a little encouragement from your end." She grinned, "Especially since he has to put up with mom and Caroline in the same evening. The two of you have to support each other – you're only contractually bound for twenty months, but you'll always be a part of one another's lives." Jane shrugged, "Besides, how bad can Darcy really be if he has Charlie for a best friend?"
Lizzie's lip quirked upward, "And I did tell you what he did to Danny, right?"
Jane frowned. "I dunno, Lizzie, you don't really know Danny that well and there's always two sides to a story."
"Yeah, well," Lizzie started as she balanced the cake in one hand and slammed the trunk closed with the other, "I don't know Darcy, either."
The loud, excited chatter from the Bennets (Mrs. Bennet in particular) and their guests came to a screeching halt the moment the privacy fence door swung open and Darcy, Caroline, and Charlie appeared.
It was as if the three of them possessed a giant freeze ray or the power to stop time; Darcy pulled a face as he noticed a glob of ketchup slide out from between the hamburger bun and land directly on the shirt of a little boy who had stopped eating in order to stare at him open-mouthed.
Once Lizzie and Jane arrived on site the spell was broken and all returned to normal.
The second thing Darcy noticed was a middle-aged woman charging in his direction; the sound barrier breaking scream that erupted from her tiny frame sent a chill down his spine.
Oh no…
She couldn't possibly be…
"LIZZIE! OH, MY BABY GIRL!"
His, future mother-in-law.
"Hey, mama." Lizzie skillfully held the cake above her head while her mother pulled her into a crushing bear hug.
All of the color drained from his cheeks as Darcy got a good look at the grandmother of his child – his attention focusing solely on her very loud, and very tight sweatpants with the word "Juicy" scrawled across the backside.
Screwing his eyes shut, he pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger,
"Oh, fuck me," he muttered.
So, school's kicking my ass right now. How is it for everyone else?
I'm really excited for the next chapter, I get to write all of the Bennets (they're a wacky bunch) and there will be some drunken antics (who, doesn't love drunken antics?).
Oh, and Mrs. Bennet is totally one of those 'cool' moms. I figured a modern version of her would be more akin to one of those sad MILF types – mostly cause it makes me laugh.
I don't know why I'm rambling. Review if you feel like it.