A/N: I was so close to naming this chapter 'M-word, 4 syllables'. Finch continues his assault (though he doesn't even know it) and the string quartet keeps playing.

As always, enjoy x

Chapter 11: Masterpiece

Monday 5th September 2016, 4.40pm, Aunt Tullie's house, Summerville, South Carolina

Cece watched John obliterate the myth about bad dancers being bad lovers as they swayed to the string quartet's rendition of Guns N Roses' November Rain. The general consensus was the mystery man had two left feet and no-one knew what song this was, but Joss looked happier than they'd ever seen her so something must have been right. There was little time for judgement because Finch kept the champagne flowing.

Gregory offered his wife a glass for her troubles, which she turned down. "I don't feel like drinking anymore."

"But you won. I thought you'd want to toast."

She leaned closer and whispered. "I didn't win the way I wanted to win, Greg."

He held back laughter because she was never satisfied. "Does it really matter?"

She couldn't believe he had the gall to ask, like it was up for debate. "Yes. Yes, it does. A whole lot."

"Okay, well, they're heading back to the city tonight so you might as well say something nice." She wasn't impressed. "Yes, you have to."

"Fine." She sipped the champagne; it was the best she'd ever had and it made her madder.

4.46pm, Aunt Tullie's house, Summerville, South Carolina

After laying low through the ceremony and making small talk with some distant second cousins who were old enough to know who he was, Big Reggie 'surprised' Cece by asking her if the band knew any stepping music at the bar. The band started playing Stevie Wonder's I wish and the sharpness made it sound like they were in a country barn. It didn't stop Uncle Sterling from hitting the dancefloor though. "What're you doing here?" She asked, wished she'd asked for rum served neat instead of with coke.

"I couldn't leave like that." By like that, he meant with her hand print on his face and LaDonna's voice in her ears.

"LaDonna still looking for you?"

He rubbed his chin and she knew he was about to lie. She was sure if she asked John, he'd kick his ass for her. But it was his wedding day. Big Reggie wished he could make her forget what she'd heard. "I meant it when I said I was thinking of moving back here."

"What's the point? It's not for me, and it's not for Reggie, either. It's for you. So you can have some place to go." That place to go was at the meeting of her thighs, but that went without saying.

He revealed the truth. "They offered me a job at SC State. Assistant Football Coach. That's why I was at the game."

She needed a drink, an intravenous one; because at the time, she thought he had finally come to his senses about his son. "At least you'll see your son more often on the field. You gonna tell him?"

"I was thinking-"

"I would do it. Right." She couldn't believe it, even though her disbelief was the source of her problems. She couldn't believe she had played the fool for him again. Kenan and Kel could've seen the ending. "So you're not even gonna try with-"

He cut her off with a kiss and though her right mind knew she shouldn't; it sent her pulsating all over. After all, she knew what else those lips could do and he couldn't possibly hurt her anymore; not now. As much as she hated him in that moment and hated herself in many moments after; her muddled mind went straight to throwing it back for Big Reggie like he was the Head Baseball Coach of Yale University. She kissed him back, creating a rod for her own back. And it didn't go unseen.

Taylor knew he'd spend the next day nursing his cousin back to health the minute that 4-syllable M word flew from Reggie's lips. His respect for his mother drained quickly like the lives in an old arcade video game, as she let his no-show father kiss her; not-so-different from the way he got into Aleesha's apartment the previous week. But when he saw Big Reggie do it; it looked different – wrong even – and that left him confused as well as disgusted with them both. "Hey…" Taylor tried in vain to calm him down but he couldn't hear whatever he was saying because his eyes were burning red with tears of anger and hatred.

6.37pm, Aunt Tullie's house, Summerville, South Carolina

"You seen my cufflinks?" Hamilton asked, zipping his suitcase shut. He was always the first to leave the party.

"Sure." Cammie passed him the small package wrapped in a napkin.

He barely recognised the charred frogs, just a speck of green was left to convey her message. Amongst family, Cammie was known for her vindictive streak; a bleached shirt was much too obvious. "What'd you call this?"

"Justice." She replied, as though she was reading off a grocery list. "No, karma."

"More like crazy." He shot back; he really liked those cufflinks.

"Don't you dare call me crazy, you're a liar and a cheat. Scuttling around like rats, calling it work. And you gave her a vacation, is that where you were? Is that why it took you a week to drive 3 hours?"

He sat down on the bed, forcing the mattress down on his side. "You think I'm cheating with Shayla? She's younger than my son."

"That makes it all the more disgusting. 2 tickets to the Bahamas…never took me to no Goddamn Bahamas…" Her voice trailed off as she plotted murder.

He coughed with disbelief. "She's engaged. And she needs the tickets for their honeymoon."

"Nice try, H." It came as "Haitch" with a hiss on the end.

"I can't afford to give her a raise and Carolyn got me one of those corporate discounts. Ask her. And as for my…late arrival, your family brings out the worst in you and I'd rather not watch the Willie Gibson's daughters cat-claw and snipe at each other and call it a vacation."

"You called her Shay."

"Everyone does. It's on her licence plate."

She dragged a loose strand of hair behind her ear and tried to save face. "Well, when you put it like that; it almost sounds plausible."

"Camellia, we vowed to live unhappily ever after 'til death do us part; why would I give all that up for someone who doesn't know who Willona is?" She knew this miserable, ongoing boredom called marriage was their lot because they made it that way. "Now, if you're done, I'm leaving at 7. If you want to come with, the passenger seat's empty."

"Just a Southern Gentleman, Hamilton."

"I'm from Indiana."

She wouldn't dare laugh at his jokes to encourage him but a faint smile broke through. "My bag is already packed." He took his cue to carry her tan leather tote bag and the matching trolley-dolly to the car. "You owe me a trip to the Bahamas, H."

"And you owe me a pair of cufflinks."

"Those tacky things? How about I get you some silver button ones instead?"

He sighed. "Just make them skulls."

"Must you be so crass?"

6.51pm, Aunt Tullie's house, Summerville, South Carolina

Evelyn helped herself to another one of 'those chocolate fountain fruit kebab things' making three in total. "Anyone would think you were having fun." Joss teased, skipping the chocolate for the imported French champagne. At Uncle Sterling's request, that string quartet was playing Cou it be I'm falling in love by The Spinners, on a loop, so he could school the young'uns.

"It's a-" She cleared her throat from all that pride. "Very nice reception."

Joss raised one eyebrow higher that the other. "Just nice, Ma?"

"Who's side are you on, Jocelyn? I could've done this for you if you had let me."

That guilt trip wasn't flying. "Really?"

"Of course." She neglected to mentioned she'd have needed another hundred thousand dollars to put up a marquee with its own solar electricity supply, alcohol on tap and all those fancy-schmancy things Harold thought of first that pissed her off. "I would've been your personal Mindy Weiss. Starting with that dress."

Joss knew how much the dinner dress offended her and that made her feel like she was dripping in liquid gold. "Great, because Harold wants you to front and centre for the firework display at 8!" Evelyn's face cracked like a manhandled Faberge egg. "The theme is 'Sydney Opera House at New Years'!" Joss said excitedly, as her mother shrunk with defeat and she stuffed her mouth with confection.

7.01pm, Aunt Tullie's house, Summerville, South Carolina

Gregory spotted his protégé drinking something that didn't look like soda. Overall he thought Taylor looked more relaxed instead of walking around with his shoulders high and his chest out like he had been for over a year. "So you talked?"

"Yeah, and you were right. Again."

Gregory smiled at the youngblood who had so much to learn. "I didn't tell you, to be right. I told you so you could be happy for her."

"I am happy for her. And I would've been happy for her at NYU too, but, whatever."

He chuckled at Taylor's attempt to pretend he didn't care when he definitely did. "Whatever indeed. So you're ready to go back to Atlanta?"

"Yeah. All packed and everything. Dad's taking me to the airport."

"Good, because if your mother ever finds out you had a hand in this; there won't be a place on Earth you can hide from her wrath."

Taylor shuddered at the thought of being mollywopped by his mother. "Tell me about it."

"Where is Young Reggie?"

"Haven't seen him since…"

"Since?" Gregory prodded.

"Since he freaked out 'cause Uncle Reggie did mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on Aunt CeCe. But I got the keys for the Ducati off him."

Gregory nodded. "So you see how self-destruction is a generational curse." That wasn't a question, just a statement of fact. "Let's go find him before he does something less-than-smart. To much is given, Taylor."

Taylor sighed at all this caping. "Yeah."

7.15pm, Aunt Tullie's house, Summerville, South Carolina

If it wasn't for the disapproving looks of relatives who knew who he was and the bemusements of relatives who didn't, Big Reggie wouldn't have convinced her to leave the reception so they could 'go somewhere and talk'. At least that's what she told herself. 'Somewhere' was Aunt Tullie's two-car garage, where he'd parked his red sports car.

"I really shouldn't." CeCe said, not even three hours since he'd walked back into her life uninvited, just so she could look back and say she said it. He was kissing on her neck and like college CeCe in the old, old times, she blamed it on her hormones and the alcohol.

"I'm sorry, C." His big, leathery hands fondled over her back and backside looking for a zip that didn't exist because it wass a maxi dress. Dumbass football players. "You know I'm sorry. You forgive me, don't you?" He asked, giving her breasts a squeeze, making her legs squeeze together.

"Mmmmmmmmmm." He lifted her onto the hood of his car; CeCe always gave the green light. They both knew how this story went; CeCe couldn't fight it; she couldn't stop playing Dumb and Dumber for this man. She couldn't hit the 'off' switch. She couldn't get him out of her head. She couldn't tell him no, when her body was saying yes, yes, yes, yes, yes more times than a young, pre-litigation Destiny's Child. And when he called her baby more times than an Ashanti-Keith Sweat mashup she caved because she wanted so desperately to be somebody's baby tonight. When he finally gave up on unzipping the non-existent zip and she heard that familiar sound of a condom wrapper being torn open, she used that chance to get off the hood so the record would clearly state she got off the hood. But Big Reggie took this to mean she wanted to go back to their college days, where he spread her chest across that hood 'til she could see the backseat through the window.

Luckily, CeCe didn't have to rely on her dopamine-laced reasoning to get her out of the situation that led to nowhere because an angel was looking out for her. An angel with thick black eye liner, muted mauve lipstick and a Belgian Malinois for back-up. Not to forget the Revolver she shot him with in the ankle, bringing Big Reggie tumbling in a big fall to the ground. "What the hell? You shot him." CeCe asked, spotting the woman with the vacuum for a stomach leaning against the wall, waving. How hadn't she noticed they had an audience?

"Look CeCe; you're too hot to be that dumb. He's not even trying." Shaw advised, wishing she'd used the Taser Finch said wasn't appropriate for the wedding.

Big Reggie writhed on the ground, hamming up an injury that was more cosmetic than anything. "We should call someone." CeCe suggested. "He'll bleed out." The marquee was like a firefly in the dark and she didn't want to be the one to walk in with bad news,

"No, we shouldn't 'cause he's an ass. And no, he won't 'cause it's a rubber bullet. Now Wedgie can wobble his way to the car and haul ass before I put some real bullets in this sissy gun. You're welcome, by the way. You should get a dog; way more loyal."

8.00pm, Aunt Tullie's house, Summerville, South Carolina

"Oooooooooooooooooooh" and "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah" didn't cover the splendour of the kaleidoscope images in the sky from the 12-minute, $40,000 firework display that had Uncle Sterling, his greatest detractor, singing John's praises. People from the surrounding neighbourhoods had flocked to Tullie's street to see that the world wasn't ending and that Christmas, Easter and Halloween had all come at once, right there in Summerville. Tullie was glad to share the magic with her dear Jane and a classy man who knew the difference between the Rose of Sharon and the Hibiscus they revived early. That day; they had equally made her happy.

Gregory and Taylor propped Reggie up, not that he could make out the fireworks with his blurry vision. Rosie held her hands over her granddaughter's ears as she drooled with excitement. Cammie and Hamilton missed it completely as they were somewhere on the I-77 arguing about the radio station. And Evelyn, after realising it was Harold Finch's world and she was just a mere mortal living it, threw in the towel and poked Uncle Sterling in the ribs. "Now what was all that trouble for, Sterling? When I said my daughter was getting married, I meant my daughter was getting married. Bet you never seen a rock like that in your life…"

Joss couldn't believe they made it to the finish line. Here she was, standing in the arms of a dragon-slayer who'd borrowed the name of a famous British department store to give them a new start. "Where are we off to next, John?"

He literally wiped the sweat from his brow. "Home."