Tuesday, December 27th
1960
Michael had specifically driven the Chevy Apache down to Oceanside (a two and a half hour trip), specifically to have about a quarter of a tank of gas left upon his return; that was his planned excuse for going over to the service station. Following that, his intent was to spend several hours of each of the next four and a half days working on the motorcycle; the thought had him smiling.
That smile flew out the window in half a heartbeat as he was pulling to a stop next to one of the pumps in the front lot of the station, turning the engine off.
Charlotte was standing at the front entrance, deep in conversation with Stephanie and Jake Zinone; her accompanying expression to whatever she was telling them was worried, one side of pleading, while Stephanie and Jake looked ... what?
Angry? Disbelieving?
Michael climbed quickly out of the truck, shutting the door loud enough to get all of their attentions. "Good afternoon?"
Charlotte blinked: She clearly hadn't been expecting him to arrive here.
Jake Zinone looked skeptical, his stare going back and forth between her and Michael.
Michael looked at Stephanie, and she was seething, her summer sky blue eyes freezing over when she met his gaze. He stilled, inhaling a little, and then she was hurtling the sunflower necklace at him as hard as she could, along with all of her hissing rage and contempt-filled accusations: "You can have this back, just stay the hell away from me! You think I'm some kind of prize to be won?!" –
Michael shook his head, panic already setting in – What? –
"That I'd let you have me over some piece of shit jewelry?! You don't even exist to me, you – "
"Steph – " Michael attempted, wide-eyed, everything sinking fast, a part of him already breaking.
"Shut up!"
Michael closed his mouth, at a complete loss, and Jake glanced again at Charlotte, and caught the tail-end of the expression on her face, just one side of smug, almost superior, and triumphant, a look that Stephanie didn't notice. He thought again of the motorcycle, of Michael's confessions and the scars ... things that Stephanie had no idea of.
What's the whole truth here?
"Bluebell, go on inside."
Stephanie looked piercingly at him, everything about her incandescent with fury.
"The truck keys are on the hook, take some money from the cashbox. Have the rest of the day to yourself. Drive until you've cooled off. Let me deal with Carrington here."
Stephanie nodded jerkily, throwing Michael one last glance of loathing and a snarling, "Don't you ever speak to me again.", before disappearing inside, letting the door slam shut behind her.
Michael flinched, the breaking gaining strength, clawing at his senses, scattering his thoughts.
Well, that takes care of that classless and uneducated –
"Miss Hayes, would you please excuse us? I'll be speaking with Carrington in private."
"Yes. Of course." She glanced at Michael, her eyes hard, vindictive. "I am sorry that it had to come to this, but I felt that she needed to be warned."
Michael stiffened even more – What?
"Thank you, Miss Hayes."
There was silence until Charlotte was gone from sight in the rental car she'd arrived in, until Stephanie was gone from sight in her father's truck.
Michael shut his eyes for a moment, shivering, then picked up the necklace gently, and went and sat down on the entrance walkway curb, a choking sensation in his throat, a pounding burning in his chest, and Charlotte, what the hell did you do?!
Stephanie –
Jake disappeared back into the service station lobby, reemerging a minute later with two glass bottles of A&W Rootbeer; sitting down next to Michael, who had his knees tented and his arms draped around his legs, Jake gave him one, shoving it into the crook of his arm when Michael didn't respond, staring straight ahead, his expression telling that he was trying to grasp this sudden turn of events.
"My girl has a temper. She also sometimes makes rash decisions without knowing all the facts." Jake popped the top off the rootbeer, taking a swallow before continuing. "Seems that Charlotte doesn't, though. According to your aunt, Paula, and Sandy, both of whom called and warned me she might be coming."
"Charlotte sits and thinks." Michael conceded after a moment, setting the rootbeer bottle down on the ground; the necklace was tucked away into his coat pocket. He looked at Jake, his expression pleading and wary.
"She showed about twenty minutes ago, selling a tale about how you gave her a necklace and wrote little love notes, and how it snowballed from there, until she ended up in bed with after you got her drunk. She was elaborate about the whole thing, too. Very believable. When I asked her how she knew where to find us, she said that your brother, Bastian, had told her. I would've believed it myself if I weren't informed. The only reason I didn't stop her is because Paula and Sandy asked me not to. According to them, it's money she's after, and they need the right ammunition to send her packing."
Michael breathed slightly easier, even as a sickening anger began rolling in his gut. "Stephanie believed her. Easily." he moaned, miserable, with waves of that bright anger towards Charlotte begging to be heard.
"Stephanie's still winding down from Johnny, I think. And the mess with Paulette. She also doesn't know the things I know. You really should start being more open with her. How can you expect her to let you in if you won't give her the same courtesy?"
Michael wanted to weep, seeing the mistakes more clearly, feeling as they burned. "You're assuming she'll listen to anything I have to say now."
"Well, she might not believe you, but she will believe me, and Sandy, too, I'm sure. Don't quit on the motorcycle." Jake patted Michael's shoulder. "What I want to know is Charlotte's reasons for this stunt. It can't be all about some bit of money, not the way Paula worded it."
Michael sighed, fighting back the misery, pushing his mind to focus, to have a method to get Stephanie to understand the truth.
Which one?
Michael shut his eyes briefly, a multitude of thoughts clamoring loudly to be heard.
"Well, yes and no ... Charlotte's father, Milo, went bankrupt from all the gambling around a month ago, and Charlotte wants to go to medical school, and there are some members in my extended family who are incredibly wealthy. I'm not one of them, but any time I've needed help financially, it's always been readily available." Michael exhaled deeply. "Scarily enough, Charlotte's never expressed interest in any of it before. We dated for almost a year before I had to come here, after Aunt Ellie died – "
"Had to?"
"It wasn't really my idea. I had wanted to go to Colorado or Vermont, but my older brother, Damien, wouldn't hear of it. He said this is where family is."
I'll never stop thanking him for it either.
Jake stared shrewdly, his mouth twitching. "Are you in some sort of British mafia?"
Michael just about laughed, taking another deep, shaking breath, letting it out.
"In a manner of speaking. It's the kind of 'mafia' that endeavors to go all over the map to gather artifacts that are and will be historical and hide them away. Aunt Ellie's side of the family has been at it for centuries, since the time of King Richard, The Lionheart. There's a map that shows how to get said artifacts, it gets handed down one generation to the next. People tell stories, rumors spread. Even Napoleon sent troops in search of the loot. Not that they got too far. Charlotte found out about it when Albert and Margaret tried to rope her into spying on us."
Michael sat back a little, shaking his head, one half of him suddenly all business.
"That's why we thought we could trust her. She came to Bastian and I telling us of their proposition, and she didn't seem the slightest bit interested, either in what they had to say or the treasures. She said it was none of her business. The governors kept a close eye on her, but she never asked or said another word about it. I don't know if she was playing this game then, but things are different for her and her parents now, though. I broke it off with her by letter not long after I came here; but even before I met Stephanie I knew that it wasn't going to work out, neither by long distance nor up close. Before, it was because we were too alike, and now ... She showed up in Oceanside a few days before Christmas, and afterwards, Ivaleigh told me not to let her cook for me or bring me drinks, that she might try and force my hand somehow, to get to the money."
He looked at Jake sharply then. "Did Charlotte say anything of that to Stephanie?"
"She mentioned you have royal lineage, through King Henry the second, and that it went to your head. That was all."
"I'm distantly related to the Queen Mother." Michael shrugged indifferently. "I'm hardly the only one."
"Why haven't you told Stephanie any of this?"
"The Highland governors would flip their bagpipes if I did. Charlotte herself wouldn't have learned of it, if not for Albert and Margaret. Some of the artifacts are literally hundreds of years old, and many are one of a kind. Everything's priceless. Taggart and MacBay especially are always on guard."
"But you're telling me."
"I – " Michael sighed heavily again, confused and frustrated to the point of having a headache.
"Listen, whether she says yes or no isn't the point. As long as she knows the whole truth, and especially about what Charlotte was trying to do. You gave Stephanie the necklace."
"I saw it and it's her. I would tell her how much I love her, but I want ... wanted ... still want to surprise her with the motorcycle." He shook his head, looking at Jake, confused, desperate, and forlorn. "I'm going about it all wrong, aren't I?"
"No, and yes. If I thought you were no good for her, I wouldn't be helping you. I think it's that little lady Charlotte came here and ran her mouth and it's a setback. We'll get it straightened out."
Michael inhaled slightly as a thought occurred, and his focus shifted because it had to. He surged to his feet, knocking the rootbeer bottle over in the process. "Thank you. Can I please use your phone? I need to call Bastian. We can't have Charlotte running to Albert and Margaret, I'm not eighteen until April, Albert still has paternal claim over me, it's the map they're after – "
"And you know where it is." Jake concluded. "Phone's just inside the doorway."
It had been two days and several hours since the confrontation between Stephanie and Michael, and Johnny (dressed in his work uniform, the T-Bird jacket proudly on) was smirking a mile wide, Little British slug prick finally gettin' it up the ass –
Sandy would have laughed at the audacious absurdity of Charlotte's claims, if she hadn't been so angry. Still, she, Frenchy, Marty, Jan, and Rizzo (holding Audra) waited patiently (and impatiently) for Stephanie to finish the story. Danny, Kenickie, Sonny, Andrianna, and the rest of the current T-Birds and the Ladies were in the close background (Delores included), listening intently.
Stephanie had called on Wednesday morning, and now they were all sitting or standing in the kitchen of the Olsen residence. Siena-Rosa was there as well, for support, sitting at her granddaughter's right hand; so far, she'd only listened.
"Take the jacket off him. We won't be associatin' with his lyin' ass no more. I'm leader again." Johnny proclaimed, his expression gloating, two shades of mean, while Frenchy bit at her lip, worried. Michael couldn't possibly have ...
"Why don't you shut it, you don't even know what you're talking about!" Sandy snapped at him, her eyes glittering. "Danny, Mike keeps the jacket, he – "
"Like hell he does!" Goose shouted. "Johnny's in charge again!"
"Pipe down, McKenzie!" Kenickie barked.
"Did you know about this?!" Stephanie demanded wildly of Sandy, her eyes on fire all over again.
"Stephanie, dear ... you don't know what you're talking about, either." Sandy promised tautly. "Michael and Charlotte dated for around a year before he came to Rydell, after his step-aunt, Ellie, died. Michael ended things with her via a letter, when he realized that a long-distance relationship wasn't gonna work. And yeah, he's a bit tight on words, and yeah, he's got his secrets, but Charlotte's turned into an ever-loving gold-digger. Some members of Michael's family have money, and that's what she's after. I know my cousin, he would never in his life do what she's accused him of. Michael wants nothing to do with her. They got into one hell of a shouting match on my mum's front lawn after she visited you. Two of the neighbors actually ended up calling the police."
Frenchy arched her eyebrows – Pity the fool who pushes someone like Michael to completely lose their temper.
"What secrets, exactly?" Stephanie hissed, her arms folded tightly, her mind battling clawing realizations. "Cos it occurred to me while Charlotte was talking that I don't know anything about him!" What – wait – why does that matter, who cares what he has or hasn't told me, I won't let it matter, it doesn't matter, he's a –
Had she really believed Charlotte Hayes's words, deep down?
Siena-Rosa suppressed a grin at Stephanie's words – You like him more than you're ready to admit, darling – and answered, "Are you so sure about that? He must've revealed some things about himself to you over the last few months." Her gaze turned speculative. "And keep in mind, too, ragazza mia, that not all men are like your ex-boyfriend over there."
Stephanie blinked, stiffening, her thoughts taking a spiraling nosedive, while Danny sent Johnny a warning glare that stated plainly, Stay the fuck where you are, Nogerelli, you've caused enough trouble.
"And why would this Charlotte chick go after Steph anyway? She and Shakespeare ain't even a thing." Louis spoke up, while Johnny glared at Stephanie (he'd caught the direction of her words), while Stephanie stared out the window at the fading sunset, regulating her breathing, deep breaths, in and out, while her thoughts turned, recalling every memorable conversation she'd had with Michael since his arrival.
Sandy sighed, putting on an act of exasperation. "Because Mike got Stephanie that sunflower necklace." She looked over at Stephanie, who could only stare back, vindicated and embarrassed and rattled on all new levels. "He saw it, he thought it would be perfect for you, as a gift. I'm sure he's thinking now that he shouldn't have, in hindsight. It's Christmas, and he considers you a friend. Charlotte heard about it and lost her damn mind. Yes, she was aware that you and Michael aren't together. I guess she didn't want to take the chance. For all the good it's about to do her."
"Meaning what?" Rhonda asked.
"Meaning that Charlotte wouldn't have gotten her greedy little hands on any of the money no matter what she tried. That's not how things go, for the family Michael was born into. The same goes for me. Any finances to be taken are only what's absolutely needed. And this royal lineage that Charlotte spouted off about, Michael couldn't care less for. And if you think about it, I'm descended from royals myself. But then, so are thousands all over the world, often times through bastardy. It doesn't come to much."
The front door of the house opened and closed, and a moment later, Ted, Paula, and Michael came into view, stopping dead in their tracks at the sight of so many people in the kitchen, their arms full with grocery bags of food and other necessities.
"Erm ... Sandy, love, what is this?" Paula asked, her eyebrows raised high, as she moved to set her three bags down on the kitchen counter, long and wide.
Ted and Michael followed right behind, with Michael looking around at everyone, his eyes cautious and exhausted, two of his fingers wearing band-aids over fresh cuts from working on the motorcycle; the last two days had been a waking hell for him, and he had to bite his tongue, nearly drawing blood, had to clench his fists, to keep from throwing himself at Stephanie's feet and begging her to hear him out.
"Sorry, Mum, Steph called an emergency meeting, after having to deal with Charlotte."
"Oh. Of course." Paula nodded, looking grim, guilty but satisfied. Wanting to make sure that Charlotte didn't leave back for London to tattle in the wrong ear, and with no other options, she'd had the girl arrested for harassment and trespassing after the police had showed up on the 27th. Charlotte's expression had been outraged and terrified, and after that had been the phone call to Damien.
With luck, Lords Taggart and MacBay would be able to send someone along within the week, to escort Charlotte away, just before which was when Paula would call the police station to rescind the charges.
Siena-Rosa stood and walked around, one hand stretched outward. "Mr. Carrington, Mr. and Mrs. Olsen, I'm Siena-Rosa Zinone, Stephanie's grandmother."
The three of them took turns shaking her hand, giving cordial greetings, with Michael giving her a careful smile. "I have heard a fair deal about you, Michael Carrington."
Johnny gloated before Michael could answer, "Hey, loser, Zuko's takin' the jacket off you! Heard you like 'em drunk and – "
There was no unseeing the blaze of (unnerving) fury that lit Michael's expression, the flat of his hand that slammed down on the counter.
Damn, she was lying, oh wow, he's pissed, Sharon thought, holding a breath.
"Yes, I'm aware of Charlotte's lies, John, there's no need for you to reiterate." Michael didn't raise his voice – he didn't have to. He looked away from Johnny, facing Danny, his expression turning almost too calm again. "And that's probably just as well, that you take it back, before this mess gets even more out of control. I'm officially stepping down as both the head T-Bird and T-Bird all together. All those in favor it, raise your hands."
Johnny's, Goose's, Louis's, and Paulette's hands were the only that went up, as Siena-Rosa sat back down, keeping her studying gaze on Michael; the other current Bird and Ladies looked uncertain.
"Jaworski!" Johnny barked.
Davey held his ground, rocking his wheelchair back and forth. "Innocent until proven guilty."
"Looks like you're still on, Carrington." Danny smirked at a scowling Johnny. "Thirteen to four."
"Paulette's kiddie sister here don't count – "
"Kiss off, McKenzie, I'm as good as any of you!"
Michael exhaled, his hands cupping around his nose and mouth, a headache pounding. "I don't want it, Danny, really. Let Johnny have it back." Lowering his hands, he glanced over at Stephanie (who wouldn't quite meet his eyes), remembering her final edict and fighting a crazed desperation, and Sandy answered, "I set her straight on Charlotte."
"Oh. All right. Thank you." Michael forced himself to look at Johnny. "You're leader again. I'm out."
"Thirteen to four, Carrington. Everyone has to agree." Danny said.
Michael glanced around at all of them, almost despondent. "So agree to it, then." he said, the flatness in his voice taking them all by surprise.
"Why're ya backing out?" Johnny demanded.
"Do you want to be the head Bird again or don't you?"
"Hey, Carrington ... you ever stuck a foot so far in your mouth it sees the light of day at the other end?" Stephanie asked; it was the best apology she could come up with.
The relief was so strong that Michael swayed an inch each way, rocking back on his heels some, a burning glint in his eyes; fighting to keep his voice (and his knees) steady, he managed in a low tone, "No. But then I'm not Johnny, either."
"Hey, fuck you, asshole!"
Siena-Rosa laughed into her hand, her eyes gleaming – Admiration to his backbone. I like him.
"Yeah, I really should've remembered that." Stephanie replied self-consciously, after a moment of biting clarity, the two of them ignoring Johnny. She looked honestly guilty and apologetic. She also didn't really want to think about the expression that had crossed Michael's face.
Michael dared, still shivering inside. Calm calm calm. "Why didn't you? I swear I'm not trying to embarrass you. I'm just wondering what you were thinking. What did she say to make her words so believable?"
"A necklace and some love notes. She made you out to be some self-adoring piece of work."
"Oh." No wonder. Michael shook his head. "Well ... I'm sorry you had to put up with her. And I've never had much use for egos, beyond basic male pride."
"So, you really don't care you're a royal?" Delores asked.
Michael managed to drag his gaze away from Stephanie. "I'm not a royal, Delores, I'm just descended from one. God alone knows how many would have to perish for me to be king of England."
"You expecting us to go practicin' curtsies?" Johnny mocked.
Michael glanced at him, then looked back at Stephanie. "You won't have to worry about Charlotte bothering you again. She'll be on her way back to England before the week is out."
"Is the family moolah the reason you fight so well?" Sharon asked.
"That's part of it, in a way. The rest is mostly defense against my father, Albert, and his wife, Margaret. They're both very ... unkind ... people."
It felt like a piece of him slithered away, admitting that, but he held Stephanie's gaze, wanting (needing) her to understand. "I've got a few scars to prove it; the same goes for my brothers and sister."
"What about ... about your birth mom?" Rhonda asked carefully, after a moment of stunned silence.
Michael let out a deep breath. "Heather Kemble. She's an alcoholic. She lives in Cardiff, on the east coast of Wales, with my grandfather. I see them once a year. This is the first Christmas I haven't spent with them since I was six."
It wasn't everything, what he was telling her, Michael knew, but it would have to be enough, for now. Half of a plan began forming, that would allow him to tell her everything when no other ears were prying.
Stephanie stared, his words sinking in. Jesus, I was a bitch. And he's acting like it was nothing. Why?
"You expect our pity?" Johnny derided.
Michael looked him straight in the eyes, far steadier now for being back in Stephanie's good graces. "Did I ask you for it, John?"
He also wanted to bellow himself hoarse at Charlotte all over again, but would settle for never having to see or hear from her again.
"You ain't lettin' me off the hook that easy, Carrington, gimme back that necklace!" Stephanie commanded, impressed again, attempting an ornery smile at him as she got to her feet and marched over to the counter, standing on the opposite side from him.
Michael arched his eyebrows at her, biting back a huge grin of searing, joyous relief while he pulled the necklace from his jacket pocket and gently handed it over to her. Shaking with the effort of restraint, he just barely managed to keep his voice level as she put it back on. "I don't really know if there's something to honestly let you off the hook for, Steph; I'm aware of how Charlotte made it all believable, your dad told me, and I merely want to forget about it. If you don't mind?"
In his mind's eye, he was breathing her name huskily, wrapping his arms around her, tasting her mouth slowly, learning every centimeter of it, and to hell with everyone watching, he didn't care, because she was leaning into him –
There would be more poems written tonight, for certain.
He is after her. The thought was enough to set Johnny's teeth on edge all over again.
"So that leaves the question of the jacket." Jan said, her words splintering Johnny's and Michael's thoughts while she rubbed at her small baby bump; at some four months along now, she already had a name picked out, whether a boy or a girl – Cameron – and was expecting to deliver around the end of May.
"He said he stepped down." Johnny pressed, beyond eager, as Stephanie went and sat back down beside Siena-Rosa, leaving Michael missing (and aching for) her close proximity.
"It's been put to a vote, Nogerelli – "
Johnny exploded, roaring, "HE SAID HE STEPPED DOWN!"
There was a ringing silence, and Audra started crying; standing, Rizzo took her into the living room, Kenickie right behind her after throwing Johnny a furious glare, the two of them cooing and singing their daughter back to sleep. Andrianna sighed through her nose, frowning deeply at her son.
Michael sighed, exasperated and feeling just so done with it. "Let him have it back, Danny, really, I'm tired of hearing it. From him, from Goose, from Paulette. Even Davey and Rhonda have asked that I give it back, as they're tired of listening to Goose and Johnny complain about me." He glanced around. "All hands to a vote, in favor of Johnny being Head T-Bird again."
"Tell that idiot just deal with it, he lost it, fair and square!" Rizzo called bitingly from the living room.
"And I don't want to think of what may happen if he's made leader again." Andrianna spoke.
Johnny had been railing against the home confinement, against the AA meetings and the anger management sessions, against not being able to have a drink, against the loss of his Head T-Bird status, against the attitudes of everyone at that the high school, and against the ankle monitor.
But there wasn't anything he could do about it.
"Mom – !"
"I don't want you to have that advantage back! Betty's right, boy, just deal with it! And before you get to protesting, I'll tell you that you can't always come out on top. You won't always come out on top. Some of life is about losing! Whoever says different is just selling something!"
"What's all the stuff for?" Sandy asked, before Johnny could answer – not that Andrianna would have let him argue with her on the subject.
Ted began unpacking one of the grocery bags. "The fallout shelter out back. This whole mess of communism verses capitalism has people god-awful paranoid." He glanced around at the faces of the current T-Birds and Ladies. "We put the shelter in to shut the neighbors up. My folks always told me never to argue with someone on politics, race, or religion, that there's too many arguments on both sides, and that those three are always the cause of any war." He sighed. "It's all push, push, push, until someone from the other side decides to push back."
"Something for you to bear in mind, Johnny." Andrianna told him coolly.
"I – he stepped down." Johnny growled, seething.
"It's been put to a fair vote, Nogerelli." Danny replied evenly. "Mike's still in charge. Deal with it."
Oh, yeah, I'll deal with his softy ass, all right. He's gonna be sorry he ever messed with us T-Birds.
Meanwhile, Louis, after hearing about the fallout shelter, was struck with a sudden inspiration, one that would need some careful planning.