June 4, 2022 (Saturday)
In the early stages of the wedding planning, Viola Jones-Owens made an adamant request to throw her daughter a small bridal shower in Lima. So after Vegas, Mercedes had flown with Santana and Brittany back to Lima. She enjoyed the week with her mom, dad and her brother—who had moved back to Ohio after graduating from college. Most of her time was spent with her mom however. They went shopping together—mostly to find Viola a pair of shoes to wear for the wedding—and worked on assembling 'Thank you' gifts for the guests together. The night before the shower, Mercedes had gone to bed early, and was asleep for the arrival of her two aunts and two cousins. Of the Jones women, her mother was the eldest: Cassandra Jones was the second eldest, and Melinda Jones was the youngest. And while they grew up in the same home, their personalities could not be more different.
Viola passed her personality on to her children—more so Mercedes. She was a strong, sassy, outspoken and fierce-loving woman who felt just as supported by her faith as the spine in her body. Cassandra, or "Cassie" was also incredibly outspoken—often to a fault. Her frequent suspicions of everyone and everything, and her affinity for gossip frequently led to arguments between her and Viola. She remained in the same Mississippi home where their mother raised them and kept herself close to a small circle of similar gossip-loving church friends. Aunt Mel, the youngest, was the least vocal of the three. Mercedes and her cousins (Melinda's twin nineteen-year old daughters) usually viewed her as the peacekeeper between Viola and Cassandra. Melinda was an honest, kind and faithful but incredibly timid. Of her two aunts, Mercedes loved her most—and for good reason. Mostly because Aunt Mel and her mother were closer to each other than Aunt Cassie and her mother, but also because her Aunt Mel shared Viola's loving spirit.
The morning of the shower, the singer was woken up by her Aunt Cassie's boisterous voice giving passive aggressive remarks downstairs about breakfast. Viola and Melinda were in the kitchen baking biscuits and frying sausage and eggs, but Cassandra loomed over them, commenting about how, "That's not the way Momma taught us." The singer rolled her sleepy eyes and promptly slammed a pillow over her head in a failed attempt to mute her aunt's nagging. After seconds of trying, she gave up, grabbed her toiletries and outfit for the day, and slipped into the upstairs bathroom. She hurried to brush her teeth, but took her time in the shower—grateful that the rushing water was loud enough to drown out Aunt Cassie's voice. She didn't care that she was missing breakfast, and if she could drag it out, she'd stay in the bathroom until noon when her bridal shower was supposed to start.
After styling the ends and bangs of her weave, Mercedes dressed in a dark denim pencil skirt and matching vest with a bright, multi-colored blouse underneath. Topping her look off with a denim fedora, she gathered up her things and went back to her old bedroom. Someone downstairs heard the doors open and shut however, because she was summoned by a loud, nasal Cassandra.
"Mercedes, you awake yet? Get down here and say hello to somebody!" Under her breath, though still loud enough to be heard, she muttered, "We fly all the way out here and she can't say 'Good morning' to nobody, just 'cause she got her head filled with a Hollywood wedding."
Mercedes shut her eyes, drew in a deep breath and noisily exhaled it before leaving the room. "One more day, one more day…" she quietly reminded to herself as she left her old room and came downstairs. The first person she saw was her Aunt Mel. The woman smiled and rushed to hug her niece. Mercedes returned the fierce hug and then went to hug her cousins, Justine and Vanessa. Hanging in the background was her Aunt Cassie—the tallest of the Jones sisters. Mercedes' smile faltered when she gave, and received, an uncomfortable, cold hug from Aunt Cassie. Thankfully, Aunt Melinda and her cousins swept her up in conversations of the shower, as well as her Grammy win earlier that year. Justine and Vanessa were more invested in knowing which celebrities she met that night, who she sat near, and what the after party was like.
In the midst of Mercedes' re-telling of the night, her mother emerged from the kitchen with trays of finger food for the shower. It was planned to be a small gathering—the only others expected to attend were Santana, Brittany and one of Viola's real estate friends. Within the next half hour, the three had shown up; Mercedes introduced her friends and informed her family that Santana was one of her bridesmaids. Justine and Vanessa told the Latina that they'd heard about her on the news the night before.
"Happens all the time," was Santana's shameless response.
The group of women sat around the Owens' living room, eating and chattering away until Viola called their attention. She set down a tray but its content was covered by aluminum foil. They were getting ready to start on a game to see how well Mercedes knew her groom which sparked an amused interest from her friends in particular.
"Now, if you get the questions wrong Mercedes, you have to eat something from this tray." She pointed to the covered one while Mercedes' face contorted and the others in the room ominously laughed. "I got all the answers directly from Sam so if you don't agree with them, they're straight from the horse's mouth," her mother said with a smile. Her smile soon faded however, when she realized she'd left the questions upstairs. "I'll be right back," she said with an apologetic grin before hastily leaving the room.
Hardly a beat of silence could pass before the pleasant atmosphere was snuffed.
"So you marryin' that white boy?" asked her Aunt Cassie.
Mercedes' eyes widened but she narrowed her gaze just as quickly.
"Who cares what race he is, Cassandra? He's makin' Mercy happy and he's takin' care 'a her. That's what's impor'nt," spoke her Aunt Melinda.
"I just wanted to know. Shoot, last time I saw her on the cover of Us, she was holdin' hands with some white boy."
Although grateful for her Aunt Melinda's defense, Mercedes clenched her jaw. She had enough respect for her mother, not to rip into her Aunt Cassie, but that was the only thing that kept her tongue locked behind her teeth. If looks could kill however, Aunt Cassie would already be stone cold dead on the floor.
"What's his name again?"
None of your damn business, Mercedes wanted to answer. "Sam."
Her Aunt Cassie proceeded with her interrogation. "That short for Samuel or Samson?"
"Samuel," clipped Mercedes.
"How'd you two meet?"
"High school."
Aunt Cassie's lips spread into the most insincere smile imaginable. And in the blink of an eye, it vanished. "Cute. Do his parents like you?"
"Love me," Mercedes answered with the same stiff sweetness.
"So what does he do?"
"Composer."
"Is he rich?"
"Cassandra!" Aunt Melinda scolded.
"Excuse me?" Mercedes cocked a brow at her aunt. She couldn't believe what she was hearing! She knew her Aunt Cassie to be crass, but this was beyond rude and invasive.
"What?" her Aunt Cassie responded. "I just wanna know if he's able to take care of himself and you, or if he's just tryin' to take you for a fool. Get his-self comfy offa your success."
Mercedes face contorted as if she'd smelled something awful; not a far cry from the disgust that she felt from her aunt's words. Aunt Cassie seemed oblivious to her expression though when she was bluntly informed that Sam is plenty successful on his own.
"Hmph," was her dubious response. "You have any sex with him?"
"Cassie!" hissed Aunt Melinda.
That did it. As her mother returned from her bedroom, an enraged Mercedes got on her feet, balled up her fists at her sides and loudly said, "Yes, Aunt Cassie. Sam and I have had sex, and you know what? It's been amazing every damn time! Look, I don't need you judging me, or what I do, or even who I do for that matter! And if you have a problem with that then you can forget the invitation we mailed you and spend another Sunday gossiping about me with your church friends in Jackson. As for me? I'm gonna go call my sexy white fiancée, tell him I love him and thank him for ALL that great sex!"
Shaking with anger, the singer turned on her heels and stormed past her shocked mother who caught the end of her daughter's vicious retort.
Viola called after her daughter, but Mercedes made no attempts to stop until she was outside. Before slamming the door, she heard Santana flat out say, "Rude."
The familiar, late spring Lima breeze made her realize how hot her face now was. She hadn't planned on storming out, so for a brief moment she stood in the driveway, unsure of where to go. But she soon broke into a brisk stride, heading straight for the tinted BMW rental.
Once she was seated in the driver's seat, Mercedes slammed the door shut, pulled out her phone and made good on her declaration to call Sam. Of course she had no plans to relay her gratitude for his sex abilities—true as they may be—but she did need to talk to him after all that had just happened. As she waited for Sam to pick up, all of her anger from the previous incident slammed into her and forced a trail of hot tears down her face.
"How's the shower, Benz?" Sam's low voice asked upon picking up the call.
Mercedes sniffed once, "I'm about two seconds away from an early flight back to Beverly Hills."
"What? Why, what happened?"
As Mercedes rehashed the mounted tension between her and her Aunt Cassie, she skirted around some of the blatantly racist remarks. It was hard for her to know if Sam was going to be more offended than she was or not but she wasn't going to take the chance of imprinting the hurt on him.
"Wow. That was really…" Sam thought about the right word and finally settled on, "rude."
"That's what Santana said. Right before I slammed the door. She didn't have your calmness though."
"Well…that's Santana for you. Plus it's hard for me to be as angry as you must feel when I'm not there, y'know? Don't get me wrong—it's upsetting to hear, but—"
Mercedes sighed, "I understand what you're trying to say, Sam. And I shouldn't let her get under my skin like she does, but I couldn't stand listening to her talk about you like you're some…worthless nobody who's after my money."
"That's probably another reason why I'm not seeing red right now. Remember Junior year when you all thought I was cheating with Quinn and Kurt?"
That was a double sore spot for Mercedes; her cheeks burned from her instantly remembering her guilt for chiming in on that attack on Sam back then. And then she snapped at him again for nearly the same reason just last week. Though she didn't want to admit it, she responded, "Yes."
"Part of why I was so mad was because I thought you guys knew me better than that. Your aunt doesn't know me at all. So to me, she's no different than the garbage they've printed about you or our relationship in The National Inquirer."
She would always love Sam's ability to give perspective in ways she sometimes couldn't. More often than not, it calmed her down significantly. This was one of those times. And as she thought about this, she took a deep breath and softly smiled to herself.
Sam spoke up again after a moment's silence, "So what do you want to do?"
"You have no idea what I wanna do to her."
"Oh, I don't know about that. I think I have a pretty good idea. But I was actually talking about the wedding. We invited her, remember?"
"Oh…" Mercedes' lips puckered sourly at the dismal reminder.
"Do you still want her to come?"
"No," she hastily replied, "but I already told her she was more than welcome not to come."
Sam paused and then chuckled, "Man I wish I'd heard what you actually told her."
Mercedes smirked, "Why?"
"Benz, I love you. And I love your compassion for others, but you can cut throats with your words when you want to."
"Well…" she mused, bobbing her head from side to side thoughtfully until an agreeing, "true," left her lips.
She could tell Sam was smiling on the other end as he asked, "How do you feel now?"
"Better now. Thank you for checking," she replied, smiling softly with him.
"Are you gonna stick it out for one more day or should I plan on picking you up at the LAX tonight?"
With a light pout Mercedes grumbled, "Nooo, I'll stay." She looked out of the windshield to see Brittany emerge from the front door, obviously looking for her.
"I better go though. But I'll call you tonight," promised the singer. "I love you."
"I love you too. Hang in there."
Mercedes ended the call and got back out of the rental. As she neared the house again she caught the end of her mother's sharp tongue lashing. Someone must have filled her in on what happened and if Mercedes had to take a bet, it was either a joint effort by Santana and Brittany or Aunt Cassandra herself.
All the articulation and kindness was gone from Viola's voice; her Southern vernacular always came out when she was angry enough. Mercedes hadn't heard a tone like this from her mom since her brother Marcus got caught sneaking a girl out of his room his senior year. He was grounded for a month and nearly missed his prom.
"…and if you ev'a talk about my son-in-law like that again Cassandra, or question his motives with my daughter, I'm gon' take you outside and show you what bein' childish is really like. I promise you, and you know I don' break my promises."
"Look Vi, I said I was sorry. Quit actin' like you my momma!" spat Aunt Cassie with a fold of her arms.
Mercedes' mom was quick to mock her, "Quit actin' like you a child then, Cass!"
Santana snorted, having an obvious fondness for Mercedes' mother. She caught Mercedes' wide-eyed warning however, and buttoned her lips.
"Now I accept your apology for actin' a fool in my house," continued Viola, "but you need to be apologizing to your niece. Today ain't about you—it's about her and her engagement."
Clearly embarrassed but even more visibly upset, Aunt Cassie turned her tight gaze onto Mercedes. Apologies weren't common for her, but she over-articulated, "I'm sorry Mercedes," to her niece.
Mercedes pursed her lips but nodded as her acceptance of the words. She wasn't going to stir the pot by calling out her aunt's lack of sincerity. And as Brittany went to sit back down by her girlfriend, Mercedes took a seat in the chair her mom decorated in curled ribbons, especially for her.
Viola huffed one loud breath, composing herself again, and then picked up a short stack of index cards. She was still visibly irritated, but her determination to give her daughter a good shower overruled the daggers biding time in her eyes. "Now…the game. First question Mercedes…"
Please leave reviews! They are always appreciated! What did you think of Mercedes' relatives? Want to see any of them appear again later on? Let me know! I'll do my best to incorporate any ideas that might come along! And thanks for reading! More's on the way!