My money's on Batman (no, not my Batman, the Ben Affleck one. *DROOL*)

Sam is PISSED that we're bailing on Good Friday services (on the beach, no less) because we have tickets to see Batman V Superman this morning. Whoops. He nailed me to a cross and put me on his schedule which means I get fiery-Finnick service later alone because I need to be saved or something. Because I'm the chosen one. Because I've been crucified. Because I'm fucking Wonder Woman and so I made an executive decision and bought the tickets before the internet arrives to spoil the outcome of the movie for me. Not going to happen today, folks, and I promise I won't spoil it for you either. Wish us luck, it's always a logistical nightmare to take more than a dozen people to the movie theatre.

For everyone else, not for us. We're good. But the rest of the world hates being stuck in the long lineups for popcorn just before it starts.

White flag.

Batman called to clear the air before we see each other tomorrow and asked what the nightmare was about.

How did you know I had a nightmare?

Bridget, we do a daily group chat before your feet hit the floor each morning. Tell me. 

I dreamed you came down the arrivals hall and you had Jake with you. That you found him and were bringing him home and my head exploded. 

If I could do that I would, bridget. 

Best to leave that alone. 

I am bringing home someone I think you'll get along with just fine, however. 

Oh? How did things go. 

Got it straightened out. Thanks to your boy, there. Also, tell him I found the job he thinks he lost. I'll bring it with me. 

Thank you for that. For all of it. 

Bridget, I'm not as black and white as you seem to think. I understand the difficulties you two face. 

Really? I don't think anyone does. 

I think everyone does. That's why they surround you both. Everyone just wants the best for you.

Remove 'the best for' and you've got it. 

Stop. I can't wait to introduce you. Please be on your best.

When am I not? 

This. THIS.

Behold, some schoolwork my mom sent in with a box of Easter treats. This masterpiece was created when I was ten. Hard to believe I was the most artistic kid in the whole school, thankfully since I certainly wasn't the most academic one. The boys are having a field day, remembering little Bridget, when she was too small to have much sway at all, let alone a fully-formed opinion.

At least I knew what I wanted from an early age. Except Lochlan isn't in the drawing, he had tied me to the wheel and was running it from the ground. He didn't want me to leave him.

Maelstroms and motives.

Thought I would die a lonely man, in endless night
But now I'm high
Running wild among all the stars above
Sometimes it's hard to believe you remember me

The way it was told to me, Batman got halfway through lecturing Lochlan on the whole idea of not being able in life to just stop what you're doing and hide or leave or escape, that bad things happen every single day and business doesn't just stop for every tragedy or news story. He said it sounded heartless but the show must go on.

Same quote Caleb used on me, ironically and it had the same result on Loch that it had on me. A swift correction and a ceasing of any sort of mutual effort to get anything done at all.

Then I quit. Loch told Batman out of the side of his mouth in his half-angry, half-bemused lilt and got on a flight and was home late last evening. He flew commercial because as he told me, I got the bonus-bonus but I guess it'll have to last a while because I lost me job. 

I pointed out that he knows where it is, he's the one who left it there.

No matter, Peanut. I'll figure something out.

I smile, half from exhaustive relief and half because he's been saying that for thirty years. If ever a soul needed a net it is this one.

(Batman will be back on Saturday. Brace for impact. Dalton and Dylan aren't fazed and will be continuing their itinerary until the fall unless I get too spooked and extract them with more exciting means. It could happen. You'll see.)

He opened all the windows so that the smell of avgas and panic would dissipate overnight and then after making sure we had enough love to see us through the dark (Oh, we do. We have enough for the rest of this life and the next because we're not sharing anymore.) he passed me my headphones but he picked the music and I was asleep before the end of the first song.

Ostrich millionaires and the girl who cried wolves.

(Jesus Christ. I'm the Queen of Hearts today.)

Do you know if your soul is removed early for whatever reason (like in heated negotiations with the Devil for permanent ownership of it) that the remaining stalk can be replanted and sprout a new one? It grows slowly and you have to change the water every day, like celery, but then you have a new bargaining chip with which to negotiate when you are trying to spend a hundred thousand dollars on a jet for a one way flight home for three people you care about so dearly it's criminal.

Yes, Dylan. Even you.

I might have promised my new fledgling soul to the Devil for his contacts when he stepped in at the last minute of my call to the Russians because I want a fucking plane and I want Lochlan, Dylan and Dalton on it and I want it in Vancouver by tonight.

Not gonna happen, Princess. These things take time. 

Money makes it happen faster. 

He can fly commercial. 

(I can fly commercial, Peanut. Don't waste the money.)

I don't care.

(I don't care, Locket. If you get blown to pieces there I won't survive it.)

(But you're safe.)

(Not without you.)

Did you talk to Batman? 

He's busy. He told me life happens and if he ran and hid every time a threat played out in the world he wouldn't get anything done. 

He's right. The show must go on.

The show is rescheduled if the whole motherfucking tent is burning down, Cale! If you're going to use a quote like that on me at least understand what it means! 

Bridget, calm down. 

I'll calm down when he's home! 

Sugar up to my knees.

Thanks to the mild weather Caleb had my Porsche brought out of storage (put away last November) a few weeks early. He had it detailed, delivered and then told me to come out to see it, to have a seat and reposition all of the seat and climate controls the way I like them.

I turned on the fan full blast and glitter came out the vents.

I squealed and he laughed and said it was payback, but since it's clean glitter in a very clean car I plan to leave it all. over. everything.

They can pick it off their tongues for the next six months, like I do. My car looks like a snowglobe on the inside and that's just the way I like it.

Weapons-grade feelings.

Yes, I love you

Lochlan on speakerphone last evening, warning us it will probably be most of the week until he gets home.

Go outside and listen to the record I sent you, he instructs. He sent me Oceans of Slumber's Winter the other day, which is a masterpiece so underrated it's almost criminal if you're a progressive rock fan or a music fan at all, frankly.

Not now, Bridge. It's dark, John tells me. User override. Lochlan's time difference is excused. It was very very early in the morning for him. It was daylight.

He said he saw the album art online and went down a rabbit hole. I'm kind of stunned by the way we find music sometimes. I can identify with that. The rabbit hole, I mean, though the artwork is neat, too. I already had put that album in my skull from my perch on the wall at the end of the yard, as I do, in the rain. I'm good. I'll do it again today. Just because.

I'm good, I repeat to him but he never believes me. Doesn't believe Ben has retreated, doesn't believe I've resorted to sleeping on Sam's couch, doesn't believe I've even had time to listen to his offering as I've probably been busy lining the boys up and picking them off, one by one with my cold naked charm.

They only love me when I'm good.

It's Saturday morning and they seem to be on a relentless mission to spoil me. I love this. I could get used to this but I probably won't let myself because in there somewhere is the voice of a twelve-year-old telling me I don't deserve it.

Ben woke me at fiveish this morning. Not gently, no. Instead I was lifted off the bed until the only thing touching it was my heels and my fingertips on one hand before I grabbed onto him because as always I am afraid to fall. He was rough but sweet, sleepy but awake and ready to wind me out, letting his own wants stay on the back burner. He put me back down, turning me over first, one hand sliding underneath my abdomen and the other covering my whole face. This was nothing short of glorious and we somehow got perfectly synced, achieved nirvana together and then collapsed on top of the sheets, out of breath, perfectly warmed and smiling, Ben moreso while I practically dozed because he loves the noises I make. He loves everything.

No offers this time to go to the Devil?

I only do that as a front for the fear. 

The fear?

Of not being able to make it the whole way. 

So Loch is libido backup?

Naw, he's your lover. That's a turn-on too. 

Then what is Caleb?

Risk. Darkness. Ever feel like you just need to do things that are more out there? Just to feel alive? Watching the Devil take you over makes me feel alive. There's no jealousy, no regret, just hunger. It's amazing. 

So today?

Today you're mine. I have no intentions of sharing you. 

A delicious little tingle of bliss runs up the back of my spine and I shiver.

Until Loch comes back. Then I get everything I need. 

Same danger?

No. Lochlan's too hippie to be scary. 

He can be scary, Ben. You didn't know him back in the day. 

I would have loved him just as much as I do now. 

Yeah, you definitely would have. I stop talking, relaxing my body one part at a time until the next thing I know it's hours later, the sun is streaming into the room, the curtains are open and so is the door and I am tucked neatly, thoroughly under the quilts and it didn't hurt to open my eyes. First time in two weeks I feel as if I've caught up on rest but could still always use more.

A knock on the door and there's PJ's shoulder hovering just outside. Decent? Ben asked if I could take care of a little project for you. 

I am. Where is he? 

He and Dunk went to a meeting. 

Again? 

I think he'd rather stay sober than take any more risks, Bridge. Anyway, here's breakfast. He wanted it to be perfect. He comes in with a tray with coffee, an omelet, toast, strawberries and a tiny rosebud in a shot glass.

I don't think my brain can take this level of spoilage, Peej. 

Try yourself. You're a little too austere about shit, Bridge. Just enjoy it. Relish it. Maybe even ask for it once in a while. 

Who brings you breakfast in bed, PJ? 

Your husband, you little blind tart. 

That's deaf tart to you, asshole. 

I poisoned your food, FYI. Ben's mine.

Seems to be a lot of that going around lately, doesn't it? 

How about you just eat? I want to run the dishwasher before I go out and it's getting late. Some of us have things to do. 

I have things to do too!

Like what?

Well, I have to eat! So either sit down and entertain me or get lost and I'll ring you when my dishes are ready. 

I should negotiate for some butler pay. 

Yes, you should. Want me to talk to the boss about that? 

No, Bridget. I've been asked to keep you away from him until Loch comes back. I'll have to enlist Sam because I have to go out.

That's probably a smart move. 

It is, because I'm like that. I'm definitely going to ask for a raise. 

Hey. 

Hey, what, Princess?

Can you stay and keep me company while I eat?

Only if you share. 

Here's a piece of toast?

That isn't what I mean. 

PJ! 

I'm kidding! Christ! Well, I'm not but the joke was begging to be told, you know? 

Crucible Cove (Or, How I spent Saint Patrick's Day).

Beauty I'd always missed
With these eyes before
Just what the truth is
I can't say anymore

'Cause I love you
Yes, I love you
Oh, how I love you

I get worn down. I erode like the cliffs along the shore at high tide, wearing layers off, picked at. Anticipated. And so when he offered a late-night holiday celebratory drink (oh God. Another?), I took it because I'm tired. I'm still drunk.

Is it poison? I asked Caleb over the rim of the glass.

Only as much as that swill Padraig's been feeding you all day. You're almost pickled.

He wanted me to have a happy day.

He was positioning himself for a happy night, I think.

PJ doesn't angle like that.

Sure he does. Like I do. Like everyone does.

I really am some sort of shared prize, aren't I?

Maybe. Or maybe you're just the one girl who seems to be appealing to a large range of men with different tastes.

You're not all very different, actually.

How are we alike? What brings us to this space and time, Neamhchiontach?

Intensity.

Seriously?

Yes. And empathy. You all connect with each other and with me on a much deeper level. Those who don't live here aren't here for a reason. It's kismet, or ardor. Chemistry. Sexual tension.

Oh. I'm disappointed. I was hoping it was just me.

No. I scowl at him and we laugh.

I think as a group we are extraordinary, actually, Bridget.

You do?

Yes. For so many of us to be together like this as friends through life is a blessing.

Was it a blessing for you and Loch to be knocking each other's teeth out the other night?

He doesn't work well with boundaries.

Who does?

He needs to understand the rules.

They're difficult to follow.

They shouldn't be. He has no trouble with his end of things.

He loves me. That's all.

And you love him.

More than anything.

So then why are you here?

Good point. Actually I think I've overstayed my participation in the day. I've been up since four. 

You don't have to go, Bridget. He puts his hands on either side of my face and bends down for a slow kiss, the likes of which he rarely bothers with. It takes my breath away. It pits me against myself, battling gravity for light. It makes it hard to leave but I'm about to.

Yeah. I do. 

My very own butterfly effect.

Gamble everything for love.

The weird stasis of unfinished business and a hesitant sunrise saw me back at the airport this morning because something went completely south on Batman's efforts to escape the UK and so Lochlan has to go back, sent home some impulsively, prematurely and now with an almost doubled bonus because of the inconvenience.

Only Batman would call a ten-hour plane trip an inconvenience. I'd probably be dead on the floor, but only because I have toddler-level maturity when it comes to being trapped in a seat and forced to amuse myself for hours on end with nothing to look at but the back of another seat. It's hard to make up stories about people when the only parts of people you can see are a couple elbows across and up the aisle slightly. Fuck that. I'd rather take a boat and have an adventure! But then the trip would take weeks instead of hours and I'd like it if Lochlan wasn't gone that long, thank you.

It's difficult.

Or maybe it's just strange now when he's not with me and it's one of the reasons Batman has to pay him so much, or he would probably just quit because he likes to be here at home and pretend with me that we are norms and we're doing norm things. Like backflips in the kitchen and fire-throwing in the driveway.

Wait, what?

People don't do that?

Huh. Too bad.

But hey, if nothing else (excluding Loch's big fat bank account), Ben and Caleb get a do-over this weekend on the whole How To Convince Bridget to Fuck Up Just A Little More.

It'll probably work, because it's Saint Patrick's Day and my very own Saint Patrick not only gave me his flask again on the way home from the airport but offered to make me coffee this morning only there's no coffee in this and I could probably light it on fire and throw it without much effort seeing as talent is contagious and so is drunk.

Whatever.