Disclaimer: I own nothing of the X-Men except a bunch of comics book- bought and paid for, mind you. I wouldn't advise sueing since I never have money; I ain't even got a job, imagine that. Unrecognizable characters belong to one of the following people: myself, Takamo, or another friend (she knows who she is and her name changes entirely too much to keep it straight). My Spanish and French are not entirely correct as they are not done into a human translation.
Chapter Eight: Complaints and Complaining
The Apartment 2:45 p.m.
"I hate you!"
"I hate you more!"
"Because of you I look like a blimp and can't control my own eating because I'm eating for two!"
"You were real willing at the time, Angel."
"Ah, eso es un tipo tÃpico!"
"Quel typical est du truth?"
"Ah, va hace algo ilegal!"
"Vous sont pourquoi si whiny?"
"Go do something il...legal...illegal." Tara flipped a couple more pages in the open dictionary she held then returned her attention to the arguement before them, taking a handful of popcorn from the bowl that sat on the table. She leaned back against Landon's arm and watched the two argue. "What did you get, Tasha...?"
She shook her head. "I got why and whiny...I bet we can fill in the blanks," Natasha replied after flipping a couple more pages. She gave up after a moment, shutting the book and tossing it onto the nearby table. "Let's just watch..."
"How many languages do those two know?" Jax asked, rubbing one side of his head where it was beginning to throb.
Tara frowned then thought about it. "Angel can speak Spanish and a little French...plus Gibberish. Julius knows Spanish and French...plus they both got English. Does that make four for her and three for him..? Or does Gibberish even count..?"
"Doesn't count."
She shrugged and began playing with her ring, twirling it around her finger, over and over. She watched the diamond spin, listening to the on-going arguement; it was pushing into it's second hour, though there was still plenty of popcorn, candy, and soda for the showing. It looked like a group of college kids' version of a make-shift theater.
"I'm leaving!"
"You won't do it!" Juilus glowered at his girlfriend then crossed his arms, watching her with heavy amusement present. It was obvious that he found this tantrum and her words unreal and doubted she'd follow through with them.
Angel stalked past him and next came the sound of things being thrown around a door slamming. This was accompanied by a bit of swearing that was in a combination of Spanish and English, sometimes Gibberish, too.
Uh-oh, was Tara's first thought. She recognized the sounds from the few times Angel had tried to take off for somewhere, usually New Orleans-another failed attempt to attend Mardi Gras. She was packing and wasn't exactly being gentle about the entire process. This isn't going to go well. I think it's time to go plan my wedding some more...even if it does mean more time with Jean.
Julius sat in one of the chairs, crossing his arms and helping himself to some popcorn.
"You just watch me, Julius Augustus Kanteon!" she fumed, dragging a full suitcase into the room and heading toward the door. She swore several times and mumbled what might have been voodoo curses from Remy, though no one was positive what they were.
He shook his head. "You'll be back," he said, confidently.
The door slammed in the wake of his words. It remained shut but a few more swear words could be heard along with the sound of something being dragged, most likely her suitcase.
"She'll be back any minute now."
Someone whistled outside. Silence for a moment then a door slammed. Tires squealed.
Landon looked in his direction, raising one eybrow but after a moment returned to watching Tara twirl her ring. Natasha and Jax didn't even come up for air or break contact, though there was an obvious half laugh from one of the two.
"She'll be back.."
The Apartment 4:45 p.m.
Julius Kanteon flipped a channel on the television set then dropped the remote, casting an irritated glance toward his overly invovled friends. "Angel will be back any time now," he told himself after standing and stretching.
Landon shook his head. "She's not coming back, Julius," he said, shifting his position slightly but not enough to wake Tara or even make her move more then a brief mumble. He smirked. "Want my advice?"
"No."
"Here is it anyway. Swallow your pride and go talk to her."
"Why do I have to go talk to her? She walked out, Landon." He walked into the kitchen and got a soda from the fridge, muttering to himself, though it wasn't exactly clear to anyone what it was. "Why do I have to go talk to her? She. Walked. Out."
It's not my problem if she wants to walk out and go whine to Remy and the others. Julius repeated the thought over and over but knew he would eventually go after her. He'd seen the result of children being raised by the X-Men and frankly...? It scared him, badly. I'll give her another hour then I'll go talk to her. Yeah, one hour...maybe an hour and a half. I need a drink...
X-Mansion 6:00 p.m.
Tara Toynbee massaged her temples and tried to ignore the shrill voice that was talking a mile a minute next to her. She sighed then muttered to herself, cursing the ex-X-woman who had made herself sole wedding planner.
"Don't you sigh and roll your eyes at me, Tara Toynbee," Jean said with only a brief glance up from the giant date book that she held. She flipped a couple pages then placed her left hand index finger on a square with a date. "November 21st."
"No. That's too close to Angel's due date. Pick again," she commanded, glaring down at the book of flowers she'd been staring at, without seeing them, for the last twenty-five minutes. She ripped a page out, shredding the bright colored roses then threw the pieces into the trash before starting all over again.
Jean huffed but scanned the page again, flipping back a couple of months then pointed again. "Augustus 18th...and stop shredding those! They cost a dollar each and are almost impossible to find nowadays!" She took the magazine and petted it like a child then added it to the stack of half mutilated magazines.
Tara did the math then nodded. "I guess that would work, though I'd have to ask Landon..."
"Well where is the boy?" Jean demanded with a toss of her red hair, now streaked with gray strands from her own son and the others' children. "We have soooo much planning to do...even the wedding singer and the cake and...and the invitations. I have to make the invitations."
The twenty-three-year-old frowned. "Jean, it's MY wedding. Can I have time to discuss it with MY fiance before you start setting things in stone for MY wedding..?" she demanded, glancing at the doorway in the hopes of being rescued by Logan or another. No one came, though the sound of voices could be heard from the kitchen.
"I'm not eating that."
"No one asked you to, petite."
"Why can't you make something else, Remy..?"
Remy's next words were exsparagated. "Angel Elizabeth Blade-Lebeau, y'have an apartment. Why can' any of y'eat there?"
Tara missed the next exchange since Jean yanked her head down to look at a cluster of wedding cakes and gowns photos. She stared at them and wanted to puke at the white dresses with their white seed pearls and flowering white trains; the cakes weren't much better especially since most stood too tall to be normal or sane.
"You're psycho, Jean. I think you died one time too many," she said, knowing it would cause a problem.
There was a chuckle from the doorway. "More like eight too many. The problem wasn't how many times she died but the fact that she came back after every one," Logan pointed out with a smirk, entering the room with a cigar dangling from his mouth. He chewed on the end. "Leave the kid alone, Jean. We wouldn't want her to rush into marriage."
She rolled her eyes. "You'd prefer it if I never married, wouldn't you, Logan..?"
"Damn right," he agreed once Jean was gone from the room, fuming and muttering to herself.
"What exactly do you have against Landon? Oh, and for your information, Logan....if it weren't for Jean trying to play prison warden we would have run off to Mexico and eloped by now." She said it mostly to shock him but partly just to get a reaction. His reactions were worth more than normal person especially where she was concerned; he'd always blamed her problems- and anything else-on first Angel then Natasha and now Landon.
His expression darkened. "What stopped you, kid..?"
She gave his a dumb look. "The redheaded witch from the west, of course. Did you really think she'd let us walk out in the middle of her planning a wedding ceremony? Yeah, right, Logan." Tara made a face then studied him, cocking her head to one side in a gesture of thinking. "How'd you get back so fast? I thought you were doing something with your creepy, too-hard-to-understand past..."
"I was but got an emergency call that I had to come save you before we lost a red headed telepath."
She smiled and made a mental note to thank Angel later, if that had been her savior. She was almost sure that it had been since most of the others would rather watch her suffer with Jean than call Logan back from his search.
Logan chewed on the end of his cigar some more then gave her a serious look. "Do you really want to run off and elope in Mexico?" he asked, point blank without looking away from her.
Tara hesitated then shook her head. "Not if it means you, Angel, my brother, Nanaki, Remy and Rogue, Santiago, and the others couldn't attend...I just...don't want to attend a wedding planned by Jean. You remember her own wedding to Scott..?"
He twitched and made a face. "Who could forget that? You and Angel almost ruined the entire ceremony within a few hours or less of it beginning," he said, smiling somewhat at the memory. "You two tried every trick in the book....including scaring off the minister by performing false voodoo on the sidewalk outside the church..."
She smiled, remembering it.
She and Angel had sat on the sidewalk, surrounded by an imitation pentegram done in white chalk and chanted. She had balanced a pot of dark red liquid in one hand while Angel read from a book that was full of imitation voodoo curses gotten from old library books. The minister had almost walked out until Logan had come outside and yelled at them to "stop pretending to worship the devil and get in here and look cute". It had been long enough then for the minister to figure out it was a joke by two young kids.
Tara smirked. "Where would the world be without us, Logan? Where would any of you be without us?" she asked, knowing he wouldn't answer it. He never did.
He shrugged and chomped on his cigar some more, giving no response.
She hesitated, having a second question to ask but unsure if he'd actually do it or just stare at her as if she were crazy.
He picked up on it and removed the cigar to look at her. "What else are you thinking about, kid..? Don't even think about lying to me either..."
"Could you off Jean for me..?"
Logan stared at her for all of ten seconds then shook his head. "No. You asked her to help you plan this wedding; you're stuck with her," he told her, putting the cigar back in and chomping on the end of it some more. "I could have given you the name of an even better and cheaper wedding planner.."
"I don't want a stripper or hooker planning my wedding, Logan!" Tara glared at him with her arms crossed over her chest. "Why can't you just off Jean? It wouldn't take nearly as long as you think..."
"No."
"You'd be doing Scott and David a favor!"
He shook his head. "She'd just come back, kid.." he reasoned with a shrug.
Tara groaned and flopped down on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. She blinked several times then sighed. "Are you punishing me for something?"
"Nope."
Storm's voice came then. "DINNER!"
"Come on, kid. Gumbo was cooking tonight so maybe it won't be that bad," he said, holding out one hand to her. She got up without touching his hand and started out the room with a muttered curse sounding oath. "You're not supposed to curse in the mansion."
"How come you can then...?"
"I'm an adult."
"So am I! I'm twenty-three, Logan."
He stared at her. "I'm still older."
"Way older."
"Shut up and go eat your dinner."
Tara stuck her tongue out at his back, widening her eyes and making a face. She followed him into the hall then toward the kitchen, listening to the sound of Angel and Remy arguing.
"I think it just moved, Remy."
"It did not move, petite. If y'd quit poking it wit' de fork, it would lay still." Remy's voice held a note of warning and also exsparagation. "Stop poking de accursed food!"
"What exactly is it...?" Angel's voice was plaintive and followed by the sound of someone making gagging noises.
"It don' matter, petite. Y'wouldn't be able to pronounce it...and Remy doubt de bebe will even let y'eat it."
"How do you know? Have you ever been pregnant...chere?"
"Non, Remy never been pregnant."
"Then don't tell me what I can and can't eat!"
"Do you two have to fight about every little detail?" Tara asked, coming into the kitchen and surveying the scene then deciding she didn't want to know. It was better not to know when those two were involved.
"Yes," Angel replied after sticking her tongue out at Remy's back.
He responded without looking at either of them. "Tongue back in your mouth, petite, unless y'plan to use it for somet'ing. De chile has some problems to work out, Tara."
"I do not have problems! Amy is not a problem." She petted her stomache for a moment, talking to the baby. "It's okay, sweetie. Grandpa's just a little upset because he's old and about to get his first grandchild..it's okay, sweetie. Mommy loves you and so does Grandpa."
"Remy is not Grandpa! Remy looks entirely too good to be de...grandpa..."
Logan snorted then covered it up by chomping on his cigar and going into the other room, yelling something to Scott who was attempting to help David with his homework. The boy looked more confused then like he understood his father.
Tara grimaced, listening to Remy and Angel's arguement for a moment then went into the living room, picking up the phone. She dialed the number she'd memorized and waited through seven rings until a voice picked up.
"What?"
"Jeez, you sure people feel welcome, Jax. Put Landon on."
"He's busy."
"Go find him. Now."
There was muffled cursing, muttering, banging on a door then raised voices. Landon's voice came on the phone after all this. "Yes?"
"What were you so busy with?" she demanded, wrapping the phone cord around her wrist then undoing it to repeat the process.
"What was so important that you had to drag me away from my work?"
"I want to elope in Mexico."
"Jean won't let us, Tara. We've already tried that."
Tara smiled, thinking about something. "I got a new idea...can you get Jax and Natasha to meet us at the apartment tomorrow morning...? Bring Julius if he wants to come."
"Julius figured out forty-five minutes ago that Angel and animal aren't coming back any time soon. He went to by flowers and think up a way to get forgiven without apologizing..."
"Oh no."
There so silence, signalling that he'd nodded.
Jean's voice suddenly filled the room. "You are not running off to Mexico to elope! Ever. I am planning this wedding so you WILL get married under MY conditions?"
"I have to go, Landon. I love you."
Jean slamemd the phone down before he could respond then glared at her. "You are getting married under MY conditions. Any unneccessary problems or attempted escapes will cause you to lose any opinion whatsoever in your wedding...you've already lost picking the flowers," she said, pointing to a magazine where a bunch of bright red and yellow flowers were.
"Uh...."
"DINNER!"
Tara walked around Jean, muttering and swearing. "Mexico...I wanna elope in Mexico...it's not fair...my wedding...my choice...Mexico. Mexico. Mexico. I'm gonna move to the Mexican Border and live there...."
"YOU ARE NOT MOVING TO MEXICO."
"Why not?"
"Because I said so."
"Looooogan!"
Chapter Eight: Complaints and Complaining
The Apartment 2:45 p.m.
"I hate you!"
"I hate you more!"
"Because of you I look like a blimp and can't control my own eating because I'm eating for two!"
"You were real willing at the time, Angel."
"Ah, eso es un tipo tÃpico!"
"Quel typical est du truth?"
"Ah, va hace algo ilegal!"
"Vous sont pourquoi si whiny?"
"Go do something il...legal...illegal." Tara flipped a couple more pages in the open dictionary she held then returned her attention to the arguement before them, taking a handful of popcorn from the bowl that sat on the table. She leaned back against Landon's arm and watched the two argue. "What did you get, Tasha...?"
She shook her head. "I got why and whiny...I bet we can fill in the blanks," Natasha replied after flipping a couple more pages. She gave up after a moment, shutting the book and tossing it onto the nearby table. "Let's just watch..."
"How many languages do those two know?" Jax asked, rubbing one side of his head where it was beginning to throb.
Tara frowned then thought about it. "Angel can speak Spanish and a little French...plus Gibberish. Julius knows Spanish and French...plus they both got English. Does that make four for her and three for him..? Or does Gibberish even count..?"
"Doesn't count."
She shrugged and began playing with her ring, twirling it around her finger, over and over. She watched the diamond spin, listening to the on-going arguement; it was pushing into it's second hour, though there was still plenty of popcorn, candy, and soda for the showing. It looked like a group of college kids' version of a make-shift theater.
"I'm leaving!"
"You won't do it!" Juilus glowered at his girlfriend then crossed his arms, watching her with heavy amusement present. It was obvious that he found this tantrum and her words unreal and doubted she'd follow through with them.
Angel stalked past him and next came the sound of things being thrown around a door slamming. This was accompanied by a bit of swearing that was in a combination of Spanish and English, sometimes Gibberish, too.
Uh-oh, was Tara's first thought. She recognized the sounds from the few times Angel had tried to take off for somewhere, usually New Orleans-another failed attempt to attend Mardi Gras. She was packing and wasn't exactly being gentle about the entire process. This isn't going to go well. I think it's time to go plan my wedding some more...even if it does mean more time with Jean.
Julius sat in one of the chairs, crossing his arms and helping himself to some popcorn.
"You just watch me, Julius Augustus Kanteon!" she fumed, dragging a full suitcase into the room and heading toward the door. She swore several times and mumbled what might have been voodoo curses from Remy, though no one was positive what they were.
He shook his head. "You'll be back," he said, confidently.
The door slammed in the wake of his words. It remained shut but a few more swear words could be heard along with the sound of something being dragged, most likely her suitcase.
"She'll be back any minute now."
Someone whistled outside. Silence for a moment then a door slammed. Tires squealed.
Landon looked in his direction, raising one eybrow but after a moment returned to watching Tara twirl her ring. Natasha and Jax didn't even come up for air or break contact, though there was an obvious half laugh from one of the two.
"She'll be back.."
The Apartment 4:45 p.m.
Julius Kanteon flipped a channel on the television set then dropped the remote, casting an irritated glance toward his overly invovled friends. "Angel will be back any time now," he told himself after standing and stretching.
Landon shook his head. "She's not coming back, Julius," he said, shifting his position slightly but not enough to wake Tara or even make her move more then a brief mumble. He smirked. "Want my advice?"
"No."
"Here is it anyway. Swallow your pride and go talk to her."
"Why do I have to go talk to her? She walked out, Landon." He walked into the kitchen and got a soda from the fridge, muttering to himself, though it wasn't exactly clear to anyone what it was. "Why do I have to go talk to her? She. Walked. Out."
It's not my problem if she wants to walk out and go whine to Remy and the others. Julius repeated the thought over and over but knew he would eventually go after her. He'd seen the result of children being raised by the X-Men and frankly...? It scared him, badly. I'll give her another hour then I'll go talk to her. Yeah, one hour...maybe an hour and a half. I need a drink...
X-Mansion 6:00 p.m.
Tara Toynbee massaged her temples and tried to ignore the shrill voice that was talking a mile a minute next to her. She sighed then muttered to herself, cursing the ex-X-woman who had made herself sole wedding planner.
"Don't you sigh and roll your eyes at me, Tara Toynbee," Jean said with only a brief glance up from the giant date book that she held. She flipped a couple pages then placed her left hand index finger on a square with a date. "November 21st."
"No. That's too close to Angel's due date. Pick again," she commanded, glaring down at the book of flowers she'd been staring at, without seeing them, for the last twenty-five minutes. She ripped a page out, shredding the bright colored roses then threw the pieces into the trash before starting all over again.
Jean huffed but scanned the page again, flipping back a couple of months then pointed again. "Augustus 18th...and stop shredding those! They cost a dollar each and are almost impossible to find nowadays!" She took the magazine and petted it like a child then added it to the stack of half mutilated magazines.
Tara did the math then nodded. "I guess that would work, though I'd have to ask Landon..."
"Well where is the boy?" Jean demanded with a toss of her red hair, now streaked with gray strands from her own son and the others' children. "We have soooo much planning to do...even the wedding singer and the cake and...and the invitations. I have to make the invitations."
The twenty-three-year-old frowned. "Jean, it's MY wedding. Can I have time to discuss it with MY fiance before you start setting things in stone for MY wedding..?" she demanded, glancing at the doorway in the hopes of being rescued by Logan or another. No one came, though the sound of voices could be heard from the kitchen.
"I'm not eating that."
"No one asked you to, petite."
"Why can't you make something else, Remy..?"
Remy's next words were exsparagated. "Angel Elizabeth Blade-Lebeau, y'have an apartment. Why can' any of y'eat there?"
Tara missed the next exchange since Jean yanked her head down to look at a cluster of wedding cakes and gowns photos. She stared at them and wanted to puke at the white dresses with their white seed pearls and flowering white trains; the cakes weren't much better especially since most stood too tall to be normal or sane.
"You're psycho, Jean. I think you died one time too many," she said, knowing it would cause a problem.
There was a chuckle from the doorway. "More like eight too many. The problem wasn't how many times she died but the fact that she came back after every one," Logan pointed out with a smirk, entering the room with a cigar dangling from his mouth. He chewed on the end. "Leave the kid alone, Jean. We wouldn't want her to rush into marriage."
She rolled her eyes. "You'd prefer it if I never married, wouldn't you, Logan..?"
"Damn right," he agreed once Jean was gone from the room, fuming and muttering to herself.
"What exactly do you have against Landon? Oh, and for your information, Logan....if it weren't for Jean trying to play prison warden we would have run off to Mexico and eloped by now." She said it mostly to shock him but partly just to get a reaction. His reactions were worth more than normal person especially where she was concerned; he'd always blamed her problems- and anything else-on first Angel then Natasha and now Landon.
His expression darkened. "What stopped you, kid..?"
She gave his a dumb look. "The redheaded witch from the west, of course. Did you really think she'd let us walk out in the middle of her planning a wedding ceremony? Yeah, right, Logan." Tara made a face then studied him, cocking her head to one side in a gesture of thinking. "How'd you get back so fast? I thought you were doing something with your creepy, too-hard-to-understand past..."
"I was but got an emergency call that I had to come save you before we lost a red headed telepath."
She smiled and made a mental note to thank Angel later, if that had been her savior. She was almost sure that it had been since most of the others would rather watch her suffer with Jean than call Logan back from his search.
Logan chewed on the end of his cigar some more then gave her a serious look. "Do you really want to run off and elope in Mexico?" he asked, point blank without looking away from her.
Tara hesitated then shook her head. "Not if it means you, Angel, my brother, Nanaki, Remy and Rogue, Santiago, and the others couldn't attend...I just...don't want to attend a wedding planned by Jean. You remember her own wedding to Scott..?"
He twitched and made a face. "Who could forget that? You and Angel almost ruined the entire ceremony within a few hours or less of it beginning," he said, smiling somewhat at the memory. "You two tried every trick in the book....including scaring off the minister by performing false voodoo on the sidewalk outside the church..."
She smiled, remembering it.
She and Angel had sat on the sidewalk, surrounded by an imitation pentegram done in white chalk and chanted. She had balanced a pot of dark red liquid in one hand while Angel read from a book that was full of imitation voodoo curses gotten from old library books. The minister had almost walked out until Logan had come outside and yelled at them to "stop pretending to worship the devil and get in here and look cute". It had been long enough then for the minister to figure out it was a joke by two young kids.
Tara smirked. "Where would the world be without us, Logan? Where would any of you be without us?" she asked, knowing he wouldn't answer it. He never did.
He shrugged and chomped on his cigar some more, giving no response.
She hesitated, having a second question to ask but unsure if he'd actually do it or just stare at her as if she were crazy.
He picked up on it and removed the cigar to look at her. "What else are you thinking about, kid..? Don't even think about lying to me either..."
"Could you off Jean for me..?"
Logan stared at her for all of ten seconds then shook his head. "No. You asked her to help you plan this wedding; you're stuck with her," he told her, putting the cigar back in and chomping on the end of it some more. "I could have given you the name of an even better and cheaper wedding planner.."
"I don't want a stripper or hooker planning my wedding, Logan!" Tara glared at him with her arms crossed over her chest. "Why can't you just off Jean? It wouldn't take nearly as long as you think..."
"No."
"You'd be doing Scott and David a favor!"
He shook his head. "She'd just come back, kid.." he reasoned with a shrug.
Tara groaned and flopped down on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. She blinked several times then sighed. "Are you punishing me for something?"
"Nope."
Storm's voice came then. "DINNER!"
"Come on, kid. Gumbo was cooking tonight so maybe it won't be that bad," he said, holding out one hand to her. She got up without touching his hand and started out the room with a muttered curse sounding oath. "You're not supposed to curse in the mansion."
"How come you can then...?"
"I'm an adult."
"So am I! I'm twenty-three, Logan."
He stared at her. "I'm still older."
"Way older."
"Shut up and go eat your dinner."
Tara stuck her tongue out at his back, widening her eyes and making a face. She followed him into the hall then toward the kitchen, listening to the sound of Angel and Remy arguing.
"I think it just moved, Remy."
"It did not move, petite. If y'd quit poking it wit' de fork, it would lay still." Remy's voice held a note of warning and also exsparagation. "Stop poking de accursed food!"
"What exactly is it...?" Angel's voice was plaintive and followed by the sound of someone making gagging noises.
"It don' matter, petite. Y'wouldn't be able to pronounce it...and Remy doubt de bebe will even let y'eat it."
"How do you know? Have you ever been pregnant...chere?"
"Non, Remy never been pregnant."
"Then don't tell me what I can and can't eat!"
"Do you two have to fight about every little detail?" Tara asked, coming into the kitchen and surveying the scene then deciding she didn't want to know. It was better not to know when those two were involved.
"Yes," Angel replied after sticking her tongue out at Remy's back.
He responded without looking at either of them. "Tongue back in your mouth, petite, unless y'plan to use it for somet'ing. De chile has some problems to work out, Tara."
"I do not have problems! Amy is not a problem." She petted her stomache for a moment, talking to the baby. "It's okay, sweetie. Grandpa's just a little upset because he's old and about to get his first grandchild..it's okay, sweetie. Mommy loves you and so does Grandpa."
"Remy is not Grandpa! Remy looks entirely too good to be de...grandpa..."
Logan snorted then covered it up by chomping on his cigar and going into the other room, yelling something to Scott who was attempting to help David with his homework. The boy looked more confused then like he understood his father.
Tara grimaced, listening to Remy and Angel's arguement for a moment then went into the living room, picking up the phone. She dialed the number she'd memorized and waited through seven rings until a voice picked up.
"What?"
"Jeez, you sure people feel welcome, Jax. Put Landon on."
"He's busy."
"Go find him. Now."
There was muffled cursing, muttering, banging on a door then raised voices. Landon's voice came on the phone after all this. "Yes?"
"What were you so busy with?" she demanded, wrapping the phone cord around her wrist then undoing it to repeat the process.
"What was so important that you had to drag me away from my work?"
"I want to elope in Mexico."
"Jean won't let us, Tara. We've already tried that."
Tara smiled, thinking about something. "I got a new idea...can you get Jax and Natasha to meet us at the apartment tomorrow morning...? Bring Julius if he wants to come."
"Julius figured out forty-five minutes ago that Angel and animal aren't coming back any time soon. He went to by flowers and think up a way to get forgiven without apologizing..."
"Oh no."
There so silence, signalling that he'd nodded.
Jean's voice suddenly filled the room. "You are not running off to Mexico to elope! Ever. I am planning this wedding so you WILL get married under MY conditions?"
"I have to go, Landon. I love you."
Jean slamemd the phone down before he could respond then glared at her. "You are getting married under MY conditions. Any unneccessary problems or attempted escapes will cause you to lose any opinion whatsoever in your wedding...you've already lost picking the flowers," she said, pointing to a magazine where a bunch of bright red and yellow flowers were.
"Uh...."
"DINNER!"
Tara walked around Jean, muttering and swearing. "Mexico...I wanna elope in Mexico...it's not fair...my wedding...my choice...Mexico. Mexico. Mexico. I'm gonna move to the Mexican Border and live there...."
"YOU ARE NOT MOVING TO MEXICO."
"Why not?"
"Because I said so."
"Looooogan!"