Poker Face
Friday
Jesus spoons oatmeal into bowls garnished with fruit and honey while Quinn slams cabinet doors muttering about Nutella. Xavier enters the kitchen and surveys the scene-rough morning. He walks over taking Quinn by the hand and leads her to a chair at the kitchen table. He places both hands on her glorious baby belly and starts to sing.
Tomorrow will bring a better you...better me…we'll show this world…
She calms, the baby kicks and Jesus serves his family breakfast.
Sasha walks through the station and quietly enters the dusty conference room. Rosita, Rick and Daryl look up. "You got trouble," she grimaces. She hands each a folder. "Two vans one grey the other blue track directly to the dates of the nuisance calls. The vans share a license plate: RWS213A. Jesus used the network to track them," she finally sits.
The conference phone rings and Rick hits the speaker button, "Kings' County."
"This is Agent Mills. What is left of the militia is headed in your direction but we don't have solid numbers or any leads on Dwight or generic man. Our operation significantly reduced their cache of weapons, but bomb making materials are common. We have assets available per your request."
Captain Morgan enters the room, "Start at the beginning," he directs. Two hours later he issues orders. "First, mandatory department wide briefing…Dixon can cover all FBI intelligence. Rosita, follow up with the local building owners and secure full access for the department. Rick, coordinate with SWAT to plan our response to likely scenarios."
"Yes Sir," they chorus.
"Finally, I have never been prouder to be your Captain…your work will save lives," he chokes emotionally and exits the room.
Rick returns home exhausted from his day. The initial planning with SWAT produced solid results but they need to beta test in the field. He decides to get some rest before his Boys arrive. Hours later the smell of food cooking pulls him from his slumber. He makes his way down the hall to the kitchen and finds Michonne busy in the kitchen to the soundtrack of Jill Scott's Golden. "What in the world are you doing?" he asks amused.
"Preparing for poker night," she explains with a bright smile. She pulls him by the arm and turns off the music. "I made loaded nachos with sharp cheddar and Monterey Jack cheese, ground turkey, black beans, fresh avocados, sour cream, peppers and black olives. The sink is filled with ice to chill the Coronas and the limes are sliced."
Before he can respond the doorbell rings. He turns to let his Boys in and she disappears down the hall. Abe, T-Dog, Glenn, Daryl and Tyreese stroll through the door and follow the smell of the feast.
"I thought we were just playing a few hands with chips and shit," Abe questions eyeing the platters.
"Did you have this catered," T-Dog asks grabbing a Corona and a lime.
Rick scratches the back of his head, "My Lady had other ideas."
On cue she appears in black skinny jeans, those laced combat boots, one of his white button downs wrapped and tied around her tiny waist and an eggplant purple MK purse slung over her shoulder. "Hey…enjoy your game," she waves to the group.
She is about to exit when Rick grabs her waist and possessively spins her to him connecting them at the pelvis. She catches herself by clutching the curls at the back of his head. Their eyes lock and their mouths meet in a devouring kiss of fused lips and sensuous snaking tongues. He doesn't release her mouth until he hears the familiar moan from the back of her throat. They pull apart but their foreheads remain touching tenderly. "Thank you," his Southern drawl rasps, low and husky.
"Win big," she returns with a solid love slap to his ass before sauntering out the front door.
He turns to see his Boys who have observed the entire scene aghast. Mouths hung open, T-Dog and Abe each cup their balls before they all shout, "Damn!" Daryl shakes his head. It's going to be a long night.
Sasha and Rosita are halfway through the session before they glance at each other. Both their minds racing with images of worst case scenarios based on the intelligence. The stress and anxiety of the potential ambush radiates off their bodies in pulsating waves. Sasha wants to tie Daryl to the bed to keep him safe. She knows they need to talk, but she was not ready to face the reality and the likely outcome of separation.
Michonne arrives at the elder Grimes' home. The elegance and charm warms her heart. She balances the box in one arm while using the large brass door knocker to announce her arrival. "So nice to see you again," Jeffrey greets from across the threshold.
"You as well…thanks for offering to help," she gestures to the box.
"Let's go to my study and see what you got," he directs pointing toward the left. Dark woods, shelves crammed with books and well worn and oiled leather seating reflect a man who loved his work.
"My grandfather was a foot soldier during the Civil Rights Era. He left all these papers behind. My father wanted to honor that legacy but passed away before he got a chance. I was hoping you could help me figure things out," Michonne explains.
Jeffrey took a deep breath feeling the weight of the moment. Historians spend their entire lives searching for new ways to understand who we are as a people and as a country. She trusts him with her family's contribution to making a more perfect union. His hands tremble as he reaches for the box, "I'm honored to help any way I can."
"Great…maybe we can get together in a couple weeks to see what you find," she responds with a brilliant smile.
I'll be right here waiting for your call."
The platters barely contain remnants of food and most of the beer is gone. The Boys are loose and enjoying the bonding. Abe glancing around, "It ain't none of my business but how in the hell did y'all score like that? Mr. Closet, he points to Glenn, is fresh-face boyish charm, but you son-of-a-bitches…" he lets the implied question linger placing the cards on the table.
Rick looks over the top of his cards," Right place at the right time."
Daryl nods, "What he said."
"Where you been hanging out 'cause I am missing out," T asks with a chuckle.
Tyreese frowns. This is some bullshit.
Before the conversation goes further there is a knock and the door swings open as Shane enters the house. "Sorry I am late but Jessie made dinner." They wave him off. He joins the table waiting for the next hand. He notices the leftovers and gets up to grab one of the few remaining beers. "When did we start drinking Coronas?" he asks the room.
"Michonne made a Mexican feast," Glenn responds.
Shane rolls his eyes and returns to the table as Rick wins another hand. Daryl pushes his cards forward, "You got enough of my money tonight."
"Rick got the hot hand?" he quips.
"Hot hand, hot woman and probably hot night," T clarifies.
"We'll see…deal me in," he smirks eyeing Rick at the head of the table.
The energy shifts and the testosterone fueled tension rises. Rick tilts his head and squints at Shane while tapping two fingers on the table. What is up with him?
This is a showdown so the Boys respond accordingly by skipping the hand. T-Dog deals and both men review their cards. Shane raises the bet and smirks at Rick, "I better enjoy this while I can. Jessie has plans for me. You know what I mean or maybe you don't," he taunts.
Rick discards two cards, scans his new hand and raises the bet. He doesn't respond to Shane.
"I hope this isn't hard for you…I think I am a better fit for her," he goes for the jugular after matching the raise.
Rick shakes his head and laughs, "All in," he pushes his chips forward and leans back in his chair, bow legs stretched wide.
Abe wipes the sweat from his brow. Glenn bits his bottom lip and Daryl taps his foot. T-Dog calls.
Shane reveals a straight with a smug smile.
Rick sits up, leans forward and speaks for the first time, "Tyreese, what did My Woman tell me to do before she left?"
"Win big," he repeats reluctantly.
"I hope this isn't hard for you…Royal Flush." The Boys sound off like a choir:
"Shit, I felt that in my nuts," T-Dog exclaims
"You got ripped a new hole, Abe whistles.
"He shut this mother fucker down," Tyreese admits.
Rick retreats from the table and pulls his bottle of Black Label Johnny Walker and a glass from the cabinet. He returns to the table, pours and sips slowly.
Daryl shakes his head and attempts to de-escalate the situation. "Why don't we call it a night?"
Jolene is having the time of her life. From the ride in the sports car to the conversation she has not stopped smiling. They walk the aisle of Party Mart selecting items from her list when Michonne stops and displays a mischievous smile. "Can you keep a secret?"
Jolene steps closer, "Do tell," she whispers.
"I know how to make alcoholic popsicles."
"Now that is a talent that should not be wasted." They both reach for the Popsicle molds adding them to the cart and giggling.
They ride back to the house reviewing the menu and supply list. "Your amazing chicken salad, my tarts with the caramelized apples, plus our 'afternoon delight'…did I forget anything?" Michonne asks.
"The zucchini and sweet potato chips," Jolene adds.
"We have the center piece plus we upgraded the plates and thangs-I'm excited," Michonne states.
Jolene pats her hand resting on the console, "Me to dear, me too," her voice is filled with joy.
Rick and Michonne are in their individual beds sharing their day. "So in conclusion Shane believes you are in a pissing contest over Jessie," she laughs.
"Yes and both my parents are in love with you. My dad kept shouting-it's a goldmine." She can hear his smile through the phone. "How are you feeling," he asks with caution.
"Physically fine…part of the day I only think about stuff and thangs and the rest of the time I focus on work. How are you?"
"Same, but I am still sure and steady."
"And I still have unwavering faith in us."
"Let's get some sleep."
"Night Handsome," she yawns.
"Sweet dreams Gorgeous."