A/N: This will be the second of three Thanksgiving (and Thanksgiving fallout) chapters.

Still collecting M words - I use them, I promise ;)

Random fact: I got the chapter title from the phrase "something in the milk ain't clean". Which I love.

Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate and I'm gonna try to get you part 3 on time.

As always, enjoy x

Chapter 44: Milk (2)

Thanksgiving Day, Thursday 24th November, 10.25pm, Evelyn's Condo, Williamsburg, Brooklyn

For a fantastic and complication musician, Gregory was light on his feet in contrast. Maxwell was still playing hours later and he thought enough swaying could take his paramour's mind off their unexpected visitor. "He's up to something." Evelyn said for the 6th time that evening.

"I know, love."

Not even Gregory's palm running against hers or his broad hand on the small of her back could bring her into the present moment. "We need to do something. Maybe John-"

"No, the less John does, the better for humanity." She smiled, because although she'd never seen him in action there was only so many times he could show up armed and injured for her to know he was at best an altruistic vigilante. "Taylor will be fine."

"You don't know Jeremy. He's a master manipulator. And a brute. And a liar."

"His father will protect him." Her snort was far from ladylike. "Ev, be nice."

She batted her eyelashes. "I'm very nice…until I'm not. And if he messes with my grandbaby, I'm gonna set his flag on fire." They both laughed at her outdated turn of phrase.

11.19pm, Paul's House, Elmhurst, Queens

The tension at Paul's house was as thick as whipped double cream but that didn't stop Jeremy from stirring. But if there was one thing Taylor had learnt that year, it was sometimes doing or saying nothing was just as good as doing or saying something. "I noticed you been lookin' at me funny, probably 'cause of what they told you. What'd he call me? A monster?" Jeremy asked his grandson, as he cut two slices of store-bought sweet potato pie. Gina couldn't bake that either. Though Paul had been hesitant to go to bed before his son did because he didn't trust his father or want to leave them alone together, Gina advised him to take the 'Que sera, sera' approach and stop trying to control the uncontrollable. Jeremy was relieved they were finally alone, because he had a chance to plead his case. "Look, I'm just a simple man with a simple house, Taylor. Not perfect, just simple. And don't forget; you come from me."

Taylor wasn't interested in that biology lesson. "D'you want milk? Cream?" Taylor asked, because he was getting the same vibes he felt when Hugh was around, even when his coercive words were blocked out by music.

"No."

"Fork or spoon?"

"Spoon." Jeremy answered, thinking he had Joss' manner; that simple, subtle way of saying a lot and very little at the same time. "So like I was saying…wait, what's that?" Jeremy squinted at the marking on his grandson's left wrist that was almost-always covered but a long-sleeved top.

"A compass." Taylor pulled up his sleeve so to show him the tattoo properly. "I got it last year but it kinda seems stupid now. I don't know. Guess I still like it."

"Hmmm." Jeremy added that to the growing list of things he'd recently learnt about his grandson. "Never got one, wasn't my thing." Taylor nodded and ate his pie with a fork and whipped cream on top. "Anyways, ummm, that house meant a lot to me. First house I ever called mine. Did you know it was your great-grandpa's on Nicole's side?" Taylor shook his head because he didn't know much about the Carter family tree except his dad used a chainsaw to cut himself off from most of it. "Left it to her when he died. We grew up in a boarding house so...you know…" Taylor listened because after a few months with Brock's spiralling drama he realised that was all he could do. "But now, it's just me. Paul never comes around, never brings you around. There's no-one to take care of it. It ain't the same. So I've been thinking about moving on. From a fresh start. Like you did when you went to Atlanta."

Taylor smiled because Jeremy's assumption was way off; it was heartbreak and failed plans with Bella that sent him down South in the first place, escaping from the girl who dropped him for something better by accepting the furthest offer away. But it wasn't far enough, and nowhere would be, until he finally let her go. Jeremy continued laying it on, "But I need help to do that. Your help. 'Cause I ain't got nothin' else."

The contract was held in a plastic ring-bound folder with each double-sided page in its own transparent punch pocket. And though Taylor couldn't remember ever spending that much time in the same room as his grandfather, their names were side by side on paper and had been for years. "Jeremy Vaughan Carter." Taylor read. "Vaughan?"

"I always hated that name; but my mama liked jazz."

"Mine too." Joss always said he was too young and impatient to appreciate the genre.

"So…what'd you think?"

Taylor couldn't finish his pie. "I think…I'll read it tomorrow. 'Night." That was an answer Jeremy didn't see coming.

11.34pm, Joss' apartment, New York

"A watched phone never rings" was a saying her mom was fond of. And although she was tipsy off the cognac and coke and drunk off John in an empty house, every now and then Joss' eyes flitted to the house phone with worry and John knew why; because for the first time since they'd met – and probably ever – she couldn't intervene on Paul's behalf and influence what was happening with her son. She'd stopped laughing at the Jack Nicholson movie 15 minutes ago. "Joss, if anything happens to Taylor I'm kicking both their asses on sight." He kissed her forehead for reassurance. "But you have to trust he can handle it." He read the question in her eyes. "He can. Wanna know what else he can handle?" She rolled her eyes. "A HK MP5 grenade pistol. His aim's a little off to the right but that's just a technicality."

"I'm never gonna hear the end of your Rambo adventures, am I?"

"Can you forget about the deer?" It appeared Joss wasn't ready to let that old chestnut go. "Then we're shooting birds in Montana next Christmas…"

Friday 25th November, 3.45pm, Paul's House, Elmhurst, Queens

Unlike any woman Paul had ever known, Gina was surprisingly good with his father and even got him out of the house so they could have the father-son conversation he had avoided for a long time. Taylor was still a good student, and though he didn't understand every clause he understood the gist of the contract and that it had two points; to sell the house to the Bright Winthorpe Housing Group and to split the proceeds equally between its owners. Because he held a crucial piece of information his son didn't, Paul didn't understand why Taylor was so relaxed. "So he didn't waste anytime telling you?"

"Yeah. He wants to sell the house."

"And what'd you think?"

"I think…you hate that house so I don't get why you left it to me. I mean, I appreciate it but…why?"

Paul felt the weight of the situation fall on his shoulders as he sat down at the kitchen table. His instinct to run was still as strong as ever and the pressure made his temperature rise. "It's the only thing my mom left behind. Left to me, I mean. So…I thought you should have it." That was a half-truth, the other half of the story was; with his half of the house signed off to his son, a financial tie was broken with his father, leaving just the emotional ones. "But Tay, you gotta know something…"

"What?" Josiah's eyes stared back at him and gave him chills. It was like the man he loved and respected revisited the Earth to tell him not to lie.

The water did nothing to ease the tightness in his throat or the dryness in his mouth. At a time like this, the best thing to do was call Joss so she could fix it; but she wasn't taking his calls. Susan advised him to breathe through his anxiety and remind himself he was in control with every breath and that it would pass. Paul wasn't used to this feeling; that it was all on him, and it was his place to fix it and find a solution that worked best. His inner child wanted to give Jeremy whatever he wanted so he would stop hurting him but that never worked.

You can't fight fire with fire with bullies, Paul.

"He wants it all, Tay. That's why he's here." Paul revealed, digging his nails into the table because he didn't know how Taylor would react or how to contain it. Where was Joss when he needed her, when they needed her? And nothing could have prepared him for the words that came out of his son's mouth next.

"Is that why you left it to me? So you wouldn't have to fight him for it?"