/ 𝖘𝖎𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖗.

the beginnings of that offer had weighed on nate for weeks. someone like evan sinclair wasn’t easily won over, wasn’t one to be fooled by cheap tricks and cheaper drinks. he was a serious businessman, the opposite of nate who’d very much flown by the seat of his pants for much of hirsch’s existence. it was nerve-wracking but also exciting. it meant the potential for more, for himself, for the bar, for medalion too. ( nate wasn’t nosey by nature, he had no inklings towards the very nature of evan’s dealings under the table. all he knew was that evan was smart, well-to-do, and nate wasn’t about to say no. it’d be great to have the means to help out his father, buy himself a new car, work on renovating his house some more. ) they’d all been dreams out of his reach, but the potential was exciting. 

excitement didn’t happen often for him these days. 

“you think i knew that?” nate laughed, “i’m surprised i even knew its name to be honest. i’m not exactly a tech wiz, sinclair.” he uncapped a new, cold bottle of water and took a long swig before shaking his head in amusement, “see, that doesn’t surprise me.” his gaze followed evan’s, lips twitching, feeling unashamedly proud of the night’s turn-out. “i don’t know what happened, but since the circus, i’ve been busy every night. they weren’t joking about the magic, i guess.” he grinned and nodded once, fixing evan’s drink quietly before gesturing to a dark, wooden door to the right of the kitchen. “follow me, my office is this way.” he slipped out from behind the bar, towel still flung over his shoulder.

it was hard not to think of the customers in hirsch’s, that night --- as a means to an end for evan. there were plenty of them, all of them no doubt willing to engage in something a little more for the right price. they’d be good fodder for his own designs --- and it was hard not to feel even a little bad. ( he’d long divorced himself from the guilt of his actions, of his nightly activities. everyone had their secrets, their vices: this just happened to be evan’s. ) easily, evan picked up his drink, before pushing away from the bar, and following behind nate.

people pressed against him as they made their way through: and all evan could think was money. money money money. it was a darker, basic instinct --- a capitalistic demon he was usually able to reserve for the board room: but here, now... well. evan had a good feeling.

“ i think it sounds perfect, does that include foot massages and back massages ? “ vera inquires with a soft laugh, but it does sound just like that – perfect. no other word could describe it.“ i think that sounds perfect. old and senile. but together.” she’s never been able to picture a life before with someone, nor has she ever been someone that could tell you where she’d be in five years.. but with evan ? she can see it all so clearly, someone she wanted to spend the rest of her days with. something she’s up for entirely. all of it. even if it’s not easy.

a soft but gentle sigh falls from her lips in what is agreement. “ no i feel the same way.“ it only makes her smile even more; from ear to ear and she just can’t help it. “ i like that it’s just between us. uncomplicated. nobody else’s opinions nor their judgement.” not that she particularly cared that much about everyone else’s opinions and judgement. she just kind of figured that’s what would happen. “ i can take it. i just try not to take it to heart.. i can understand where they’re coming from. if i was them i’d act the same towards me. i imagine they think i’ll hurt you. but i wouldn’t. i won’t.” it comes naturally. honestly. “ i’m sure, i’m not going anywhere. unless you’d want me to, i’m afraid you’re stuck with me. with us.”

“if you play your cards right, it just might.” evan grinned. perfect was the only word to possibly describe it --- after so long, and so many years; some sense of forever seemed like it was in their grasp. in his grasp. ( meeting her had been like waking up after a long sleep; he was groggy and out of touch --- but she’d been there, with soft smiles, kind eyes and a warm laugh; bringing him back into the present once more. ) “together.”

still, he huffed slightly --- annoyance curling into his bones. “just because you understand it, doesn’t mean it should be happening.” he was firm in that stance --- and there was a standing order in the house that the kids had to, at the very least, be respectful of vera. nice, was preferable --- but respectful at the very least. not that evan was sure it was happening, but he liked to believe. “i’m a lot tougher than i look. i’d hope they’d realize that about me now.” he melted somewhat; his arms shifting to wrap around her waist, holding her close. people always had a tendency to leave him --- but not vera. never vera. “that’s a relief.”

Robbie said nothing for the moment, feeling as if his clumsy and borderline incoherent words had said more than enough already.  If Evan wasn’t sick of Robbie’s utterings by now, he wasn’t doing a particularly good job of showing it. Not that Robbie could really blame the guy, he’d just happened to walk ass-backward into Robbie’s mess, it wasn’t his shit to deal with to any degree. “I’m not so good with words,” he offered in his own defense, the poor argument ironically serving as proof that it was true.

He stood up a little straighter, trying not to look as pathetic as he felt, “There’s uh- well, you see, something about my family, like I guess a secret or something- it’s suddenly out there, everybody’s read about it and that’s what I mean when I say I’m down. People are already talking about me, talking about my family, judging us. I don’t need more shit on top of that, you know what I mean?” maybe he didn’t know what Robbie meant, maybe Robbie wasn’t making any sense. Either way, he felt like it was a cheap shot from the other boys, catching Robbie alone and in a bad way to begin with.

evan merely nodded slowly. he was starting to see how that was something of a thing with robbie --- curious as it was. “the enmity. of course.” evan drawled, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. everywhere he went these days, someone seemed to have something to say about that damned blog --- something to worry about. ( and yes, he’d seen what rita had said about the kang girl and her boyfriend: but they were children. they were easy pickings in the hierarchy of hillston. not only, they were tied to a murder in town. how could they not expect gossip? ) so no --- evan wasn’t worried. he was annoyed.

jj laughed, nodding as he grinned at the other man, “it’s a far cry from the oval office, i know- doesn’t every guy nearing his mid-life crisis need a hobby?” of course, his mid-life crisis had pretty much occurred at the end of his term- nothing like realizing that you’ve achieved all you set out to achieve, so you’re basically useless. right? he glanced back at one of his constant shadows then, tilting his head to the side, “that might be wise, i think their taste in tv differs from hgtv.” jj slipped the paint swatches into his pocket then, “have you picked up any meaningful hobbies lately too? something more interesting than home renovation?” 

“ pretty much YEAH.“ willa knew far too many good skincare tricks to look like she didn’t pull all nighters so frequently, thank god for makeup and skincare.“ i’ll sleep when i’m not on this earth anymore. until then ? coffee and caffeine are my saving grace.“ the brunette knew for a fact that mal would worry. it’s why she hardly said much about her sleep schedule to anyone, she didn’t want to make anyone think she didn’t care for herself. but admittedly she had too much going on. with her balancing act of two jobs and school.

at the arm looped around her shoulder, she beams. “ oh c’mon ! i can fix it like this.“ she snaps her fingers to show just how easy it would be, as she with her other hand gives over her beloved car keys. “ sounds like a plan to me. it’s mostly school and me trying to keep my grades up, and balancing two jobs.” and extra shifts. for the cash but that had gone left unsaid. “ i love that you care so much and fret like a worried mother hen. but i promise i do sleep.“

her lips pursed, turning the words over in her head. “...i cannot begin to explain the way that statement stresses me out.” mal shook her head, biting down on her bottom lip. she wasn’t going to tell her sister to stop, or even to wisen up. she was slowly learning people had to make their mistakes to learn their lessons --- but that didn’t make it easier to bear down.

Carina pressed her lips together as she nodded. “True,” she admitted, “There are people out there who are doing more than swinging a wooden stick at a ball and yet they’re not the ones who get the glory and the big bucks…” She shrugged her shoulders, knowing full well that maybe she’d give her father more if he did something more selfless. Granted, he had a chance to be selfless in every area of his life and refused, but that was his choice. He chose to be a showman, in essence. At the drag in her tone, she suddenly tensed, a casual and thin smile coming across her lips. So it was going to be like that, she supposed. As far as she was concerned, there were two kinds of people in the world, people who were going to admire the things she liked with her and those who didn’t give enough shits to pretend. “Yeah, I’m ready,” she huffed as she found her way to her mark, her hands roaming from her thighs to her sides to her shoulders with hooded eyes, to get herself in the mindset to be photographed, “You’re the boss here, so if you have a plan or if you want me to do what feels natural? I’m game.”

she brought the camera up to her eye --- and without warning, took a few test shots: the flash echoing around the room, the images flickering to life on the computer malika was currently hooked up too. for a moment, she didn’t reply --- her gaze turned to the desktop and seeing how the shots came out: what was the lighting looking like, how did the composition turn out? did they need to change outfits, hair, wardrobe? there was so much more to photography than people realized: and they all couldn’t be annie leibovitz.

“the concept is a little more free-flowing.” mal said idly, eyes narrowed at the computer. “we can start with what feels natural. i’ll know when i have the cover.” her lips pursed and she supposed it worked for the time being --- carina wasn’t being washed out, her no doubt sponsored clothes were in good view. it’d do for a digital cover: and whatever didn’t do, could be fixed in post-op. she raised her brows at carina. “sound good?”

❛   𝑒𝑣𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑟 .

          TWENTY  YEARS  —  GIVE  or  take  — ,  and  arthur  has  never  truly  bothered  to  fix  things  with  the  man .  the  grudges  that  come  from  the  young  days  always  seem  to  stick  stronger .  but  now  there’s  sam  and ,  unfortunately ,  evan  happens  to  be  her  best  friend .  no  one  is  perfect .  stopping  the  wave  of  annoyance  is  still  impossible .

          ❛  EVAN .  ❜  HE  ACKNOWLEDGES  more  than  greets .  ❛  how  are  you ?  ❜  he’s  trying ,  but  if  the  man  doesn’t  help  there’s  nothing  he  can  do .  ( @dvplicities​  )

in a perfect world, he and faulkner could keep their distance, barely acknowledging each other’s presence; pretending that the past was the past and life was life. c’est la vie, as the kids used to say. of course --- in a perfect world, evan was still married, his kids weren’t traumatized, he wasn’t running a crime business; and his oldest, most trusted friend wasn’t dating arthur faulkner.

one couldn’t have their cake and eat it too.

she knew she couldn’t avoid the conversation forever, much as she wished she could have. ( wouldn’t it have been easier, to merely sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened? oh so much, but zara wouldn’t do isaac, nor troy, the disservice of such a lie. ) she’d gotten too good at lying, some might argue --- to the point where she didn’t realise she was even doing it when it came to the ones she cared about.

closing another enmity post about her, zara rolled her eyes --- before school her features, fluffing her hair; and carefully slipped in the back door of the sinclair household. the light of their pre-war days, the pre-war living room, looked so much different. once a place that zara felt comfortable in: now a source of discomfort and anxiety. she spotted troy almost instantly, where he sat --- eyes drawn to him like they always were. like she tried to ignore for weeks.

          “ HUNGOVER FROM THE CIRCUS? “ AXEL QUESTIONED OUT LOUD, noting the sunglasses indoors, meaning to keep it as just a thought but alas it slipped out regardless.  black cat records was not somewhere he inhabited often – or really ever.  just every once in a while when he grew bored of the records he did have. he was never there often enough to remember the layout, “ uh, yeah, thanks. “  he grinned, trying his best to be quiet as he shuffled over to the section she referred to.  “ you ever pick stuff out before it ever hits the shelves?  I don’t think I could pass up certain albums if they crossed me first. “ 

“something like that.” zara mumbled, her head falling to rest in her hand --- trying to swap the swirls of her vision. she really shouldn’t have gotten out of bed today, bothered with the whole business of work and the shop and being around loud sounds and brighter lights. ( but money was money, and unlike most of the people in hillstion --- zara really couldn’t afford the luxury of skipping out because of a hangover. ) “huh?” she jerked, glancing up at the kid, eyes narrowed before swallowing roughly --- and reaching for her water bottle. “oh. uh. sometimes... depends though. sometimes we get good shit. sometimes we get stuff i’d use to scrape gum off my shoe.”

he sat in silence, for a moment, then two. it felt odd to be sat out the front of her house when normally he’d been let in through the back. countless times he’d stepped through the gate, or excitedly jumped over it. so many times he couldn’t get to hers quick enough  — and now. and now. he’d dragged his heels, taking his time, ruminating over how to remedy the mess he’d made. ( there was space for an apology, a necessity for one. there was space for him to say that he had meant it. would it fall on closed ears? probably. but it was his chance to say how he felt, correctly, for once in his life. ) two weeks was a long time. but a long time was needed to properly figure it out.

he’d considered all options, written any number of texts, called her phone from the shitty phone-box that still remained by city hall. but none of it felt right. ( he’d even penned a few songs, finally, after a drought of muse for what felt like an eternity. it seemed he hadn’t been joking when he said zara made him want to write, dozens of half-filled notebooks didn’t lie. ) isaac’s lips twitched, threatening to break into a small, sad smile as zara finally spoke. “you expect me to be a fountain of logic, z? i thought you knew me.” he replied carefully before chewing on the corner of his lip, “i’m here. because i needed the time to think over what to say. like i said, i’m impulsive. i speak before i think, i run on feelings but i don’t know how to say how i feel. i write, but that wouldn’t cut it here.” to your other girlfriends? or am i just the lucky one? his gaze fell to his feet and he tapped one foot nervously, “i didn’t have other girlfriends, zara. not ones like you. hell, i don’t think any of them even liked me, let alone…” he exhaled softly and shook his head, “that’s beside the point.”

he sat back, looking up at her as she moved closer  — feeling closer to crying than throwing up, a possibility he’d very much fretted over the night before. “you fucked up, yeah.” he shrugged lazily, “but i did too. i handled it wrong and i approached it wrong. i don’t… care that there was someone else so much as i hate that you felt that…” he toyed with a ring on one hand, brows knitting together, “i hate feeling like you couldn’t tell me. not when i feel like i can be honest with you. about everything.” his eyes watered and he sniffed, “and when i feel like something’s slipping from my grasp? i push. hard. i overthink and i worry and the only thing anyone can agree on is that i’m usually not worth fighting back for.”

he looked up at her and flinched, “zara, i told you the scariest thing i’ve ever told anyone. right after you said we had a chance and we fucked it up.” isaac’s voice wavered slightly before, “i’m sorry if i scared you, but… you scared me too. the only reason i ever thought i’d fucked up by giving you my heart was because i didn’t know if you even wanted it in the first place.”

“there’s logic and then there’s respect, isaac.” her voice was quiet --- but firm. “you could have respected me enough to at least, at the very minimum say, that you needed space and you needed time to figure out what to say.” zara would have hated it, but she would have also, understood it. she would have respected him even more, wanting to do this right --- maybe even had time to think on her own; and actually be honest with him, the way she would have been from the start. ( not about zoya, and the litany of other identities. but why she was the way she was --- angry and bitter and encased in a sense of self-righteousness. the idea that she not only deserved better, but was owed it. ) 

zara let out a huff. “yeah. you did. but more than that...” she shook her head. "more than that, you made me doubt you.” she was forced to wonder --- wonder why he’d bothered to say those words if he was just going to disappear. wondered if he meant it, or if it was just another weapon against her, like she was so very used too. wondered if it mattered, wondered if it was just a tactic in the seeming war against troy. she’d heard all about what happened at ivy’s thanks to enmity, in the days after their own confrontation. ( she thinks she understands that a little more, given how he speaks of his own impulsiveness now. wonders why something that stresses her out just makes her love him more. )

there was another beat of silence, and zara almost wanted to sob with the whole situation. she was so, so fucking tired --- of the back and forth, the missed signals the lost time. she was tired --- and out of her depth. “...go to hell, isaac.” zara stared. “if you can’t see, after everything, after all these months, that i wanted you, you heart --- and not in spite of the mess, but because of it... then what the fuck are we doing here?” her shoulders shrugged helplessly --- and her eyes were sad, shining just a little. “i let you into my house. i told you about my family. about my dad. i spent whole fucking days with you at work. i went to your concerts.” her bottom lip trembled slightly. “i threatened girls who i found out flirted with you. i let you do things to me i’ve never once let anyone else do.” ( she’s aware that people take one look at the confidence and the short skirts and the tight shirts and assume --- but it’s another role to play, another identity to assume. in reality, the amount of people zara’s had in her bed can be counted on one hand. ) “you think i did that just for my fucking libido? for the glory of getting one of the hottest guys in this shithole excuse for a town?”

“ that sounds an awful lot like what i want to hear.” vera gives a playful tsking noise. but the fact she’s smiling so brightly from ear to ear, alone says she approves. “ i hope you feel that way when i can’t put my shoes on and can’t see my feet.” it’s moments like these she falls in love all over again almost like the first time, it’s something so truly special. and she feels so loved, cherished and it’s more than enough. unsure what she has done to deserve that. but she’s certain she’d do everything all over again, if it meant she got to be in this moment. here. with him.

“ i don’t know how you somehow always know what to say, but thank you.“ at that she turns gently, so she’s facing him, reaching up on tip-toes so her thumb can gently run across his face in soft comforting motions. “ i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to.“ ruin the moment she means, the look on face says as much; but her smile doesn’t fade.“ that’s absolutely fine with me, i’m by your side always. no matter what.“ comes her own soft response, one of her hands reach out for his.“ if you’d rather tell them yourself, that’s fine with me too. i do think it’d sound better coming from you. i just hope your kids will be okay with it. hope it doesn’t make them not like me more.” there’s a nod of understanding, the emnity.. god how it’d made things so complicated. “ my thoughts exactly, i don’t want everyone to read about it from that blog, or hear about it before we can say anything.”

“i’ll feel that way when i have to put on your shoes for you, and remind you what your feet look like.” evan confirmed. “i’ll feel that way when we’re old and senile and neither of us know how to use the bathroom properly.” it’s in these moments that he thinks about the ring in his safe; nestled prettily in a red box from cartier --- just waiting for the perfect moment. he thinks about how it’s been two years already and there isn’t a moment, isn’t a day where he doesn’t want her by his side. thinks about how he bought the ring a month ago: and was content to wait and wait some more, because evan knew, despite all odds, his love for vera wasn’t going anywhere. ( and he’s never been a traditional guy --- doesn’t think that a mother and a father have to be married for the baby to be any type of legitimate --- but it’d be nice. he wouldn’t mind it, being married to vera. he doesn’t think she’d mind being married to him, either. )