OVERKILL ★ CHAPTER FOURTEEN
(American Paparazzi Culture.)

"I'M FLYING BACK HOME."

Quinn looks up from her phone to see Christa looming over her, looking dreadful and tired and scared.

"Oh?"

To understand this next part, it needs to be noted that Quinn's mom did end up finding out about her cheating husband. It all went down the week after Michelle and Henry visited, when everything in Richmond had calmed down. Beard had planned a phone call one unfaithful night to his dear friend, refusing to let Quinn bear the burden of telling her own mother. It was a lengthy call; one where Beard spat out a slew of curses instead of directly referring to Hugo Zheng. He had also told Julia to not put any blame on Quinn if she had even been planning to do so. She'd never seen Beard so stern and serious. It wasn't a bad look on him, but Quinn thinks she'd prefer his monotonous nature over ever seeing him on the edge like he had been.

He never put the phone on speaker. Quinn didn't hear Julia's voice, only the pained look on her godfather's face as he broke the news to his friend that the man she'd been married to for nearly thirty years had been with another woman in their own bed . . . and then proceeded to guilt trip their youngest daughter to not telling anyone.

Quinn doesn't think she'd want to hear the other end of the conversation, anyway.

The final words exchanged between Beard and Julia was when she said something on the other line, and Beard proceeded to scoff. "Of course I'm taking care of her. Who do you think I am?" And then the call ended.

She hasn't heard from her mom since.

Quinn was a little hurt.

Actually, she was really fucking hurt. She kept her notifications at full volume that day, hoping to receive a call or text or anything from her mom. She didn't get a word. Quinn worried about that fact, but she pushed it all to the side. If her mom was grieving her own way, then so be it. She heard no news from her dad either, so everything was as up in the air as it could be. Quinn was just content that a weight had lifted from her shoulders.

Which brings her back to the present, where Christa just dropped an announcement that she's going home while Quinn just wants to finish her bowl of cereal. She doesn't think much of her sister's announcement. She could be going back to bring some of her stuff over to Kingston. Christa has a storage unit somewhere in Brooklyn full of shit that she didn't have space for when moving. Back when Quinn was in New York, she'd package them right over.

But since she's staying with Christa now, there really isn't anybody that can send over her things. It's not like Christa's gonna ask their fucking dad. And their mom hasn't contacted them since—

"Mom called and said she needs help moving out of the house."

There's the kicker.

She'd been wondering why Christa wore such an apprehensive look. Now she feels stupid. She's feeling a lot of things, actually. It's all building up quickly, swirling around her stomach. She doesn't know how to take apart and decipher the emotions in her at the mention of their mom calling.

"Mom? She called you?" She's been avoiding calling Quinn since Beard told her about everything. And she broke her vow of silence to Christa? Not her?

"Yeah. It'll be easier if I go, anyway. I still have that storage unit she can use," Christa tries to reason. As if being asking to fly to a different continent to help someone move out is casual.

Quinn tries to make sense of it. Maybe it's because she'd always been closer to their dad (not anymore, obviously). And Christa's always had their mom.

Maybe it's because if Christa had been in her position, she would've given a proper 'fuck you' to their dad and held their mom's hand through the divorce. She wouldn't have run off crying, chasing the comfort of her sister across seas in order to avoid her problems.

The reasoning doesn't matter, though. It still stings.

"I'm gonna be gone for four days." Christa sits beside her.

Quinn nods, choosing between responses in her head that won't give away how she's feeling. "Harvey's gonna probably be sent into a mental breakdown without you," she says eventually. Mentioning him will probably take them off the topic. "I don't think he'd last."

"Actually . . . he's not going to be here, either."

Quinn's jaw drops. She can't believe what she's hearing. "He's fucking going with you?"

Christa's eyes wide. "Oh! No, no. Sorry—I made it sound like that, didn't I? He's going back to Manchester this weekend for his great grandma's birthday."

Quinn ignores the fact that Christa said great grandma; as in she must be fucking old (and she would have so many questions normally, like how the fuck do people live long enough to see their grandkids' kids?). She breathes a sigh in relief instead. It would actually pain her if the two were leaving together. "Thank God."

"Are you gonna be alright alone?"

She's going to wallow in self-pity while they're gone. She's going convince herself that her mom never wants to see her again. She's going to convince herself that she's ruined their family forever. "I'll be fine."

And screw the fact that Christa is her older sister. Screw the fact that she might know Quinn more than anyone else in the world, because she takes one look at her younger sister before shaking her head. "Yeah, I'm not leaving you alone."

Quinn drops her spoon. "Are you serious? What are you gonna do? Take me with you? What a fun reunion that'd be."

Christa's face takes on a stressed look; the look she gets when she feels the weight of the world on her shoulders. Quinn would tell her that she needs to stop putting so much pressure on herself, but that would be entirely hypocritical.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do," says Christa. "But I do know that I'm getting the same feeling Mom got when no one wanted to babysit us. I'm gonna think of something."

"I'm not a child, Christa. I'm going to be fine alone. I've literally lived on my own before coming here."

The older girl shakes her head, reaching for her phone from her pocket. "Yeah, but that was before the fucking mess of our father decided to crash on everyone. I'm calling Harvey to see if you can go with him."

Quinn swipes the phone out of her sister's hand before she can even open it. "Absolutely not. I've never even met his family before! And you want me to wear a fucking party hat to his great grandma's birthday? I'd rather cry alone in this fucking flat for four days straight."

"Be careful what you wish for," mutters Christa. If they were still kids, Quinn would yank down a chunk of the girl's hair. "Listen, I think I have a pretty good idea how you're feeling right now. And you don't have to talk about it, but you are not going to be alone this weekend. Keep my fucking phone. I'm talking to Harvey when he gets home."

She's walking back to her room before Quinn can get a word out.

Quinn's bitterness follows her throughout the day, where she's resigned to the comfort of her room (how surprising). Her misplaced bitterness towards Christa—towards everything—follows her through the night, where she shifts in her bedsheets; not even bothering to go to sleep because she knows her mind will keep her up. Her bitterness follows her throughout the next morning, where she begrudgingly packs one of Christa's duffel bags with her things. She tosses in the basics, not bothering to fold anything. Her bitterness follows her throughout the drive to the airport, where her and Harvey are dropping off Christa. Her bitterness consumes when she should be saying goodbye to her sister.

"Tell Julia I said hello," says Harvey. He presses a kiss to the side of Christa's head, holding her like he's about to pick her up and run the opposite direction instead of letting her leave. She tries to pull away, but he pulls her back in.

Fucking gross, Quinn thinks.

"I will," Christa mutters. She untangles herself from Harvey's hold, much to his displeasure. She gives Quinn a knowing look. "I'll tell Mom you're doing okay."

Scoffing, Quinn rolls her eyes angrily. "If she even fucking asks."

"Hey," snaps Christa. Her eyes hold fire as she takes Quinn by the shoulders. She skips the pleasantries of comforting Quinn, and instead gets straight to the point. "Don't be like that. I understand why you're sad, but she loves you. And don't forget that there's a common enemy here."

Their dad.

"I know," Quinn eventually mutters. But it doesn't make it hurt any less. Their mom chose Christa to come; to comfort her. And Quinn doesn't even get a word.

Her bitterness follows her when she gives Christa one final wave. It follows her back into the car, and past the road they should've taken to get back to Kingston.

Her bitterness is with her now, on the the road to Manchester, with Harvey behind the wheel.

A four hour car ride with Harvey is a living nightmare. He still drives the same beat-up Hyundai that he bought secondhand when he first started medical school—even when he could very easily purchase a new, better car without putting a dent into his income. The car doesn't have Bluetooth and the aux is shit, so he has a case of CDs in his glove compartment (it isn't cool in the way Nate has his. Harvey's is just depressing).

But it doesn't matter how many CDs rest in that case, because only thing Harvey listens to is the deluxe version of Britney Spears' 2008 album In The Zone.

By hour three, Quinn contemplates opening the window and launching herself onto the road.

Harvey might not even notice. He's too busy singing along to Brave New Girl. He'll be at his parents' house before he even notices her absence.

The electric guitar outro fades slowly as he sighs contently. He reaches to turn the volume down. "Britney Spears is a gift to the twenty-first century. I mourn over America's Hollywood paparazzi culture for contributing to her fall from grace."

"Woah," snaps Quinn. It's the first word she's muttered since the start of the drive. "Don't forget what your country did to Diana."

Harvey frowns. "I wish I could forget. But Christa loves the documentaries, and I have to sit and watch them before bed. I have nightmares of that tunnel, Quinn. Nightmares."

"You're so dramatic. And I don't wanna hear you talking shit about American paparazzi again if yours is arguably worse! At least criticize something you're better at here."

Harvey hums thoughtfully. "Like our healthcare system?"

Quinn huffs out a laugh. "Yes. That's a perfect example." She settles back into her seat, letting him have that argument. 

Harvey grins. "Glad to see you have broken your silence."

"Yeah, well . . . you stopped your horrendous singing. Thought I'd return the favor." Everytime plays on the stereo now, but it's more background noise than anything.

"I'm sorry about everything," he says, and Quinn wonders why he can't just let the good thing they have going keep going. Did he really have to mention the giant fucking elephant in the room? Or car, or whatever.

"I'm assuming this time you're talking about how my mom won't even text me, but asked Christa to fly back home to help her move out? Yeah, thanks for the apology."

"We both know it's more complicated than that, Quinn."

She knows that. But she also thinks retreating into her anger is a hard coping mechanism to get rid of.

"Whatever," she says, dismissing the subject with one word. She doesn't feel like getting into a deep conversation with Harvey because he'll be right every single time. "Why don't you give me the rundown of your family? Christa said it's your great grandma's birthday. And I don't mean to wish ill-will, but how?"

Harvey laughs. "She's turning ninety-nine."

"Christ."

"She's wonderful, but you won't see much of her this weekend probably. You will, however, see a lot of my parents."

He runs her the basics of his parents. His dad is Ifedayo, 'Dayo' for short. And Sade is his mom. He describes his home life with a fondness in his tone, and Quinn holds onto every word.

She didn't have a terrible childhood. It had been extremely average, which is significantly better than terrible. But she doesn't think she'll ever feel the same familial connection to her parents as she did before. Especially after everything, a strong force is bound to keep them from every being normal again (not that Quinn even wants things to be normal with her dad).

So, it's nice to hear Harvey talk of his parents so fondly. He says he goes back home every holiday and honors every birthday. He says that he never felt lonely being an only child, because his parents were always there. He says that no Nigerian restaurant in the London area can make their food as good as his parents. He says they're going to be so happy to meet her—Christa's sister. Because any loved one of his is family.

Now even Quinn finds herself excited as they pull into the driveway of his childhood home. It's a small, brick home that connects directly to the neighbor's. Zinnias and Irises litter the bushes in the front yard. And in the center of it all, a woman in a pink sunhat sprays the flowers with a hose.

When they get out of the car, Harvey runs up to the woman to hug her. She's taken off her sunhat to get a closer look at the boy who towers over her.

Quinn guesses that she must be Sade.

"Mum, meet Christa's younger sister Quinn." Harvey introduces the two with a grin.

Sade smacks him in the arm. "I know who she is." She extends her arms out to pull Quinn into a hug. She relaxes easily into the woman's hold. Mothers, Quinn finds, always give good hugs. And a large part of her is craving maternal affection at the moment.

Right now, if Christa has their mom, it's only fair that Quinn has Sade.

"Harvey talks about you like you're his sister. He sent us the link to the livestream of your college graduation! He was so proud."

Quinn sends Harvey a cocky look. "Did he now?"

"She's lying."

He receives a smack to his shoulder. "Harvey Odukoya, if you accuse me of lying, you are not making it back to Kingston in one piece."

★

Dinner isn't a casual affair. Harvey sits next to her on her left, while Sade and Dayo sit across from them. At the head of the table, in a true matriarchal form, Harvey's great grandmother—Tiwa—sits. The dining table is littered with Nigerian cuisine with the serving plates nearly on top of each other. They insisted earlier that Quinn would try a little bit of every dish in order to deduce her favorite, so that they could make it again the next night. She accepts all the food in her plate greedily, realizing that her sour mood had caused her to forget to have breakfast and lunch.

"So, Quinn," Dayo says once they've settled into a good rhythm at the table, "do you plan on exploring Manchester City? You're only here a few days, so I think you should make the most of it."

"Oi," Sade slaps her husband's shoulder. "Let her relax if she wants to, yeah? She's just arrived. And we bought a new couch."

Quinn laughs at their banter. They're the textbook definition of a happily married couple. "I want to. I just don't know how to get myself into the city and stuff. I'm a little nervous since everything is so new."

"I don't mind driving you into the city," offers Harvey. "And Mum and I are going there tomorrow, anyway."

Sade nods eagerly. "You're more than welcome to join us. We can even all get dinner together."

Quinn shrugs, not denying the offer. "Just as long you put in a CD other than In The Zone, I'd love to join."

Harvey's eyes go wide in fear.

"Harvey," Dayo snaps. "You said you didn't know where my Britney CD went."

"Snitch," mutters Harvey, while Quinn stifles a laugh.

The three girls at the table share a knowing look with one another. Apparently, Britney-obsessed men are common in the Odukoya family.

★

A/N: i wonder..... what's in manchester....