#anyway fun fact some of my old friends are planning a reunion in march and im super excited!!! 2 of them are even gonna fly in :') ahhhh

[phantaloon-books]

I was rereading the iconic reunion at baltimore and this came to me and I can't not write it (even though I have a half finished chapter waiting to be written for a fic for a whole different fandom but who cares right)

in which neil regrets realizes that the feds were on to something when they talked about witness protection program. brace yourselves, it's angst time bby. please bear with me, I don't write stuff like this, content and format wise.

so everyone knows what goes down in baltimore. everyone knows that famous college exy striker for the foxes neil josten has been the son of the butcher of baltimore all along, and that smth happened after he was kidnapped and tortured that resulted in the butcher and some associates to be killed. everyone knows that neil walked out alive, injured but alive. so when a few weeks, months later, associates of the butcher start getting raided and taken in custody, everyone knows exactly who opened his little mouth and revealed everything he knows (bc there's literally no one else who could know this stuff and would be willing to share with the fucking feds, no one has a death wish)

It's a slow process. It starts with the feeling of not being safe, which is ridiculous, because he hasn't been quite as safe as he is right now, with the foxes, his family, and most importantly with Andrew. They're on summer break, technically speaking, even if they're at campus for practice because they gotta train the new foxes. They're barely doing anything than hanging out together and training, but still Neil can't shake the feeling that something is wrong, that someone is watching him, but he doesn't say anything, because it doesn't make sense, he's just being paranoid, there's no need to panic.

Neil can swear he's being watched. He feels the dread whenever he's out of the dorm, when he's out running, when they go out to eat something, when they go to the mall, on their way to practice, at Eden's. But when he looks around there's no one looking, it's been weeks and nothing has happened, he hasn't seen anyone.

Neil can tell Andrew is growing suspicious of the way he checks out a place, the way his eyes trace every corner, every exit, because he's starting to fall back in old habits, and he knows Andrew hates it. But Andrew doesn't ask, he knows that Neil will speak when he feels ready, so he lets it go, even if he can't quite let got of the worry clawing at his heart.

But everything keeps going normally, things are fine, everything is fine fine fine. Neil doesn't talk about it, but it's fine really. Until it's not fine at all, but it's also too late to talk now because his head is fuzzy and throbbing, and he feels like he might throw up and he feels pain even if he's not sure where the pain is coming from. But he can't do anything now, he can't tell Andrew how he's been feeling dread for weeks, because a man whose name he doesn't even know but whose face is awfully familiar is standing right in front of him where he lies on the floor, and the situation is also awfully familiar.

Stop being a martyr. Oh Andrew would kill him. If Neil gets out of this alive, Andrew will kill him, because he left again. He didn't want to, he really didn't. He was out on a run while Andrew was in therapy with Bee and Aaron, a couple miles away from fox tower, when a car pulled up right in front of him, two men wearing hoods and sunglasses stepping out and standing in front of him. He came to a halt, trying his best to keep calm because who the hell were these men and what did they want and for fucks sake can this just stop? It would have been smart to turn around and try to get back to the tower but he can't ever keep his mouth shut can he?

"Look I don't know who you are, I don't care what you want, but you're in my way, so move away if you know what's best." He intended to go for more sarcastic, but he was doing his best not to panic, so that had to do.

"You're coming with us, get in the car, or we'll do this the hard way." Their voices said they wouldn't hesitate, but Neil laughed anyway, that smile he knew was the Butcher's resting on his lips. Anything to make the men leave. He opened his mouth and then- "The Minyard twins are at Dr. Dobson's office. Reynolds, Walker, and Wilds are at the mall. Hemmick, Boyd and Day are in the dorms. The newbies are at the dorms as well. Come with us the easy way and we'll let them walk out of their respective places alive, Nathaniel."

And he was fucked. Of course he hadn't been safe, he would never be safe. In fact no one he cared about would ever be safe. He should have known better. But he wasn't going to let the foxes be harmed.

"How do I know you won't kill them anyway?" The snark was gone, the smile vanished. His face was blank and dangerous, because he'd done this before. "I don't even know who you are, you're obviously not the big guys, and I don't remember seeing your faces."

"We don't want to attract unnecessary attention. All we care about is you. If you come, you spare us all the trouble. As for who we are, let's just say someone is pissed at the piece of shit that ruined everything."

"The Butcher's friends then. I can't argue with that, it's a habit of mine to fuck up. Ichirou won't be too happy if something happened." He played his strongest card but fuck it. The Moriyamas owed him protection, Ichirou himself had made a deal with him.

"The moment they turned their backs to the Wesninski and made a deal with Hatford, those Japanese shits mean nothing to us." These were desperate men apparently. If the Moriyamas were nothing, the FBI was even less. "Time is running Nathaniel, decide. You or them?"

Andrew would kill him, but they'd talked about it before. Neil had told Andrew. If it means losing you, then no. He would not put himself first. Hell, he'd told the others before, the Foxes were all he had, he wasn't going to risk them for himself, not for anything. He needed to keep them safe.

So now he's lying on the cold wooden floor of some house or shed or whatever, drowsy from whatever they drugged him with once he got in the car, and in pain after being beaten for the last hour or so. He didn't bother asking the man (who is obviously in charge and sent the two men) for a name, and honestly he still doesn't plan to. What was the point of that anyway? He just looks up at the cold brown eyes of the man standing over him, Neil's face as neutral as he could keep it despite the fear of not making it out alive threatening to pull him under. The man just stares at him, calculative eyes and cruel smile, and Neil can't take it.

"What, so you're just gonna stand there? I have better shit to do." He hears the slur in his voice, wonders if it's just the drugs or something else. A concussion is likely. He's met with silence, so he closes his eyes and lays his head down. Fuck he's tired of these situations. He truly will never be safe, no one will-

"You know, I was expecting so much more from you Nathaniel," the man says with a laugh, "I was told that you'd put up a fight, I thought this would be fun. They said you'd beg for your precious life, but you haven't even made an effort."

Whoever his source was, they definitely do not know Neil, or Nathaniel for that matter. Not only is he not going to risk the men hurting the others, but he isn't going to fight, not against so many of them, not when running would be more likely to get him out alive. He isn't going to let them know that. "First go fuck yourself, and second, this isn't remotely close to entertaining to what I've been through, maybe if it was more interesting."

What does Andrew say? Regret is worthless? It seems right, because he can't find regret in what he said, even if his face is a bloody mess (what's new?) and his body shakes with shivers, after his head is held underwater so many times. No, he doesn't regret it. Instead he finds himself laughing a hollow thing.

"Y'know at least others have had a point, this time it's just for the fun of it, and it's not being much fun." His voice cracks a couple times, hoarse from coughing up water.

"You're right though, it is for fun. You cost me absolutely everything Nathaniel. Did you know the feds and the Moriyamas have been after us for months? Hunting us like we're rabbits, all because you decided to be a dipshit and open your mouth. You should be dead. You should have died ten years ago, back in March, anytime. All your existence caused us is trouble. And ratting us to the feds wasn't enough was it? No you told Ichirou all of the Butcher's men were loose ends, too." The man took a deep breath, composing himself. "So yes Nathaniel, this is for fun. This is payback, you've cost many lives, this is retribution for speaking, and I'm gonna enjoy seeing you have fun for as long as I can."

At some point, after hours, he's left alone in the dark, in the cold. He knows he’s in pain. He’s pretty sure his arm is broken, and so are several ribs. He knows he should be in a lot of pain, but he's just numb. Regret is worthless. Because even if he feels even worse than how he felt last winter at Evermore, he doesn’t regret it. He can’t be sure the guy’s men were truly going to kill the Foxes, but he doesn’t regret coming here to make sure the others don’t suffer more than they already have because of him. He wonders if Andrew will forgive him. He didn’t leave proof that he didn’t want to leave this time. Would Andrew think he left them - him? God, he hopes not. Would Andrew look for Neil or leave it thinking that Neil wanted to leave?

It doesn’t really matter, though. Neil is so tired. This time isn’t like when he was on the run or when he went to Evermore or when Lola took him. While with the Ravens, Kevin knew he was there at least, if anything were to happen, a person would know where to look somehow. At Baltimore, several people knew the most likely place to find him; Uncle Stewart, the Hatfords, Kevin again. He has no idea of where he is, or who took him, and no one knows he’s been taken in the first place. No one will ever find him.

Maybe it’s better that way, he thinks. No one will have to deal with the burden of him or his disappearance or his death, because no one will know. The simple thing would be to assume he ran. He hopes they assume he ran. Maybe they’ll be hurt, but haven’t they been expecting him to run? They won’t make it to championships without him considering Jack is an awful striker, but Kevin will manage. Andrew - Andrew is the one who expects him to run the most, maybe he’ll take it nicely. Neil hopes he takes it nicely. Guilt blossoms among the nothingness in his chest, but he can’t take it back, and he doesn’t want to. It’s better this way. No one will find him, but that’s fine. He wonders what the Moriyamas will do. He doesn’t want to think about that. He thinks of Andrew, the kisses, the care, the love, the nights spent together. Thank you, you were amazing. He wishes he could tell him how much he cares one last time. He feels something wet slip down his face. He can’t tell if it’s water, blood or tears. He sighs. He thinks of Andrew, and his eyes slip close.

[looselucy]

Childhood Friends / 6844 words

Catch up

July 2017

Part One

I had to act on impulse, even though it wasn’t necessarily in my nature. When it came to Harry, I just had to, or we wouldn’t have seen each other. Since March, we’d only managed to see each other once, at the beginning of June before he went home to spend some well-deserved time with his family, and I didn’t want to intrude in on that. It was July, and the fact that I’d only seen him once in three months had been awful. He had so much going on, between the upcoming tour and film, he was rushed off his feet constantly, so committed to his work it was both admirable and frustrating. We just hadn’t been able to fit one another in, our relationship based entirely around texts and phone-calls and made up media articles. They’d eventually got my name right, at least.

I’d managed to make my social media private in time to avoid a lot of hate, but it didn’t mean that people hadn’t found some way of getting hold of pictures of mine, tweets and old photos of me and Harry. Thankfully, I’d become pretty good at ignoring it pretty quickly, but it was definitely strange having a relationship that so many people watched, scrutinized, doubted. It did add an extra strain, though we both decided that not discussing it was one of the best ways of dealing with it. There wasn’t much to discuss. I bitched about it to the girls every now and then, and that was enough. But it was the distance that was really starting to get to me, the way that seeing him felt like a rare treat rather than something normal. It felt like our moments were rushed, frenzied, like everything had to be in the heat of the moment since we could literally count the minutes before he had to leave and get on with his life again. It would have been nice to have some time where I could just be normal with him. He said once all the Dunkirk work was over, that he’d have some spare time before the tour started, and we’d even get a few weeks of down time where we could just be together, but I’d realised I couldn’t wait that long. Even though I hated the place, I’d got a flight out to LA. I’d been in touch with Jeff, and the two of us had planned a little surprise for Harry. It was absolutely bizarre, being in some giant warehouse with my suitcase still in hand, walking past bloody spitfires they had set up with Jeff excitedly storming at my side, but it felt good. “Alright, he’s in there.” He told me, almost squealing he was so excited. “Fuck, I really wanna see that fuckers face, but I think it ruins the moment if I’m there.” “I think it might, yeah.” “Alright. Go. Have fun!” “Thanks for helping me sort this.” “Don’t mention it!” He turned and began walking away, yelling over his shoulder. “Let me know how it goes!” Jeff always seemed like he was in a rush, darting from one place to another. I swear, he didn’t walk at a normal pace. He was always on the verge of running. At first I thought it was weird, but once I’d gotten a bit more of an insight into Harry’s work schedule, it made sense. With tension trapped in my nerves, I finally opened the door ahead of me, seeing Harry stood by a water boiler, filling up a mug and making himself a green-tea. He lifted his eyes unenthusiastically to the door, and his face completely dropped when he saw me there. “No way.” He shook his head, lifting his finger off the button so there was no risk of him burning himself. “No fucking way.” “Hi.” I giggled. He took another few seconds to stare at me, having great difficulty grasping at my presence, and then as soon as it sunk in he ran over to me, picking me up off my feet and making me scream, impulsively wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck once our bodies had collided together with such force I almost felt like he’d knocked the wind out of me. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He grabbed at my hair to reposition my head and kiss me restlessly. “Once in three months is not enough.” I said between our agitated kissed, unable to take the smile off my face. “I missed you. Needed to see you.” “I can’t believe you’re here.” He kissed again, hands completely lost in my hair. “I missed you so much. I’m so happy to see you.” We stumbled a little, my back crashing against the door I’d just walked through, and then I heard a click and I knew he’d locked it, and I knew exactly where his mind had rushed to already. He was so excited that I could literally feel the exhilaration frolicking through his body with glee, making him shake, making him warm to the touch, making his skin prick upwards to greet me. It was so nice to know that my presence could do that to his body, out of his control and totally out of mine. It was just something we shared. Those sparks between us that he’d spoken about danced across our skin and glistened in our eyes as his hands searched through my hair and hips drove me further against the door. Though my space was incredibly restricted, I managed to start unbuttoning the shirt he was wearing, hearing an appreciative groan come from his throat, which was much prettier than the noise that followed. The handle of the door shaking, which was swiftly followed by a knock, and then Jeff. “H, we gotta go, man. They’ve scheduled in some extra interviews.” He stopped our heated reunion, resting his forehead against mine and scrunching his eyes tightly. Harry was brilliant at holding in his real emotions in order to politely make his way through a situation without ever causing upset. He’d gotten so used to it over the years, living in the spotlight, that it leaked into his every action. It was a good thing, in some ways, that it didn’t matter what was happening, he’d just calm himself and work his way through it with kindness and tranquillity. But sometimes I just felt as though he needed to snap, and just allow himself to be pissed off and share that things were frustrating rather than just pushing it aside. My mind rushed back to when we were in the art gallery in London, and the girl he called a friend tried to intrude on his personal business like he owed it to her, and I had to force him to complain about it as we made our way home. Obviously his life had thousands of perks, but sometimes I knew he just wanted a little bitch about the things that weren’t as great, and he barely ever allowed himself to do it. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I’ve gotta go.” He whispered, and Jeff yelled his name. “YEAH, I’LL BE ONE MINUTE!” “Harry, just say it’s shit.” “It’s fine. It’ll probably just be-” “Harry, just say it’s shit.” I grinned. “Fucking supposed to be my one night off, and you turn up, and they schedule in more fucking interviews?” He screeched. “Do you know how many people have asked me about cutting my hair today? Fionn looks like he’s ready to jump off a cliff!” I laughed as I dropped back down to my feet, a weight being lifted from Harry’s shoulders as he let out a monotonous moan, throwing his head back. “Oi, Haz.” I pulled him a little closer again, placing my lips on his. “If you ever want to just complain about mundane stuff, just do it. I’m not gunna judge you or think you’re ungrateful. You need to learn how to complain.” “HARRY, MAN, C’MON!” Jeff cried again. “YOU’RE GUNNA LOOK LIKE A DIVA!” Harry shook his head before taking my cheeks in his hand and kissing me hard, showing utter adoration in the brief moments it lasted. “I’ll be a few hours. Tops.” He unlocked the door. “I’m sorry.” “It’s okay. Go do your job.” “I fucking love you.” “I love you too, now piss off.” He puckered his lips to mimic a kiss before walking out of the door in a rush, leaving me alone, in LA, in some room I wasn’t familiar with that didn’t hold much more than a sofa and his green tea that he’d abandoned. It was strange. I felt kind of lonely.

Part Two

Harry woke me with numerous soft kisses against my lips, and I swear I never wanted to be woken in a different way ever again. It had been four hours by the time Jeff came into that room, Harry’s house keys in hand, and telling me to just go home. Thankfully, they sorted a car for me because I would have never been able to manoeuvre around LA on my own. I’d put a film on and tried to keep my eyes open for as long as I could, but it was useless. Hours went by, and I fell asleep, on top of the covers with some rubbish rom-com playing on the tele on his wall. I was pretty fucking miserable. But it was hard to feel too sad when his lips were waking me that way, an innocent smile forced upon his lips when he noticed me stirring, and then he dove back in, kissing me over and over again. “Seeing you in my bed is one of my favourite things.” He cooed. “You’re home!” “I’m so sorry. They arranged some drinks afterwards and I can’t say no. I just can’t.” “Haz, you don’t have to explain yourself.” “No, I do.” He sighed, flopping down to his side of the bed and staring up to the ceiling. “It’s just… I can’t ask for any favours on this job, y’know? I’m just one of the lads and I have to do everything. Those guys are all new to this-” “It’s new for you too.” “But it’s different for me. I don’t want any of them thinking that I think I’m special or that I get special treatment. They’d give me hell. I couldn’t leave, I’m sorry.” “It’s okay.” I moved across to him. “I get it! Jetlag caught up with me anyway, I was knackered.” He tucked me under his arm and turned his head so that he could kiss me fully, our tongues working together as I stoked my fingers down his cheek, enjoying the ease I could feel beginning to wash over him. He pulled our lips apart, and for a few moments we just stared at one another, our breathing falling in time and our drowsy eyes being dragged downwards. “Just do me a favour,” He whispered eventually. “Next time you wanna surprise me, just check with Jeff first, okay? He’ll tell you the best time to come.” “Harry, I did check with Jeff.” I told him. “This is it! This is the best time.” “Fuck. When do you leave?” “Friday.” “Fuck. Fuck.” I think we both had this moment of realisation that even if I went out to surprise at the best possible time, it still wouldn’t be a great time. We still wouldn’t get to see that much of each other. I was leaving on the 7th, meaning that really we only had two full days left to spend together, and I was dreading asking him what he had scheduled in. “You’re busy, aren’t you?” “We’re interviewing all day tomorrow and then there’s a party going on, but I’m sure you’ll be able to come with us. That won’t be a problem.” “Okay, and the day after?” “We’ve got a few shoots going on, but I should be done by lunch. Hopefully.” “Okay, so we have some time.” I sighed. “Not much, but some.” He nodded, the two of choosing to discard our feelings of utter frustration thanks to the situation, and instead he just kissed me again, soft slow, Harry pulling me as close as he physically could. It wasn’t long until we were undressing one another, his flimsy shirt practically falling apart at my fingertips, my hair dishevelled as he dragged my vest over my head and kissed down my chest. There was a stillness between us that I didn’t feel often, this calm that spoke through our silence and sent shivers down my spine. Usually we were so rushed, eager for one another, hot and bothered and almost messy in our rush to feel each other, but it wasn’t like that. I think maybe there was an element of sadness there that we didn’t want to admit. Once we were both bare, he lay me down on the bed gracefully, placing himself between my legs and kissing at my neck as he worked his hand up and down his member a few times, readying himself for me. He entered me slowly, closing his eyes as his entire body became immersed in the feel of me, his hands either side of my hand and his fingers clasping onto the pillows. He lowered his mouth back to mine as he began to move, slowly driving his hips forward and delicately moaning to my lips, my hands searching down his broad back. I didn’t want to feel utterly swallowed by the sadness that seemed to shroud the room like a dull mist, fog hanging over our heavy heads and attempting to cloud everything else. I was there, I was with him and I was in love with him and everything on the outside of that shouldn’t have mattered. When I just focused on us, and how we felt, everything seemed perfect. It was when I started taking in the outside noise of our relationship that things began feeling daunting. We were having to learn to build a bubble around ourselves, to separate ourselves from everything else and I wasn’t sure that would be healthy in any other situation, but it was the only way to do it. Harry’s hands found their way to my waist, pinching at my skin as he rolled his hips into me, slow but precise, the kind of sex that you feel lost within, like you could burst into tears at any moment and you just want to tell them over and over again that you love them, with everything you are and everything you ever will be. “I love you so much.” I whispered against his lips, wishing there was more I could say to explain the way I was feeling. “I love you.” He spoke, his voice husky and warm. “Nothing else matters.” And for that short while, he was right. Nothing else did matter. It was just us.

Part Three

I kept my head down, gripped his hand tight, and tried with all my might to ignore the consistent flashing lights that blasted at us from every angle. This was another reason I fucking hated LA. I’d only ever been around paps twice, and both times it was in LA. They’d crawl out of the fucking cracks in the pavements and yell and get so close and they were just utterly relentless. I also hated how damn calm Harry was, just reminding me that this was just another part of his life, completely normal, fucking mundane. This was just something else he had to put up with, and he did it with ease. The same could not be said for me. All their words blurred together and became like a siren as we made our way to the bar that had been hired out for the evening so the cast could drink and mingle in peace. But you had to work your way through the anarchy in order to get there, and to say I wasn’t coping well would be an understatement. Harry squeezed my hand a little tighter, wishing the men a good evening as we finally reached the venue, swerving off to our left and getting indoors. I felt like my heart was going to break out of my chest just to get further from the men outside. I snatched my hand away from Harry’s as soon as we were in and the door was closed, placing the shaking thing against my chest and holding in tears. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Harry asked. “Lamb, what’s wrong? Hey hey, don’t cry!” “That was fucking horrible. I can’t do that. I can’t do that again.” He looked kind of puzzled by my state, so used to those scenarios that it was utterly foreign to him that it might have toyed with me in a negative way. Even Harry’s friends were famous, a lot of them anyway! I could tell that he was struggling to add up why that had been so hard for me. He'd had people snapping his picture as he went about his life since he was sixteen years old. I’d been thrown into it all, completely blind, and with no reasoning behind it. It was thanks to Harry’s career that they wanted to get pictures of him, but I worked in a shitty editing office in Swanage and I didn’t ever expect my life to take that kind of turn. I’d never wanted it to. It hadn’t been something I’d really thought about when me and Harry began to find our friendship again. I’d never meant to fall for him. I didn’t even know how the press had found out who I was. I just hadn’t seen it coming, which was probably naive of me, but it was the truth. “Do you… Do you wanna go home?” He asked, obviously completely unaware how to deal with the situation. “To get home, we have to go back out there, Harry, and I can’t!” “Hey, c’mere.” He pulled me into his chest, the noise of the party happening in the next room only just drowning out the noise of the idiots outside trying to take pictures through a brick wall. “Little Lulu Lamb, I don’t like seeing you upset.” “I’m sorry.” I mumbled against his shirt, but then pulled away quickly. “Oi-” “No, I don’t wanna get mascara on your shirt.” “I… That’s… thoughtful of you.” “I’m sorry, I just… You’re used to that, Haz, but I’m not!” I cried, wiping away my tears furiously. “You’re right, I’m sorry, I didn’t even think. Shit, I’m sorry. It’s because, like… they were calm and-” “But I’m not used to it at all! Calm or not!” “Holy shit, I’m so fucking, numb to this stuff. I’m so sorry, I didn’t… Fuck. I just wanna take you home and wrap you in a blanket I swear to fucking god.” I managed to laugh, getting rid of my final few tears and calming down, the moment passing and taking the harsh thud of my heart with it. He grabbed at my cheeks and kissed him until it was impossible not to be smiling. “Okay, stop!” I giggled, pushing him from me. “Do you wanna leave?” “No, Harry, you can’t.” “I don’t care, Lulu. If you want to leave, we will. We’ll find a way out of here where we can avoid them, if that’s what you need.” “No. You’re amazing, but no. Let’s just… get a drink. I’ll just get so off my face that when we’re leaving I won’t care.” I sighed. “Sort my face out.” He crouched down a little so that his face was in line with mine, taking his thumbs and rubbing away at the mascara that had journeyed down my cheeks and then wiping it on his jeans, the tip of his tongue poking out from between his lips as he concentrated on making me look somewhat presentable. “Okay. You look good. You look great.” “You’re full of shit.” I huffed. “You do! You always look great.” He grinned. “Now c’mon, I really want you to meet the lads.” He offered his hand to me, shooting me a smile that almost felt encouraging. I took a deep breath in before I placed my hand in his, and then we finally walked from the entryway and into the party, which was a lot rowdier than I had been expecting it to be. Or maybe it was just Jeff, who was already there, and already completely wasted. His girlfriend was stood relatively nearby looking like she wanted to kill him as he danced around with his glass held high and yelled something or other that I couldn’t quite work out. “Bloody hell,” I gawped. “Is Jeff alright?” “He’s fine. He’s a nightmare after a few drinks. Don’t look directly at him.” He began walking a little quicker in order to avoid him. “Isn’t he like, your best mate?” I laughed. “Yeah, and if I was as drunk as he was, I’d be over there dancing with him. But, I’m not, and he’s hard work.” He smiled. “Now look at those boring bastards in the corner.” He pointed me in the direction we were heading, to three absolutely beautiful boys who were sat together chatting away on some sofas, kind of separating themselves from the anarchy around them without meaning to. “They’re the boys?” “That’s Fionn, Jack, and Tom. Look at them! Quietly talking. All drinking pints of lager. That’s where I’m at right now. They’re my boys! You’re gunna love ‘em.” I looked back over my shoulder briefly to get a look at Jeff as he tried to climb onto a chair, gathering a small crowd of people who were cheering on his actions, and I had to agree. The calm image ahead of me looked much more appealing. As soon as we reached them, I practically froze up, seeing all their happy little faces as they turned to greet Harry. They all shot kind greetings our way, hard to differentiate who was who because they all spoke at pretty much exactly the same time. It wasn’t hard to miss that the four of them had formed a bond. “Lads, this is Lulu. Be nice to her.” They all stood up immediately to shake my hand, and I had to do the rounds, practically whispering my hellos to them all. Jesus wept they were all so pretty. The one with the bright red hair and pretty features looked like he was literally glowing. Fionn, who I knew because Harry had shown me selfies he’d taken with him on set whilst they were filming, had this weird charm to him that I couldn’t really place, one of those quiet boys that just intrigue you. And then there was the Scottish one, who was so annoyingly good looking and confident that I was literally shaking when I got around to shaking his hand. And Harry was stood next to me holding in laughter the entire because he knew full well how bloody terrible I was around attractive men. He was highly amused by my state. They all told me their names, Tom and Fionn shuffling a little so they could make room for Harry, and I placed myself down next to Jack, trying to rustle up a little confidence. “Nice to meet you, finally.” Fionn smiled to me. “You too. Not just you, all of you. Sorry.” “I’m the special one though.” He smirked. “Fionn thinks he’s special because he’s the lead.” Jack leaned a little closer to me, rolling his eyes. “Likes to rub our faces in it.” “You are special, Fionn. Don’t let them take this away from you.” I smirked. “Thank you, Lulu.” He grinned. “They’re just jealous.” “Obviously.” They all sat up and became very animated in their arguments against him, clearly all in good spirits and something that had been going on since filming, and I loved the rapport they all had between them. Harry had once told me it was like a brotherhood, similar to what he had with the boys in the band but not quite as strong, but that was a given. Even though I couldn’t involve myself in their conversation really, it still felt nice to be a part of it. It was nice to just sit amongst it and see them smiling and laughing and bickering and proving to me that none of them had snubbed him just because of his background. I liked it. I liked them all automatically. They all just seemed so bloody normal, it was joyful. If the paparazzi weren’t stalking outside, there would have been no indications that it was a celebrity party celebrating one of the biggest movies of the year. Tom, Fionn and Harry continued to bicker and giggle between themselves as Jack leaned back on the sofa and turned his head to me, giving me a soft smile. “So, how’re you finding LA?” “Um, it’s actually my second time here.” I’d taken a deep breath in before replying, still trying to ease. “And… uh… I dunno if it’s for me.” “Me neither.” We both seemed to relax once we’d found common ground. “It’s like a different… existence out here. I dunno. It’s weird. I’m just not used to it, I guess.” “I guess not.” I shrugged. “I only come out here to see Haz, otherwise I wouldn’t. Will you be here a lot for work?” “Depends if I get any roles.” “I’m sure you will. This is a pretty decent project to have under your belt.” “I suppose so.” He grinned knowingly. There was something about his accent, and the way he held my eye contact, he was slightly captivating. I knew he’d go far. I hadn’t even seen him acting, but I didn’t need to. He was gorgeous, and that was often more than enough in his line of work. “I’m gunna go get a drink. Do you want anything?” “No, I’m good, thanks.” He picked up his full pint. I got to my feet, which thankfully caught the attention of the other three, who were, surprise surprise, still fighting. “Do any of you want a drink?” They all politely said no, even though Fionn and Tom’s glasses were almost empty and they were definitely due one. I shot them a disappointed look. They caved. “We’re both on lager.” Tom spoke softly. “Thank you.” “I’ll come with.” Harry jumped to his feet. We began our journey to the bar, Harry behind me as he wrapped his arms around me waist and made our journey twice as difficult as it needed to be, the two of us waddling in the right direction as he kissed playfully at my neck. “Y’know, Jack fancies ya.” “Shut the fuck up.” I laughed. “I’m serious! Showed him a picture of you a while back and he said you’re his type. Thinks you’re fit. Proper fancies ya.” “Well, tell him I fancy him, too. You can hook us up.” “You’re a dick.” He sniggered, unlinking us and coming around to my side. “Put in a good word for me, yeah?” “Fuck off.” He pinched my cheek, grinning so wide I thought his cheeks might be aching. “I’m just gunna nip outside and talk to Chris. I’ll be back in a minute to help you carry the drinks back, alright?” “Okay.” He cooed, watching him wander off with an equally wide smile on my face. “Get me a beer!” He called over his shoulder. I nodded, swerving off to go and stand at the bar and wait to be served, routing through my bag to retrieve my purse before I took my opportunity to scope around the room. There were only a select few faces I knew, the venue mainly filled with the unknown stars of the future that Chris had purposefully cast, and I liked it that way. It helped me to feel more comfortable than I would have done otherwise. If the party had been filled with hundreds of famous faces, I would have just wanted to go home, really. It wasn’t really a world I wanted to be a part of. Glitz and glamour had never really been my kind of thing; I found the idea of it intimidating rather than alluring. I was feeling relatively blissful before I noticed Jeff stumbling over, and I tried to hold in my laughter because really, the two of us didn’t know each other well at all. I didn’t know if he was one of those guys who’d deny they were drunk and get mad at you for accusing them of it even though they were utterly wasted. I made a poor attempt at greeting him as casually as I could. “Evening, Jeffrey.” “Lulu! You came!” He practically fell into the side of the bar, but he looked extremely chipper regardless. “I did!” “Are you alright? Is everything okay? Are you okay? How’re ya holding up?” “I’m… Yeah, I’m fine.” I puzzled over his concerned tone. “Are you al-” “Harry’s super worried about you, babe. Like, freaking out.” “Why?” He made sure he was standing as upright as his body would allow before he continued, and I kind of wished I’d just said that he had nothing to worry about and left it at that. I knew the conversation was going to take a sour turn before it really had. “Because of everyone finding out, and all that shit.” He sighed. “But I just need you to know, that it didn’t come from us. Sometimes, this shit leaks from us because we know it can sell, but we didn’t do this to you. We can’t sell you, alright? It wasn’t us. It wasn’t.” I was saved for a few moments when the bartender came over to us, and I ordered the drinks for me and the rest of the lads, who I was wishing I hadn’t opted to leave, even if I had just been being polite. I looked over my shoulder and saw them all conversing quietly, and honestly, an image had never looked so dreamlike. I was feeling damn wistful over a situation I had been in only moments before. I turned back around to face Jeff as the guy behind the bar poured our drinks. “Well, thanks.” I mumbled uncomfortably. “When Harry’s fucking supermodels, we can sell that, you know what I mean?” “Uh… Yeah.” “But we can’t sell you! When he’s with high profile people, it gets the public talking and it’s gets people interested. Next thing ya know, they’re listening to music. Next thing ya know, they’re buying albums, right?” “Right.” “No one’s gunna buy an album because of you. We can’t sell you. So I don’t want you to worry, alright? We’re gunna keep all’a this on the hush hush.” I understood entirely what he was trying to do. He was trying to ease my mind and let me know that the fans would know as little as possible when it came to me and Harry. Nothing would be set up to try and advertise our relationship to the rest of the world, so I didn’t need to worry. I didn’t need to panic and I didn’t need to fret, because we weren’t going to sell our relationship out to people who were willing to pay to know about us. But it was just the way he was wording it. He could barely stand, his eyes bloodshot and droopy, his finger pointing at me as he told me that I wasn’t an image worth selling. It wasn’t because of Harry’s wish for privacy, or the fact that I actually wanted to continue my humdrum existence even though my boyfriend was a celebrity. They weren’t his points. What he was telling me, was that I was an image they couldn’t physically sell, even if they wanted to. I attempted to pay for the drinks, but the man serving me informed me that it was an open bar and I needn’t. I wished I did have to pay, just as a way to keep me from talking to Jeff for a little longer. “Well, I’m glad.” I tried to brush over it. “I don’t want anyone knowing our business, so…” “They’ll know as little as possible, for sure. When it comes to people like you, better to let people build their own narrative, y’know?” “People like me?” I finally allowed myself to scowl. “You know what I mean.” He finally let his wrist go loose. “I don’t think I do, actually.” Jeff tried to find the right thing to say as Harry bounced back over to me with a smile on his face; that was until he took in the atmosphere he’d just jumped into, and then his face dropped. “Lulu, you know what I mean!” Jeff tried again. “What’s going on?” Harry butt in. “Jeff’s just telling me about how it’s best to know as little as possible about people like me.” “I didn’t mean it like that! You’re twisting my fucking words!” He argued. “Jeff, calm down.” Harry tried. Maybe I was just being touchy, and I knew I shouldn’t have let it get to me and I shouldn’t have been snapping at him, but the topic itself was enough to send my mood sour, never mind when he’d presented it the way he had. I’d tried so hard to bite my tongue, but I’d completely lost my cool. “You and Harry are just from two totally different worlds.” Jeff continued. “I think you’ll find we’re actually from exactly the same world,” Harry’s tone lowered, moving to stand next to me, shoulder to shoulder, shooting Jeff a similar look to the one I was. “That’s how we know each other.” Jeff darted his eyes between the two of us, and I think he finally accepted then and there that he couldn’t word his thoughts in a way that I would feel okay with. He gave up, shrugging and rolling his eyes at the two of us before he slowly began to distance. “Forget I ever said anything. I’m sorry, Lulu. I didn’t mean any offense, really.” “I believe you.” I nodded. “It’s fine.” I think that was the worst part. I did believe him. Absolutely. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that Jeff had never meant to offend or upset me, but he had anyway. He’d kind of pointed out to me that my life and Harry’s life weren’t compatible. He didn’t know the same Harry I did, the innocent kid who’d formed a band with the only people who knew who could play instruments. He didn’t know the Harry who was just discovering Pink Floyd, or filling his mother’s vodka bottles with water after he’d stolen sips of substances that were still illegal for him. He knew rock-star Harry. That was the only Harry he would ever know. And the two of us, in those terms, were not well suited. Not because we weren’t similar, or that we didn’t love each other, but our lives had become so disconnected and disassociated, that we shouldn’t have worked. Jeff walked off and physically shook off the conversation, drinking a little more, and I just watched him leave. “I told you he’s fucking hard work.” Harry groaned, moving to stand in front of me. “What did he say to you?” “Nothing. Forget it.” I clasped and the back of his neck and pulled him so that his lips were on mine, kissing him slowly. He was tense, at first. I think he still wanted to quiz me and find out exactly what had just gone down, but it wasn’t worth dwelling on. Because I just wanted to prove everyone wrong. I wanted to prove to every single person, who was looking at the two of us and thinking we weren’t compatible, and that we were worlds apart, that we loved each other regardless, and we were going to make things work. I was thankful to feel him ease, kissing me back with this tender passion, and we just let the moment wash away. Because there was nothing else we could do.

Part Four

Harry pulled up outside the airport, the two of us looking around and seeing that the coast was as clear as we had been praying it would be. It looked like we’d gotten pretty lucky. “I’ll walk you in.” Harry said, unbuckling his seatbelt. “No, don’t.” I shook my head. “It looks like I can get in unscathed now. If you come in and we get spotted together, it could end badly. Me on my own is fine.” “But-” “Harry, c’mon.” I sighed. “It’s easier this way.” That morning, he’d begged me to stay for a few more days. It wasn’t long until he was getting a flight back to the UK to continue promoting the film and attend the premiere, and he’d told me it would be easy for me to just jump on the private flight they had arranged, but it just wasn’t possible. I had to get back, for work, and to just continue my regular life. I’d genuinely missed it. But I hated how sad he seemed. Our goodbyes were getting increasingly difficult, and Harry never handled them well. I watched him as he leaned back in his seat, slouching downwards and running a hand through his hair, nostrils flaring. “You okay?” “I’m done with LA.” He grumbled sourly. “What?” “I’m gunna move back to London. Full time.” He turned to face me. “I think I’ve spent too much time here and… I dunno. London is so much calmer than this, and I think I need that right now.” I knew that for the past few years now, Harry spent most of his downtime in LA. It had become his base, really. He had friends there, he knew it well, knew exactly how his life worked when he was there. He may have been from the UK, but spending the percentage of his time in London was bound to be a huge lifestyle change for him. I think a few things had triggered his decision, and I didn’t really need to question it. “Okay.” I swallowed, laying my head on the rest. “Whatever’s gunna make you happy.” “I just… I just wanna go home.” He trembled. There was an overwhelming sense of sadness that emulated from his body and filled the car like thick smoke, and I hated it. I snapped my seatbelt off and shuffled as far towards the centre of the car as I could, my arms open, and Harry closed the gap, and for a while we just held one another. We gripped each other so tightly, and it felt like I’d been thrown backwards, back to a time where me and Harry didn’t really voice how we were feeling. But it was different, because this time, we didn’t need to. We didn’t need to say a word. All we needed to do was hold each other. It was a long time before we pulled from the embrace, and I kissed sweetly at his lips. “Will you do something for me?” He almost whispered. “Anything.” “Start looking for jobs in London.” I opened my mouth to reply, but he cut me off before I had the chance. “Then maybe you could move there. Not with me, but you could just be… in London. Then when I’m around, we can be close.” “Harry-” “Just tell me you’ll think about it? Please?” I stroked my thumb across his bottom lip, and all I wanted to do in that moment was inject even a little bit of happiness into him, because it seemed to be something he was completely lacking. “Okay,” I nodded. “I’ll think about it. I’ll look at my options.” I’d managed to pull a smile out of him, somehow, and it felt amazing even just doing that. I’d never thought about moving to London. The whole place intimidated me, to be honest. But I wasn’t lying, I would think about it, because with each touch and each frustratingly difficult meet-up, Harry was becoming a bigger and more important part of my life. It was something we needed to start thinking about, no matter how scary and huge it seemed. We were taking the relationship very seriously, and maybe being a bit closer to one another was our next step. “Thank you.” He whispered. “I have to go.” I stroked through his hair. “Can’t miss my flight.” “I love you.” “I love you too.” We kissed briefly. “Promise me we’ll see each other soon.” “I promise.” He managed a bigger smile, and it just made me want to stay even more. We kissed one last time, and then I checked once again that the coast was clear of frantic fans or paparazzi, and I got out of the car, swinging my oversized bag over my shoulder and hoping that nothing would crop up and get in the way of him keeping that promise.

[rqs902]

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[foxaxe]

Très professionnels

I have a group of friends, college roommates at the University of Kentucky, that I’ve known since 1974. We met in our freshman dormitory and roomed together in a series of apartments and rental houses throughout our college years. We had some great times. I remember skipping organic chemistry once during our sophomore year to head to Cincinnati in order to watch the Reds play the Yankees in the ‘76 World Series. Tickets were supposed to be impossible to get but we went anyway on the chance that we’d figure something out. It cost us some (especially on my next o-chem test) but it was completely worth it.

College came and went and we scattered to the four corners of the world. Some went into promising careers. Some got married and raised families. One joined the Peace Corps and one became a climbing bum. Auspicious beginnings.

Time goes by whether you are ready for it or not. Youth slides into middle age. Your children become teens and go off to college themselves. Careers evolve, people move around and all manner of complexities crop up in everyone’s lives. Fortune favors some more than others. For those of you who are not there just yet, the thing that really sucks about getting old is generally not what happens to you, but what happens to people around you.

One of our old gang has recently been through a very rough time — prompting a somber reunion last December. Not exactly the circumstances any of us would have chosen to reunite but predictable after such a gulf of time. Vague plans were made to see each other again under less lugubrious circumstances.

A few weeks ago I was traveling back from a business trip in my car listening to the NCAA March Madness Tournament selection show on the radio. As soon as I heard that the University of Kentucky was going to Boise for the first round of the Tournament I got on the Interweb and dialed up my UK friends on social media. “Get your bums out here and let’s go see a game!”

Complexities arose almost instantly. It’s not easy to get from Lexington, KY, to Boise, ID, even in normal circumstances. But because of the Tournament all of the reasonable flights that week were booked. The flights left involved multiple hops and great expense. Add to that the fact that nosebleed seats in Taco Bell Arena were going for nearly a kilo-buck and you have the makings of an obstacle course leading to the dream.

Now one person’s obstacle is another’s opportunity. The fact that flights were expensive and difficult to come by meant that the UK Alumni association had some normally impossible to get tickets available for Alumni members at face value. On this point I’d really like to give them some props. I’ve dealt with the Alumni Associations from several different institutions and no one has ever taken care of me the way that the folks at UK did. In less than a day I had two lower area tickets, worth about two grand on the street, that I paid $200 to obtain.

Word got around that a UK alumnus living in Idaho had tickets to the games. The next thing that I knew a couple of smaller Bluegrass media outlets dialed me up and asked if I would be willing to pick up the press credentials that they could not (thus forfeiting their eligibility for the next Tournament round) and serve as a pool reporter. The next thing that I knew I had not one but two sets of media credentials for all of the Boise tournament games. We’re talking complete access — press row, locker rooms, press conferences, court side access for photos and the media buffet. Tre professionals!

My friend who’s been through the rough patch managed to get a flight to Salt Lake City and it was on! As I write this we’re halfway through the weekend’s games. We’ve already interviewed UK Wildcat coach John Calapari and several UK players for Bluegrass Sports Nation. One of my photos got picked up. Our seats are excellent and the media buffet is pretty cool (we even offered to take some snacks out to the local media who couldn’t get in). It’s really, really good to see my buddy smile.

One — Improbable is not the same as impossible — you just have to believe.

Two — When opportunity knocks only a damned fool looks through the peephole without opening the door.

Three — If you are going to be there for the singing and dancing early on you’d better have a plan for the slow walk and sad singing later on. Fun is always a good option.

Associated Press and Idaho Press Club Award-winning columnist Martin Hackworth of Pocatello is a physicist, writer and retired ISU faculty member who now spends his time happily raising three children, llama farming, riding mountain bikes and motorcycles.

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[sueboohscorner]

Jane The Virgin: Chapter 61 Recap & Review

Jane the Virgin/ HornDog- Chapter 61

Episode: 6.5 (.5 was for Lina)

It’s Lina! Lina—Jane’s BFF since they choreographed that dance to “Hot in Herre,” Lina—who dated Michael’s bad boy brother who disappeared after two episodes in season 1; Lina—who Jane made Mateo’s godmother! Lina—WHO WE HAVEN’T SEEN SINCE SEASON 2.

Flash back to 14-year-old Jane Gloriana Villanueva on a double date with fast-tailed Lina; these two go way-way back. LATER, AFTER JANE FINISHES TELLING HER MOTHER HER SEX PLANS, Jane runs into Lina at a food truck. Awkward.  Latin Lover Narrator says Jane, and Lina kinda devolved into Facebook friends when Lina moved to the big city. Sad.

Petra visits Anezka in jail. Anezka is still sporting that hilarious “Not Petra” tattoo on her forehead. Anezka is all out of sorts because she can’t remember what happened the night Scott was murdered and there’s a video of her with him. She knows she was upset because he broke up with her, but not upset enough to kill him. Anezka begs Petra to fix things.  

Jane confides in Ro and Xo about running into Lina. Ro offers to help Jane like he helped Oprah and Gayle get back together (eyebrow raised) but Jane declines. Ro goes and wipes Mateo’s tushy.  There’s a lot of Mateo’s tushy needing to be wiped in this episode. Is that a milestone of some sort? Xo worries that she’s moving too fast with Ro. OH MY GOD STOP, XO! JTV WRITERS: GIVE XIOMARA GLORIANA VILLANUEVA A REAL STORYLINE SO SHE CAN MARRY ROGELIO AND GET ON WITH HER LIFE.  Let Sin Rostro kidnap her, then Xo kills Rose and starts her own P.I. firm with Elvis. I don’t know—anything but this.

Jane and Fab are Netflix and Chilling. Fab doesn’t know Queen Elizabeth is still alive. RUN, JANE, RUN. They’re getting hot and heavy when Fab pulls a Jane and says he’s saving himself. Even though he’s already given some of himself away—with cougars, freaks, on Halloween. Still, he says being famous and fine, sex became too easy for him and lost its meaning.  Jane just wants to crush her flower again.

Alba is incensed by the political climate in America. She never says Trump, but, come on, ICE raids and anti-immigrant rhetoric?  Jane tries to convince her to march, but Alba is afraid.  Come on, Albuela! Jane tells Albuela Fab is saving himself and Alba’s like, MARRY HIM! Jane decides to give him another shot. Later that day on the Tiago set, Jane discovers Fab is great with kids and sensitive to a single mother’s dating complexities. Awww, Jane, so what if he is as thick as a 2X4?

Rafael is all PineyFace McPines-A-Lot for Petra. I like Petra, so I’m okay with extended Yael on my TV, but I dunno. They dispatched Abbey with a quickness and now Raf is head over heels for Petra? What happened to Dark Raf who has drunken threesomes with supermodels when he’s afraid?  Anyway, Rafael can’t believe Petra is trying to help Anezka and in a bit of unnecessary exposition, he reminds Petra that Anezka paralyzed her and tried to steal her life (guess he forgot about sleeping with her!). Petra says she just wants to help but Raf doesn’t buy it. Turns out, it’s Petra in the video, masquerading as Anezka! Petra is trying to save Anezka from jail because she knows the culprit isn’t Anezka. The truth: she fired Scott, drugged Anezka, and pretended to be Anezka as she staged a very public break up with Scott.  When Petra tells Raf she lied to him to protect him since he was on parole, Raf goes all gooey. Chuck comes by to take Petra to lunch. When they’re out of earshot, Chuck tells Petra Raf is hot for her.

Jane goes out with Fab. She is so horny, she thinks he’s hot eating nachos and blowing his nose.  She tells him about Lina. His eyes are two close together for me, but I can see why she wants to bang him.

A snooty customer in the Marbella gift shop tells a Spanish-speaking customer to speak English (booooooooo!). Alba doesn’t say anything, but you can tell she’s activating her inner Rosa Parks for the end of the episode. Alba has a pocket Constitution and knows the Preamble, y’all! Still, she’s afraid to march with Jane. She’s worried they could take away her green card.

Lina comes over. Still awkward. Mateo doesn’t even remember her.  But that doesn’t stop him from announcing his potty habits in front of his forgotten godmother. Lina shows Jane Bumble—a Tinder-like app.  Lina runs off to see her fiancé; the reunion is cut short and feelings are hurt.  Jane is left holding the diaper.

Jane and Raf are just the best friends. There’s nothing they can’t talk about. Masturbation, porn. Hopefully, this is setting us up for a big happy ending with these two in season 4 or 5. Jane notices Raf pining for Petra. Jane tells Raf she cares about Petra and unless he is absolutely sure he loves Petra, he better not break her heart again. Maybe Jane and Petra can be like sisterwives or something.

Jane and Fab go to an eat-in-the-dark restaurant, so she won’t be distracted by his hotness and she can get to know him on a deeper level. Fab is seeming like a dimbulb ( he thinks Jane likes books and stuff and confuses George Orwell with Orville Redenbacher). Jane gets a text from Lina and Fab suddenly yells at Jane to go save her friendship with Lina. They rush out of the restaurant and head to Lina’s cake tasting with her fiancé.

Ro wants to show Xo a house. Xo says she’s in bed sick but OF COURSE RO IS OUTSIDE THE WINDOW OVERHEARING AND CRESTFALLEN. I swear if it wasn’t for Jaime Camil’s amazing acting, I’d just be done with this story line.

Rafael’s guy, Elvis the Private Eye finds out there’s someone named J.P. in Pensacola who might have something to do with Scott’s death. Raf is all feeling like the hero. Petra notices and asks if Raf has feelings for her. Raf lies and says no.

Back at the cake-tasting, Jane and Lina go to the bathroom, where they’ve always told each other their truest feelings. Lina tells Jane she was there for her when Michael died (I did not see her at the funeral!), but the second year, Lina didn’t know how to talk to Jane about normal life things because Jane would put everything on the scale of losing Michael. They make up! Diane Guerrero has a new show, so look for her and her fiancé Danny to move half way round the world. Lina encourages Jane to give Fab a chance because Lina isn’t super bright, but she’s a great friend. Kinda.

Mateo is worried someone wants to deport Alba.  I love the way JTV shows how anti-immigrant policies and rhetoric affect every member of the family, from Alba to Mateo, generations on edge over hatred and bigotry.  Raf and Jane reassure Mateo. Alba finds out Jorge is undocumented and gets the courage to march. YAY!

Ro lays into Alba in Spanish and I love it! Yo estoy aqui para ellos! But it’s just a set up to get Ro to the sound stage where Xo has set up a romantic beach.  Xo asks Ro to marry her.

Fab bought 1984 and is almost finished reading it. Jane realizes he might be a diamond in the rough and the two of them have one of those up-all-night-talking nights that’s supposed to make us think of Jane and Raf falling on love, but, c’mon, you know Raf and Jane are getting back together. And you know the Latin Lover Narrator is probably grown up Mateo.

Petra and Chuck head out to investigate JP.  Raf leaves Petra a message confessing his feelings. But Sexy Dennis finds out JP is a nickname Anezka and Scott madeup. It stands for Jerky Pants because the owner of the pants always at beef Jerky and is….CHUCK CHESSER WHO IS DRIVING PETRA TO PENSACOLA WITH A SHOTGUN IN THE BACK SEAT. DUN DUN DUUUUUN!

All in all, not a bad eppy. It was nice to see Lina. She looked really glam. I loved all the shade Alba through the current administration and I like the fact that JTV is one of the first TV shows to address how anti-immigration foolishness is affecting hard-working, loving American families like Jane’s. It just feels like nothing new happened, ya know? I mean, how many times have Xo and RO been engaged? And Lina and Anezka are callbacks, fun callbacks but callbacks nonetheless. It’s cute that Jane gets to be on the other side of horniness, but, jeez Louise, let the poor girl get some good-good already. Alba, too.

To Be Continued…

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xoxo,

Kellybelle