Damaged Petals.

[Soapy]

"That’s like a Black school, right?"

It was forming on Brice's tongue just like his mammy.

Tom not a real one. Drive the business into the ground before you give Liz 25, big homie. Show her you tough.

Serena about to be on her Connie shit when Brice kicks her to the curb.

I know its a fool's errand but I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop and Serena to get dropped the fuck off.

I'm hopeful Sophie and Brice can mend their relationship. Them ending up in the same place would be cool.

Tom not a real one. Drive the business into the ground before you give Liz 25, big homie. Show her you tough.

Not the worst idea

That would be a pretty shitty thing to do at this point if you're Brice lmao

A positive outcome and outlook? What is this?

Y'all are terrible people

[Soapy]

Season 11, Episode 7
The door opened and the room went quiet.

Brice walked in with James on his hip.

Greg was already seated across the table. Diane was next to him, her purse on the table in front of her, her coat still buttoned. Their lawyer was already half out of his seat.

“Hold on,” the lawyer said. He was looking at Wayne, sitting across from him. “We weren’t told Mr. Colton would be present.”

“He was listed on the meeting invite,” Wayne said. He didn’t look up from his pad.

The Hayes lawyer laughed. “He’s been listed on every meeting invite. He hasn’t shown up to a single one.”

“Sounds like he should be in this one then.”

Wayne’s mouth moved at the corner.

Brice pulled out the empty chair next to Wayne and sat down, settling James on his lap. James grabbed at the edge of the table with both hands, his fingers splayed, and pulled himself up to standing, wobbling on Brice’s thighs. Brice steadied him with one hand on his chest.

He looked across the table.

Greg met his eyes for maybe two seconds. Then Greg looked down at his hands. Diane didn’t look away. Her eyes moved from Brice’s face to James’s face and stayed there.

“Fine,” the Hayes lawyer said. He sat back down and pulled his chair closer to the table. “But bringing the baby is a clear emotional tactic and it’s unprofessional. I’m asking that the child be removed from the room.”

Diane raised her arm slightly.

“It’s fine,” she said.

The lawyer looked at her. Greg looked at her. She didn’t look back at either of them. Her eyes were still on James.

The lawyer exhaled through his nose. He opened his folder and pulled out a pen.

“Alright,” Wayne said. He set his own pen down and folded his hands on the table. “We’re here today to discuss a proposed custody arrangement regarding James Colton. This meeting was requested by the Hayes family through counsel, and we’ve prepared a formal offer based on those discussions.”

He paused. Looked at Brice.

Brice nodded.

Brice shifted James on his lap.

“This is the best and final offer,” Brice said. "February through April, James can stay with you for extended unsupervised visits. Up to three weeks total. Scheduled in advance, coordinated through Wayne’s office.”

He paused. Greg was looking at him now. Diane was still looking at James.

“Once James reaches school age, two visits per year. One during spring break. One during the summer. Neither one longer than two weeks. Thanksgiving and Christmas stay with me.”

Brice paused.

“Full parental rights stay with me. All medical decisions. All educational decisions. All legal decisions."

He looked at Diane. She was still watching James.

“In addition,” he said, "A non-modification clause. You agree not to challenge this arrangement in any future proceeding."

"Unless there’s a material change in the child’s welfare," Wayne added.

The room was quiet after that.

Wayne slid the documents across the table.

Diane looked at James for a long moment. Her eyes moved over his face. Greg’s eyes bore into Brice from across the table and Brice didn’t look away. He held it.

Diane picked up the pen.

…

The nearest parking spot was near the back, three rows from the entrance. Tom cut the engine and sat for a second, his hands still on the wheel, the truck idling down to silence.

He opened the door and stepped out. The cold hit his face and he stretched, his arms going up over his head, his back arching. His shoulders popped. He held it for a count of three and let his arms drop, then rolled his neck left, then right.

He pulled his phone from his back pocket.

Three texts.

The first was from Brice. The second was from Dale, one of his drivers. The third was from a customer. He typed a response to all three and sent it.

He locked the phone and looked up.

Britney was coming through the glass doors of the extended stay, the duffel bag slung over one shoulder, her purse in her other hand. She was wearing a black coat, buttoned, her hair pulled back.

Tom crossed the parking lot and met her halfway.

"Hey," she said, "Thanks for picking me up."

"No problem," he replied. He took the duffel from her shoulder and she let him have it. He carried it to the truck, opened the passenger door, and tossed it behind the seat. She got in. He closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side.

He got in and started the engine. The heat was still on from the drive over. He pulled out of the spot and turned toward the exit.

“How’d it go?”

“Alright. Might have said five words.”

He glanced at her. She was looking out the passenger window, her hands in her lap. "That’s a first."

She turned from the window and punched him in the arm. He laughed and caught her hand and held it for a second before letting go. She left it there on the center console, her fingers curled loosely, and he put his hand on top of hers.

The exit came up. He turned right onto the main road and merged into traffic. The highway was ahead, the signs green and white, the afternoon light flat against the windshield.

His thumb moved across the back of her hand. She didn’t pull away.

…

The sangria was good. Not too sweet. Not too dry either.

Serena took another sip and set the glass down on the table, the condensation pooling around the base.

Sophie was leaning back in her chair, her sunglasses pushed up on top of her head, her eyes on the water. The beach was right there. Less than a hundred yards. Serena could see the waves from where she sat, the white foam pulling back over the sand, the gulls circling near the pier.

“I could get used to this,” Sophie said.

Serena laughed. “I have.”

She picked up her fork and stabbed into the salad. She took a bite and chewed.

“From what Brice has told me, though, we’re probably ending up in New York. Or Kansas City. Maybe Indy.” She set the fork down. “No beaches in any of those places.”

Sophie looked at her. “You’re not rooting for Indy?"

“Not really,” Serena picked up her glass again. “I’d like to experience something else. I think it’d be good for Brice too. Get him out of there for a while.”

Sophie nodded.

“You should keep that in mind, by the way. When you’re picking a school,” Serena continued, covering her mouth as she chewed. "I think new is good. Something different."

Sophie nodded again. She picked up her water glass and took a drink. Set it down. The ice clinked.

“How are you handling all of it?” Serena asked. "I know you’re probably tired of people asking you that."

"Yeah, a little," Sophie laughed. Serena laughed too.

"I don’t know, Sophie shrugged. She was looking at the table now, at the edge of her plate. "It’s okay. I guess I’m happy for my mom. In a weird way. It’s like she gets another chance at finding herself, maybe? Like figure out who she is outside of being like a mom or a wife. I mean, she’s still my mom, but you know. I think it’ll be different. Especially when I go to college."

Serena nodded. She took another sip of sangria. The fruit at the bottom of the glass shifted.

Sophie looked up. "Do you want to be a mom? Like have kids of your own? Like the whole white picket fence thing?"

Serena set the glass down. She didn’t answer right away. The silence filled the space between them.

“I don’t,” Sophie said. She was talking faster now, like she’d been holding it in. “I don’t think that would make me happy. Or at least I don’t think it would. I wonder if that’s what happened with my parents. Like, they did the thing and then realized they didn’t want it but by then it’s too late, you know? You’ve got these little people that you made that are now relying on you, on each other and you’re kind of stuck. Until they’re out of the house at least. And even then, you’ve just spent, what eighteen, twenty-something years doing this thing together and deciding to just stop? Like, I’m good? I don’t know, feels weird. Feels like a trap. Like something you won’t know you don’t want until it’s too late. I just want to live my life. For me, you know? Does that make sense?”

Serena looked at her. The wind came off the water and moved through Sophie’s hair, and she pushed it back behind her ear.

"That probably sounds selfish as hell," Sophie forced a laugh.

"I don’t think so," Serena assured her. She picked up her fork and moved a piece of arugula around the plate.

“I like living my own life. Hanging out with my friends. Even school," she paused, "But honestly? A nice quiet night with just me, Brice, James? I don’t know if anything else beats that right now. Obviously, raising a kid and a family is way more than that and it’s certainly not for everyone. Who knows, maybe it’s not even for me but I don’t know, I think there can be like some genuine rewarding feeling to knowing you helped raise a whole person into a human being. A good human being. Can anything really beat that, you know?"

Sophie was quiet for a moment. Then she nodded. They both sat there for a while, the only sound coming from the crashing waves.

“Brice told me you’re running now,” Serena cleared her throat. “So what’s his name?”

Sophie’s face went red. The blush started at her neck and moved up to her cheeks, and she looked down at the table and then back up, and she opened her mouth and closed it and opened it again.

"He’s in my chem class."

[Caesar]

February through April, James can stay with you for extended unsupervised visits. Up to three weeks total

Guy who is about to get drafted in the NFL which famously runs August-January just came up with a way to not have to have his kid with him during the offseason. So during the season, kid's with Liz. Offseason, kid's with the parents of the Headless Ho. Brice gets to play daddy once every so often.

For Liz's sake, let us pray this boy in Sophie's chem class needs SPF 45 or higher.

[Captain Canada]

kid's with the parents of the Headless Ho.

"Headless Ho".

Diane ain't got no more fight in her, huh?

[Caesar]

kid's with the parents of the Headless Ho.

"Headless Ho".

[redsox907]

dunno how I missed the update yesterday lmao

Brice strong armed the Hayes with a swiftness.

But judging by the exchange with Liz, Brice is taking James with him once he's settled. So he's just getting the offseason off and even then, it wasn't for the full three months. It was up to three weeks at a time, basically just a window for Brice to take a vacation

ngl, smart move on Brice's part. Feels weird typing that

[Soapy]

February through April, James can stay with you for extended unsupervised visits. Up to three weeks total

Guy who is about to get drafted in the NFL which famously runs August-January just came up with a way to not have to have his kid with him during the offseason. So during the season, kid's with Liz. Offseason, kid's with the parents of the Headless Ho. Brice gets to play daddy once every so often.

For Liz's sake, let us pray this boy in Sophie's chem class needs SPF 45 or higher.

He can't win with you lot, fairs

kid's with the parents of the Headless Ho.

"Headless Ho".

dunno how I missed the update yesterday lmao

Brice strong armed the Hayes with a swiftness.

But judging by the exchange with Liz, Brice is taking James with him once he's settled. So he's just getting the offseason off and even then, it wasn't for the full three months. It was up to three weeks at a time, basically just a window for Brice to take a vacation

ngl, smart move on Brice's part. Feels weird typing that

A reasonable take.

Respect.

[Soapy]

Season 11, Episode 8
The ball left his hand and hung in the air long enough for him to see the laces still spinning, and then Cole jumped and pulled it down with one hand and came down hard on the turf, rolling once before popping back up.

Cole held the ball up and smiled. He jogged back and tossed the ball underhand to Brice.

Zane was already lining up across from him again, bouncing on his toes. Younger than Cole by a few years, skinnier, but had the makings of a future varsity athlete already.

"Set, go!"

Brice dropped back again. Three steps. Cole cut inside. Brice threw a pump fake and Zane bit, his weight shifting for a half-second as Cole turned up field. Brice let the ball go, sailing through the air and falling right into Zane’s outstretched arms.

"Fuck," Zane said as he futilely gave chase.

Slade raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry," Zane raised his hand towards his father, sitting on a cooler a few yards behind Brice, his sunglasses pushed up on top of his head.

James was on the sideline, sitting on the turf with a football in his lap.

"I want to go on offense," Cole said, hands on his hip as they walked back to the line of scrimmage.

"I only went twice," Zane replied, "We said three then we’ll switch."

Cole sucked his teeth but lined up anyway.

"Set, go!"

It was a straight go route. Brice let them get about forty yards down the field before letting the ball go. Cole was on Zane, step for step, keeping his hand on Zane’s chest as they both turned for the ball.

Zane went up, Cole pushed him. They both fell to the ground, flailing at the ball as it bounced on the turf.

"Come on!" Zane gestured toward their dad, holding his hands up, "That’s a flag!"

"Looks like good coverage to me!" Slade shouted back.

"No-fly zone, boy!" Cole was the first to his feet, miming putting on a seatbelt.

Brice laughed as he picked up one of the balls at his feet, spinning it with his right hand.

“You know what I remember about my draft?” Slade said.

Brice turned to face him.

"I think around like the middle of the sixth round, I was like, okay, it’s better to go undrafted," Slade began as his sons began walking back towards them, still arguing amongst each other, "My agent had told me that once you get past the fifth, early part of the sixth, you might as well go undrafted. The money ain’t much different and you’ll get to pick which team you sign to. It made sense and I was with him until like the seventh."

"You wanted to be picked," Brice nodded.

"Who doesn’t?” Slade laughed, "I was already embarrassed by the end of the fifth so I thought it couldn’t get worse but it could. By the seventh, I’m just like someone please pick me. I don’t even care if I got cut, I just wanted to be picked."

"You think it made a difference?"

"Fuck no," Slade scoffed, "Once camp starts, fifth, sixth, seventh, it don’t fucking matter. Still, it was nice to hear your name."

"Yeah, I bet."

Cole and Zane were now throwing the ball between each other. James’ eye followed the ball in the sky, giggling every time one of them caught it.

“You got a preference?” Slade asked. “Where you want to land?”

Brice looked out at the field.

“Indy would be cool,” Brice said.

Slade nodded.

"Easier for my family. Shit, knowing my mom, they’ll probably move out there. My girl is from there too so…"

"You grew up a Colts fan?"

"Pretty much," Brice shrugged, "I didn’t get to see Peyton, at least not any games that I remember. We had Luck for a while so that was cool but they’ve been sort of mediocre my whole life."

"That’d be cool," Slade nodded again.

“Jets too,” Brice said. “But I don’t know. Sounds like they’re going with Tavien.”

"Sounds like the Jets to me," Slade scoffed.

Brice let out a small laugh. He looked over at James. James had abandoned the football and was crawling toward the sideline marker, his hands slapping the turf. He reached the marker and pulled himself up to standing, wobbling, holding onto the orange marker with both hands. He looked at Brice.

Brice smiled.

James smiled back.

Slade was still talking, something about enjoying the process, taking it all in, but Brice was only half-listening. He was watching James let go of the marker and take one unsteady step, then another, his arms out for balance, his mouth still open in that smile.

“You’ll never get to be a draft pick ever again,” Slade said. “So take it in. All of it. Even the fucking waiting, wishing someone would pick you."

Brice nodded. He kept his eyes on James, who had sat back down on the turf and was pulling at the turf with both hands.

“Yeah,” Brice said, "For sure."

James looked up. He smiled again.

Brice smiled back.

…

The patio was cold. Connie pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders and tucked her hands into the sleeves.

Inside, the party was thinning. She could hear it through the sliding glass door, the music turned down, the voices quieter, the front door opening less and less frequently.

Xander was leaning against the railing, his cup in one hand, his other hand in his pocket. He'd been quiet for a minute. She didn't mind the quiet.

"This was nice," he said, turning towards her, the cup tipping slightly in his hand.

"Yeah," she nodded, "It was."

"I’ll be honest," he said with a laugh, "I didn’t think you’d come."

"I didn’t think so either," she shrugged.

"Maya?"

"Maya," she laughed, "She has her ways."

"She’s good people," Xander looked back at out towards the backyard, leaning against the railing, finishing the last of his cup.

"She told you the spiel?"

He turned back around, "About what?"

"About me."

"Just that you’re someone I should get to know," Xander placed his cup on the side table, which was littered with ash, "Although, I think I knew that already."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, I would say so," he tilted his head from side to side, "Smart, obviously. Funny, from what I can tell. Easy on the eyes."

"Wow, really turning up the charm at the eleventh hour," Connie stifled her laughter.

Xander held both hands up, "Can’t fault a guy for trying."

They both smiled.

"So," he cleared his throat, "You tell me. What exactly is it that you’re looking for? That is if you’re looking for anything besides shutting up your roommate and getting her to stop bothering you about that annoying guy."

He said it with a laugh. She laughed too.

"I don’t know that I am looking," she looked out into the night, "I’m sure you know by now."

"Know what?"

"You don’t have to play coy," she moved a strand of hair from her face, "I’ve lived here long enough to know that look. That look when they start piecing it together."

Xander tried to keep the smile on his face but it fell, just a bit. He put it back in place.

"I didn’t want to presume."

"I appreciate that."

They sat in that again quiet for a bit. It wasn’t as comfortable this time.

"The guy at the liquor store?" Xander broke through the silence.

Connie nodded.

"Yeah, I thought he looked familiar."

"Yup," she forced a smile. "The famous Brice Colton. I'm that girl in that story." She paused. "Well, not that girl."

Xander looked at her. He didn't say anything for a second. Then he laughed, his head tipping back towards the railing.

She began laughing too.

…

The lighter clicked for the fourth time and the flame caught the edge of the kindling, held for a second, then died. Brice crouched lower and tried again. The fifth click, the sixth. The kindling smoked but didn't catch.

He sat back on his heels and looked at the fireplace. It had been sitting out here in the backyard since they'd moved in, built into the low stone wall that separated their patio from the lawn, and they'd never once lit it.

He crumpled another piece of newspaper and shoved it under the grate, then rearranged the kindling on top. Click. The flame caught the paper this time, licked up toward the wood, and he leaned in and blew gently. The paper burned. The kindling caught. A small flame grew, then shrank, then grew again. He blew again. It held.

He heard the sliding door behind him and turned.

Serena was stepping out onto the patio with James on her hip.

"Still at it?" she said.

"Almost got it."

She sat down in one of the chairs and settled James on her lap, his back against her chest, his head tucked under her chin.

Brice turned back to the fire. The flame had spread to two of the logs now, small but steady. He added another piece of wood and the fire caught it, the bark curling and blackening. He stood up and took a step back, his hands on his hips, watching it.

He turned and walked to the other chair and sat down. By the time his weight settled into the cushion, the flame had already started to shrink. The logs shifted. The flame sputtered, caught again, sputtered. A thin line of smoke rose from the center of the pile and the flame went out entirely.

He laughed. He reached for the wine glass on the side table and took a drink.

Serena laughed too. "You're really good at that."

"Shut up."

He set the glass back down and looked out across the backyard. The fence was low enough that he could see over it into the neighbor's yard. Past that, past the neighbor's roof, the sky opened up into nothing. He couldn't see the beach from here. But he could hear it. That low, steady pull, the sound of waves breaking and pulling back, breaking and pulling back. He could smell it too, the salt and the wet sand, faint but there, underneath everything else.

Serena was looking out in the same direction. James had gone still on her lap, his breathing evening out, his eyes half-closed.

"How you feeling?" she asked. "With everything."

He took another sip of wine.

“Good," he said. "I’m just glad the shit with the Hayes situation is over with."

She nodded.

"I just want to enjoy the draft," he said. "Enjoy these next few days. Because after that…"

"The real work begins."

Brice nodded.

"How about you?"

She adjusted James on her lap. His eyes were closed now.

"I'm alright," she said. "Great, actually. I've really enjoyed being out here. More than I thought I would."

"Yeah," Brice said. "Me too."

"It's been good," she said. "Disconnect. Enjoy the world. Try something different. Be somewhere different."

"Yeah, I can’t say I miss West Lafayette."

"Don’t let them hear that," Serena let out a small chuckle, "I’m pretty sure they’re commissioning the statue as we speak."

"I don’t know about that," Brice smiled, "But for real, this was nice. I’m glad we came out here."

"Me too."

He nodded.

She was quiet for a moment. He could see her mouth start to move, then stop. She looked out past the neighbor's yard again, then back at him.

"I don’t know, I think it made me realize I want a family."

He looked at her.

"Not right now," she said quickly. "Obviously. I mean, someday. I want kids of my own."

She paused. Her hand was on James's back, moving in slow circles. "I mean, obviously, if we got married, I would consider James my own."

She paused again.

"I’m not saying that to like pressure you or something. I’m not even saying we need to get married like right now."

She stopped herself.

"I just mean that I want to be a mom. Eventually. At some point and that’s just not something that I always knew about myself."

She laughed. It came out short, almost sharp.

The fire was completely out now. Just a pile of blackened wood and ash, a thin wisp of smoke rising from the center. The ocean kept pulling.

"Yeah," he said after a moment. "I’d like that too."

[Caesar]

"Yup," she forced a smile. "The famous Brice Colton. I'm that girl in that story." She paused. "Well, not that girl."

Clearly, Connie. Your head is still attached to your shoulders.

Serena about to doom herself. Yikes.

[redsox907]

Serena drinking the kool-aid unaware that Brice was ready to dump her at the bus stop for Mel two updates ago