Extra Bonus #88: Wednesday Night News - Part Two (Patreon)

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RESOURCES:  Check out this narrative timeline graphic to visually see when this bonus scene takes place.

MUSIC: We listened to "What Good Is Love" by The Scarlet Opera while writing this bonus.  

THATCHER HANGS UP and comes over to me in the dining room. I don’t have to ask who he was talking to. “Security,” he tells me. “Everything’s fine.”

Beckett asks us, “How is the penthouse crew?”

“Surviving,” I say.

“Is that what you call your secrets being aired out for the public?” Charlie asks. Tom makes an oof noise as he mixes a vodka and Lightning Bolt! together at the bar cart.

The Royal Leaks.

Mention of them causes an ugly scowl on my face. My wrinkles war with one another to be the most prominent. “Thank you for that lovely reminder, Charlie.”

“Toujours,” Charlie says casually into a page-flip.

 “Have they found the source yet?” Beckett asks, pushing up the sleeves of his Carraways band tee. He’s in dark jeans, not dressing any differently for tonight. Much like my husband, he chose to come in his casual attire.

I can’t say the same for Charlie’s satin olive-green shirt and pant suit and Tom’s checker-printed sweater vest.

Ben lowers his phone like the ongoing leaks interest him.

Charlie also closes his book over his thumb.

“No, we haven’t,” Thatcher says strictly. The security team has been actively trying to hunt down the mole.

“Where are Mom and Dad?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

“Getting the pizza with Audrey,” Beckett says.

Pizza.

Not the usual food for a Wednesday Night Dinner, but it’s not a usual Wednesday night. Since it’s the day before Thanksgiving, we always take a vote.

Feast on Wednesday or Feast on the Holiday.

It’s not a secret that our father chooses to feast on Wednesday every year. He has limited love for most holidays, and Thanksgiving sits in the bottom barrel for him.

Before the vote, I pitched each of my siblings a true Thanksgiving feast this year. For Thatcher. We’ll be going to his mom’s tomorrow morning to watch the parade on TV, but afterward, we’ll head back here to spend the rest of the day with my family.

I couldn’t imagine taking him away from his own family’s traditions for a normal, everyday meal. No, the feast had to be on Thanksgiving this year.

I explained my reasoning to each sibling, and the vote came back with only one of my siblings choosing to feast on Wednesday.

Can I be surprised that it was my contrarian brother? Hardly.

“I hope you’re not disappointed in the pizza tonight,” I tell Charlie.

He opens his book back. “Only if someone spits on it.”

“Let it be known,” Eliot decrees, setting a foot on his chair cushion and bowing towards him. “Charlie doesn’t like spit.”

Charlie rolls his eyes and makes a show of turning another page in his book.

“Not even in your hand, Charlie Keating?” Tom grins.

“I bet he likes to jerk off with lotion,” Eliot chimes in, twirling a butter knife. “Unscented. Tissue box on the bedside table to collect the future progeny.”

Beckett is near laughter.

I think Charlie is close to smiling. “You masturbate to the sound of battle cries in the shower.”

“It was one time,” Eliot says. “Write that down, Tom.”

“Recorded. Remembered.” Tom clinks a fork to the side of his mixed drink.

I do not want to picture any of this, most especially Charlie walking in on Eliot masturbating at some point in our lifetime. I chime in, “Or we can erase this from our minds.” 

“Are we not all adults here?” Tom asks, waving the fork around, then sips on his vodka/energy drink mixture.

He’s nineteen, but this is the one night our parents have allowed the teenagers to imbibe under supervision and within reason. Though, it’s mostly been wine and the occasional beer.

“Not all legal adults,” I mention. “Pippy is seventeen, and last time I checked, you’re not old enough to order what you’re drinking at a bar.”

“Ooh,” Eliot winces.

Tom raises his brows. “The cobwebs were only half my idea, Jane Eleanor. So direct some of your fire towards him, too.” He stabs the fork in Eliot’s direction, who’d normally find this move a betrayal, but I think for Tom—there’s always an exception.

I size Eliot up and down. “In due time.”

Eliot grins. “I look forward to the flames.” He looks me over now. “The wardrobe choice is a bit peculiar, though, sister. Is there a reason for the raincoat in such mild weather?”

“There is,” I say. “But I will announce it once everyone is here.”

“We already know about your egg retrieval,” Ben says. “Through the Royal Leaks.”

My cheeks heat since all my brothers stare at me now. I’m getting a sense they might be a little put off that they had to hear such big life news from the media. “Unintended,” I tell them. “It was meant to be private between Thatcher, Farrow, Moffy, and me.”

Eliot loses the butter knife and takes a steak knife, slamming the sharp point into the wooden table. “Another reason to butcher the fiend.”

“No,” Thatcher says with the stern shake of the head. “The security team has this handled, and your parents are already involved.”

“Involved how?” Ben wonders. “Are they staking out the penthouse?”

“No,” I say, “but Mom did offer to.” She has enough going on. She doesn’t need to add Penthouse PI to the list. Our hope is that between security and the tech team, they’ll find the true mole. I have hope. And my hope only grows more and more as this keeps Thatcher up a night. For his sanity, I do really want the person behind this site found sooner rather than later.

“What does it even matter?” Charlie asks, sounding more bored. “The leaks are inane.” He turns a page.

“I beg to differ,” Eliot says. “I found the one about you being very skilled at the piano to be highly enlightening.”

Charlie gives him a middle finger without lifting his gaze off the book. “Then maybe you don’t want to butcher the mole after all.”

Eliot balks. “You take me for a traitor?” He pulls out the steak knife. “I’d prefer to die.” He mimes being stabbed and falls to his fake death in the chair.

Tom and I applaud him. Ben joins in.

Beckett focuses on Charlie. “It’s disconcerting that you were in a leak to begin with. You don’t even live at the penthouse.”

“The outlier,” Tom says fondly. “Our brother.” 

The back door opens, cutting off the conversation, and a beat later, Audrey crests the doorway with cardboard pizza boxes and orange hair curled in pretty ringlets. “A little help,” she says, and Ben is closest.

He springs from his chair and snatches the boxes from her arms, then places them on the sideboard. She flattens her floral skirt with a hand. A white corset top looks cinched far too tight, squeezing her ribcage.

Beckett’s concern rains down on her first. “Can you breathe?”

She nods. “Yes, of course.” Her words come out wheezy.

“Mom let you wear that?” I ask in worry.

“Only after I begged,” she says into a wince. Audrey pats her collarbone like she’s willing air flow. “If I faint though, I’m not allowed to wear a corset for the rest of my natural born life.”

High stakes. I’m guessing our mom wants her to see how horrible these contraptions are for herself.

“Jane has an announcement,” Eliot tees up.

I shoot him a look. “Only when everyone is here.”

“That might be a while,” Audrey says, moving toward her chair. “Mother and father are still outside on a phonecall. It seemed rather serious. I think it has to do with the Royal Leaks.” She plops down on her seat and reaches for a crystal water glass.

“You could do the announcement twice,” Tom says to me.

“Yes,” Eliot nods. “Try it on us first and then give the formal announcement to our dear mother and father.”

That doesn’t seem half-bad, except for the fact that this isn’t even bad news. “There’s nothing to try,” I tell them. “It’s happy news.”

Audrey gasps. “You’re pregnant!” She jumps to her feet in a little ball of glee but that one movement must dizzy her because she holds onto the table like she really might faint. Ben has a hand under her arm quickly, so she doesn’t fall.

Thatcher makes a move to help, but Beckett is lithe and quite fast. He’s at her side in a dash.

“I’m cogent! I’m cogent!” Audrey cries out like she’s fighting off failure.

Eliot and Tom are near doubled-over in laughter.

Charlie is staring at me. “You’re not pregnant,” he says like he already knows this to be true. Maybe he’s done the mental math, since I recently underwent egg retrieval surgery.

“I am not,” I say, and why waste an opportunity when it presents itself? I suppose this as good of a time as any.

I dramatically remove my pink raincoat. Thatcher holds out a hand like we practiced. I pass it off to him, then toss my hat in the air, and I say, “Rainstorms are behind us. Sunshine ahead. Thatcher and I are trying for a baby.”

Audrey, the one I was most worried about, audibly swoons. “A baby.”

“Was that a poem, dear sister?” Eliot grins, and Tom snaps his fingers like we’re in a coffee house.

“No,” Charlie says.

I set my hands on my hips. “I wanted it to be a moment. I didn’t know how all of you would take having a future niece or nephew.” I look to my little sister. “If all goes to plan, and we can conceive, you won’t be the youngest at these dinners anymore.”

“Thank God,” she says into a deep breath and at that…she faints.

Beckett catches Audrey as she falls, and all of my brothers shoot to their feet and crowd her. Even Charlie.

“Give her some air,” I instruct, pushing my way through. I drop to my knees and undo the back laces of Audrey’s corset, letting it give way.

Thatcher hands me a cloth napkin he must’ve soaked in water. I dab at my sister’s forehead, and slowly, her eyes flutter open.

“Jane, is that you?” she asks me in a whisper.

“Yes,” I smile as she pats at my face like she’s lost her eyesight too.

“Oh good,” she breathes out. “I thought I was dreaming.” Her lips lift into a lively smile. “I’m glad I’m not.” Her eyes reach each of us. Me, Thatcher, then each one of our five brothers, and I can’t help but feel the same sentiments swell within me as the next chapter of my life begins.

I’m glad when I wake, I know they will all be there too.

 Thank you so much for reading this month's extra bonus! We hope you enjoyed this little peek into the Wednesday Night Dinner. We love the Cobalts so much, and we'll definitely be on a Cobalt writing spree as we head into the Cobalt Empire era 💙

That's all the bonus for the month! An extra podcast is on its way and then we'll be back in August for more bonus scenes, more podcasts, more Fizz Hangouts, and more fun! Stay tuned!

xoxo Krista & Becca

   “Wednesday Night News: Part Two," Copyright © 2024 by K.B. Ritchie