A/N: Because I have an exam to write in the next 36 hours and need to cram, the early-morning creativity buzz allowed me to post this one day early (some of you will read it on Monday anyway). I've alluded with some of you that Evelyn meets a worthy adversary, well here they are.
As always, enjoy x
Chapter 10: Maybe Monday
Monday 5th September 2016, 7.01am, Aunt Tullie's house, Summerville, South Carolina
Aunt Rosie bounced her baby granddaughter on her hip and looked out of the window; it appeared the thunderstorm was holding off and even though some of Tullie's pot plants were waterlogged, the sky was overcast and the weather was bearable again. The chubby 11-month-old hadn't uttered her first word yet and Rosie talked non-stop to coax one out of her. "And that's a gladiola…and that's Mr Greene walking his dog…and that's a maple tree…you like maple syrup, Pumpkin?" The baby kicked her legs. "I bet you do, don't tell mommy, it's a secret…"
The branches started swinging on the maple tree, shaking leaves off months too early. Rosie and the baby looked up at the sky and the drilling noise that was getting louder and closer. "And that's a helicopter?" Rosie took a double take at the iron bird passing over the house.
The sausage legs were kicking speedily as the baby's eyes followed it across the sky "Coh-bah. Coh-bah. Coh-bah. Coh-bahhhhhhh." The helicopter went out of view and the baby started crying.
She soothed her granddaughter and wondered what was going on. "Don't worry, Muffin, I'll get you a helicopter…"
…
"Is that what I thought it was?" Gregory asked, drying his beard. Somehow he always managed to skip the queue for the bathroom.
"Yeah." Evelyn replied, completely unaware that the landing signalled a coup; a new order that usurping her of her powers.
7.17am, Hangar 4, Summerville (DYB) Airport, Summerville, South Carolina
Lionel Fusco had been struggling to connect with his son all summer; a combination of hockey camp, new friends, secret girls with no names, a French-speaking stepdad with a paint gun collection and puberty had driven a wedge between them. But when Lee heard his dad had a bespectacled friend who walked with a limp who owned a helicopter, he would've met his dad at the moon for just one ride. "Nice landing, Glasses." He said with approval.
"Always a pleasure, Detective."
"You mean you've done this before? Without me?" Lee asked with equals parts interest and outrage.
Fusco patted his son on the shoulder. "Return my calls more often."
Lee's face went pink, not because he was embarrassed but because the Lara Croft look-a-like they rode with, who christened him Curly Fries the II, took off her leather jacket and kissed the Belgian Malinois on the mouth. "I know, Bear; if we have to watch Captain America puke out his wedding vows, at least we have each other. Come on sexy."
7.50am, Aunt Tullie's house, Summerville, South Carolina
Cammie woke up on the wrong side of the bed, too late to get in the bathroom for the next 30 minutes and just early enough to go through Hamilton's phone while he was out jogging. In the 9 years they'd been together, she'd never been able to convince the portly man to take his health seriously, as he often told her, "I didn't marry a Southern woman, to go hungry." But in the last few months, he'd been swimming, golfing (not just for business) and jogging often. She scrolled through his emails as his fingers were too stubby for texting. Orders…stock take…quarterly audit…meeting with a small chain of stores…dry cleaning…Nassau, Bahamas? She took a double take. He'd never taken her to the Bahamas though she'd have loved to go.
…
Dear Shayla,
In recognition of your Outstanding service to our company and in celebration of your Second year with us; please accept this pair of AirMerica flights to Nassau, Bahamas.
Sincerely Signed,
Hamilton A. Frasier.
…
Hamilton, (no greeting, what a floozie)
Thanks for the kind gesture. I could use some time off.
Shay (oh, so we're using nicknames here)
…
Shay, (wait? You too?)
Take your time. We couldn't have done it without you. (Done what? What the hell makes her so special)
H.
…
Cammie remembered Shayla, at least she did now she was all over her LinkedIn page. Shayla Johnson, his Executive Assistant turned Account Manager in under two years (what a freaking leap), 30 years his junior, and soon-to-be dead.
8.20am, Aunt Tullie's house, Summerville, South Carolina
Tullie's open door policy didn't usually extend to pets. Not since her beloved cat, Whiskers, died five years ago. But this motley crew that called themselves friends of her niece and her niece's fiancé was much stranger than the dog that looked like something out of an Independence Day remake. The policeman and his son seemed normal, polite even, but the man with the glasses who spoke in riddles and the woman at her table eating venison stew from a small pot were just bizarre. "Where shall we put the ice sculpture?" Finch asked, confusing her.
"Ice sculpture?" She repeated, because it was summer in South Carolina and ice wasn't ice for long.
"Yes. It's two doves."
Evelyn didn't know they had visitors, so when she walked in to the kitchen and heard this man who was supposed to be John's boss talking as though he was driving this train she was taken aback. Because she hadn't thought of it first. "Harold?"
"Good morning, Ms Evelyn. You are, quite a vision this morning."
Because of her attitude, that did nothing for usual dietary requirement of compliments. "Good morning to you, too. I'm guessing that was your helicopter?"
Rosie raised her eyebrows at the sound of that. Even though she was on pie crust duty, she was impressed. "Yes, there were too many delays in the commercial system." That, and it was hard to fly coach as a fugitive. "I heard about the glitch with the wedding gown, hopefully the fireworks display will console the blushing Detective."
"Fireworks?" Cammie repeated from the doorway. "I thought this was a low-key affair."
"Well, I know John to be more high-octane than low-key. Ms. Tulip, I hope you don't mind a marquee tent in your garden. I've asked the workers to be mindful of your foliage."
Finch had her at foliage. "You just do whatever you like, Harold." Cammie and Rosie drew in a sharp breath, with those words Tullie had inadvertently knighted him and completely deposed her sister.
8.56am, Aunt Tullie's house, Summerville, South Carolina
Cece's coral maxi dress was steamed and hanging up, waiting her the lone bridesmaid to put her curves into it. Beyond praying Big Reggie wouldn't show up looking for a place to lay his head and that she would have the strength to resist him on the off chance he did; all she wanted was for the day to go off without a hitch. After all, Josie really deserved it after being a cop on top of a divorcee and single mom for so long. And even though John was a problem, she couldn't argue that he was good to her cousin and nephew and that really counted for something. What she couldn't reconcile was where the marquee, chocolate fountains and dove cage had come from.
Joss stirred in the bed they shared last night, because she was superstitious, and could still hear the Dru Hill songs ringing in her ears. Finally it was here; the day she was going to marry a man who had finally perfected the art of love instead over war.
10.36am, Aunt Tullie's house, Summerville, South Carolina
Even though he swore he couldn't be trusted, Uncle Sterling accepted John's offer to look under the hood of his trunk. He didn't learn Mechanics at Boy Scouts either. "Your friend with the funny walk," He started.
"Harold."
"Right. Harold. He must have a lot of pull to make all this happen?"
John threw the old man a bone. "He's a billionaire; he can make anything happen."
Uncle Sterling blinked. Again, he didn't know whether to believe this man or not. "All I want's for Josie and Taylor to be alright. So, say something."
"When Joss went after HR, she wouldn't let me help her. I can't tell you how many times she gave me the slip. Me."
"Sounds like Josie."
"But on the night she made the huge strike against them; she called me. I still don't know why 'cause it doesn't even matter. I love her so I was there. That's how it is between us. It just is. And, as for Taylor, I've got eyes on him in Atlanta. The less said about that, the better."
Uncle Sterling rubbed his beard and made an assessment before handing the mystery man the wrong wrench. "You're a smooth talking bastard, John."
"Thanks."
12.56pm, Aunt Tullie's house, Summerville, South Carolina
The kitchen was hot with the Low Country offerings the flower sisters were cooking. Being in close proximity, with Evelyn's attitude forming the baseline and Finch's special additions walking into the garden further showing her up; the spirit of petty started to take over. Tullie didn't mind how many nails, claws and talons came out because Jane, her special friend of 40 years came over with newspapers and scissors to help her restore the waterlogged plants. Cammie and Rosie gave her the side-eye on sight, under the guise of focusing on the Frogmore stew and their mother's rabbit pie. If the rumours were true, Jane was the reason Tullie's first and only marriage expired 28 years ago. There was no dramatic 'blow-out' or explosive ending, her union with Jacob Carmichael simply ceased to exist the day he realised his shy, reticent wife was only truly happy when she was in her garden, chatting with Jane. To this day, they had never as much as held hands in public but; if one knew where to look and the weather was right, one might find them on a bench at Azalea Park with one head resting on the other's shoulder.
"I don't remember Jane being on the list." Cammie spoke about her as though she wasn't standing there.
Shaw, who had been enjoying the snarkiness of the situation because she did snarky quite well, finished off another venison steak with hot sauce and thought aloud. "Looks like Jane's always on the list."
Even though she had a sour taste in her mouth from the string quartet that was practising outside, Evelyn thought it was tacky for them to team up on Jane just because they failed to take down John and sink the wedding. "Oh, wind your neck in, Cammie; you'll get wrinkles.
"Impossible." Cammie scoffed, though it had hit harder that she let on and she resolved to massage her neck with that oil CeCe was always talking about.
1.11pm, Aunt Tullie's house, Summerville, South Carolina
True to his word, Taylor did what he should have done over a year ago and called the girl who was stuck to his membrane. Reggie even got dressed for the occasion, lint-rolling his cream suit pants and brushing his waves before he put the left earphone in.
"Taylor?" She wasn't expecting to hear from him at all by now, when the whole summer had gone by and he never drove the mile from his dad's house to hers.
The surprise in her voice made him feel small. Like he'd messed up. Because he had. "Yeah it's me…What's up?"
"Nothing much…just back on campus."
"Yeah? Cool…" The awkward silences felt so out-of-place because they never had those before. "So…" For some reason Reggie couldn't stop snickering. "I guess you like it there."
"I do…more than I don't."
He knew the feeling. Suddenly the idea that she would go to NYU with him seemed more and more of a childish dream; one to put away with the firefighter truck and Legos. Reggie poked him in the chest, to snap him out of whatever he was thinking about this girl who made him weak. "So…I was thinking…" Reggie shook his head in disappointment. "I should've come around…should've seen you…"
He laughed and snorted, alerting her to the eavesdropper on the line. "Is that Reggie?" She asked.
"Yeah, it's him."
"Still overcompensating?"
"For what?" Reggie asked, blowing his shoddy cover because he was unsure whether he should be offended or not.
"Pretty much." Taylor confirmed, shutting him up. Reggie punched him in the arm. "I just wanted to say…I was an ass."
"Is this your way of saying you're sorry?" She asked. Reggie shook his head emphatically; his cousin was not gonna punk out for this girl, not on his watch.
"No, it's not." He nodded with approval. "This is: I'm sorry." Simp, he mouthed. Taylod didn't care because he could hear her smile. She didn't know what to say especially with an audience so she changed subject. "They're screening Real Women have Curves tomorrow."
"Yeah?" He fell asleep watching it in her room and just remembers the girl going to the big city at the end.
"Yeah, so I don't know if I should watch it and be their resident 'Hisplainer' or go out for fro-yo instead."
"I vote fro-yo."
"You think?"
"Yeah, 'cause at least the headache's from the brain freeze."
Their inside joke went over Reggie's head and he felt like the third wheel instead of his cousin's ally. Whoever this girl was, when she laughed it made him want to laugh with her; and he couldn't stand it. "Yeah, I get you."
"Taylor wants you to come to Myrtle Beach for Spring Break." Reggie blurted out, out of nowhere.
"No I don't."
"I said you're coming so you're coming." Reggie informed him.
Taylor sighed because she could hear them. "Call you later?"
"Yeah."
The call had barely ended when Reggie started going in on him. "Simp. Simp, simp, simp. Watching the Simpsons. King of Simpington."
"Is that the best you got?"
"President of Simperia. Simpistani. Playing the Simps."
"Come on Reg, you can do better."
"Graduating class of Simpston University. Beethoven's Simphony. Fried simp and grits. Fred Simpstone." Taylor had to laugh, even at his own expense. "Lord of the Simps: Russell Wilson."
"$87 Mil and Ciara? I'll take it." Reggie ran out of insults for the time being. "Anyway, there's gotta be some reason why all roads lead to Aleesha's apartment."
Reggie shrugged it off. "It's just somewhere to go."
"Yeah. Every week…" Alijah and Ebony had been quite revealing when Taylor paid for the pizzas.
"Shut up."
"…Anytime you have a problem…"
Suddenly it wasn't a game anymore. "I can take you, Tay."
"…Anytime you need a-"
"Don't say it. I swear," Reggie balled up his fist.
Taylor laughed because he knew the feeling of having someone under your skin and not being able to fight it. "I invited her; she's behind you."
Reggie swung his head around to see no-one and nothing but the portrait of Aunt Tullie's dead Cheshire cat on the wall. When he punched Taylor in the chest, the pain was worth it.
2.00pm, Aunt Tullie's house, Summerville, South Carolina
Harold Finch patted himself on the back, though he couldn't give his paramour the ceremony they talked about; he embedded elements of their dreams in his friend's wedding – with a twist. The marquee was lit with white and gold hanging lanterns and the string quartet played Stevie Wonder's You and I as Joss walked down the makeshift aisle on Taylor's arm. Evelyn looked on with venom and disapproval; these Uptown date night outfits and Joss' side-parting were not what she'd dreamed of…even if it was very cozy in there and the music was fantastic and somehow their relatives from California, Texas, both Carolinas and Colorado were there and she'd never thought of the chocolate fountains herself. Then Finch, the self-appointed and Internet-ordained officiant, took the mic (Evelyn hadn't thought of the PA system either).
"As Maya Angelou once wrote;
When you come to me, unbidden,
Beckoning me
To long-ago rooms,
Where memories lie.
Offering me, as to a child, an attic,
Gatherings of days too few.
Baubles of stolen kisses.
Trinkets of borrowed loves.
Trunks of secret words,
I Cry."
In his silence, actual tears started falling because you couldn't top Maya Angelou at a classy wedding and Evelyn's mistiness signalled the Wedding War of 2016 was lost to a spiky-haired orator in glasses. Because she had slipped Bear one of those gourmet cookies, and wasn't lost in the emotional sauce like everyone else; Shaw was the first to notice Big Reggie slip in the back of the marquee. Her Carter Fam app had him listed as: asshole, non-alcoholic, absent so she knew he wasn't there to fight. Tullie spotted him next and thought just like a dog returning to its vomit, he was just looking for a place to lay his head and if her niece fell for it – and him – again; there was nothing anyone could do.
Gregory was enjoying the ceremony so far, because he knew experience was the best teacher for his wife and because John hit a home run with the trapezium-cut sapphire and diamond 3-stone white gold ring that would have tongues wagging about his fat pockets rather than that divisive manilla folder which mysteriously gone missing. Finally, Evelyn had a win because she always approved of jewellery especially expensive shiny jewellery she could rub in her sisters' faces.
"Joss, with this ring; I promise to protect you," with firearms, "to share with you," classified government information, "to confide in you," secrets bordering on treason, "to support you," 'cause everybody needs an assist sometimes, "to stand with you" against all our enemies, corrupt cops, black Ops officials etc. "And to love you as long as we both shall live."
"John, with this ring; I promise to protect you," from whichever government agency's after you this week, "to share with you," classified police database files, "to confide in you," secrets bordering on treason, "to support you," 'cause I'm a better shot, come on, let's face it, "to stand with you" against all our enemies, corrupt cops, black Ops officials etc. "And to love you as long as we both shall live."
Finch cleared his throat and sniffed. "I now pronounce you…" Fusco sat on the edge of his seat because he couldn't wait to hear what name he was using this week. "Mr and Mrs John Harvey Nichols." Sterling and Cammie gave Rosie the death glare for making them look like melodramatic fools. Evelyn got a small victory after all, at least they could share some of this egg on her face.