Chapter Twenty-Two
Watchers and Players
Lincoln
Never have I seen a crew pack up faster than the Monday my team gets the news that the restoration has passed inspection.
The rest of the morning it’s all hooting, hollering, and grab-assing as we lock up the last of our equipment.
Not because the job is done. No, not my guys.
Believe it or not, after the “Bridges vs. Livingston Knockout,” as it’s now been coined, they’re all excited about The Morning Tea replay watch party I’m hosting at my house tonight.
As far as I know, none of them are outright fans of Azalea and Yvette. But it’s today’s special guest they’re particularly interested in.
None other than the little joker herself.
A laugh bubbles up in the back of my throat, and I try, I do, but I can’t keep it in.
I drop the shovel I’ve been using to fill up my outdoor rolling cooler cart with ice, folding my body over my backyard bar. I’m gasping for air and letting it hold me upright.
“This is about to be so good,” I say to Ebony between laughing tremors.
“I know .” She starts giggling, too. “Every time I think about her uppity, high-saddity ass on that hideous fur sofa, her mouth turned up, silently picking their outfits apart…”
We both laugh.
That’s right. After her son’s infamous beatdown and Ebony baiting her at the bridal shower, Cornelia Livingston somehow came up with the brilliant idea to appear on the show that she’s infamous for calling “unwatchable, low-class television.” And to do what?
Shame me for defending myself against her son’s attack?
One-up Ebony for dragging the truth out of her?
I still can’t believe she admitted to hiring the same private investigator that Ebony used to track Julian to follow her.
Oof , wild.
And that’s not even the half of it. This shameless woman told almost three dozen women— with phones in hand —that not only has she been having Ebony followed for a solid decade, but she forced Julian to propose to Ebony to keep her away from me, and she’s going to take Nora out like trash the way she did Hillary Winston.
Like, what?
Diabolical!
And then. And then… she boldly announced she’s now forcing Julian to marry Nora Whitfield.
Talk about one too many mimosas.
“Damn, what I wouldn’t have given to be there, listening to this woman stand ten toes down. The sheer audacity…” I shake my head, borderline impressed and wholly amused. “How can she not see what’s coming?”
Ebony stops dead in her tracks, half a dozen water bottles lodged underneath her arm, and looks at me with one of those stares of solidarity.
Part of me is fully invested in this conversation. I’m also a little lost in the moment, too. We’re hosting a party together. Albeit it’s to watch televised history in the making. But still, I could get used to this—us. We. Twenty-four seven Ebony and Linc.
“I mean…walked right into the trap. About to be sitting on camera, alongside KTLE News Now ’s own Nora Whitfield.” Ebony taps her fingers to her head and explodes them. “The way I feel like this is about to be a real theater buyout to watch a feature film.”
“Might as well be,” I say, scanning the yard.
It’s a little after six now. For the last hour, Ebony and I have unloaded the truck, set up the old-fashioned popcorn machine, and gathered extra loungers, blankets, and even my beanbags.
They’re all facing my patio, where there’s a half wall housing a motorized TV lift with a 132-inch television for cinematic occasions of this magnitude.
It’s definitely an occasion.
We’ve got a fully stocked bar and concession stand, and the grill is smoking up a skewered feast.
All day, everyone—the crew, us, my guys, Ebony’s divas—has stayed off social media and vowed not to watch the show to avoid any spoilers. So I know the anticipation is at peak levels. And they’ll all be piling in here any minute now.
Or thirty minutes late, judging by the currently ringing doorbell.
“Ooh, I’ll get it.” Ebony jumps up from the beanbag where we’ve been lazily taking advantage of the extra alone time. Then she halts, mid-stride. “Wait, do you mind? I mean, this is your house, and—”
“Not at all. I love sharing this space with you.”
“Aw, baby…” She walks slowly back to me, face contorted into a mushy, swoony look of love as she drops to her knees in front of me. “I’m going to need you to say that to me again tonight when everyone goes home,” she says, suggestively, pressing soft kisses on my lips.
Then the doorbell rings again, and she jolts to her feet, rushing to greet our guests.
A minute later, the noise level goes up about ten decibels.
“Look at your old, sorry, tired ass,” Josiah says, at the same time he steps out onto the patio.
I make a big production of craning my neck to look past him. “No Jade?”
“Oh, you got jokes?” He chuckles, his thick, dark eyebrows raised to his hairline. “I could say something about you finally coming up for air now that you’re with your girl, but…”
“He’s in love ,” he and Dom sing, teasingly.
I bark out a laugh. “How long have y’all been waiting to say that? Tell the truth.”
Neither says a word, though, because Ebony walks out, double-fisting bottles of champagne, her divatantes—Whitney and Priscilla—plus, Manny, Vincent, and the entire crew following behind her.
“Damn right, we’re in love .” She flits pointed stares between Dom and Siah. “But is that why you came here tonight? Or are you ready for prime-time television at its finest?”
Collective cheers fall over the group, and they start pumping their fists and chanting, “ Bridges! Bridges! ”
“Now…” She pauses to meet each of their stares. “Tonight, we’re not just watchers. Yes, my baby and I are going to feed and liquor you up in celebration. But we’re also participating.”
A few dozen looks of confusion land on me before Ebony explains with precise detail. As soon as everyone makes their plates, grabs a beverage of choice, and finds a seat on a chair, lounger, beanbag, or even a blanket on the grass, they’ll receive a game card.
Yes, my baby made a Fantasy Foolishness Bingo Sheet.
For anyone looking to join in on a bit of friendly competition, there’s a chance to profit off their predictions for how this appearance will unfold.
Among some of my favorite options: Cornelia insulting Linc and/or Ebony; Azalea and Yvette gaslighting Nora with “old” or “OG” Luxe Ladies references; a fight breaking out; Cornelia announcing on air that Julian and Nora are getting married (and it’s the first Nora’s hearing about it); fainting; a dramatic walk-off; and, of course, for the truly, unthinkably outlandish, there’s a wild-’n’-free space.
“The rules are the same as regular bingo,” Ebony continues. “The first person to get a confirmed bingo with five in a row—diagonally, vertically, or horizontally—wins some seriously coveted prizes. Trust me, you’ll want to win.”
With that, everyone scatters, hurriedly piling their plates with skewered surf ’n’ turf and vibrant, colorful veggies. It’s pure chaos. Some grab beers and wine, while some stock up on popcorn and candy. And yes, someone might’ve slipped two bags of watermelon Sour Patch Kids in Ebony’s pockets .
I come up behind Ebony and lean in close, whispering in her ear, “Guilty.”
She bursts into a fit of giggles. “What? They’re my favorite.”
“I know,” I say, pressing a kiss along the soft curve of her neck. “That’s why I bought extra. Because I love you.”
“Okay, get a room!” Whitney calls out from her cushy beanbag, snuggled underneath a thin blanket, smiling from ear to ear. “Are you all seeing this mushy, syrupy sweetness? Cute but gross.”
Ebony and I deflate into each other, laughing as we earn a round of applause from a yard full of people, all thrilled to see us so happy together and loving each other so deeply after so long.
Soon, with everyone seated and Foolishness sheets passed out, I stand at the edge of the patio.
“Before we get started, I just want to take a few minutes to say what a true privilege it’s been working with you on this monumental journey, restoring and preserving Madison Manor, this vital part of Ellswood’s history…
” I pause, the TV lift remote in hand, shutting off the patio lights and taking in the sight of the warm moonlight cast over my friends and crew.
I try to focus on their familiar, smiling faces around me, but my attention keeps drifting back to Ebony, overwhelming love for her prickling at me.
“ Aw , now here we go…” Vincent groans loudly, clearly already clocking the way I’m staring at her.
A sharp laugh escapes me. “What? I can’t celebrate the work we’ve done and the love of my life?”
Laughter ripples through the group.
Vincent waves me off. “We didn’t wait all day to see this for you to be out here giving love monologues,” he complains, shaking his head. “You should know we’re fresh out of patience.”
“You’ve got this, man!” Dom yells, still cackling.
“On the real, though, I know everyone’s anxious to watch the show, and you don’t want to listen to me rambling on.
” I straighten, pride swelling in my chest. “The long and short of it is, we’re down to the eleventh hour with only the indoor garden to finish before we start up our next job, converting the historic Everwood school.
” This earns me a raucous round of applause.
“But you all should be very proud that, with the work on Madison Manor, we’ve officially solidified our contributions to a cornerstone of Ellswood’s rich heritage, and I may or may not be a believer in the magic of that grand ballroom…
” Emotion catches in my throat, stealing my words. I manage a small smile.
Ebony rushes to my side, kissing me sweetly.
Our small crowd erupts in applause.
Half of me knows it’s time to wrap up my speech and press play, but this feels like a full-circle moment.