A/N: Ahhh, John. There is such a thing as being too good at what you do.

Anyway, here's the fallout of his faux-pas at the Creek. Credit to Stevie Wonder for being a legend.

As always, enjoy. x

Chapter 5: Meringue

Tuesday 30th August 2016, 3.12pm, Aunt Tullie's house, Summerville, South Carolina

Ever since the incident at Eastatoe Creek, Aunt Tullie's House of Harmony was divided into two camps: on #TeamJohn were the usual suspects, Joss, Evelyn, Gregory, Taylor, CeCe, Tullie and now Reggie because he was still in awe of John's hunting skills; and on #TeamWhosthiswhitemanandwhatshisstory were Aunts Rosie and Cammie, Jason, Jeffery, Jermaine, and of course Uncle Sterling. Rosie's war council had been meeting often to share information. Evelyn didn't take it seriously; not because she thought they'd get over it, but because as time passed the stakes raised higher and higher. In her mind, this wedding would happen; and nothing and no-one could stop her from helping that happen. The tension was rising along with the humid heat as the temperature pushed 94 degrees in the shade.

The only cool place in the house was the garage, but with the doe's head in the freezer; only Gregory could stand being in there. John was surprised to be summoned by the most mellow person he'd ever known. "Tell me what I did."

"So you have no idea?" Gregory asked, restringing an old guitar.

"No." John made a chair from a three-legged stool that was far too close to the ground. "I thought it was a test; here's a rifle, bring home dinner."

Gregory wasn't buying his innocence. "Joss warned you, didn't she?"

"All she said was; everyone lets him think he's a good shot. Why is this such a big deal?"

"John, some things are more important than playing Rambo."

"I don't follow."

"We don't indulge Sterling out of pity; we do it out of respect. So he can have bragging rights and be a hero in his family."

"Right. And I'm not family."

"Not yet. But even when you are; you're not the head honcho here. What you did was the same as carving the turkey at Thanksgiving, or taking the first spin in his new car, or breaking in his shoes. It wasn't your place, even if you are an expert."

"You're telling me to stand down."

"You have to get in line."

John nodded, it made so much sense when Gregory explained it. "So, you think there's any chance they'll forget?"

Gregory chuckled. "The same chance all my hair's growing back purple. Between the eyes, John?"

"Okay…I get it now."

"Good, then you can do something for me."

"Name it."

"Tell me you're marrying Joss for the right reasons and not because my lovely wife twisted your arm."

"I'm marrying Joss for the right reasons and not because your lovely wife twisted my arm."

"Why are you doing it then?" Gregory asked, out of curiosity more than anything else; John was such a black hole he never knew what lay beneath the suit and assorted weapons.

"Trust me, I have a good reason. The best, actually." Gregory was intrigued and for that very reason, he knew John would never tell him.

4.24pm, Aunt Tullie's house, Summerville, South Carolina

Having felt the shift in morale and never one to be outdone by her spoilt baby sister, Evelyn rallied up her troops in the kitchen with the exception of Tullie who was sipping sweet tea with her feet propped up on an overturned plant pot in the garden. She didn't have the stomach for scheming and decided to hop off the runaway train two stops early. "After that little snafu at the Creek, we need to regroup." That's your mama, CeCe said with her eyes. "There's no room for mistakes, mishaps or mess-ups, John." The familiar feeling of being called to the principal's office washed over him. "So, it's time to focus. Jocelyn – dress shopping on Wednesday, John'll need a-" She looked him up and down, still mad. "Suit. Waistcoats for Taylor and Reggie but Tay promised he'd do that by Friday and he always sticks to his word." She couldn't help delivering another jab to her soon-to-be-son-in-law. "Then there's cake tasting-"

"Cake tasting?" John repeated, not knowing that was a thing.

"Tastes of Sweetness are sending samples. Feedback by Thursday."

"Feedback?"

"On the flavour, John." Joss whispered.

"And Jocelyn, the colour scheme: pick a colour, any colour. Except the ugly ones. How about olive and cream?"

CeCe forced a coughing fit; olive wasn't her colour. "I think we'll go with coral and grey. You have a grey suit, don't you?" Joss replied, curing her cousin instantly and making John blush.

Evelyn gave herself an invisible pat on the back; it was working. "Next up is music; I need your First Dance song by Friday. Here's a list of suggestions."

"Any Guns N' Roses?" John asked.

"Guns, no. Roses, yes. Cream ones."

"He means the band, Ma. Are they on your list?"

Evelyn was puzzled. "No, why?"

He smirked. "No reason."

Wednesday 31st August 2016, 3.12pm, Just Right Tuxedo Hire, Columbia, South Carolina

Taylor was committed to flying under the radar for this whole wedding, in the hopes of getting away with his collusion. To his Gram's delight, he and Reggie were trying on grey waistcoats and complementary coral cravats, if only they could figure out how to tie them.

"John's decent." Reggie said, off the cuff as he tried to figure out what he was doing in front of the mirror.

Taylor was surprised to hear it, seeing as they usually talked about girls, football, soccer, cars, and now motorbikes. "Yeah, he is."

"You shoulda seen it." Taylor neglected to say he'd seen John in action before, at the gun range and in the street. "Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"What they said."

"What who said?" Taylor asked.

Even though they were the only people in the suit rental store, Reggie still lowered his voice. "That John's a sharp shooter and that's why he's so quick with the steel."

There was nothing subtle about Taylor's reaction. "Who said that?"

"So it is true." Reggie smiled at outsmarting the cousin he was often compared to. "You were doing good 'til your voice went all high like a girl."

Taylor knew there was no end to the teasing if he fought it. "He's…good with that kinda stuff. Anyway why'd you care? You just want on that bike."

Reggie shook his head. "Nah. I'm good."

"Since when?"

"Since Monday." Taylor couldn't argue with that. John was worse than the inmates on Scared Straight. "You coming to Aleesha's thing this Friday?" Reggie loved a rhetorical question. "I said you're coming so you're coming."

"Yeah I'm coming." Taylor said, as though he had a choice. Columbia was Reggie's home town and he seemed to know everyone, especially girls which made being his "out-of-towner" sidekick all worth it. "Aleesha…" He tried to remember his previous description. "Light-skin, thick thighs."

Reggie shook his head. "Nah that's Brandy. Aleesha: dark-skin, thick legs, semi-phat ass but I'll take it."

"Semi-phat?" Taylor asked. "Like milk?"

Reggie laughed at his cousin's way with words. "What about that girl with the hair? Band camp. Bianca."

"Bella." Taylor said with a bit too much force. "She's at Princeton, we're just friends."

"Yeah and John looked just like me back in the day." Reggie had an idea. "Aleesha's got a friend…you still like skinny girls?" He teased.

"I don't like skinny girls." Taylor protested.

"Yes, you do. I've seen your Facebook."

For once, he can't defend himself. Taylor wanted to crawl into a hole; getting called out did that to him. "So…Aleesha's friend?"

"Alright there's Ebony – she's earthy, cute though."

Again, Taylor looked puzzled. "Earthy?"

"You know; acoustic guitar, #teamnatural, feed the whales and stuff."

"You mean Free the whales?"

Reggie didn't appreciate Taylor's correction; just because he was 'the smart one' that didn't make him a dumb football player. "You're the one stuck on that girl, Bella. When's she coming back?"

Taylor wished that hole would appear in the floor. "Mouth shutting right now."

Reggie felt vindicated. "Shyanne's my type." Insta-Model, Taylor thought. "Then there's Alijah, you'll like her, she's kinda skinny."

"I don't like…forget it."

5.50pm, Aunt Tullie's house, Summerville, South Carolina

"Carolyn, are you sure about your plus-one?" That wasn't a question so much as a notice. When Reginald DuChamp Sr appeared on her list Evelyn clutched her invisible pearls; if her niece was trying to rekindle that flame she was an all-day sucker and an all-night one too. Her carefully laid plans did not include Big Reggie muscling his way into the family for a weekend, a day late and about twenty-thousand dollars short, to get CeCe all gassed up only to let her down and leave her hanging.

"Yes, I am." For all the attempts CeCe had made to differentiate herself from her mother, from shaving her head, to the bronze, copper and now red back-length dreadlocks, she had inherited her short-sightedness and fixed way of thinking. "I think it'll be good for Reggie."

"For Reggie?" Evelyn repeated with all the confusion of a tourist in a foreign land. When it came to his son, Big Reggie was always countless days late and about $20,000 short.

Now would've been a great time to ask why her niece fell for a football player, but she couldn't when her daughter did the same thing. Actually, Joss and CeCe led almost mirrored lives up to the day the former enlisted; married their college sweethearts, had only sons, led nice neat corporate lives until it all fell apart. The difference was Joss had the strength to leave which came from believing she deserved better; and that belief came from her mother's voice in her head.

Evelyn would've continued her line of questioning but the discomfort and vulnerability on CeCe's face made her back down; if only Carolyn knew how beautiful she was growing up and hadn't thought she was plain because her mother said so, maybe she wouldn't have thought of herself as the 'plain' girl who hooked the football player in college against the odds, and maybe she would've known in 1995 that there was no hope for their ill-fated marriage even though she was carrying his baby, then maybe she wouldn't have taken it personally when he left them behind to pursue a short-lived professional football career, and maybe she wouldn't have held the door open for him all these years.

If Evelyn was a cursing woman, she would've asked John to kick his ass with steel boots on sight; but since she was a part-time Southern Belle she simply prayed for his comeuppance. "If you're sure…" Her voice trailed off as her eyes disappeared back into her plans and CeCe was let off the hook. It seemed no matter how many strides she made in her personal and professional life, whenever she hit the sack with that man her insecurities came flooding back; an occurrence he'd been exploiting since college.

6.20pm, Bells and Whistles Bridal Boutique, Columbia, South Carolina

When CeCe came down with a mysterious stomach ache caused by Onset-Wedding-Dress-Disorder, Joss was left with no buffer. The rack of taffeta, tulle, organdy and organza in every style, from Elizabethan-era to early-2000s Never Been Kissed prom, was a five-year-old's dream. It took a glass of champagne to get Joss to try on one.

Evelyn was getting misty. "I always knew you'd be a dream in a ball gown. Isn't she a dream?"

Whose dream was the question. The sales assistants nodded and smiled along. Joss didn't. "It's huge…and poofy."

"It's voluminous." Evelyn said, as though it meant something different.

"It's a meringue." Joss stated. "I want something simple, no fuss, no muss, no frills."

"But Jocelyn-" Evelyn protested, as she wanted to like the dress and the man standing next to her daughter this time around.

"Simple, Ma. Or I could just wear pants."

Evelyn shuddered at the thought. "Fine. Ladies; sheaths and A-lines only…'cause I can't have anything I want."

Thursday 1st September 2016, 3.16am, Aunt Tullie's house, Summerville, South Carolina

Since Gregory's pep talk, John had tried to fly under the radar; even when Uncle Sterling's car started acting up he feigned ignorance and let the old man do more damage, earning him brownie points with his fiancée. Joss was so exhausted after the Battle of Wills at the boutique that she was enjoying the best sleep she'd had in ages. So deep, that when John's burner phone started ringing she didn't hear it.

"Excuse my call at this unsociable hour, Mr Reese."

"I knew I'd be hearing from you at some point, Harold. What'd you need?"

"Actually, it's you who's in need of assistance. It seems Drill Sergeant Jason Summers ran your prints through the system at Fort Jackson."

"Jason." John could've kicked himself for not paying attention to all those drinks he gave him at the card table when they played spades. Even though he'd left on Sunday night, he was still being mentioned by 'the other side' in conversation. "I thought we had something in place for this."

"We do but that leaves us in a pickle."

"A pickle?"

"Fine; a precarious position we need to get you out of hastily should you wish to get married on Monday."

"That's more like it." John replied.

"So it's your choice, which of your Army aliases you'd like him to find. There's Warren, if you'd like to veer more on the side of truth, Morris or Wiley?"

John thought about it carefully. If he used Warren, Joss' prying family would never stop asking him questions so close to his real past. Van Den Bosch was rich so Aunt Rosie would approve, but his performance at Eastatoe Creek put the kibosh them ever buying the notion John was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He knew then why he should've listened to her in the first place. Now he was left with no choice but to score for Rosie's team and confirm their suspicions with the dangerous man they thought he was. "Go with Morris."