Long Night; 13

This is the last one I have written. of the long night stuff, that is, not the last vignette ever, oh my goodness, no. I have plenty of other shit yet to come!

But this is the last bit of that dinner, though it certainly leaves the dinner incomplete. But, If I want to move on i figured I'd better go ahead and post this, finished or not.

So enjoy!

************

“Mr. Delaney?” 

Jonah dragged his eyes away from Viola, feeling a mixture of irritation and shame.  It wasn’t the first time that evening that he’d been more or less caught staring at his teenage daughter.  He swallowed, adjusted his glasses automatically, and pulled his expression into one of polite interest for his daughter-in-law.

“Yes, Maggie?”  He asked genially.  “You don’t have to call me that, by the way, Jonah is just fine.” 

She smiled shyly, though Jonah suspected that outside of the Delaney mansion she probably wasn’t half so timid and skittish.  She had to have a spine of steel to have wrangled Grey into that gold band, after all.  His smile deepened at the thought.

“May I ask—do you have any photos from Grey’s christening?”

Jonah didn’t know what he’d expected her to ask, maybe perhaps ‘would you pass the peas’, but nothing even remotely in the realm of what she’d just asked.  He blinked several times.

“Because I didn’t see any in the beautiful album Mrs. Delaney gave to me—“ she pressed gently when he failed to respond.

Jonah smiled once again, but his mind was reeling.  Grey’s christening?  So many lines of thought were jockeying for position in his head he found it most difficult to form a verbal response.  That day had been awful.  He hadn’t even wanted to christen the boy.  He eschewed organized religion and Velvet had expressed her ambivalence about the archaic ritual as well, but then, everybody has parents and aunts and even grandparents, each with firm beliefs on the subject, each with sets of vocal chords that never seem to rattle louder or more incessantly than when they’re lecturing you on how to raise your first child.

“Photos.”  He said ponderously, hoping his mask resembled an aging father trying to recall if they had such an album and where it might be.  “Hmm.”  Out of the corner of his eye he caught her fiddling with the saint at her neck.  She was nervous.  He sensed she wasn’t  interested in the photos at all.  Not really.  She needed to know if her new husband had been baptized a Christian.  Jonah’d studied the world’s major religions for years, which is how he’d settled on his own agnostic tendencies. 

His new daughter-in-law needed to know if she could make the sacrament with Grey before a priest.  Jonah groaned inwardly at the thought of this poor little thing dragging his recalcitrant son off to a chapel and coercing him into a ritual he would neither respect nor adhere to.  But, he reminded himself, it had been Grey that had offered.  It had been his son who had, unprompted, made the willing concession to recite vows once again before the Ramirez’s family priest.

“I’d ask Grey’s mother, but she’s already put together such a wonderful photo collection, I don’t want her to think I’m ungrateful or that it’s wanting for anything.”  The young woman rushed, rather self-consciously.

Jonah nodded conspiratorially.  “Of course, of course.”  He said, and made a ‘don’t worry about a thing’ hand gesture.  “But between you and me, I’d bet money that the album she gave you will be but the first volume in a series.”  He winked and chuckled, which seemed to put Maggie at better ease.

But she was still waiting.  Nervously.  Her whole world hinging on how he responded to her disguised inquiry.

Jonah reached for his wine and took a long sip to but himself time to formulate a response.  Because the truth was, he couldn’t be sure the ceremony had been successfully completed.  He didn’t know for sure if Grey had been baptized properly or not.  Because he hadn’t been there.  Because he and Nolan had had to escort a certain person from the premises about midway through the blessed event.  And it had been quite an uproar.  A scuffle.  It had stopped the ceremony dead, as he recalled.

And no.  He didn’t believe there were any photos around of that delightful little incident.

Maybe his mother had kept some?  But those would have been lost in the fire.

“You know what, I don’t know if we have photos handy—I’m never sure where Velvet squirrels these things away, but I could probably put my hands on the christening gown.”  He offered as a consolation. 

Her eyes widened a bit, before washing over troubled.  She bit her lower lip.

Jonah wondered if she’d have her baby baptized in Grey’s gown or if she had her own family heirloom for the eventual occasion.  “He was baptized at First Presbyterian on Sycamore.”  Jonah added helpfully.  “Do you need a certificate, or, um, something to that effect?”  He was educated enough to know that Grey would need to be a baptized Christian in order for the church to recognize their union, but he hadn’t studied deeply enough to have a grasp on the particulars of paperwork and other clerical requirements.

He studied her reaction carefully.  She flushed lightly and looked quickly away from him, first across to where Grey sat and then down to her plate.  Her dark eyebrows drew together in distress and she seemed to force her hand from their habitual spinning of the little medallion.  When she’d taken a breath and folded her hands neatly in her lap, she pulled her spine up, sat a little taller and then smiled pleasantly at him once more, her chin higher than before, her chocolate gaze clear and direct.

“I believe that would be a great help.”  She answered frankly.  “The record, I mean, more than the gown.”

His mouth took on a wry curve.  “You can have the gown when you find you have the need.”  He told her gently.  “But yes, I can understand that the document would be more useful in the immediate.”

“Right Dad?”  a voice was pressing, sounding as though maybe they’d already asked once or twice, trying vainly to capture his attention.  Jonah became aware that his end of the table had become very quiet and several pairs of eyes were fixed intently on him, awaiting some response.

He glanced around, an apologetic little smile in place.  “I’m so sorry, I was chattering away over here—what was the question?”

It was Avalon who spoke again, looking miffed and icy when she repeated her assertion about folk lore and wedding customs, looking to him for confirmation.  He smiled and nodded, confirmed what she’d said and then added some factoid of trivia about colonial brides and antiquated marriage law, and then the onus of the figurative spotlight passed from him once again. 

When he turned to continue his discussion with Maggie he found she’d been pulled into a rather animated conversation with Keer and Genny about some tween heartthrob or other and a scandalous celebrity wedding.

So his eyes went back to where they’d been before she’d ventured her veiled request for Grey’s baptismal record.  He lifted his wine to his lips once more and let his gaze slide slowly over Viola, who was seated at a comfortably significant distance from him this evening.  Not by her choice of course.  With so many guests her mother had made place cards and everyone knew there was to be absolutely no switching around.  Velvet Delaney was a sweet, gentle, kind-as-can-be lady, but it was a well known household dictum to avoid foiling, either intentionally or through careless accident, her plans for a proper dinner party.

One did everything one could possibly do to ensure Velvet’s best laid plans went off without impediment or detour.   Or one suffered days and days of lamentation and woe over the failed or botched event.  Suffered hours on end of hearing about how it had all been planned perfectly but then somehow it had all, misery of miseries, gone horribly wrong!

So Viola sat where her mother had assigned her, a careful and deliberate placement made on the predication of a carefully calculated algorithm of Velvet’s design, which took into account personality types, conversation style, gender, age, and the ability to tolerate Celia, among other factors known only to Velvet herself.

And he rather liked the distance for conflicting reasons.  For one, he was able to relax a little, knowing her foot would not find his below the table.  Breathe easier without her constant and cloying attention.  Think more clearly because she wasn’t near enough for him to smell her, to watch closely the mesmerizing rise and fall of her small but perfect breasts, to feel the pulsing need pouring off her, clouding his brain with relentless and wicked pheromones that muddled everything up completely.

He also couldn’t deny that at this distance he was able to appreciate how perfectly fucking adorable and gorgeous and delicious she looked this evening.  And, in a sort of circle of reasoning, he was once again glad of the forced distance and barrier between their bodies.

He glanced around the table quickly to make sure he wasn’t being watched.  He’d just about made it back around to Viola when he caught his brother’s curious and stormy stare.  Fuck.  He lowered the wine glass enough to flash Nolan a smile.

Nolan didn’t smile back immediately.  Instead he lowered his brow slightly and squinted a little. 

Jonah pointed at his glass and nodded appreciatively as if to say: ‘This is great wine you brought! Thanks!’

Nolan blinked, hesitated, and then nodded in return with a friendly-enough smile.

Christ.  Jonah looked determinedly in the opposite direction of his youngest daughter and his too keenly observant brother. 

He could hear his mother-in-law making some critical comment about the lamb, and he tried not to listen. 

“When?”  He asked Maggie when she finally emerged from the thrilling (to Keer anyway) debate over pubescent nickelodeon stars. 

She sipped her water gingerly.  Was she still struggling with nausea at this point?  He scanned her plate.  She seemed to have eaten well enough, though certainly not with much gusto.  She was forcing it down to be polite.

“When is the—“  He wasn’t quite sure of the appropriate term for a redundant wedding.  “When will you make the sacrament?”  He asked, sounding more like he was asking if he’d said that right than about the event.

“Tomorrow.”  She replied with a grateful smile.  He couldn’t read whether he’d got the phrasing right, but at least he hadn’t screwed it up to the point of offense.

Tomorrow. 

“Oh.”  He said, not able to mask the surprise.  “Should we, I mean, should Velvet and I?  Did you tell us?  That is, was Grey supposed to let us know—“

Now she blushed again.  “It won’t be, um, we aren’t doing anything grand at all.”  She apologized.  “It will be sort of, private?”  She searched the air in front of her for a better way to explain.

“A quiet ceremony?”  He helped gently.

“Not even really a ceremony, more a, well.”  She sighed.  “It’ll be fulfilling an obligation.  No frills.  Nothing fancy.”  She admitted. 

Jonah nodded and pushed a piece of asparagus around on his plate idly.  She wasn’t the only one struggling with nausea and lack of appetite.  Though his sickness was much more grim and unnatural.  His eyes flicked to Viola once again and her eyes flicked up at the same time.  She smiled slyly and tossed her hair over her shoulder to better display her slim white neck to him.  He forced his attention back to Maggie.

“Velvet will be devastated if she learns there was any kind of ceremony for the two of you, and we’d somehow missed it.”  He said bluntly.  He might have tried harder to couch that in more delicate terms.  Afterall, he was basically inviting himself to a religious ceremony to which, it seemed, neither the bride nor the groom had intended to extend a welcome.

The girl looked mortified.  Jonah felt guilty. 

“Of course you can—I’m so sorry that we didn’t—I didn’t think you’d want to—because, well, you aren’t catholic—and it isn’t going to be anything grand or—I’m so sorry, how thoughtless of me—“

Jonah opened his mouth to apologize and reassure the girl when he heard his name being called again. 

“Dad.”  The voice said firmly.  He glanced over.  It was Grey this time.  And he looked bullshit.  His eyes jumped from Maggie to Jonah and back again.  Jonah could almost hear the ‘what the fuck?’ reverberating in his son’s mind.  Maggie looked more than a little distressed, and Grey was too many seats away to know why, or how to fix it, but he looked like he had no trouble pinning the blame on his old man.

Jonah heaved a heavy sigh.  He hastened to soothe Maggie, assure her that everything was alright, that she hadn’t offended at all , and that there was no need to tell Velvet about the wedding service.  He did this all with Grey’s pale green eyes boring furious holes into the side of his skull, and Maggie’s wide chocolate irises washing over with the threat of tears, and Viola’s electric purple stare daring him to look her way, and Nolan’s curious, heck, downright suspicious stormy blue gaze monitoring most everything Jonah did. 

This evening was proving to be even longer than he’d dreaded.

Long Night; Part 12

Ay Dios Mio.  Remember my writing?  It emerges once more.

I went back and forth on this one.  Wasn't sure I wanted to reveal what I reveal here, but.  Well.  What the hell?

In case you can't remember what in the hell is going on, go back and peruse this one (long night 7) real quick.  Of course you are free to read all the entries about The Long Night, but the above mentioned should get you pretty well up to speed for this week's installment.

As ever, enjoy.

********************

Grey closed the door after Viola and stared Maggie down. 

She looked shocked and confused and a little disgusted.  “You use drugs?”

Grey shrugged.

Maggie frowned and studied him carefully.  “How often?”

Grey rolled his eyes and pushed off the door, past his wife, and headed for his closet without responding.

“Grey?”  She sounded sharp and edgy.

Still he ignored her.  He was all kinds of pissed off, and he knew himself well enough to recognize that in this mood anything that came out of his mouth at present would be hurtful, spiteful, cruel, and entirely unnecessary.  So he kept his trap shut.  He needed to get them both through this charade, and for that he needed to make sure Maggie didn’t run crying from the house.

He moved quickly once in the large walk-in closet.  He moved to the shoe collection, ran his finger down the neat rows, and automatically removed the last pair on the left.  He reached deftly into the now empty space and slid a small piece of false backing to the side, revealing a shallow cubby he’d hollowed out of the wall when he was sixteen. 

He could feel her watching him, but it couldn’t be helped.

With an enormous sigh of relief his fingers seized upon the small tin he’d left there, forgotten, for years.  With his eyes closed he pulled it from the secret hole, replaced the innocuous false back, and carefully rearranged the shoes to look as though they hadn’t been bothered with at all.

He quickly opened the tin to make sure the contraband was still within, then snapped the lid back on and pocketed it smoothly.

Maggie was staring at him, puzzled and very clearly upset with him.

“The shit she found is mostly kid’s stuff.”  He snapped gruffly.  “I don’t want her getting a hold of this.”

Her eyes widened and she looked horrified.  “Grey—“

“Spare me the sanctimony.”  He rumbled.  “What I do, and what I’ve done is none of your concern.” 

She winced.

He suddenly wished he had simply told her the truth.  Explained that sure he’d done recreational drugs—he was rich and privileged and more than a bit of a rebel against his Dad’s wholesome upbringing.  He knew how to party and had been damn good at it. 

But that he hadn’t taken anything illegal in years.  He’d outgrown it.  He was over that.  Now he stuck to good liquor in large quantities, and, okay, maybe occasionally marijuana when it was around.  He didn’t need the hard stuff. 

But the look on her face just needled him and he felt the urge to scandalize her and push her buttons and tell her to go fuck her judgment and her disappointment.  What right did she have to look at him like he’d let her down?  She wasn’t his fucking mother.  She wasn’t anything to him.

Then why did he feel like a heel?  Why did he feel guilty and ashamed?

Fuck that.

“How are we on the trimesters—is now one of the bad times to experiment?”

She set her mouth in a grim line and turned on her heel to exit the closet.

He sighed.  He didn’t want to care what she thought about him. 

He followed her out of the closet, sourly wishing the night would hurry up and end, but knowing it had hardly even begun.  He snapped the closet light off and closed the closet door just as Viola reentered.

She looked from Maggie to Grey with a mischievous little smile playing around her eyes and lips.  She was way too fucking clever for her own good.  Grey was more than a little pissed with himself that he’d left his casual collection in a place where his little sister might get a hold of it.  Of course it had been well hidden and cleverly disguised, but he should have known better.  Viola had always been smart and curious and hell-bent on misbehaving.

“What were you doing in the closet?”

Maggie looked at the floor.

“Just a quickie.”  Grey responded.

Viola laughed appreciatively and Maggie glared at him.

“What’d you dig up?”  He asked his sister, shrugging off the prickling guilt that the sight of Maggie’s welling eyes had evoked.

Viola promptly held out a baggie of assorted pills.  It was nearly empty compared with how he knew he’d left it.  Goddamn hellion.  Jonah and Velvet had their hands full with this one and they likely didn’t even realize it.  Grey almost felt sorry for his Dad.  If the poor guy ever found out what his precious little girl was really like…

“I certainly hope you didn’t take the majority of it.”  He said sternly.

Viola giggled and cocked an eyebrow at him.  “What do you take me for?”  She challenged him.  “Do I look strung out?”

She looked healthy.  And alert.  And he’d never seen her looking anything but.  He held out his hand and she delivered the little baggie to it promptly.

“Losers weepers.”  He said and pocketed it.

“Hey!” 

Grey shrugged.  “Maybe if I could trust you not to be an idiot and sell them to your little classmates—“

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Why don’t you run and cry to Dad about it?”

She pouted and glared at him.

“I’m sorry, ok?”

“I don’t give a shit about your remorse.”  He said with a laugh.  “What the fuck good will ‘sorry’ do you if you get busted with intent to sell?”

She rolled her eyes and made a disgruntled noise.  “So, what?  Now you’re all grown up and married and suddenly you’re a fucking Narc?”

Grey smirked.  “Don’t get all pissy with me because you’ve been acting like an idiot.”

Viola huffed.  “Whatever.”

“Nice comeback.”

Viola opened her mouth to retort but Maggie spoke first.

“What happened to your cousin?”

The Delaney siblings turned in unison to face her.  That was a bucket of cold water, alright.

Grey exchanged a look with Viola.  He guessed his expression probably matched hers; sobered and chastened.

“Cole?”  Viola asked quietly.

Maggie looked at Grey.

“It was a car accident.”  He said gruffly.  “Nolan was driving.”

His wife gasped and covered her mouth.

“It wasn’t his fault—“  Viola interjected weakly.

“They were hit.”  Grey kept going.  “From outta nowhere by some asshole vacationer.”

Maggie looked pained and horrified.  Grey focused his eyes on the slim gold ring encircling the finger of her left hand, which was still pressed to her mouth.  He could still remember vividly the night his dad had told him about the accident.  Remember rushing to the hospital to wait, with everyone, to wait and what, pray?  Beg? 

Remember the way his aunt had fallen to her knees right there in the place they’d been asked to wait while a team of doctors had operated on his tiny cousin.  Had fallen to her knees on the monotonous green linoleum when the grim faced surgeon had emerged, Cole’s blood on him, and delivered the awful, unfathomable news.

“Was, the other driver--?”  Maggie whispered into the hush of Grey’s childhood bedroom.  She kept her hand over her mouth.

“He was drunk.”  Viola confirmed dully.  “He was fine, too—could have walked away from the crash with a scratch or two.”

A tear slipped from Maggie’s eyes, slipped right over the gold ring.

“He killed himself.”  Grey said emotionlessly.

Maggie wasn’t the only one to gasp at that.  Viola hadn’t known that.  That’s right, she’d been pretty young at the time.  Dad hadn’t told her about that. 

“What?”  Viola whispered.  “I thought he was in jail.”

Grey rolled his shoulders back.  “He couldn’t take the prospect of prison, or maybe he couldn’t take the guilt.”  He shrugged. 

Maggie sank to sit on the bed.  Viola wandered around the room, processing this.

There’d been no trial.  Been no justice, no closure, no peace.  Grey remembered the funeral.  Remembered his Uncle’s decline into madness.

“One of the worst parts was, the guy had bought all his booze at the shoppe earlier that day.”  Grey added after a few minutes.

“No.”  Said Maggie, shaking her head as if he must have his facts wrong.

“Nolan had sold the motherfucker an entire case.  Gave him the discount for buying twelve bottles.”

Maggie continued to shake her head and weep silently.

“They found six empty in his car.”

“He closed the shop.”  Viola added.  “For a while.”

“No more.”  Maggie choked out.  “I can’t hear any more.  Not now.”

Grey reached over and squeezed his little sister’s shoulder gently.  “Give us a minute?”

Viola nodded vaguely, staring at Maggie’s tearful display, and backed toward the door without comment.

When she’d gone, when the door clicked closed, Grey crossed to Maggie and opened his arms.  She shook her head and wiped at her face desperately.  He gathered her against him and she sobbed openly, wetting his shirt and blubbering what he suspected was a litany—in Spanish—of prayers for the dead.

He swallowed around the lump in his throat and rubbed her back.  He wouldn’t have expected her to take it this hard—she hadn’t ever met Cole.  But she knew and obviously cared about Nolan, and… Grey closed his eyes.  And she had family, she could certainly imagine… and.  And she was going to be a mother soon.

He didn’t entertain the notion that her becoming a mother would mean that he’d become a father.  He focused on how she must be imagining what Zahra’d gone through.  Chalked it up to her over-active hormones and her powerful tendency toward sympathy and empathy.  He held her and said some kind things.  The things his Dad would say.  But he felt empty and hollow and lonely while she wept.  She felt warm and sweet and so fragile in his arms.  He wanted to lay her down on the bed and let her curl up next to him and weep until she fell asleep.  And he had no idea where such an impulse was springing from, which irritated him.

They stood there, in the middle of his childhood room, until she managed to get a hold of herself. 

He knew his family might suspect they’d been fooling around.  He wished that were the case. 

And when she pulled out of his arms, quietly thanking him for being patient, he washed over angry and cold.  He nodded curtly, gave her terse instructions on how to locate the nearest upstairs bathroom so she could freshen up, and he strode from the room.

When the fuck would this night be the fuck over?

Long Night; Part 11

Yikes.  Eleven?

Interesting little side note:  When we used to play the sims ALL THE TIME Aaron actually invented a character named Eleven Delaney.  She was awesome and sexy and quirky and artsy.  Half asian too.

Now he's lamenting that I've hogged the name Delaney and he can't write a story about 'Eleven Delaney' in Cedar Falls.

I'm trying to figure out a way to work her in...

anyway.  Part 11.

We get a kinda-sorta glimpse into one of the characters we never pay much attention to-- but really?  This is more about Jonah than anything.  Not gunna lie.  It's about exploring the man with the secret as he tries desperately to maintain the life he led before the secret.

Long long long night apparently.

um,i think I'll post a deviation from the long night next, for two reasons:  The first:  I like variation and dislike getting stuck too long in one story line\time\place.  Second:  I have not finished the next segment to my satisfaction.  It took a turn I didn't expect and am not sure I want to go where it took me, not yet, maybe never.

AND i've been writing SO MUCH as far as other story lines go, so why not take a detour and give you yummy, salacious, delicious OTHER STUFF???

Anywayz.  Today you get more LONG NIGHT.  Enjoy!

*****************

Jonah crossed to his daughter’s desk and stared at the device that was emanating uninspired, angsty college folk music.  He didn’t see a dial. Or even a discernable button.  How the hell does one turn the volume down?

“Uh, Vee.”  He gestured at it, smiling apologetically.  “It’s just a little loud for a conversation.”

Vienna had flung herself onto her bed after letting him in, and now she had to drag herself up and off of it once more to deal with the music.  Every movement was an effort, every effort cost her.  She swiped her finger in a half circle on the flat surface of her music player and, as if by magic, the referential lyrics vanished to a hush, the tired guitar dwindled to a hint in the background, and the homage-laden harmonica mewled like a kitten instead of whining like a merciless banshee.  She dragged her feet back to the bed and collapsed again, miserable and mute.

Jonah tried to feel for her, he really did, but right now she was more a task than a person to him.  He’d been engaged (by his beautiful, fretful little wife) to entreat the young woman to join the rest of the family for dinner. And so he was standing in her room, gazing at her, and trying to dream up some way of accomplishing the goal, which looked, at the moment, to be an unlikely one.

“Mum send you up here?”  The girl asked, staring up at the high ceiling of her over-large, shared bedroom.

“We’re both worried about you.”  He responded dutifully.

He watched her flat stomach tense beneath her pajama tank top in a humorless laugh.  “Worried about your precious, bourgeois dinner party.”

Oh, for Christ’s sake.  This was going to be just delightful.  Who’d she been dating—Holden Caulfield?

Jonah crossed to her bed and sat gingerly at the foot of it.  When she hadn’t made a move in response, nor requested he remove himself, he relaxed a little and crossed his arms thoughtfully.  “Our primary concern is your well being, Vienna, and I think you know that.”

She huffed and threw an arm over her eyes, but she grunted in some semblance of concession.

“Of course we’d love to have you downstairs with the family—you’re a part of this family and tonight is an important night.”  He saw her lips push tight, just like they had the first time she’d tried a lemon as a toddler, and he smiled gently at the memory.  “But nobody is asking you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

She nodded beneath her arms and blew a shaky puff of air from those puckered lips.  She was trying hard not to burst into tears.

They sat in silence for a few moments; he wanted to allow her time to regulate her breathing and push away the impulse to sob.  He waited until her arm slipped off her face and she was staring at the ceiling once more, to continue.

“Want to tell me about it?”  He suggested.

“No.”

He nodded.  He didn’t really want to hear about it.  But neither one of them were going to get what they wanted tonight.

“How long had you been dating?”  He asked softly.

He saw her dart her tongue over her parched lips and swallow hard.  She shrugged.

“Vienna.”  He said, a stern but gentle command.

“Two months.  I guess. Three?”

His eyebrows lifted.  “And I never met him?”  It was a loaded question.  A very Dad-like question.

She rolled her eyes.  “Don’t start, please?”

He licked the back of his teeth and chose his next words with care.  “It strikes me as a bad sign that you didn’t have this young man over to meet your parents.”  He said, forcing a neutral tone.  “It tells me that maybe you had some doubts about him?”  Her violet eyes closed tight.  “Maybe your subconscious or your gut told you he wasn’t the right guy from the get-go?”

She covered her face with her hands just as a sob tore from her throat.

“Okay.”  He said soothingly.  “It’s okay. Shhhshhhshh.”  He patted her leg very gently and she bolted upright and wrapped her arms around his neck in one fluid and desperate movement.

He held his breath, waiting to feel something inappropriate, waiting to turn into the monster that lurked within him.  But nothing happened except a girl sobbing into his neck and mumbling indistinctly.

He exhaled and inhaled a little more freely.  And patted his daughter’s back gently.  And tried not to think about Viola.

“Slow down, Honey; slow down and tell me from the beginning.”

It took her a couple of minutes to reign in her emotions.  When she did so she unwrapped herself from him and pulled her long legs into the pretzel position.  She pushed her long auburn hair back behind her ears and sniffled.  His lips quirked.  He loved her so much.  He hadn’t been paying much attention to her lately.  To her or her twin sister.  They were so independent and busy and grown-up lately.  It was sort of sweet to see her vulnerable and in need of a hug.

He only wished she didn’t have to be broken hearted and miserable.

“He’s a sophomore at the university.”  She said on a weary exhale.  He pursed his lips but held his tongue.  “I met him at the coffee house, he’s a poet and a lyricist and a musician.”  Her voice tread the line between bitter resentment and adoring awe.

So this guy was a self-centered, egotistical, disingenuous, ass.  Wonderful.

“What’s his name?”  Jonah asked automatically.

“You don’t know him.”

“I didn’t ask if I knew him, I asked what his name is.”  Jonah responded archly.

“Dad, you don’t know him, he’s not from here, he just moved here to go to the CFU!”  She hurried, a whine creeping into her voice.

He was pretty used to knowing the people his daughters associated with.  He was in the school system.  He could pull their academic records and see who their family was and size them up pretty easily.  In many cases he’d been their sixth grade social studies teacher or their elementary school principal.

He didn’t like the idea of this unknown coffee house neo-beatnik, with a cipher for a background, sniffing around his daughter.

“Vienna.”  He said simply.

“Cash.”

Jonah just barely resisted rolling his eyes.  “Cash?”  He responded as mildly as he could manage.  “And does Cash have a last name?”

“Nassiri.”  She said, her eyes flashing, her tone a dare.

“Sounds like he’d be in a band.”  He quipped wryly before he could stop himself.

Her lips pressed firmly together and she glowered at him.  Then the expression slipped and her lips quirked.  “Dad.”  She said warningly.

“Apologies.”  He said with a small smile. 

She laughed a little.  “Cash isn’t his real name.”

“You don’t say.”

She giggled.  He grinned.

“So what happened?”  He prompted easily.

Her small smile evaporated and she looked away.  “He met someone else.”

Jonah adjusted his glasses and refused to think about Velvet and Viola.  Refused to do it. 

“How did it end?”  He asked quietly.

She ran her fingers through her hair, over her scalp, and Jonah was reminded forcibly of Nolan.  Funny how these little traits and quirks get distributed. 

She looked disgusted and miserable. “That’s the worst part!”  She moaned.  “He sent me a text.”  She turned to her father with baleful eyes.  “A goddamned text, Dad.”

Jonah nodded solemnly.  “The boy’s an idiot, Vee.”  He said decisively.

She rolled her eyes and clucked her tongue and pulled all her long red hair to one side.  He watched as she began to braid the long, straight mane restlessly.  “Dad, you don’t even know him!”  She protested.  “He’s a genius.”  She insisted.  “He’s brilliant and he’s beautiful, and he is so talented it’s almost painful, you know?”

Jonah would certainly classify the music he’d heard upon entering her room as ‘painful’, but he decided it would be best to avoid an artistic debate at present.  He was old, ergo he’d never win—right as he may well be.

“A genius?”  Jonah challenged.  “Brilliant?”  He prodded.

“You don’t know him.”  She repeated mulishly, her long fingers working steadily down her locks.

“You’re right.  I don’t.”  Jonah conceded.  “And I think we’ve already covered just why, precisely, I was never introduced to Mr. Nassiri.”  He said unsympathetically.

She blushed all over and frowned at the far bedroom wall.

“And as for his brilliance,”  Jonah continued, hell bent on saying his peace, “Any idiot who breaks up with someone via text message is not only far from a genius, he’s also a coward, and not really much of a man at all Vienna.” 

Her lower lip trembled.  She didn’t seem inclined to speak.

“Besides.”  He continued, wanting to see her smile again, wanting to hear her giggle.  “He’s obviously a fool to look at anyone else when he should have been counting his lucky stars to have you on his arm.”

She rolled her eyes and gave him a pitying, exasperated look. “Daa-aad.”

He managed not to chuckle.  “What?”  He demanded.  “You’re smart, funny, beautiful, talented, clever, well-traveled, sophisticated—“

“Well apparently none of that matters, does it?” She interrupted, her voice dancing a fragile line between anguish and acrimony.

He was thoughtful.  “Besides, what imbecile went and passed up a redhead?”  He asked in a tone of absolute wonder and bewilderment.  “Everybody knows a redhead is a real catch.”

She shook her head and a giggle slipped out.  “You’re such a dad.”  She lamented, even while smiling.

“Well.”  He shrugged.

She hugged him and he held her for a long moment, as long as she needed.  He wondered if she’d slept with the boy.  Probably.  He wondered if he’d made promises to her.  Likely.  Lied to her, and pretended, and charmed his way into her pants.  Most definitely.

He wondered if he could kill the boy and get away with it.  Less probable.

“You want me to come downstairs now, don’t you?”  Vienna asked resignedly as she pulled out of the hug and slouched against the wall, stretching her long legs out on the bed before her and flexing her pedicured toes.

“Your family loves you, Vee, and everyone would love to see you join us.”

She sighed and ran her fingers through the braid she’d started, shaking the plait loose with determination.

“Everyone will be looking at me, and pitying me, and talking about me behind my back.”  She said it without emotion.  It was a fact.

Jonah removed his glasses and began to clean them unnecessarily.  “Everyone is here to support you, and help you, and be here for whatever you need.”  He corrected.  “And moreover, this night is in honor of your brother and his new wife, so you certainly won’t have to endure being in the spotlight with this, or anything of the sort.”

They fell into a thoughtful silence for a moment or two.

“I’ll come down if you get mom to promise she won’t bring it up.  Like, at ALL.”  Vienna bargained, sounding much more like herself.

“Sound like a deal.”  Jonah said, slipping his glasses back on and smiling fondly at his daughter.  He extended his hand for a shake, and she seemed to deliberate for a few seconds before laughing and clasping her hand to his for a cordial, business-like shake.

He then got up and crossed to the door.

“Dad?” 

He stopped and turned.  “Yes, love?”

“Thanks for being you.”  She said with complete sincerity.

His gut twisted painfully and he felt a slippery coldness wriggle down his spine.

“Thanks for being a good sport on this kiddo.  I know you’re hurting.”

She shrugged and sniffled a little.  “Be down in a few, k?”

“Ok.”  He said with a nod.  He paused in the doorway, not quite ready to leave the safezone of the twins’ room for the no-man’s-land of the hall.  Where Viola was likely waiting to prey on him.  “Uncle Caleb’s broken up with Gideon.”  He told her.  “It was pretty awful.  Maybe you could do me a favor and make sure he has an ok night tonight?”

She tilted her head to the side and gave him a concerned and curious look.  “You got it.”  She responded kindly.

“That’s my girl.”  He said, and, taking a deep breath, pulled open the door and braced himself for the rest of the evening.

Long Night; Part 10

Good morning! Happy Saturday!

I have to go to professional development today! Something called NEDS. Sounds like a schmuck, doesn't it? I', sure you can't wait to hear all about the riveting world of an after-school care educator!

But i get paid to go, and apparently there will be breakfast pastries, so off i go! The saving grace is that I get to go with Aaron. If this were some theatre teacher conference i could bet on having more fun and caring more about the shit, and maybe seeing some old friends, but at least here i get to be with my bestie (and, incidentally, the man who gave it to me but good last night when Eric & Gina went out for a couple hours to see eric's friends--score for me!!).

So before I depart for fucking WAYLAND MA (where????), let me put up part 10.

This is Ben. Danielle had a question about Mr. Sinclair. Here you find out a smidgen more.

Short but loaded with some ammo.

See you all on the flip side of NEDS!

****************

Ben tried not to know too much about other people’s sex lives.  He wasn’t a prude or anything, he just, that stuff was private.  He especially disliked knowing anything at all about his parent’s sex lives.  He always got red around the collar whenever his mother made ribald jokes—which is something she had the tendency to do around Jonah and Velvet Delaney.

He remembered their family vacations with the Delaneys as distinctly awkward for him because of the easy camaraderie between the three adults.  They teased eachother mercilessly, threaded everything with double entendres, and if they’d had just a little too much to drink they started getting very frank on topics Ben would rather never even imagine his mother discussing, let alone overhear it.

And he’d often had occasion to wonder about just how close the three of them really were.  The summer they’d all gone to the Bennett cabin upstate, the summer he’d turned thirteen, Grey had alluded to the notion that perhaps their parents liked to bunk together when everyone else had gone to sleep.  Ben knew Grey’d said it to get a rise out of him, to needle him, and he’d laughed it off.  Dismissed it.  Pretended it hadn’t bothered him.

But ever since then he’d wondered.  They were, all three of them, best friends.  Could it be out of the realm of possibility?  He really didn’t like thinking about it.  He already knew more than he’d like to about his father’s affairs.  He’d known too much about all that from about the age of five.  And perhaps the most uncomfortable thought of all was the notion that maybe he couldn’t blame his mother for seeking a physical arrangement outside of her marriage.  It baffled him that his parents were still married, actually.

But the idea of her engaging in those activities with Velvet and Jonah made him feel uneasy.  He’d been raised to think of them as his aunt and uncle.  Thinking of his mother with them felt way too close to incest.  It was weird.  They were going to be his parents-in-law for Christ’s sake!

So when he bounded up to the open front door of the Delaney mansion and heard Velvet commenting about his mother’s ass and about spankings in that very suggestive tone of voice, he just wasn’t able to maintain his composure.  He felt like an ass for blushing like a schoolboy, especially when they laughed at his discomfort, but it was quite beyond him to control his gut reaction to their flirting.  He hoped they would refrain from playing that particular pet game this evening.  The evening promised to be long enough without that fun little repartee that made his skin crawl and his ears burn.

He hung the coats in the closet and was grateful his father had taken the hint and opted not to attend.  The tension that sparked between Holden and Jonah in confined spaces was enough to give Ben a sour stomach.  He often wondered how the two of them would conduct themselves at the wedding.  He was comforted by the fact that Jonah Delaney was an upright fellow.  The best man he knew, really, and that he could be counted on to behave like a gentleman.

But there was going to be open bar and Ben’s dad was not a merry drunk.  Holden Sinclair liked to pick fights when he was drunk.  And worse, he liked to brag about his conquests and he liked to hit on young women.  Ben knew Jonah well enough to know that the man would not be able to tolerate Holden disrespecting Grace in his presence.  Ben often wished he and Avalon could elope.

He closed the closet door with a sigh and moved to check his hair in the mirror.  He was displeased to see that his cheeks were still slightly stained with high color.

“You look good enough to eat.”  Avalon’s voice purred from the dining room archway.

He smiled and turned to face her.  His eyes scanned her from her toes to her eyes.  “And you look pretty darn delicious yourself.”  He murmured appreciatively. 

She smiled and moved toward him with a small laugh.  “I could kill you for being so late.”  She cautioned him even as she moved into his waiting arms.  “It’s been a damned nightmare here without you.”

He gave her a sympathetic look and then kissed her deeply.  “That help at all?”  He asked when they drew back to look at one another.

She smiled briefly and then frowned, her eyes doing a quick scan of the foyer before fixing him with an intense purple stare.  “Gideon was cheating on my uncle.”  She told him in a quiet but fierce tone of voice. 

Ben was stunned.  “Oh no.”  He said, a rush of sympathy chasing the shock.

“And my sister’s boyfriend just broke up with her because he’s ‘met someone else’.”  She said.  Ben registered the accusatory edge to her words, but chose not to respond to it.

“That singer?”  He asked.  Ben had figured that guy for a sleaze from the get-go.

“Is there anything you need to tell me?”  She asked, her body going stiff in his arms, her lips getting thin, and one dark eyebrow lifting expectantly.

Jesus.  This was the last thing he wanted to do this evening.

“That I love you, and adore you, and that I can’t wait till you’re my wife?”  He asked with a soft smile.  He did not want to be dragged into one of her flights of unfounded jealousy.

“My grandmother says all men cheat.”  She said without acknowledging his warm sentiment.

Ben’s smile fell and he clenched his jaw.  “Your grandmother is wrong.”  He said firmly.  Many less polite comments leapt to mind, but he held his tongue.

“She’s also been kind enough to remind me about what a brazen philanderer you father is.”  She added, a hint of a challenge in those violet eyes of hers.

Ben kept his features as passive as he was able while roundly cursing that old bitch up and down in his head.  “I am not my father.”  He said after a heavy moment of silence.  He was sensitive about the issue.  He felt as though every girl he’d ever dated had been waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for him to look too long at a passing waitress, waiting for suspicious e-mails or texts, waiting for him to follow some genetic path to infidelity.

And if the girls weren’t bad enough, their parents were worse.  Even Jonah had changed toward him when he’s started dating Avalon.  Uncle Jonah, the man he’d looked up to all his life, the man he considered his role model and mentor.  The man he’d wished was his real father on more than one occasion, though he’d never tell that to another living soul as long as he lived.  That Jonah.  Had suddenly become somewhat aloof, distant, and Ben couldn’t deny it, he’d become extremely protective of his daughter.

Ben started calling him Mr. Delaney more often than Jonah or Uncle, and he’d lost a lot of the camaraderie they’d once enjoyed.  Only when Ben had gone to the man to ask for Avalon’s hand in marriage did the relationship begin to revert back to the way it had been.  They’d had a very long, somewhat awkward, but overall cathartic talk, man-to-man, in his study, and since then things had been getting a lot better—slowly but surely.

“If you ever cheat on me—“  She began.

Ben dropped his arms from around her.  “Don’t.”  he told her, his voice a clear warning.

Avalon Delaney did not respond well to warnings, threats, or ultimatums.

“Don’t?!”  She hissed.  “Don’t what, stand up for myself?  Don’t call you out?  Don’t pretend you’re not a man just like every other cheating piece of—“

“Avalon, I’m not the one who’s cheated.”  He said, desperate and yes, angry.  He shouldn’t have said it.  He regretted the words as they left his lips.

She froze.  He already felt awful. 

“You swore you were over that.”  She whispered.

“I am.  I’m sorry—“

“You said you forgave me.  How many times do I have to apologize for it?  What do I have to do to make you forget it?”  Tears were welling up in her beautiful eyes and he wished he could punch himself in the jaw for causing her this pain.

“I’m an ass.”  He said, reaching for her, but she turned away.  “I’m so sorry angel, please, look at me.”

He watched her shake her head and cross her arms.  She was putting on the armor.

“I guess I’ll just never be good enough for you, right?”

“Ava, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me—please honey, look at me.  I love you.  Please.  I’m so, so, so sorry I brought that up.  I’m an idiot.  It was small and cheap of me.”  He placed a cautious hand on her shoulder.  She shrugged it off and moved a few more steps away from him.

“Whatever.”  She said, her voice rigid and unforgiving.  “Let’s just slap happy smiles on our face and get through tonight.  If you still have doubts about me we’ll call off the wedding, but let’s have the courtesy to wait until after this goddamn dinner.”

Then, without looking back at him, she strode out of the foyer toward the living room.

Ben rand a hand over his face from scalp to neck and stared blankly at the magnificent staircase before him.  What a nightmare.  This was going to be an excruciatingly long night.

Long Night; Part 9

Hey!

Shaping up to be a long ass night here-- my brother in law is super grumpy!

Anywho.

Also, i'm sick :( boo, and I have to go to professional development tomorrow :(

And right now all i wanna do is curl up with sookie and go to bed (and have awesome taboo sex), but what i need to do is the dishes--grumpalump! The tension in here because of my brother in law and his GF is so thick I feel like I can't even breather! I almost feel like I need to get out of here, but wait, this is my fucking home!! yikesaroni!

Work today was super fun. I like my aftercare job. i just wish I didn't have a headcold-- it makes me a bitchasaurus rex.

K, enjoy the next segment!

****************

“I thought I heard the bell!  Hello handsome, how are you?”  Velvet was always very glad to see her youngest brother-in-law.  She hurried into the foyer, removing an apron as she hastened to deliver a kiss of welcome to both his cleanly shaven cheeks.  He smelled great.  “Is that the new cologne from the boutique?”

He grinned.  “You’re a goddess, you know that?  Jonah you married a goddess.”

“Don’t I know it.”  Jonah responded adoringly while he helped her with the stubborn apron string knot.

Velvet giggled.  Everything was just about ready, and to her mind Caleb had arrived not a moment too soon because all the free time to mingle was causing unprecedented amounts of tension around the house.  Her mother was being especially prickly, which she had somewhat anticipated.  But Jonah wasn’t quite himself, Grey seemed unenthusiastic, Viola was moody, Avalon was uptight, Vienna was upstairs in a tailspin with a broken heart, and even Nolan seemed less genial than usual.  What was going on with her family this evening?!

“You’re too sweet.”  She gushed at Caleb, who she really thought of as her own younger brother and not just an in-law.  He’d been young when she’d gotten together with Jonah, so she’d been a part of his growing up.  She’d been there for so many of his formative years, and she’d dedicated herself to being present and involved in his world.  He was one of her favorite friends.  Hell, he and Gideon could gossip till the wee hours of a cocktail party and never run out of juicy bits to treat her with.  “Where’s Gideon?  You took separate cars?”  She asked, with a small frown.  Dinner was ready and Ben had yet to arrive with Grace.  Now it looked like Gideon would be late as well.

“He won’t be joining us this evening, Love.”  Jonah answered when Caleb looked stumped.

Velvet blinked.  “Oh?”  She was having trouble figuring this one out.  “Is everything all right?”  She couldn’t imagine anything mundane keeping Gideon away from one of her dinner parties.  He loved socializing and he loved the family.  And Velvet was certain there was no way he would willingly pass up the opportunity to finally meet Grey’s new bride.

“We’re not together anymore.”  Caleb leveled, sounding tired and resigned.

Velvet felt her eyebrows rise to the top of her forehead and her eyes get wide.  “Oh, no, really?  Oh no.  Oh Caleb.  What happened?  Are you ok?”  She had a million more little nothings to mutter but Jonah’s hand on her shoulder reminded her to get a hold of her tongue.

“Maybe you two can have lunch tomorrow?  I’m sure Cale doesn’t want to drag all that out tonight—this is a happy occasion.”  Jonah said gently.

“But—“  Velvet felt torn.  She wanted to know everything, be there for her brother, listen to his woes and help however she could.  But she also had a house full of guests waiting for their dinner and to meet the newest member of the family. 

“No, Jones is right Vell, Let’s do lunch and I’ll give you all the sordid details when I can get good and liquored up.”

Velvet tried to smile but failed.  She crossed to him and wrapped him in a firm hug.  He was much taller than her, almost as tall as his brothers, but part of her would always see only the young boy she used to hug when he’d come to her with all his confusion and angst and trouble with his father. 

“We love you.”  She said, speaking for the whole family.

He hugged her back.  “I know.  I love you guys.”  He said quietly.  “Thank you.”  He added meaningfully.

She pulled back from the hug and looked into his deep blue eyes.  “Did he cheat on you?”  She asked in a hushed tone.

He didn’t need to say anything.  Velvet saw it flash across his expression as clearly as if he’d painted a sign.  Poor baby.  Delaney Curse.  She hugged him again, her heart bursting with empathy.

He cleared his throat and sniffed twice before patting her back with some finality.  “Forget that jerk.”  He said with a forced laugh.  “I’m dying to meet this wonderful new daughter you’ve acquired.  You’ve been talking my ear off for two weeks—don’t hold out on me, direct me to the bride!” 

She giggled weakly.  “You’ll just love her.”

“So you’ve said, about a hundred times.”  He teased.

“Sweetheart, is there anything you still need me to do?”  Jonah asked, folding her apron neatly.

Velvet flashed him a smile.  He was perfect.  She reminded herself how lucky she was to have him.  She knew he could never find out about her semi-annual indiscretions.  She loved him more than life.   She would crumble into a million pieces if he left her.

“Hey—you ok?”  He asked quietly.  Her smile had faded while she was lost in thought. 

“Just thinking.”  She lied brightly.  “Could you make sure there’s enough champagne on ice?”

“Sure thing.”  He responded, then leaned down to kiss her brow before wandering off toward the kitchen.

“No, first see if you can talk to Vee—can you?”

“Let me do the champagne first.”  He decided with a sigh.

“Oh, and be an angel and text Grace—tell her to hurry the hell up!”

She heard Jonah chuckle from somewhere within the dining room.

“Next time I see that two-timing prick I’ll cut his cheating cock off.”  She said when Jonah was out of earshot.

Caleb guffawed.  “I love you sis.”  He said when he’d caught his breath.  “Now really, fetch the blushing bride already.”

Velvet tisked and shook her head, but decided not to press the issue any further tonight.  “I think they’re in the den.  I’m not sure.  Grey’s doing his best to keep her away from my mother.”

“You raised a smart boy.”  Caleb said wryly as they started toward the living room together.  “So any more word on why they up and eloped like that?”  He asked in an intrigued whisper.  “I mean it’s all so very scandalous.”

Velvet tittered.  “My mother is downright furious about it.”  She conceded.  “’It’s the talk of the town and none of it too favorable!’”  She parroted her mother, eliciting a snort of laughter from Caleb.

“Oh my God I’ve heard it all—“  Caleb agreed with a playful smile.  “The most popular story at the radio station involves a Spanish art heist and her father being the heir to the abdicated thrown of Mexico, like before they overthrew the monarchy and established democracy or whatever—so she’s got all this wealth and prestige tied up in an ancient Mayan temple somewhere, but she can’t get to it because of the Mexican army and, oh shit, I forget the bit about the Pope and the Catholic church getting involved, but long story short, Grey rescued the penniless but regal damsel while he was spending winter break in Cabo.”

Velvet’s mouth fell open in astonishment.  “What would Grey be doing involved in a Spanish art heist?  He doesn’t know the first thing about art.”  She wondered.

Caleb laughed uproariously.  “That’s the only part that seems far-fetched?!”

The doorbell rang just as they were getting to the den.  It sounded like Zahra was in there with Genny and at least one or two of Nolan’s kids. 

“I’ve gotta get that Sweetie, Just go ahead, Grey’ll make the introductions—If you can find him!”  She gave his arm a little squeeze and spun on her heel back toward the foyer.

She could hear Caleb’s falsely buoyant entrance to the den as she hurried to answer the door.  Poor Caleb.  She’d have to put her thinking cap on and come up with a better match for the guy.  He deserved to be happy.

She swung the door open with a wide smile, happy to see her best girlfriend on the front step.  But Grace Sinclair was engrossed in the little blue screen of her cell.  She held up a finger to halt her friend’s greeting before Velvet could manage a ‘hello!’

“Did you tell me to hurry the hell up and get my sweet ass over here unless I want a spanking later?”  She asked, arching a perfect golden eyebrow and cocking her head to the side quizzically.

Velvet clucked her tongue.  Jonah.  “I delegated the texting to an associate.”  She confessed.

Grace laughed.  “Damn.  Here I thought my sex dreams were finally coming true.”

Velvet stepped aside to allow her friend to sweep into the foyer, then wrapped her in a hug.  “I’ll spank that perfect ass anytime you want, you just say when, where, and how hard.”

That was the moment Ben arrived at the door, jogging up the walk with a covered tray of some kind.  Velvet giggled at the expression on his face.

“Hi Ben.”  She said sweetly, releasing the blushing young man’s mother and reaching for the covered tray.

Ben’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he cleared his throat and managed a weak greeting as he handed off the tray. 

Grace laughed at her son’s blushing embarrassment.  “I made a cheesecake.”  She explained about the tray. 

Velvet gushed her thanks for the dessert before turning to kiss Ben’s reddened cheeks in greeting.  “Be a doll and hang up your mother’s coat too, will you Ben?  Avalon’s in the kitchen, I think.  I’ll send her your way.”

He nodded agreeably and took his mother’s coat. 

“Grace, there’s so much to tell you I don’t even know where to begin.”  She whispered as they started toward the kitchen.  She needed to figure out a way to fit the cheesecake in the refrigerator.

“Velvet, honey, focus, and prioritize.”  Grace was less tolerant of Velvet’s stream-of-consciousness babbling than Jonah was. 

“Ok.”  Said Velvet, trying hard to prioritize.  “Gideon cheated on Caleb so they’ve split, Avalon is thinking about changing the venue again, Vienna’s in her room crying her eyes out over some folk-rock college band singer and she won’t come out no matter what I say, my mother’s insulted every single one of my guests already, I burned the shortbread--so good thing you brought a cheesecake, and Grey threatened to leave if we didn’t make his grandmother leave.”  Phew.  Velvet managed to finish all that just as they reached the door to the kitchen.

“Impressive.”  Grace said with a smile.  “Breathe.”

Velvet did as she was commanded.

“I think you may have some screwy priorities, but I think I got the gist.”  She teased.  “I can’t believe it about Gideon!”  She whispered.

“I know.”  Velvet replied, commiserating.

“So did she leave?”

“What?”

“Your mother—did she leave, or did Grey?”

“Oh!”  Velvet rolled her eyes.  “Jonah fixed it—for now, but Grey’s in one of his moods, so be an angel and help me keep the peace?”

Grace smirked and she put her hand on the kitchen door, ready to swing it open.  “Isn’t that why I was invited?”

Velvet bit her lip and smiled. “I have a feeling this is going to be a long evening.”  She confessed.

Long Night; Part 7

Hey folks.  

Back from my visit to beautiful North Carolina.

happy to have two more days of vaca before slogging back to work.

Will likely have some follow up thoughts on the visit, but would rather post some writing at last.

I missed my laptop and my stories SO FUCKING MUCH while I was away.  They were on my mind so much of the time.  Ideas, scenes, characters, plot devices, tangents, origin stories, histories, motivations, psychology, secrets-- you name it! 

I misssed them.

I even wrote a little on the plane, longhand, in anticipation of getting back here and caressing these grubby keys with my fingers once again.

OMG!  This morning Aaron and I went to pick up coffee and breakfast sandwiches for the fam and stopped in at an adorable little wine shoppe at my eager insistance.  And guess the fuck what?  The shop owner (I'm pretty certain he was the owner), was handsome and charming and kind and friendly, and the shop was adorable a sweet and, since I'm insane, all I could think about was a fictional character from MY own fiction.  How ridiculous is that?

But I honestly couldn't stop grinning while we were in there, and I was inordinately friendly with the man, all because I was attributing characteristics to him that he likely does not possess!  I was totes projecting the whole time!  And I had extraneous conversation with him because I was kinda crushing on him because I was pretending he was Nolan Delaney.  How bananas is that shit?

He told me all about the upcoming wine tasting that afternoon, with a representative from a Chilean winery coming to speak about the chilen wine selections and all that.  impressive!  And when we were wrapping up the discussion--get this-- he WINKED at me and smiled and bid us have a nice day.  HE ACTUALLY WINKED!!  and not in a creepy way, I mean Aaron was right there beside me, it was just a wholesome, charming, charismatic wink.

Plus he was honestly good looking-- tall, lean, brown hair, clean cut, kinda sexy, dark blue-greyish eyes... weird wacky stuff folks.  I was a giddy mess about it!!!

ANYWAY, back to the falls...

The scene below is the next installment in the LONG NIGHT dinner scene, which I LIKE but don't LOVE, but want to be fair and finish it.

I want to share SOOOOOO MUCH!!! with you all.  I've been a writing fool lately (before NC anyway!) and can't wait to share some of the developments.  But.  All in good time I guess.  We're going in order, so read long night 1-6 if you haven't already.  (last one was lenghthy, huh?  sorry.  Just had alot to say i guess!)

For now, let's delve back into the little WASPy evening that could, shall we?

Enjoy!

**********************

Viola still couldn’t believe her brother was married.  So fucking bizarre.  It would be like finding out the Pope had converted to Buddhism or something.  Just so out of the realm of what she thought was probable.

But she well knew that when it came to sex and romance, anything could happen, no matter how unlikely.

And Grey’d been avoiding her calls and texts all week too, so she still had no idea why he’d done it, what the story was, or anything.  She decided she’d better try and get some of the answers she was seeking from his pretty little bride.

“Shouldn’t we—“   Grey’s bride was only very reluctantly allowing Viola to pull her up the stairs.  She was looking behind them at the living room arch way, and she seemed very conflicted.  “Should we, go? Help?”

“Nah.  My Dad will handle it.  He always does.”  Viola said.  Damn, she liked it when he took charge like that.  Half of her actually wanted to drop Maggie’s elbow and bounce down there to catch the fireworks.  But she knew Grey would be glad she’d had the presence of mind to escort his wife away from the conflict, so she pushed the tantalizing thought of her father being super authoritative out of her mind for the moment.  “C’mon, Grey’ll come up here and get us when my Gran’s been put in her place.” 

Viola watched Maggie furrow her brow and wondered what the girl was thinking of her family so far.

They reached the top landing and Viola finally let go of Maggie’s elbow, feeling pretty certain the girl wouldn’t bolt back down.  “So how d’you like the cottage?”  She asked pleasantly, crossing down the hall a bit and opening the door to Grey’s old bedroom.  She flicked on the light and stepped inside.

Maggie hesitated on the threshold and stared.  Viola watched with interest as the girl stood there, looking for all the world as though she wanted to soak it all in, but looking also like she wasn’t sure she was allowed inside.

“C’mon in.”  Viola prompted.  “It’s ok.  He hasn’t lived here really since he started college.”

Maggie swallowed and stepped over the threshold carefully, reminding Viola of Dorothy and her tentative first steps into the Technicolor Oz.  The room was pretty much as Grey had left it years ago.  They already had a spare bedroom since the twins preferred to share, so Velvet had been able to leave this little shrine just the way it was.

Viola waited patiently while Maggie wandered the room slowly, soaking in every poster and trophy and novelty item and souvenir.  Grey had always been a pretty stream-line kinda guy, plus, he’d lived away at the boarding school most of the time, so there wasn’t a ton to see, but Viola supposed if it was all new it must seem like a lot to take in.  She crossed to the bed, plopped onto her stomach, crossed her feet at the ankles and propped her chin in her hands.

Maggie Delaney, nee Ramirez, was a cute little piece of ass.  Viola could see how Grey’d be smitten; in so far as Grey ever got smitten.  She had great proportions, sort of in miniature, which Viola understood a lot of men found very, very hot.  She smiled to herself, thinking about how petite her own body felt in a certain someone’s strong hands.

Anyway.  Maggie.  Viola liked the curls, liked the curves, liked the creamy caramel skintone.  The eyes were just plain arresting, and her lips said ‘fuck me please’ all over. 

But the kicker, thought Viola shrewdly, was that Maggie Ramirez Delaney had no idea how adorable she was.  Had no idea that she was grade-A spank-bank material.  And.  And Viola would bet good money that Maggie had been a virgin when Grey’d met her.

She certainly got why he’d dated the little Latina beauty.  Understood why he’d want to fuck her.  But what Viola couldn’t wrap her head around was why he’d gone and married her.  Married.  Yikes.  Because fucking a girl and making the big commitment were worlds apart.

And this girl, good as she may be for some fun, some fucking, a fling; this girl didn’t seem to have a lick in common with her brother.  Weren’t people supposed to be compatible in a marriage?  Because Viola certainly couldn’t see what this couple would have to talk about at the dinner table.

It all seemed very, very peculiar.

“He told me he was a swimmer—“  The young woman commented, a note of awe in her voice as she examined medal after medal and trophy after trophy.  “He didn’t say he was so competitive in it.”

Viola shrugged.  Who gave a shit?  “Yeah.  Dad thought he could maybe make a go at the national level, maybe even Olympic trials, but Grey wasn’t going for it.”

Maggie turned, wide-eyed.  “Why not?”

Viola smiled and lifted her shoulders a fraction.  “Dunno.  Too much work maybe.  Take the fun out of it?  He’s never wanted to be known as like, a professional athlete.”

Maggie looked intrigued as she mulled that one over.  “He’s got some other sports awards here too.”  She said after a moment.

“Yeah.”  Viola agreed, already bored of this topic.  “He’s played almost all of them, and as you can see he’s pretty awesome.”  She splayed her crimson fingernails out in front of her and checked them idly for imperfections.  She’d gone with her mom for a mani/pedi today.  And a wax.  She smiled at her fingernails as she remembered the look on the little Korean woman’s face when she’d asked for a Brazilian.  Maybe there weren’t too many fifteen year olds in there asking for Brazilians. 

All afternoon she’d been unable to stop her mind from wandering to her denuded sex.  It felt naughty and fresh.  It felt provocative and powerful.  She wanted to show it off.  She wondered if she’d get the chance.  No, more precisely, she wondered how she’d arrange the opportunity to show it off.

She smiled and returned her wandering focus to her brother’s esposita.

“He’s got a bunch of more academic awards, like, scholastic stuff, but Dad’s got that sort of thing displayed downstairs.”

Maggie smiled wistfully at that, but didn’t comment.  Viola could tell the girl really liked Jonah.  They had a lot in common.  Viola narrowed her eyes a little.  She’d be keeping her eyes on that budding friendship alright.

“Is there any sport he doesn’t play?”  Maggie asked, finally coming to sit by Viola on the full sized bed.  She sat down carefully, as if it were the altar at some shrine, but she tried her best to appear casual about it.  Viola had to turn her head to hide her amusement with the girl.

“Sure.  Golf.”  She said wryly.

Maggie was quiet.  “Just golf?”  She asked hesitantly.  “Why Golf?”

Viola’s lips pulled to the side and she peered at Maggie skeptically.  This woman, this bride of her brother’s, didn’t know why Grey refused to play golf?  Refused to even so much as pick up a club, despite the fact that every other guy in his social set was raised on the sport?  Despite the fact that being a wealthy, prep school educated, Cedar Falls socialite pretty much required you to be a member of the country club and an enthusiast for the links?

“You two know eachother long before you got hitched?”  Viola asked curiously, deciding she’d go ahead and let Grey field the golf questions himself.  Far be it for Viola to open that whole can of festering worms.  If Maggie didn’t know about Vaughan Grey by now, maybe there was some reason Grey had for keeping her in the dark.

Maggie blushed like a little kid who’d been caught peeking on another student’s test answers or something.  “I guess not too long.”  She admitted.  “It was a pretty whirlwind courtship.”

“Mmmhmm.”  Viola agreed half-heartedly. 

“You two seem close.”  Maggie commented, abruptly steering the conversation away from their marriage.  Interesting.

“I guess.”  Viola conceded marginally.

“But you’re the farthest apart in age.”  She continued, trying to draw Viola out gently.

“He’s always been a really good big brother to me.”  Viola stated levelly.  “We look out for eachother.”  She added meaningfully.  She wasn’t threatening Maggie, precisely, just, sort of, giving her fair warning.

Maggie nodded slowly.  “He’s lucky to have you on his side.”  She said quietly.

Viola raised a skeptical eyebrow.  This chick didn’t know anything about her.  Coming from anyone else that last comment would have come off as complete ass-kissing bullshit.  Weirdly, though, it had sounded pretty fucking genuine when Maggie said it.

She didn’t seem like the kind of girl that would be a gold digger.  Of course, Grey wasn’t the kind of guy to marry a golddigger, either.  What the fuck was this all about?

“So you wanna be an elementary school teacher?”  Viola asked her brightly. 

An elementary school teacher--Like Jonah.

Maggie smiled a genuine smile.  “Yeah.  I’ve wanted to ever since I can remember.”

Viola did her best to mirror the smile.  “I hear you’re great at the Wine Shoppe—no interest in doing that?”

Maggie crinkled her eyebrows.  “Doing, what?  Owning a shop?”

Viola laughed.  “Is that so crazy?”  Maggie wore an expression that clearly said that such a notion was out of her imaginings.  “But, something wine related, though; ‘sommelier’ or whatever.  Uncle Nolan went to school for it.”

Maggie looked impressed and then embarrassed.  “Wow. Oh, um, no, no.  I like it a lot but I don’t think I have any particular talent for it or anything like that.”

Viola nodded.  She wanted to come right out and ask the girl about the ridiculous marriage.  She wanted the dirt, but she didn’t know how to get at it.  And Viola Delaney fucking hated stupid ass small talk.  She always had to pretend she was playing the part of her mom in order to get through it.  Smile, be perky, be pert, be pretty, be precious.  Vomit in mouth, but smile and nod and ‘mmhmm’ a lot.

“Do you have any plans?  For the future?”  Maggie asked hesitantly.

Viola resisted the immediate impulse to roll her eyes.  She didn’t give a flying fuck about plans for the future.  She didn’t appreciate the ‘what do you wanna be when you grow up, little girl?’ question, however it was couched in professionalism.

“Nah.  Nothing’s really calling me yet.  Keeping an open mind.  So hey, does it ever get to you that Grey’s dated like a hundred girls?”

Maggie’s wide brown eyes got wider for a sec, then her face was still.  “I try not to think about it too much.”  She responded quietly.

Wow.  Did this girl have a dishonest bone in her adorable Latina body?  Now Viola kinda felt like a bitch.

“I mean, he married you, so no worries or anything, right?”  Viola grinned and laughed a little, to try to ease Maggie’s anxiety.  But the girl didn’t seem eased.  She seemed to get stiffer.  Eeek.  “He’s never lived with a girl.  How’s that going?”

Viola thought there might have been a spark of amusement flicker behind Maggie’s determined neutrality.  “I’ve never lived with anyone before either.  It’s quite an adjustment.”

Wild.  Catholics.  Making them get hitched before letting them see how living together went?  Viola thought that was pretty whacked.

“He, like, a total slob or something?  He snore?”

Maggie cleared her throat and picked a string off her dress—it was an awful dress, by the way.  It did nothing for her.  It looked like something you’d wear to a funeral or something.

“Well it’s only been a week.” Maggie said tentatively.  “I think so far we’ve both been on our best behavior as far as dirty dishes and laundry go.”

Viola sighed.  Bo-ring.  Maggie, Viola decided, was way too fucking sweet.  No way Grey chose such a goddamn angel.  Maggie was too sweet to be true.  There was something up.

“So what grade, do you think?”  Viola asked, switching topics abruptly.  This girl wasn’t going to bad-mouth Grey or give her dirt.  She just wasn’t the type.  So Viola needed to figure out a secret way into the real picture of Grey’s new life.

“Oh.”  Maggie took a minute to re-calibrate herself to the shift in discussion.  “The younger ones, I think.  Kindergarten, first, maybe second.”

Hm.  “My dad taught sixth.”

“Yes, he mentioned.  Did he have you?”  Maggie asked.

 Viola blinked.

“As a student, I mean?  Was he your teacher?” the girl clarified.

Viola felt a sly grin spreading over her lips at the innocently on-point phrasing.  She cleared her throat and kept her wicked grin in check.  “Nah, he was principal already by the time I got to sixth grade.”  She wanted to burst into giggles.  Now all she could think about was that night.  About her Dad.  In very un-dad-like ways.  “But you wanna teach the little ones?”  Viola didn’t want to talk about herself, she wanted to know more about miss perfect pie over here.

“I do.  Like Lola’s age.”  She said, her eyes getting far-away as she pondered it.

“So you like kids.”  Viola said, something starting to form into an idea.

“I do.”  Maggie responded warmly.

“You want any?”  Viola asked slyly, giving her new sister-in-law a sidelong glance. 

Aha!  The girl blushed and began twisting her religious medal and swallowing hard.  Holy shit!  He’d knocked her up?!?!?  Maybe.  Viola felt the rising excitement, but she quelled it ruthlessly.  She knew things about her brother that he’d probably rather she didn’t.  But people talked.  Her sisters most of all, and Avalon had had quite a few friends that had found themselves in distinctly awkward and inconvenient circumstances after Grey had decided to give them the time of day.

Long story short, getting a girl pregnant did not equal rings and vows for Grey Delaney.

But, then, why the furious blush and the stammering?

Maggie was saying things, but all Viola could hear was bullshit.  So the girl did have a dishonest bone in her body.  And it had to do with the ole fertility hot-button.  Curiouser and curiouser.

“Does Grey want babies?!”  Viola asked in her best impression of a perky, innocent little sister.   She made her expression all exclamation points and squee!

“Why, you giving some away?”  Grey’s sardonic voice rumbled from the door way.

Maggie practically leapt off the bed.

Viola slipped her eyes from the jumpy little Latina to her newly arrived  brother, whose casual confidence was little more than a brittle veneer.  He was radiating ‘pissed-the-fuck-off’, but not with her, likely with the sitch downstairs.  She flashed him a wicked grin.  “Hey big brother.”  She said.  “I rescued Maggie from the gorgon.  We’re having girl time.”

“Not anymore.”  Grey said.  “You’re a bad influence.”  He winked at her, but he was only half-kidding. 

He turned his pale green gaze onto Maggie.  Viola watched a silent communication going on between them.  Whoa.  Weird.  She felt like she was in the fucking twilight zone. 

Whatever he was looking for, he found confirmation of it in Maggie’s face and relaxed marginally.  She didn’t.  She got more jumpy.  “Is everything ok with, with your grandmother?”

“Looking for my stash?”  Grey asked Viola, ignoring Maggie’s tentative question.

Viola laughed.  “I found that shit like, a year ago.”

Grey raised a skeptical eyebrow and crossed purposefully to a small chest of drawers set atop the desk.  Instead of opening it, he pulled it away from the wall.  Maggie watched this with great curiosity, even craning her neck to see.  He popped off the false back carefully.

“You sneaky little shit.”  He said appreciatively.

“Losers weepers.”  Viola snarked.

“What did you keep in there?”  Maggie breathed, seemingly captivated by the secret hiding place.

Grey turned his head.  “Bible passages.”  He said, dead pan.  Maggie frowned and Viola thought she saw something spark within those wide chocolate depths.  Something feisty and fiery.  Grey turned back to Viola, barely concealing a smirk.  That was the Grey Viola knew and loved.  The one who couldn’t abide goody-two-shoes types, and lived to get a rise out of the wholesome ones among us.  “Is there anything left?”  He asked, sounding a little in awe and maybe a mite concerned.

“I didn’t use everything for Christ’s sake.”  Viola rolled her eyes.  “I sold a bunch.”

“Jesus, Viola, what the fuck?”

“You want a cut?”  She asked flippantly.

“No, moron, I don’t want my sister getting busted as a fucking dealer.”

Wordlessly Grey’s little bride moved to the door.  They both halted their back-and-forth to watch her.  Was this all too much for the little saint?  But Maggie didn’t leave; instead she closed the bedroom door quietly.

“Someone’s coming upstairs.”  She whispered.

Viola gaped a little and checked to see Grey’s reaction. He looked fairly mystified by this little turn of events too.  “Magalita.”  He said, a funny quality to his voice.  “Is tu familia used to hiding things from the narcs?”

She looked deeply wounded. 

“Oh, you’d rather I leave it open for your mother or father to hear this conversation?”  She snapped.

Viola couldn’t resist smiling.  This girl had more to her than kindness and humility.  She had a feisty side.

Grey grunted.

The three of them listened for a minute.

“Who the fuck is it?”  Viola whispered.

Grey moved as silent as a cat burglar over to the door and stood mere inches from Maggie. 

There was a knock, but not on his door.

Oh, fuck.  Viola hopped off the bed.  Was her dad looking for her?  Holy shit.  She needed to get out of here.  She hustled to the door but Grey held out a hand to stop her in her tracks.  Fuh-huh-huck.  He finally comes looking for her and she’s trapped in the twilight-zone with bizarro Lucy and Desi?!

“Vienna, honey?”  Viola’s nerves tingled like live wires at the sound of her dad’s voice.  She sizzled with jealousy at hearing him seeking out her older sister.  Obviously not for sex, but still.  These days any attention he lavished elsewhere pissed her right the fuck off.  “It’d Dad.”  He said unnecessarily.  “Mind if I come in?”  He said to the door.  The sound of indie college folk rock was all he got in the way of an answer.  “Vee, love, I need to have a few words.”  Viola thought he sounded tired and largely disinterested, but she guessed to most people his tone would pass as sympathetic and gentle.  Of course, she alone knew he had more pressing drama on his mind; she hardly thought he could really give two shits about Vienna’s nauseatingly trite break-up with some Bob Dylan wannabe.

They all heard the folk get louder as the twins’ bedroom door opened, a few mumbled words, and then the music got quieter again.  She’d let him in.

Viola watched her brother rake his eyes over his wife in a very carnal way.  Yikes.  The curly-haired chica met his eyes and blushed, biting her lower lip nervously.  These two were married?

Grey seemed to struggle to drag his eyes off her.  “So, what’s left?  Do you have something? Anything?”

Viola giggled.  “Now who’s the bad influence?”  She sassed.

“I’mma kill Gran if I don’t have something soon.”  He said matter-of-factly.

Viola rolled her eyes.  “I’ll see what I’ve got.”  She sighed lazily.  “Scotch won’t do the trick?”

Grey made a disgusted sound.  “I’m not allowed to touch it till after dinner.”  He said sourly.  “You know how Nolan gets, and Mum insists I won’t be able to taste the fucking food.”

“Plus there’s the side-effects.”  Viola said with a cocked eyebrow.

Grey looked momentarily baffled.  Viola pretended to yawn broadly and made a surreptitious hand gesture as she did so, her forefinger and middle finger forming a ‘V’, her tongue dancing between them for the briefest of moments.

Grey let out a bark of laughter.  Maggie looked lost.

“Hurry the fuck up.”  He said with a grin and held the door open for her.

“Be right back you two—don’t get carried away, unless you get off on being watched.”  The last thing Viola saw before sauntering from Grey’s old bedroom was her new sister in law’s jaw drop and her eyes get all round and shocked.

Way too fucking sweet for Grey.