Chapter 5

Brynley

“ Overrule him, Mom, ” whines Wy from the doorway of Blakely’s bedroom that I’m frantically searching around.

“I can’t just overrule him,” I mutter in return as I spin around on my heels in preparation of moving my hunt to the other side of the room only to be met with sarcastic stares from my son, my daughter, and Janae who is in the process of fixing Blake’s hair for the play over at the nearby vanity. “Okay, I can , but I’m not going to.”

My best friend smugly resumes the wacky, agreed upon Cindy Lou hairstyle she was roped into creating while her niece nervously uses a compact to inspect every step of the process.

I can do hair.

I can do my own hair.

Working at Diamonds and Fire & Ash forced me to perfect that skill.

The thing is…that’s a different type of performance hairstyle.

That’s make a man stare at your tits for tips.

This is more… dance routine display , which is right up Janae’s ally.

Literally.

The dancers have to abide by her rules and standards given that she not only created a new dance specific department to the Highland Hellcats organization – that encompasses all branches that bear the branding – but runs the division like she’s the one true chosen duchess of dance.

And she might as well be.

Since leaving her choreography and liaison position for this one, she’s managed to triple what the dancers bring to the united brand as a whole and double the income along with income possibilities for the dancers that maintain residency in their respective leagues for at least two years.

She also started a nonprofit dance program for the Hellcats organization which financially serves as a dual purpose for tax write offs and scouting future talent while providing marginalized communities a safe place for their young, aspiring performers to hone their budding skills.

Janae has beauty, brains, and benignity.

I’m glad she’s the girls’ aunt and godmother.

Although, it’s not like Vanessa fought for the position.

She claims raising her one practically alone is enough.

And I agree.

Most people don’t realize that being with someone who has a “secret” government job is not nearly as much fun as it is on T.V.

I swear, someone just mentioning a Fed show sends her into a blinding rage.

It’s fucking hilarious.

And horrifying.

“ Why? ” grouses my son, on an adjustment of his surfboard printed bowtie. “ Why won’t you standup to Dad about this? ”

“First of all, you can fuck off with that phrasing,” I scold enroute, damn near tripping on the tiny pink rug that matches the rest of her “Paris threw up in here” décor that she somehow inherited from her deceased grandmother. “This isn’t about me not standing up to your dad.” Artfully dodging the sparkly pink boots waiting to be put on is done next. “This is about me not undermining your dad who is also my husband. ”

My freckled face offspring doesn’t bother hiding his sneer.

“Sometimes shit like this happens in relationships.” Avoiding the rehearsal half circle space that she created in front of her cushioned full-length mirror to riffle around her dresser drawers occurs between statements. “Sometimes you disagree with one another but have to engage in compromise.”

“You giving up on me is compromise?”

My hands wind around the handles at the same time I latch onto his gaze. “I’m not giving up on you simply because I’m not giving you exactly what you want.”

“That’s how it feels.”

“Okay, but that’s not how it fucking is, Fins.” One hard tug to the drawer is delivered. “I just refuse to disregard your dad’s feelings,” another hard pull leaves me, “for yours ,” one more sharp yank, “and vice versa.” Blowing a fallen strand of hair out of my face occurs at the same time I drop my glare to the piece of furniture. “ What the ‘Operation: Annihilate’ is wrong with this fucking thing?! ”

“I don’t think Blake’s dresser is a secret flying parasite,” Nae casually comments in between picking out ponytail holders. “And I don’t think you’re considering how hard it is for your mom to be stuck in the middle of the Narada vs the U.S.S. Kelvin-”

“ Dad’s the Narada. ”

“-or the self-sacrifice she’s trying to make to guarantee mass survivors versus mass casualties.”

Gah, I love having a chick best friend that speaks my fucking language.

And a son that understands it.

Minus this whole hates me because I won’t give into his tantrum demands thing…I really am quite lucky.

“My leggings aren’t in there, Mom,” Blakely insists in between choosing ribbons. “I would never put performance wear with my school wear.”

On this side of the shore, I know that.

I appreciate it.

On the other?

I loathe having daughters more organized than me.

What’s wrong with being a little messy?

Or a lotta messy?

Other than needing something very specific at a very specific time for a very specific event?

Ugh.

Fuck. Me.

Who am I kidding?

Them organized typically makes my life so much easier.

“Okay, The Who Determined to Give Me a Migraine for Christmas…” I remove my grip entirely from the piece of furniture. “Where might they be?” My hands fall to my red, V-neck, sweater dress covered hips on a defeated huff. “Narrow down this search and rescue mission for me.”

“Um…” her tiny already painted rosy nose scrunches in thought. “Not in my dresser because that’s only for school stuff. Not in my closet because I already checked there. Not under my bed because then they could get linty.”

“Yeah, I know, I’ve already checked all those places. Along with your vanity area. Your desk area. Your reading chair. And your dress-up trunk.”

“ Character wardrobe. ”

Not rolling my eyes is a Frosty come to life miracle.

“Have you checked their bathroom?” Wy suggests from his leaning position.

Excitement has me throwing my hands up in victory over the idea, spinning on my heels, and heading for the shared joint space. Once I’m there, I meet his gaze again. “Can you try to compromise with me?” Entering the area has the light automatically turning on. “Can Brie and Kellan bring their family to the states for Christmas?”

“No.”

“ Wow ,” leaves me on a sarcastic nod, “could you at least pretend to consider it?”

“They were here last year, remember?” He folds his arms firmly across his chest. “They try to come for Christmas every other year.”

“Right.” My attention moves into the wide pink and white space the girls share. “Can we go to Doctenn for New Years?”

“They’ve got some…Royal Family Ball…thing.”

“I can probably get us invited to that!” I call out while aimlessly searching the towel closet for the missing article of clothing. “Brie loves me-”

“And me!” Nae reminds. “And I’m always available to party with royalty. At Christmas or otherwise.”

Snickers shake my shoulders as I lower myself to a squat to move the investigation to the lower cabinets.

“You and Uncle J.T. would come to Doctenn with us for Christmas?!” my son excitedly inquires.

“Absolutely,” Nae retorts in tandem with me moving around bubble bath. “My brother and his fam are out of state for Christmas this year, plus the boys love the Doctenn mansion because it’s got a heated, indoor pool.”

“It’s not a mansion.” I pop my face back into the frame. “It’s a cottage. ”

“Only in comparison to this place,” she sasses back.

“ Sick! ” He shouts back. “So, we can go!”

“Slow your carve, Fins…” Resuming my visual scouring occurs the instant I’m back to a standing position. “Dad is still unwilling to go, especially with the new reports about a potential snowstorm heading for that area.”

The fact he knows that’s a possibility is actually a good thing.

It means he’s seriously considered making his son’s Christmas wish come true.

Which is progress.

Major progress.

I just wish the weathermen would keep all the fear inducing language to themselves.

Like what if children are checking those reports?!

Do they really need to see Santa might get stuck in a fucking blizzard?

“Aha!” I shout out in triumphant upon spotting the bright red tights neatly folded in the pushed in, plush chair. “Found ‘em!” Snatching the object out of their hidey hole is followed by me lifting them high into the air. “I found them!”

“They weren’t lost,” Brae unexpectedly states from the doorway that leads to her bedroom, confusion completely caking her complexion.

“What do you mean they weren’t lost?” My head tilts to one side, straightened hair lightly swaying. “Did you know where they were this whole time?!”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?!” Additional frustration soars up my spine. “What do you mean yeah?!”

“Yeah.” Her innocent shrug causes my eye to twitch. “Somehow they fell onto the floor, and Board decided he needed to guard them by laying on them, and so then I found them, and took them to Cass to get cleaned because Blake can’t wear tights covered in doghair when she’s the star of the show.”

“Aw…” her sister lovingly swoons from the other room.

“And you didn’t think to maybe…mention that sooner ?”

“You didn’t ask.”

I lower my mouth to snap once more yet can’t.

Because unfortunately…she has a valid point.

I didn’t think to ask her.

And I really should’ve.

They always seem to have each other’s back like a superhero and a sidekick, although they definitely take turns on which one is which.

I love that they’re so supportive.

So united .

“But I did ask ,” Wy grouses, pulling my focus in the opposite direction, back to where he’s seething in his sister’s room. “I asked to go to Doctenn for Christmas. I asked everyone in our immediate family would they be willing to go. I asked Park could we make security work. I asked you to convince Dad that we could go.” He shakes his head prior to glaring. “What’s the point in asking when it’s clear you really don’t wanna help, anyway?”

Rather than wait for a reply, he stomps off, leaving me with dismay and defeat resting comfortably on my shoulders.

Welp.

Ba-hum-fuck.