𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐧 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 is far from perfect. Before starting her senior year of college, she's already guaranteed her position as the black sheep of her once prestigious family. To make matters worse, she took up bedding the rival family's eldest...
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𝑨𝒔 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒚𝒏 𝒘𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒅 the curly heads and sinewy statures of the Jackson boys float around their living room, she realized how foreign the fullness of a household felt. Long gone were the days of large family gatherings for her. Aside from her mother's occasional women's fellowship gatherings and luncheons, her family home had never felt this full. And the last time she had experienced so many men gathered in one domestic place was at her brother's wake.
A strange concoction of emotions were settled inside her, pulling her heart into opposite directions as if each side had the positive pole of a magnet on it. Part of her was brimming with fondness; while living in a friction-heavy warzone that was her own household, how could she not smile at the brood of Jacksons mingling the way a loving television family would?
Rebbie and LaToya weren't in sight, though Evelyn guessed that they were bound to the kitchen by patriarchal tradition and partially responsible for the delicious smells wafting into the living room. Tito was off to the side near the fireplace, chatting up his younger brother Jermaine. Then there were "The Three Musketeers" as Jackie called them. Michael and Marlon lingered halfway toward the foyer, cackling as they refereed for Randy's roughhousing match against a much younger boy she didn't recognize. With their current antics, it was no wonder why Jackie had told her that the three youngest Jackson boys were the worst of his siblings to have to wrangle up in his babysitting days.
Jackie. Evelyn felt her heart rip a bit in her chest. He was the cause of all the dread she felt blanketing the nostalgia and fondness that would have brightened her mood otherwise. Fucking Sigmund Esco Jackson. Between burning in embarrassment at her spotty memory of her last conversation with Michael and the fresh memory of her last conversation with his bastard of an older brother, Evelyn had gone through hell just preparing to show up to the dinner. It was one thing to have to pretend she hadn't been screwing the man that was supposed to be Vivian's fiancé behind her back, but it was another ugly, sordid thing to align herself with Jackie to do so when really, she wanted to use his neck as a stress ball.
"You look madder than I am," the last of the female Jacksons judged from beside her.
The tension in Evelyn's fist and the crescent marks her nails had carved into her palms suddenly ached. Evelyn took a deep breath and flattened them against the skirt of her dress before leaning back against the sofa. She glanced over her shoulder to flash Janet a curious look. Janet, now and just as the last time the girl had sat next to Evelyn at her Hayvenhurst visit, looked like a copied and girlishly altered image of Michael. She was cute as could be with the same sweet, round eyes and beetling cheekbones. Except as she grimaced and sat slouched against the couch with her arms folded over her chest, clearly unable to feign a smile, she differed from her brother.
"What you got to be mad at?" she questioned over an amused snort.
Janet huffed and squirmed to sit up a little more against the sofa. "Jackie's comin' over with Vivian, and I hate when Vivian comes over."
