A/N: The more things change, the more the stay the same...
I am going to post the next chapter really soon because in the words of a rapper who's name I've forgotten, "It ain't over..."
Credit to all the M-named artists in this chapter and Mark-Paul Gosselaar.
As always, enjoy x
Chapter 7: Masochist
Friday 2nd September 2016, 9.16am, Aunt Tullie's house, Summerville, South Carolina
Tulip was a woman who'd lived to see many things but she never thought she'd see the day her niece was taken for a ride by a mass murderer in a suit. That's why she tried to understand how this could be; how this man who she was quite fond of, could be what they said he was. And then she thought of the doe's head that Sterling took to the taxidermist to mount, and she knew deep down it was possible.
Joss started because she didn't want to hear John's mouth right now. "Aunt Tullie, John has a troubled past but he turned it around. He's done a lot of harm but there are things he'd like to leave behind. And I believe him, I believe in him."
Tullie took a long, deep breath as though she was meditating. "Did you kill that poor woman?"
He thought of Jessica. "No. But I wasn't the best man for her. To her. I wasn't there when she needed me and I regret that because she deserved better. She died of kidney failure. I should've known something was wrong the last time I saw her, I should've seen the signs sooner."
She didn't know what to think. "And that Commissioner?"
"I'll be honest; I've always had trouble with authority, that's why I work for myself. He made some decisions I didn't agree with in the field and I punched him. I was punished; they took my platoon and I knew they'd never let me lead again so I left."
Tullie nodded, not in agreement but just because she was processing the information. "I have one more question for you, John. Two actually. Why'd you change your name?"
He answered honestly. "Because I'm not that man anymore."
"And lastly, do you honestly think you're the man my niece should marry?"
"No-one will ever be good enough for Joss, but no-one will ever love her the way I do because of how she's loved me."
Tullie didn't have anything more to say, instead she took her thoughts out the door with her. If John was in touch with the Machine it would have told him to save himself and leave with her, because the woman he was set to marry in two days' time was boiling over with fury. So much fury that the humid Southern heat of jeans on a leather-seated Cadillac in July couldn't compare to the hot eye-watering sting of Joss' slap across his face.
"What was that for?" He massaged his face, and that just made it worse. "At least there's no more pretence, I gave them what they wanted."
"They think you're a killing machine in fatigues."
He couldn't stop the tears from leaking out, it was involuntary. "After that shoot, it was a wrap. They were never gonna look at me the same."
"So you chose Zach Morris, John? You're lucky I can't shoot you."
9.52am, The Beanery, Summerville, South Carolina
Gregory wasn't the type to say I told you so because it was beneath him. Instead, he held her hand and advised her to take it easy as she got misty with frustration. Because she didn't cry. No, never that.
6.33pm, Aunt Tullie's house, Summerville, South Carolina
Taylor could cut the tension at the dining table with a knife. Things were awkwardly quiet except for the coos from Jeffery's baby girl and the conversation Jermaine and his wife were having about the U.S. Open. Hamilton had finally arrived, citing some excuse no-one bought about being busy at work. Upon seeing the white-man-named-John-with a-criminal-record-and-a-possible-history-of-multiple-homocide-who-shouldn't-be-marrying-Josie-if-they-had-anything-to-do-with-it, he casually greeted him because he just didn't care. Cammie noticed he didn't seem to care about anything except golf these days, but she never mentioned it. Not even to Rosie.
Evelyn was noticeably absent from dinner due to a migraine that could only be cured by avoiding food, light and family. Reggie was carefree and oblivious to it; the highlight of his day so far was making an ice pack with frozen peas for John's face and taking selfies in front of the Ducati. But that was all about to change with an incessant ringing of the doorbell. CeCe gave herself breasts a quick lift, smoothed down her dress and ran her tongue over her teeth before she opened the door.
Unlike most failed athletes Reginald DuChamp, wasn't out of shape by his early forties; with shoulders broad enough and biceps big enough to throw 165 pounds of CeCe over his shoulder, he was aging better than most. And even though her head said otherwise, she couldn't contain her excitement. When his father was mentioned Reggie usually responded with indifference, but seeing him in person completely changed his demeanour. Taylor was the first to notice that he went from carefree to tense as soon as Big Reggie opened his mouth.
"R.J.! How you been, son?"
If Reggie's face was a meme, the caption surely would've read; "When deadbeat dads show up like Frank Ocean". Not to mention, he hadn't been called R.J. since he was 7. "'Sup." Reggie said to the outraged glares of his mom and grandma. "…Dad. Fine. You?"
"Ahhh, you know me."
Taylor knew this wasn't going to end well. "Hey Uncle Reggie."
"Taylor! Look at you two, I remember when you were about this big; throwing the ball around with R.J. here." Taylor didn't have that memory because it never happened. The only ball his hands touched was an English Premier League one when Little Reggie played striker and he was the goalie. "I must be getting old."
Aunt Tullie sipped her sweet tea as something to wash this B.S. down with. Reggie had worn out his welcome at her house over a decade ago. "You're looking well. Stew? It's venison."
"Venison?" Reggie repeated and John felt another slap was on the horizon.
"Yes. You know Sterling and his lucky shot." Tullie covered, having decided that she was never going to get the whole truth but she could believe her niece's word; even if she was going to sleep with her door locked until they left.
Uncle Sterling perked up with an animated story pieced together from thin air. "Well, when you've been hunting as long as I have you know just where to go…"
9.20pm, Medallion Terrace Apartments, Columbia, South Carolina
Reggie didn't know what was more disgusting; having to sit through his dad's shameless bragging about his college football career when he'd only seen one game, having to respond to being called R.J., Reggie Reg and 'my boy', or watching his mom fan over a man who skipped court and states just so he didn't have to pay child support. Big Reggie, as everyone except Cammie affectionately called him, could be better named a 12-letter M word that Taylor could've sworn he heard his cousin mumble under his breath when he started the car.
Taylor had heard of Aleesha before but because the description was so scant he didn't know she was a Junior who lived off-campus in a nice apartment with her friends. She kissed her teeth when she first saw them at her door. "You again?"
"You know you want me to come in."
Reggie pulled the four pack from under his jacket and she rolled her eyes. "Is that all you got? Who's this?"
"My cousin, Taylor. Remember?"
"Hi." Was all Taylor could think to say.
She smiled. "You can come in." She looked Reggie in the eyes. "You can stay outside."
"The hell I can…" And with that Reggie ended their banter by shoving his tongue in her mouth. This wet, sloppy mess of a make-out was the moment when Reggie went from tense to reckless and he didn't stop going all night.
9.48pm, Midnight Star Bar and Dance Club, Columbia, South Carolina
The thing about Big Reggie was when he was good he was very, very good and when he was bad he was awful. Tonight, he was on rare form, insisting that Cece changed clothes and put on her dancing shoes. He had a knack for pushing her buttons so when they arrived at the #FlashbackFriday night at Midnight Star she couldn't get off the dancefloor to save her life. Song after song, Big Reggie refused to be out-performed on the dancefloor. From the groove of Maxwell's Ascension, to the bass of Mtume's Juicy Fruit and M People's Don't look any further, to the bounce of Mac Band's Roses are red, to the kick of Mark Morrison's Return of the Mack, to the sway of Mary Jane Girls' All night long; she was a slave to the rhythm, his rhythm, and that was a dangerous thing.
As though her brain left her body, everything else happened on autopilot. Somehow Miguel's Adorn and Monica's Angel of Mine led them to his hotel room downtown. And then he said those magical words as he lifted her dress up around her waist without asking. "You know; I'm thinking about moving back to Columbia…"
11.37pm, Medallion Terrace Apartments, Columbia, South Carolina
When Taylor met 'earthy' Ebony and 'almost-skinny' Alijah, he thought his cousin sucked at descriptions; Ebony's guitar was a bass hanging on the wall and Alijah was a Champagne Dancer at SC State. He learned this on their pizza run, after he lifted Reggie's car keys from his pocket (as John had taught him one time) when he was playing beer pong. But it seemed the 30-minute roundtrip was too long because when they returned Reggie was already losing at Drunk Jenga and going into full-on asshole mode. The kind of mode that would end with him passed out on the floor at best or knocked-out in a fight at worst. "Turn up!" Someone said out of nowhere, oblivious that they sounded like an idiot.