Ravi, shocked: You have a fake ID? With a fake name and everything?

Chim: Why would you even need a fake ID for?

Buck: I don't have to explain myself-

Eddie: He used it to get a second library card so he could take out twice as many books at once.

Buck: You traitor.

Hen: Ha! nerd, but where could someone get one of those?

For @bucktommyweek day 2: Day Two: A figure from their past. Title: When the Sun Goes Down Pairings: Eddie/Buck/Tommy, past Buck/Abby Rating: Teen and Up Notes: Eddie doesn't like Abby but this isn't an Abby bashing fic, at least I don't think it is. Summary:

Buck was happy. Happier than he ever thought to be. He was free and finally felt comfortable in his skin. Chimney liked to tease that Buck was even more like his golden retriever side with all his bouncing and smile that never left his face when they weren't on a call. Bobby and Hen were so happy for him. And he knows that Athena gave both Tommy and Eddie the shovel talk, it was the scariest moment of their lives according to them.

Tommy meets Abby, the woman who broke Buck's heart.

Teaser: Tilting her head Abby studied Buck, he had gotten even more handsome if that was possible and while she loves Sam and the life she made with him and their girls there is a part of her that wondered what would have happened if she stayed and tried to make a life with Buck. He was amazing in bed and treated her like a Goddess. “How are you, Buck? We should get together while I am in town. Catch up, you could finally meet Sam.”

‘Hell no.’ Was the response that flashed into Buck's head there was no way that he would put Eddie in the same area as Abby, the man hated her with a passion. There would be no way of holding his boyfriend back as he let Abby know just what he thought about her treatment towards him.

‘Then there is Tommy.’ Buck wasn't sure what his other partner would think of his ex.

As if summoning a strong arm wrapped around Buck’s waist as a kiss was placed on his cheek, “Evan, sorry I am late Lucy decided she wanted to tell me in great detail about her date last night.” Tommy blinked as he took in the woman staring in confusion at him. “Oh, who is your friend?”

Clearing his throat Buck leaned into Tommy's embrace. “Tommy, this is Abby Clark, an old friend of mine. Abby, this is Tommy, my boyfriend.”

Tommy has heard all about Evan's ex-girlfriends Eddie has been very vocal in his dislike of those who used and then tossed aside their adorable boyfriend. Taylor Kelly and Abby Clark were tied for first place in Eddie’s bad books, those names were banned in their house for how they treated Evan and the last time Taylor's face showed up on the news Eddie had gone on an hour-long rant.

“Oh, it is nice to meet you, Tommy.” There was something in Abby's eyes that said it was anything but nice.

Tommy was instantly on guard. He could see why Evan was drawn to her, she is pretty but she had shattered Evan's heart and that was not something he could forgive. “It's nice to meet you as well. I have heard so much about you.”

Buck wanted to run away and hide. Tommy had heard about her from the presidents of the ‘We hate Abby’ club, Eddie and Maddie. Even Christopher didn't like her and they had never met!

‘She hurt you Buck that is all I need to know.’ Christopher looked so much like his dad with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.'

Sinbound- Chapter 4

Summary: Problems are getting worse for Eddie and Y/n, which is leaking into Eddie and Buck’s relationship as well; Buck and Y/n grow closer as Eddie and Y/n seem to grow further apart, what could that mean for both boys?

Series Masterlist

Eddie, Christopher, Alex, and I just got home from grocery shopping and were unpacking the groceries when Eddie got a call. “Oh, it’s your school.” “Wait dad, we didn't finish the groceries.” Christopher seemed set on his dad ignoring the call. “Your dad can answer the phone, Chris. We can finish up.” I replied. “You’re so dead.” Alex murmured under her breath. “Hello? Yes, this is Mr. Diaz.” Eddie seemed to pause before turning his attention back to Christopher. “Really? I had no idea.” He continued to listen to the voice on the other end. “And how long has Christopher been skipping Science Club?” I looked over at Chris and noticed his face dropped. “Okay thank you. You have a great day as well.” Eddie put the phone down and came back over to Christopher and us. “So you’ve been skipping science club and lying about it? Seriously, Chris.” “Dad…” “Don’t dad me Christopher, why would you do this?” “Maybe we should let him explain himself.” “I’m giving him a chance but it better be a good one.” “I’ve been going to the park with my friends.” “What? By yourself Chris? You could have gotten hurt or worse.” “Okay, let’s all take a breath. Chris, why would you do that?” I asked Chris. “No, don't do that. He doesn’t have any good reason to put himself in harm’s way like that.” Eddie quickly rebutted. “I’m not saying he does. Maybe if we know why we can prevent this from happening again.” “I know how to prevent this again. Chris, you're grounded.” “What? That’s not fair.” “I don’t want to hear any complaining. You did this to yourself. One week. No video games, no exemptions. That means even If Buck is over.” Christopher huffed away and went into his room. Eddie turned to Alex. “As for you young lady, you’re grounded too.” “What? What did I do?” “Christopher could have gotten seriously hurt and you did nothing to stop him and you didn’t tell anyone.” “Eddie, don't you think you’re going too far.” “I don’t think you’re going far enough. It’s like you don’t care about Christopher or his health.” A silence filled room. “Alex, go to your room. I'll be there in a minute to talk to you.” I felt so much anger running through me, I was speaking through clenched teeth. I waited until Alex left the room and quickly laid into Eddie. “You know what? I’m sick of your shit as of lately. First, I begin working again and I’m not thinking about myself and the baby. Now, I don’t care about Christopher because I don’t want to just keep him locked away in the room.” “Y/n, I didn’t mean it like that.” “No, Eddie I’m talking here. We’ve all heard you talk enough.” I took a second to breathe. “You never ever seem to mean anything when you say it. I love you Eddie but you need to get your shit together. For the sake of this family.” I walked away from Eddie and went into the guest room. Eddie and I didn’t talk for the rest of the night.

Eddie’s POV

After talking to them about the issue with Christopher I decided to get their advice on Y/n. “That’s not the worst part though.”

“What’s the worst part?” Hen asked.

“ I may have called Y/n a neglectful mother.”

“You did what?” Buck seemed to snap out of his trance. He crossed his arms tightly across his chest and you could tell he was angry.

“Not towards Alex, I just suggested she didn’t care about Christopher’s well-being.”

“What the hell is going on in your head lately man. First, you chew her head off for doing her job, now you’re calling her a bad mother.” Hen yelled at me.

“Listen, it was an accident. I was just so angry.”

“It doesn’t make it okay Eddie. She’s already stressed out as it is and you’re doing nothing to make it better. She told me about how you haven’t even finished the pregnancy book she told you to finish yet or the fact that you haven’t set up the nursery either.” Buck argued.

“I’m sorry since when has my girlfriend told you everything about our relationship?”

“Since I’ve been around to listen.” Either there was a silence that somehow filled the noisy firehouse or I had tuned out the rest of the world because of my anger.

“Excuse me. Sorry some of us can’t pick and choose when we’re around.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m always there. The few moments I’m not, you are. Alex and Y/n live with me, not you.”

“She’s still my daughter.” Buck quickly argued back.

“And Y/n is my girlfriend and the soon-to-be mother of my child. I think it’s time you understood that.” I spat. Before Buck could open his mouth and say anything the fire alarm went off. Everyone rushed off to leave.

After getting off call I came home to see Alex, Christopher, and Y/n drinking some sparkling drink from plastic champagne flutes. “Eddie, you’re home. Here, have some non-alcoholic Rosé.” She said as she handed me a flute.

“What’s all this?” I said with a smile.

“We’re celebrating.” Chris replied, but it was obvious he was still upset with me.

“Celebrating what?”

“The fact that I was right. The baby’s a girl!” Alex, happily exclaimed.

“What?” I turned to Y/n. “You went to find out the gender without me?”

“Eddie, can we just celebrate and talk about this later?”

“No, I want to talk about this now. Kids go to your room.”

“No, kids you can stay. Eddie, I’ll talk to you about this later.”

I turned to the kids again. “To the rooms, now.”

“Mom, we’re just going to go play.” Alex said as she and Christopher exited the room. Y/n turned towards me.

“You got the gender of the baby without me?”

“Yes, Eddie I did. You already know this information so why is it so urgent you speak to me now.”

“Maybe it’s because I want to know why? There’s two of us in this relationship and that’s my baby as well.”

“How far along am I?” She asked me with a calm expression on her face.

“What?”

“How far along am I, Eddie?”

“I don’t know 20 weeks?”

She let out a dry laugh. “I’m 24 weeks. That puts me at 6 months. Most people get their sex scans at 17 weeks. Do you know what week I asked you to get the sex scan with me?”

“No…”

“20 weeks. I’ve been trying to schedule this appointment for a month Eddie and you brushed me off like it was nothing.” She crossed the kitchen and brushed past me. Before she went to the room she turned to me and said, “You keep saying there’s two of us in this relationship but I don’t feel like it is Eddie.”

Shortly, after that I left and headed to Bobby’s house. I knocked on the door and Bobby was surprised to see me. “Eddie, what are you doing here?” “I needed some advice and Buck and I are not in the best place right now.” “Yeah, I noticed after that display at the station. What’s going on?” He stepped aside so I could come in. “It’s Y/n and me.” “Okay. What about you and Y/n?” “She went to find out the baby's gender without me.” Bobby looked like he was waiting for me to continue. “And what’s the problem exactly?” “She got the gender of our baby without me. You don’t think that’s a big deal?” “No. Not in the slightest.” I looked at Bobby confused. “Eddie, is the baby healthy?” “Yes.” “Will you be in the baby’s life for years to come?” “Of course but…” Bobby cut me off. “Then, that’s all that matters. With Marcy, I don’t think I was with her when she found out either of the kids' gender, because it’s not a big deal, Eddie. Did she tell anyone besides you?” “The kids, but that’s it.” “Then I really don’t see a problem.” “Bobby I just feel like she’s excluding me from the pregnancy. I’m sure if Buck was around when she was pregnant with Alex, they wouldn’t have had these problems.” After I said that I saw the way Bobby’s expression changed. “What?” “So that’s what this is about. Buck and her.” “What do you mean Buck and her?” “I mean the relationship they have. You’re upset that they’re that close.” “No, I’m upset because he’s sticking his nose in our business and the fact that she didn’t tell me.” “Okay, Eddie, whatever you say but if you want my advice, talk to her. Tell her how you really feel.” “I’ve tried but she acts as if she doesn’t care and she blames me.” “And you’re in no way to blame at all?” “I mean I forgot how far along she was and she had asked me to go last month but I was busy with so much I forgot.” “Well it seems like she’s tired of being ignored. So maybe instead of talking try listening.” I let Bobby’s words sit with me for a while.

Y/n’s POV

After calling Carla to watch the kids, I went over to Buck's house to talk. I knocked on the door and waited for Buck to answer the door, “Who is it?” “Y/n. Is this a bad time?” Buck opened the door, and he was wet from the shower and had only a towel around his waist. “No, just got out of the shower. What’s up?” Buck was leaning against the cracked door and waiting for me to answer but it felt like all the words had left my mouth. “Y/n?” He asked again, trying to get my attention. “Oh, uh, I needed to talk to you. Can I come in?” “Oh, yeah sure. Let me get dressed and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” “Okay.” I waited til Buck started heading up the stairs before murmuring, “No rush.” “What?” He turned around to face me. “Nothing.” I replied, with a grin. After a few minutes of waiting, Buck came back downstairs. “So, what’s up?” “Oh nothing came to bitch about your friend and my baby daddy.” Buck let out a chuckle. “What’s wrong now?” “I found out the gender of the baby without him and he came home to see us celebrating and threw a hissy-fit.” “Seems like he’s throwing a lot of those lately. I mean after all he blew up at me today.” “What why?” “Because I defended you in the whole Christopher decision thing.” “Wow, my knight in shining armor.” “That I am.” He joked. “Besides isn’t it a little late for you to be getting your sex scan? Don’t people get them at like 17 or 18 weeks? Why so late?” “You know how many weeks I am?” “24 weeks. Why?” Of course Buck knew how far along I was. “Did I do something wrong?” “No. Not at all. ” I smiled at him which seemed to confuse him but he smiled back. “The reason I’m getting it so late is because Eddie kept telling me we were going together, eventually I got sick of waiting. I just have no idea what to do about this whole Eddie situation.” “Honestly, Y/n, just remind him that you’re both in this together and that’s not changing. “You think so?” “If I was feeling insecure about my relationship I would want my partner to do that.” “You’re right. Thanks Buck.” I wrapped him in a hug. “Anytime.” He said as he hugged me back.

I made my way back home and in the living room Eddie was waiting for me. “Look Eddie, if you're here to argue with me, I’m seriously not in the mood. I’m exhausted, my ankles are the size of grapefruits, and my boobs are killing me.” “I’m not here to argue, I just want to talk. I promise.” “I don’t want to talk anymore. I talk, you talk, then we argue. It’s this repetitive cycle and I’m sick of it.” “So you don’t even want to try and fix this?” “That right there. That’s what I’m talking about. Why does all the blame go on me? Why am I the one who is unwilling to make things better? Eddie, I try. I try, and I’m tired of it. I’m constantly stressed because of our relationship and it’s not good for the baby.” “So whose fault is it?” “Eddie, it’s no one's fault I just feel like we aren’t communicating and whenever we are we’re just arguing. We’re in this together but it seems like being in this together means two different things for us.” “So what do we do then, huh? How do we fix this?” He gestured between the two of us. “I don’t know Eddie. I’m willing to try but I have absolutely no idea.” “Can we fix this?” I looked into Eddie’s eyes and saw the desperate and somber look. I didn’t know what to say. Could we honestly fix this? Was it worth it to try? I have no idea. Eddie took my silence as an answer. “I’m going to bed.” He turned towards the room. “I think it’ll be best if I stay at Buck’s tonight.” Eddie whipped around at my response. “That’s your solution then, Buck?” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “I think we both know what it means. Goodnight Y/n.” “Goodnight, Eddie.” I replied

I grabbed some clothes while Eddie was in the shower, woke up Alex, and headed to Buck’s house. I knocked on the door and waited a moment. There was no answer on the other side so I knocked again. Soon after, I heard shuffling behind the door. “Who is it?” Buck said in a groggy voice. “Y/n and Alex.” The door opened at lighting speed. “What’s wrong? Are you guys okay?” “We’re fine Buck.” He moved out of the way and let us into the apartment. Alex, who was still half-asleep, made her way to her bedroom. I waited until she shut the door to explain to Buck what happened. “I got home and Eddie was waiting for me. He wanted to “talk” but I knew it would just result in an argument so I tried to turn it down. He wanted to know how to fix us but I had no idea. He seemed pissed so I thought it would be best if I just spent the night over here.” I looked up at Buck after rambling on. “I’m sorry for barging in like this. I had no place to go.” “Don’t even worry about it. You’re always welcome here. In fact,” Buck turned around and opened a drawer. He pulled out a small key and grabbed my keychain. “This way you don’t have to always knock.” I let out a chuckle at his actions and my laugh quickly turned to a sob. “Oh, Y/n are you okay?” He rounded the kitchen and wrapped his arm around me. “I’m sorry if…” “It’s not you Buck. It's just everything and I’m hormonal and my body’s getting all weird.” “Your body is not getting weird. You’re pregnant. You look beautiful.” “I know I look beautiful, that's a given.” Buck let out a laugh and it was so contagious I joined in. “I just can’t fit any of my clothes and it’s annoying.” “You can steal my clothes whenever you want if it makes you feel better. Besides, I like you like this, it means there's more to love.” “Evan Buckley, you have a breeding kink.” He let out another laugh. “Seriously? “It’s true. You like me all round.” “I like how round a few things have become.” I lightly slapped his arm. “I’m just saying.” “Let go of me you dirtybird.” I teased. “I should get ready for bed. Though, I have no idea where I’m gonna sleep considering you still don’t have a couch.” “You can take the bed and I’ll take the floor.” “Buck, I don’t want to kick you out of your bed.” “It’s no problem really.” “Seriously, I would feel terrible.” “We could…” Before Buck could finish his thought, Alex’s door swung open. “Jesus, you two. A child is trying to get her beauty sleep.” She grumbled as she passed us in the kitchen. “I’ll sleep in dad’s bed with mom and dad can sleep in mine.” She stomped up the stairs with a blanket and pillow in toe. “It’s 12 am for goodness sakes people.” She continued to grumble the rest of the way up. “Well, that settles it.” Buck replied. “Sometimes I forget who the parents are out of the 3 of us.” “Trust me, I do too. Keep it down, and let’s break it up for the night.” Alex shouted from upstairs. “Jesus, coming mom!” I shouted back in her direction “Yeah, mom.” Buck teased. “Night, Y/n.” “Night, Buck.” I realized I was still in his embrace and didn’t want to leave it. I was going to say something else when Alex’s voice rang through. “Chop, Chop!” I rolled my eyes and started to walk up. I looked back and saw Buck staring at me as I walked away. “Dirtybird.” I called back to him. Buck pretended he had no idea what I was talking about and went to Alex’s room.

Evan Buckley, for the love of god, fertilize me! 

Leavin' On a Jet Plane

Only boomers are going to remember that song. Still, that's what I'm doing in the morning. My bag is packed, my comfy clothes are ready for a long day, and lucky, lucky me - I'm in a middle seat. You know I'll be beside the guy with this carry-on.

By this time tomorrow I'll be yukking it up with my sister and my mom, so it's worth it.

I'm as ready as I can be for Christmas, and just a couple of days after I get home it's going to start raining relatives around here. Matt is flying in on the 22nd, the Edgewater gang will drive over for a couple of days when he gets here, then they'll go home for Christmas Eve and Santa's arrival, coming back on the 26th for a big celebration with us. They'll have to go back to work on the 27th but will leave Little Miss with us until the weekend. It seems complicated and busy because it is. I may need a vacation when it's all over. But enough about holiday craziness. Let me share something that has been providing serenity and beloved quiet time. I haven't been able to touch it for a week or so because I've been so busy, but....

behold this old print that I picked up for a couple bucks.

It's nothing special, kind of corny, but it reminded me so much of the sweet spot where my Grandma and Grandpa Holtz lived. The flower covered arch, the picket fence, busy hens, the pretty little house with pasture behind it. I had to have it. Once I brought it home I started spreading paint around.

I changed most of the flowers to pink, painted the house pink, and roughed in a little figure on that bench. That's my Grandma Ethel. The second chance that I had to work on it I was able to deepen the flowers a bit and paint the window and door trim white (like Ethel's). I gave her a blue dress and an apron, she was always in an apron in my memories. I'll put some little wire glasses on her face and a hint of pink on her cheeks. I'll probably add some trim to that apron (roses?), and the white blob beside her will eventually become a patchwork quilt.

I don't love the yellow trees in the distance, I may turn them green or just change that all to sky. I'll need to add green to that tree hanging just over the arch as well. In my mind this is a summer day on the Holtz spread and that spread had huge shade trees, complete with tire swings and a hammock. Well, the hammock was more of a bed strung between two big trees, all of us kids could pile on. That pasture had sheep and chickens who were great friends for a little girl. For a time it held a pony too. There were berry patches that seemed to stretch forever. Sun-warmed raspberries are still my favorite. Can you see why I thought this spot was paradise? It was the sweetest and safest place in my childhood. This silly project isn't great art, but gosh, it makes me happy. And isn't that what we should be doing, seeking happiness? It doesn't have to be world-changing. We're bombarded with the message that whatever we do must be on a grand scale. Enjoy jogging? You have to do a marathon. Enjoy your hobby? You should turn it into an income-generating business. Enjoy reading? You must start a book club. You like cooking? Apparently you have to video everything you cook for a TikTok or Instagram reel so you can get "likes" from strangers. NOPE. I'm all about soaking up small pleasures. I find joy in quiet pursuits - dabbling with paint or getting lost in a book, making a pot of soup on a chilly day. Why take the joy out of things by making it a competition or seeking approval? Ugh. I'm well aware that maybe it's just me that feels this way. I'm also well aware that I'm rambling about something that you probably don't have much interest in. Oops. I'm going to get upstairs, have a lovely bath and get under the covers with a book. Which reminds me of another small joy - this book!

I admit that since our move I have been unsettled. I miss my sunsets and the deer. I miss the bird song and even the dang raccoons who raided the bird feeder at night. This book has helped center me again. Here's the Amazon link where you can read more, just click through:

I checked it out from the library, but I really need to own it. I could see myself going back to its pages again and again. Small joys. I'm off. Time to soak and then sleep. I'll take along my trusty lap top, but no promises that I'll post from Florida. I think I owe everyone an email (Francie, I love you!) so I'll try to catch up while I'm down there. Sending out lots of love tonight, and hoping that you're finding small joys sprinkled in your days (and if you do, savor them). Stay safe, stay well. XOXO,

Nancy

Strip Club Choice Tips

There is a confusion that each strip club is just a low class disagreeable spot. This is now and again the case, and accepting you head off to some place that is horrendous it can turn you off of the whole experience. Truly these days there are a few elegant experiences that are dealt with people with extra shrewd inclinations. These joints are quite easy to perceive expecting that you know what to look for and can be a doorway to a horseplay and momentous night that will make you feel like both a superstar and a refined man. These bars will have different clear credits that will allow you to pick the one that will deal with your desires.

Driving while at the same time walking around the street you really want to pick a Night Club in Puerto Banus with a masterfully dressed proficient bouncer working the entrance. This individual should seem as though it as well as work in a manner that is both respectful and mature. He should not be out and about whistling and drawing in praiseworthy people. If he works at a groundwork of authenticity, it should sell itself without the prerequisite for him hollering for clients. Moreover he should deferentially be really looking at IDs and concealing charges. The last thing you want is some worker making issues and acting a blockhead during your night making the rounds.

It is furthermore fundamental for find a spot in which the young women are coordinated like performers. This infers capable stages and lighting. There should moreover be immaculate and stayed aware of restrooms. It is one thing to go to a leap bar and pee in a case yet you want the strip club you are at to feel like a prohibitive and first in class, loathe a loathsome nudie bar. A fair rule for lighting and orderliness is in case you can't see the floor coverings maybe you should make a beeline for some spot else.

One of various fascinating focuses is the client base. In case a club has no cover and no dress norm, it suggests anybody can come in. Such people who need to sit in a room stacked with stripped individuals for nothing and in their street pieces of clothing are not commonly the more exclusive class of society. They will by and large be freaks and pimps wanting to take advantage of people. Maybe pick the spot that costs twenty bucks to enter. It could give off an impression of being a ton at the time yet the experience merits the work. Think of it as the affirmation cost for grown-up Disneyland.

The fact of the matter is going to the strip joint isn't unobtrusive. You will tip young women, that is an absolute unquestionable requirement and any quality joint will toss you out expecting you are being miserly. Moreover, drinks are exorbitant and in many spots there is a base. You are paying extraordinary money for a show and an experience and you really want to get a decent deal. The best method for being sure that you will is to find a spot that is classy.

For more details, visit us : 

Bachelor party in Marbella

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Best Lap Dancer Jobs

Rewatching 4x06 and man do I love this episode. Chimney just cracks me up this entire episode. I love him so much. This really is such an important episode.

We've all already said it but damn was this a weird episode for Eddie and Ana's relationship to launch off of. I mean, the entire theme of the episode is "stuck" and "needing to let go" and "wrong" all mixed in:

DJ stuck to a billboard by duct tape which he'll "regret later", promoting his album "Stuck On You", which Bobby asks Eddie if he wants to keep the duct tape as a souvenir for later (interesting choice of words there, Bobby)

Guy stuck in tree trying to rescue cat who had been stuck in tree

Girl stuck in lion mask and pukes all over Buck once she's freed (hmmm, kind of reminds me a bit of 4x12 and 4x13, just saying)

Kid stuck in a washing machine (we see S3 version Eddie here - most likely this was footage they didn't end up using last season but decided to use here because it had the theme, interesting coincidence that this was when he was pissed at Buck and during his fighter arc)

Octopus stuck to lady's face ("If you relax, it'll let go") - also has S3 Eddie here circa 3x06 with the bruise on his arm that Buck asked about (I can't believe they didn't use it last season, that would have been interesting)

Clown stuck under helium tanks

Two people stuck in an elevator but a supposed boring call, no medical attention needed, that leads to the power pole on the 118, with the firefam stuck inside until help arrives

Hose gets stuck at the garage fire and Brian comes to Eddie's aid

Larry broke the windows to let out the gas so they could get fresh air in and not have the gas trapped inside

Then you have all of the "jinx/curse" scenarios:

Ravi says the Q word and jinxes the 118

They recall back to when Buck accidentally jinxed them - 36 calls "it was a new record"

Josh gets a text from Chim asking for a bell and two bay leaves and realizes he's trying to remove a curse

Hen clarifies it's a jinx which is a general angering of the gods vs a curse which implies someone has put a hex on them

Eddie does not believe in the jinx and finds it laughable though Buck, Chim, Hen, and even Bobby believe in it; Bobby tells Eddie, "just maybe don't tempt fate"

Fake firefighter Brian seems to do more harm than good in trying to help: Ana's burnt arm, the gas leak at Jim's Burgers

Then you have everything surrounding Eddie and him needing to move on:

Buck says he's 3.0 and ready to look to the future, Eddie tells him he has the right to take some time to process (which is really what he's doing for himself as well)

"It's like the universe is screaming at you and you refuse to listen."

"What more proof do you need, Eddie?"

"Is there something we should know about that's in there?" When resident finally comes clean about the fireworks, they start going off and Beethoven's "Ode To Joy" begins to play

Brian the fake 147 firefighter (who really is a mirror for Eddie of sorts)

"No, Eddie. There's nobody at the 147. Their house was damaged in the mudslide, they're still rebuilding."

In the "book club" scene, Chim, Hen, and Bobby all push Eddie on the topic of Ana once Buck mentions it, after Eddie calls him a traitor and we see Buck's expression of "what?" we never see Buck's expression again during the rest of the scene

Bobby tells Eddie he needs to move on

"I needed your help. We needed your help. You were there." *looks down at Buck and then looks away; Buck who is watching him looks down* (this literally is the scene where Eddie realizes he needs to move on; also, who was there for Eddie and Christopher after 3x06?) "Things don't always turn out the way we planned. Suck, I know. Can't let yourself get stuck." *looks to Bobby who nods* "All you can do is let go, move on. Sounds scary but I know you can do it."

"Eddie, you gonna meet us there?" "Sorry, guys, I um, I already have plans." (last time we heard about Eddie "having plans" is when Lena tells Buck in 3x05, when Eddie is actually in his first underground fight, something that ended up not being good for him in the end, just saying)

Eddie is still dressed in his uniform while the rest of the 118 is not, this isn't just to indicate he has other plans than they do, he's not relaxed or comfortable and still in uniform when having this exchange with Bobby and the 118, he even has his hands in his pockets

"He said he wanted to help people so why call in a fake gas leak?" "Because he thought it was real."

Ana is definitely more into Eddie than he is into her at this point:

(this whole scene)

Ana: "Mr. Diaz--Edmundo..."

*she keeps fidgeting with her bag and the strap*

Ana: "You were looking for me?"

Ana: "I guess it's my lucky day then. Good thing you found me."

Eddie: "I ran into Ana Flores this morning. Christopher's English teacher."

Buck: "Christopher's pretty English teacher. You haven't mentioned her in a while."

Hen: "Wait, is this the teacher that you yelled at?"

Eddie: "And I apologized for that."

Chim: "But you still didn't ask her out?"

Eddie: "She's Christopher's teacher."

Bobby: "Thought you said she has a new job."

*the little nervous chuckle or giggle she has when walking towards him*

Ana: "I was, um, surprised you called."

Eddie: "That was okay, right?"

Ana: "I'm glad you called."

It wasn't until Bobby talks to Eddie and tells him he needs to move on and then he sees Brian stuck trying to always be a firefighter when he never will be, that he decides to take Bobby's advice. Eddie has his hand in his pocket as he uses the other to pull out the chair for her. Even the song playing where Ana is walking towards him, I mean: "But I don't need no friends, as long as I gaze on Waterloo Sunset I am in paradise, Every day I look at the world from my window, But chilly, chilly is the evening time Waterloo Sunset's fine" - this to me does not sound like Eddie's world just got knocked off of its axis or that it's love at first sight or that there is any excitement or passion. "I don't need no friends"? Interesting. "As long as I gaze on Waterloo Sunset I am in paradise"? So as long as he's looking at her, he's okay? He won't need friends? "Every day I look at the world from my window, But chilly, chilly is the evening time"? He's not in the world, he's looking at it, and it's chilly... "Waterloo Sunset's fine"? So...he's settling. Got it.

And after all of this, we get the pre-breakfast scene:

Buck: "I've never been so glad to get to the end of a shift."

Hen: "And hopefully to the end of that jinx. I mean, that's it, right? Next shift is back to normal?"

Chim: "I might call in sick just in case."

They never confirm that the jinx is indeed over. And sure enough, we see their breakfast get interrupted again by another emergency. The jinx wasn't over. Which is then complemented by Eddie and Ana saying "jinx" at the end of the episode.

Basically, it all came down to this:

Eddie

needed

to

move

on

And he took the life preserver Bobby threw to him.

And this sets up what we get later in 4x08 (Buck struggling to accept the changes Eddie and Ana's relationship brings) & then 4x12 (Eddie struggling to accept the changes Buck and Taylor's friendship is starting to bring) and why.

Written for Bathena Week Day 1

Word Count: 2100

Summary: L.A.’s been said to be a weird place, but no truly one knows just how weird it is. No one truly knows what type of people lurk beneath the surface of the city’s famed glamour.

Also read here & here

xxxxx

A loud scream echoed through the small shop, followed by “stop it, Jalen.” The few patrons turned towards the source to see two small children running around. A boy, who is assumed to be Jalen, was chasing the little girl with vampire fangs in his mouth and fake blood on his face.

“But I want to suck your blood, Sophie,” Jalen said with an attempted accent as her chased the little girl, Sophie around the shop.

Jalen, Sophie!” A young woman called out to them, causing the children to stop in their tracks. “I told you guys to stop kidding around. Now get over here.” Sophie and Jalen ran to where the woman was standing. “I’m so sorry about them,” she put the items she wanted to purchase on the counter, “I don’t what’s getting into them, must be the full moon.”

“Oh they’re fine. One of mine gets real rowdy during the full moon,” Athena told her as she rung up the woman’s items. Out of her peripheral vision she could see Robert smiling in amusement. After telling her the total, she paid, “have a great one.”

The woman took the bag from her, “thanks, you too,” she and her kids left.

The few customers that were in the shop payed for the items they had and left. Soon it was empty and there was no one but Robert and Athena in the store.

Robert took advantage of the moment alone. While she was distracted by the books she was writing in, he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, “Have I told how much I love this little shop you’ve got here?” he breathed into her neck. He had to resist the urge to attach his lips to her pulse point.

“Robert, stop, someone could come in at any second.”

“That’s why you should close up shop for a while and come take a walk with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” Athena silently moved out of his hold and moved towards the door. “Well, come on before I change my mind.” Athena made sure to lock up behind them when they left.

They weren’t even outside for two second before they heard a woman scream, “my purse!” Bobby and Athena looked back to see a man dressed and all black clothing running with the purse and two other men chasing after him.

Robert looked over at Athena. Her eyes took on their familiar yellow glow. He returned his focus to the guy, who seemed to suddenly trip over his own feet and fall, unceremoniously, to the concrete. The two guys running after were able to retrieve the purse and, deservingly, rough him up a bit.

He smirked as he looked back over at Athena. Her eyes had returned to their natural brown. She turned around and kept walking like nothing happened, “not a word Robert.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Mm hmm.”

“I just find it cute that you always love to help the mortals.” As long as he’d known her and it had been a very long time, over 300 years, she’d always used her magic to help others. It was one of the things he loved most about her.

Athena glared at him and raised a hand. “Your magic doesn’t work on me, treasure. You know that.” He grabbed the hand and kissed the inside of her wrist.

“I don’t need magic to kill you, dearest.” She snatched her arm back. “I know your weaknesses.”

“It funny,” Robert said as he placed his hands behind his back. “You’ve been saying that, practically, since the day we met. Hasn’t happened yet.”

“That’s the amazing thing about immortality, there’s nothing but opportunity.”

“I’m hurt, treasure. Is this the thanks I get for saving you from that burning?”

“Must you always bring that up. And you saved me from nothing. It was laughable that piece of shit priest thought he could kill me.”

“You were tied to a pole, over a fire pit, surrounded by chanting idiots.”

“Semantics.” Athena waved it off as they kept walking, “though, I guess It was fun to see the fear in their eyes and you didn’t leave too much destruction in our wake. Didn’t even kill anyone.”

“Luckily for them I didn’t have to take it that far. They knew not to fuck with you ever again, hell that whole village did, and I knew I couldn’t violate the Wiccan Rede. You’d have been pissed.”

“I’d like to think I would have made an exception for those bastards.”

“After all the restraint I had to muster to completely mutilate them, now she tells me.” She ignored him as they kept walking. They walked in comfortable silence until they reached the Clubhouse a couple of blocks over.

“I should have known we were coming here.”

“Yes, you should have.” Robert saw the look he was giving her, “don’t look at me like that, you know you love it here. Plus, I thought I could use a drink.” His voice dropped an octave.

“You don’t drink alcohol.” Athena said cheekily, pretending she didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Not what I meant, treasure.” He smiled slyly as his pupils dilated and fangs descended.

As they walked into the club, Elaine gave them a wave as they passed the bar on the main floor and headed for his office in the back. As soon the door closed, he picked her up, placed her on the desk, and attached his lips to hers. He kissed along her jawline and moved down to the column of her neck.

“Don’t take too much, have me out here looking ashy like you did last time,” she grumbled.

He chuckled and said, “no promises, your fault you have the sweetest blood I’ve ever tasted,” before his fangs sunk in it the flesh of her neck. She moaned as her blood rushed into his mouth and down her throat. Hers was a taste unlike any other and he’d never tire of it.

His hands moved up her thighs, completely hating she was wearing pants today. Both of them were completely out of it, lost in what he was doing to her when, “oh fuck, sorry.”

Robert, reluctantly, retracted his fangs and lifted his head from Athena’s neck, at the sound of Buck’s voice. He was surprised that he’d been so distracted that he didn’t hear him coming. Athena swiped two fingers along her next and the holes he’d made there had healed. “Yes, Buck, what is it?”

“Oh, um, Lainey said you were back here. I was just coming to see if you needed anything from me, but you’re busy. I’ll come back-“

“It’s fine Buck,” Bobby smelled the strong sent of watermelon as backed up a bit from Athena “Buck did you go raiding watermelon patches again?

“Yeah, but it’s not my fault. There was some really good looking watermelons and I was hungry.”

“Did you let anyone catch you?” Athena asked him.

“No! Of course not. I’m smarter than that most... some of.... well, I was smarter than that today.” Athena raises as an eyebrow at him skeptically, but didn’t say anything further.

“I hope so,” Bobby said remembering what he and Athena had to do last time Buck had been caught shifting into wolf form. Granted he’s done many things he wasn’t proud of in his 350+ years of life, but even he had to hold back a shudder at that. “In any case, go shower and I’ll need your help with bartending when we get busy later.”

“Got it, Pops,” Buck said affectionately, using his term he’s called since they took him and his sister into their little group.

As he was going to close the door, Athena yelled out “and don’t go sniffing that new human bartender, Eddie, when he gets here.”

“No promises,” Buck answered back, never being one to resist the urge to be a little shit. He closed the door leaving Bobby and Athena alone again.

“He’s going to get himself killed.” Athena said with a little worry.

“He’ll be alright. He’s got us.”

“And I love him , but I’m not cleaning up another one of his messes.” She hopped down off the desk, smoothed out her clothing and using the tie on her wrist to pull her braids back.

Robert chuckled as he looked in the mirror. He whipped the traces of blood from his mouth and righted his clothing. “The others are here.”

“Yes, I feel their energy too. I think you’ve had your fill of me. Let’s go out there with them.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, treasure.” He strolled back over to where she was standing and gave her a peck on the lips “I could never have my fill of you.”

“I love you, too, Robert,” she said simply.

“Woah, you said that without sass or snark. I might need to be scared.”

“And I immediately regret it.” Robert went to respond but she stopped him, “let’s just go.”

Athena rolled her eyes at the laughter she behind her as she walked ahead of him. The walked out of the office and through the people scattered around to head to the section upstairs. Sitting in one of the booths at the end they found Hen, Chim, Maddie, and Buck already in the middle of a discussion. Robert and Athena slid into the booth beside them.

“With the full moon this week, Karen and I thought it’d be a good time to take Denny on his first hunt, but I don’t know if around Halloween is the best time to take him. He’s been begging us and he’s mastered shifting, but there are so many crazies in this town this time of year.” Hen said.

Maddie removed her arm from around Chimney to touch Hen’s shoulder. “Yeah, it can be scary, I remember when I took Buck on his first hunt. I was so worried his inexperience was going to draw unwanted attention. Unfortunately, it’s crazies out every day of the year. But he’s gotta learn how to hold his own.”

“This is L.A. of course this town is full of crazies trying to catch a glimpse of the supernatural and paranormal. One person out out a video of a possible sighting and now this place is chock full of amateur hunters trying to get cannon fodder for their bullshit YouTube channels. Speak of the devil, excuse me for a sec,” Chimney disappeared in a flash and reappeared just as quickly, “sorry about that some kids were playing around with a Ouija board trying to conjure a demon. So I gave them one. Scared the shit outta all of them.”

Everyone else, not phased and used to what just happened continued on as normal. “I remember the days when speaking of the possibility of stuff like this got people tossed in asylums.” Bobby commented.

“Right?” Athena agreed. “Might need to return to that, shits getting out of hand.”

“Well, I think it’s cool that humans are so cool with the idea of the supernatural and paranormal. Certainly makes it easier to exist and coexist with them,” Buck leaned across the table to steal some of Maddie’s food.

“You only say that because you want that bartender that just started working here.” Chimney deadpanned.

“No. Well, I do want him, but that’s not the only reason I said that.”

“Well whatever, I’m just glad we have a place like this where us supers can just be free and not have to worry about walking on eggshells around humans.”

“And we have Bobby to thank for it.” Hen held up her glass in salute.

“Thank Athena, she came up with the concept of this place. I just brought it to life.” Robert kissed Athena on the temple and brought her closer to him, “also when I do hire humans I make sure they are okay with everything that could take place here.” He looked directly at Buck.

Buck eyed them both. “he’s here, he’s at the bar now.” Athena told him. Buck was up and out of the booth and practically sprinted down the stairs like the over eager pup that he was.

Athena and Robert turned around to see Buck down at the bar, leaning over the counter, talking to Eddie.

“I hope this goes well,” Athena commented as they watched them. She thought about listening in on the conversation, but she ultimately decided against it.

“Of course it will, treasure, you’ve never been wrong before. He’ll be the one that keeps him out of trouble.”

A little supernatural au for your morning. I left it open just in case I wanted to go back and do more. Were you able to guess what everyone was (hopefully I made it obvious enough).

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TDBM Fic: The Pleasure of Your Company ~ 5

Getting closer to the wedding/end...

5. Rehearsal: 

To Gladys, Jean would always have a mouth stained with blackberries, her bare legs scratched by brambles, her curls tangled.  Twelve years old and the bravest girl ever, at least in Gladys's limited circle of acquaintance. They were best friends, but Gladdie didn't ever feel Jean's equal. Jean led, and she followed.  

Bravery turned to recklessness when Jean had pulled Gladys into her bedroom and told her that she and Christopher had done it, that it hadn't hurt like the other girls said, and she was so in love.  Gladys had been bridesmaid to that wedding, following Jean down the aisle.  

Jean passed Gladys' seat among the nearly empty chairs, her chin high, a bundle of bobbing daisies scattering petals behind her. This time, Gladys wasn't to be matron of honour, instead behind her came Matthew Lawson's niece. Jean hadn't asked, and Gladys didn't offer.  

Lucien Blake stood at the end of the aisle, grinning foolishly.  He stepped forward and met Jean, taking her hand and leading her the rest of the way to stand before the officiant.  Laughter rippled through the small group of friends and family who were part of the wedding rehearsal.  

"Now, Dr Blake," scolded the officiant, "It doesn't do to appear too eager."  Jean just smiled at her chastised fiance.

Not a priest, but Robert Goldsmith, the magistrate. This would be legal marriage, but not a true one in the eyes of God. Her lifelong friend would now be an adulterer. Gladys shifted on her chair.  It had taken a lot of prayer to decide to attend. Her own parish priest was the one who'd counseled her to go. "Jean will have the strength of your love in this terrible time."

Mr Goldsmith was explaining how he would do the vows.  Of course Jean wouldn't vow to obey Lucien.  Gladys actually found that a mercy.  

Although Jean had beaten her to the altar, their first sons had been born within weeks of each other.  Their farms had bordering paddocks.  Years of shared harvests, droughts, calvings to attend had meant they were still best friends, at least to Gladys.  But Jean's house had more books than Gladys had ever read in her life.  She subscribed to the library even when times were tough. She talked of going to Paris some day, ignoring her husband's snort of derision.  Gladys wanted to put this heart-breaking choice at the feet of Lucien Blake, but she could see the signs were always there.  

"This is where I'll pronounce you man and wife," Mr Goldsmith said.  

"Then we shall kiss?" Lucien asked and there was more laughter.  

"Lucien," Jean said, tweaking his tie, but the look she gave him from under her eyelashes made Gladys focus on her hands.  "You'll just have to wait."

"Surely we need to practice," Lucien protested.

"Mate, you've gotten plenty of that," Matthew said, clasping Lucien on the shoulder.  "Let's eat.  I'm starving."

Cec Drury had been sitting in the last row of chairs in his club uniform. He stood and announced,  "You'll come down the aisle, then into the reception room."  He looked around fretfully.  "Unless you want a reception line?"

“No need, Cec.” Jean gave her flowers to Rose.  "Simple and effective," she said smartly.  "Let's get this done."  

Cec and Lucien exchanged a look behind her back.  "The lady seems to have very definite expectations.  Sure you're up to the task, sir?" Cec murmured.

After playfully glaring down his nose at Cec, Lucien called out, "Hold up, darling," as Jean circled the reception room to check on the arrangements there.  

"Mum, they're doing up the dinner in the dining room," Danny said, giving Gladys' hand a pat and rising from his seat beside her.  

When Jack had been arrested, and everyone was crossing the street instead of looking Jean in the eye, it had been easy to follow the crowd.  Surely Jean hadn't noticed Gladys missing?  She had been busy with selling the farm to pay a solicitor and searching for a job under this dark cloud.  And certainly, when Gladys had come by to help Jean pack up the few things that she'd be taking to her new position with Dr Blake, Jean had seemed happy to see her old friend.  Her life became busy, if she saw much less of Gladys over the years, it was natural of two women now on different paths.  

"Here's our table," said Danny, as he checked the other tags on the plates.  He grinned when he saw Rose Anderson's name.  

"Over here," said Matthew Lawson, limping to the table, his niece in tow, peering over his shoulder at Danny.  

Danny held out the chair for his mother, stealing a smile at Rose.  

The final strike had been when Lucien Blake had replaced his father. Gladys first met him when she went by for luncheon and he was hungover from the drink, lingering in the shadows outside the kitchen. It had been a quite uncomfortable experience, made more so by the way Jean's gaze kept looking to him.  

The now slender bond had broken with the simplest of words, the sort of phrase that Gladys had said multiple times when they were schoolgirls. “Careful you don’t show you're sweet on him. That would make things difficult. “

Jane had frozen in pouring tea, nearly overflowing the cups. Then she’d said, “it’s not like that.” Nothing more was said that day, but after that, Gladys rarely went to the Blake House, and could count the number of times she’d spoken to Lucien Blake on one hand. Just as well. He unsettled her. He was always pleasant and welcoming, but there was an energy emanating from him that reminded Gladys of the buzz that the television made when trying to tune in a channel.

She could see that Jean had been caught by that electricity.  At another table, Lucien and Jean chatted with their guests, and yet their hands found each other across the tablecloth, his fingers tracing along the back of her hand, her fingers capturing his strong thumb and holding on.  

"Everything is to your satisfaction?"  Cec Drury was at her shoulder.  Surely he'd seen her watching them.  She quickly looked at Danny, but he was too busy chatting with Rose.  She mumbered her thanks.  

Once the dinner was finished, the parties loitered chatting.  It seemed that Lucien, Matthew and Danny were to stay at the club rather than going home.  

"The fellows will have their buck night," Jean explained as Lucien helped her on with her coat.

"It's not going to be like that," protested Lucien.

She turned to kiss him and he lost all his fight.  

Wiping lipstick off his mouth, she told him: "Just don't drink too much."

"I be good as gold," he promised.

When she gathered up her handbag, he added, "And careful you girls don't get to wild on your hen night."  He pointed at Rose.  "You bring her to me in one piece."

Lacing her arm through Rose's, Jean pulled the girl along.  "We're going," she said firmly.  Gladys trailed behind.  

Down on the street, a light rain was falling and the women clustered under the awning.  

"Lucien's given me the Hudson to get home," Jean told Rose.  "But we'll have a hire car to bring us back tomorrow.  He somehow thought it would be too unseemly for me to drive to my own wedding."   

"He's just so afraid something is going to shatter this and make it not real," Rose said.

Gladys stood off to the side, twisting the strap of her handbag.  "I suppose I should be going myself," she said.  "Bit of a drive back to the farm."  

"Isn't Danny going to take you home?" asked Jean.  "That boy--"  She looked up the stairwell.

"I told him to stay.  Enjoy the buck night," Gladys explained.   She glanced down the street to her auto. "Goodnight then."

Jean snared her hand.  "Thank you so much for coming, Gladdie. I know it must have been difficult for you."

Gladys clutched Jean's hand in both of hers.  "Without a priest, a true blessing, I want my prayers to be there for you."

Her smile fixed, Jean lowered her voice as Rose drifted away from them.  "It's meant a lot for me to have you here. I know you mean well, but you don't need to worry about me. I've never been more certain of anything in my life. Do you trust me?"

Jean, swinging out across the creek on a branch.  Gladys calling after her, "Don't do it, Jeanie!  Don't!"  But Jean let go, her lithe little body twisting in the sunlight.  Gladys had to close her eyes, so the splash and laughter of delight was unseen.  She hadn't been able to follow.  

"Yes, Jean.  I trust you," Gladys whispered, then turned and hurried down the dark street.   

~ end

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Now, this!

By Dr. Joan Cartwright

Jazz journalist Lara Pellegrinelli’s recent article Women in Jazz: Blues and The Objectifying Truth (2017), commiserated on the marginalization of women musicians in the Jazz/Blues genre, stating that the cultural assumption is that women are merely the passive vessels for male sounds (Pellegrinelli, 2017).

In response to Pellegrinelli, Terri Lynn Carrington said: When I started teaching and hearing the stories of the young women at the college, . . . I realized just because my experience was not the same as theirs, I am a part of this community and have to work toward or fight for change in any possible way that I can.  I feel great ownership in this art form and know that I belong here, and want my female students to feel the same way.

In a Huffington Post article, Carrington wrote, “On issues of racism and sexism, there can be impatience from progressives, expecting that after all this time everyone should just know better and stand on the correct side of consciousness” (Carrington, 2017).  She continued with, “feminizing or masculinizing music can be counter-productive. The studying, composing, and performing of music should be gender neutral, and I think the greatest musicians are musically ‘gender fluid’.”

I do not agree with Carrington’s statement because I have found few Jazz musicians, and certainly even fewer Classical musicians, who are willing to push forward music composed by women musicians.  My fortune was that Freddie Hubbard recorded my composition Sweet Return in 1983 on Atlantic Records.  Even though his half-German wife, the publisher, did everything in her power to stop the progress of this album because she felt there was something romantic between Freddie and me, which there was not, that composition made it into the Freddie Hubbard Song Book, much to my surprise.  Since then, I have had no other opportunities to get my music performed or recorded by any gender fluid musician, even though I have gifted several male musicians, band leaders, and arrangers with my song book.

In Black Nationalism and the Revolution in Music (1970), Frank Kofsky expounded on the words of Professor Archie Shepp, an articulate spokesperson for African-Americans. Shepp said, “the United States is culturally backward because white Americans have been unwilling to give credit to African-Americans as innovators of jazz, which he refers to as American realty – total reality.”  Shepp contends that whites “think they have a right to jazz instead of being grateful for jazz as a gift that the Negro has given.”  He said even white Americans in the jazz world “deny that jazz is first and foremost a black art created and nurtured by black people in this country out of the wealth of their historical experience” (Cartwright, 2009, p. 56).

For three centuries or more, white men have used the physical and cultural production of Africans in America to enrich themselves and their families while white women reaped the benefits in silence. White men raped African women, continually, producing a whole new group of people who were sold regardless of their relationship to their white fathers. The transition from cotton, tobacco, and sugar cane to jazz and blues as a money-making venture was as smooth as Smooth Jazz! Festivals and clubs around the world raked in millions of dollars while disowning the very people that the music came from. White musicians and educators dot the halls of conservatories and universities where jazz is taught by rote just like the classical music that issued from European concert halls.

Now, this – white women are complaining that they are marginalized in the world of Jazz. What a surprise. These same white women and their foremothers never found it odd that the music that spoke of freedom for Africans enslaved in America has become the popular music of today, without the input of African musicians.  A survey of jazz educators will result in a very low number of African professors at universities with Jazz Departments.  Professor Archie Shepp at Amherst, Dr. Larry Ridley at Rutgers, Dr. Karlton Hester at UCLA San Diego, Dr. Linda Williams at Southern University, and the handful of African-descent professors at Berklee – Terri Lynn Carrington, Patrice Rushen, and the late Geri Allen do not comprise a long list of instructors that teach the music that actually came out of their communities.

Do white people have a right to perform and teach Jazz and Blues music? This question is moot since white people believe they have a right to appropriate EVERYTHING FROM EVERYBODY and that no one should ever say anything about it in the negative.  Well, my book A History of African-American Jazz and Blues (Cartwright, 2009) discusses how The Music was appropriated, packaged, commercialized, and serendipitously stolen from its originators.  Besides the theft of the publishing royalties of great composers like Duke Ellington by publishers like Irving Mills, who managed Duke’s band for 13 years because African musicians could not belong to ASCAP or manage themselves outside of TOBA, Jazz and Blues musicians of African-descent were exploited in every way possible.

Of course, like cotton, tobacco, and sugar cane crops, Jazz and Blues were new crops that white men felt entitled to exploit to their personal benefit.  Musicians of African descent had no choice because they were barred from owning anything that they produced in the United States. Most prolific musicians died pennilessly and their families rarely benefitted from their cultural production. The following excerpt attests to that fact.

The financial pressures were exacerbated by another familiar pressure which had afflicted jazz musicians right from the start of the music – their reliance on the largely white businessmen who ran the clubs, record companies, management and booking agencies, and, most significantly, music publishing. The shaving of bands’ fees by clubowners and agents, and the practice of managers and agents adding their names to the publishing rights of tunes – and thereby claiming a share of their often lucrative proceeds – had begun early in jazz (Duke Ellington’s manager, Irving Mills, is a famous example, and while Ellington himself was never slow to claim a co-credit on works instigated by his sidemen, at least he had a musical hand in them) and, according to Dizzy, had grown no better by the time of the bebop era.

People with enough bucks and foresight to invest in bebop made some money. I mean more than just a little bit. All the big money went to the guys who owned the music, not to the guys who played it. The businessmen made much more than the musicians, because without the money to invest in producing their own music, and sometimes managing poorly what they earned, the modern jazz musicians fell victim to the forces of the market. Somehow, the jazz businessman always became the owner and got back more than his fair share, usually at the player’s expense. More was stolen from us during the bebop era than in the entire history of jazz . . . (Mathieson, 1999).

So, for white women to declare that they are barred, unfairly, from making a living in the Jazz scene is ludicrous.  White men have maintained control over the cultural production of Africans and they have no intention of relinquishing that control.  The rub is that African men will embrace white women musicians far more readily than they will women of African descent with a few exceptions like Dexter Gordon and Melba Liston.  However, Regina Carter and Teri Lynn Carrington managed to eke out a place in The Music for themselves and their art.

But most women of African descent who appeared on the Jazz scene, until recently, were shoved in a corner, rarely to be heard from.  Some of the most profound of those women were Vi Redd, Jeannie Cheatham, Dorothy Donegan, and Trudy Pitts.  Other talented musicians, like Shirley Scott and Hazel Scott, found favor because they had notable husbands – Shirley and Stanley Turrentine and Hazel and Adam Clayton Powell, Jr.  Today, Mimi Jones, Shirazette Tinnin, Lakecia Benjamin, Camille Thurman, Jazmin Ghent, Gail Jhonson, Karen Briggs, and Esperanza Spaulding are making some headway.

Meanwhile, white women are courted by musicians of African descent with valor and pleasure.  For instance, Christian McBride partnered with Diana Krall and Prince endorsed Candy Dulfer (and the two white women in his band).  Perhaps, white women can pay to gain credibility by recording and performing with African-American musicians, while women of African descent cannot make that monetary layout.

As far as sexual harassment is concerned, what is it that white women do not understand about the sexual energy of white men who raped African women during slavery, while their white wives languished in plantation mansions?  Today, white men are being called out in great numbers for sexually harassing women in the workplace.  This is their modus operandi.  Is that to say that African men do not rape and sexually harass?  Heaven’s no.  It is the nature of man to hunt women like prey.

My career as a Jazz/Blues vocalist and composer spanned 50 years.  I remember several instances when I was targeted by male musicians.  However, I was able to extricate myself from the situation or rationalize why that happened.  One white man told me to take my clothing off.  When I refused, he told me I would never be anything but a secretary.  I asked him to call me a cab and went on to have a charmed career, performing in 20 countries on five continents, without ever taking my clothes off for one single opportunity to perform or record.

Maybe I am a very strong woman with principles that do not allow me to cave into the taunting of males.  One of my band members suggested that I engage in fellatio with him in a closet at a New Years’ Eve gig that I hired him for.  I did not speak to him for two years after that and I never hired him again.  Women have recourse.  Sniveling about sexual harassment without speaking out about it means nothing.  It’s a man’s world only because women allow it to be that.

Women fail to create camaraderie amongst themselves.  For 10 years, I have been the director of a non-profit organization that promotes and advocates for women musicians.  It is like pulling teeth to get women to support this organization.  They think that supporting Women in Jazz South Florida, Inc. detracts from who they are.  Women are not joiners or supporters unless they think they will get something from an organization.  They expect me to be their agent, to get them gigs, to promote them even though they refuse to pay $50 dues per year.  That’s insane.

I spent the last six years writing my dissertation Women in Jazz: Music Publishing and Marketing. My research showed that women lack sufficient business skills to succeed in the monstrously competitive world of Jazz.  Most women musicians resign themselves to teaching rather than concentrating on branding, networking, teamwork, negotiation, and accounting.  Few are adept at writing grant proposals to win financial awards to produce and perform original music.

Then, there are those that know my organization exists but minimalize it because I am not a white woman.  Well, Blues and Jazz came from the experience of African women and men in America, and just because white musicians think they own it, they never will.  They may play all the riffs and copy all the solos of Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, Sarah Vaughn, Carmen McRae, Betty Carter, Marylou Williams, Hazel Scott, Melba Liston, and other prolific Jazzwomen but they will never understand the burden that led to the expression of the Blues and, subsequently, Jazz.

White people harm each other – yes – but the harm they did to Africans in America was counteracted by the Blues and Jazz and they can never understand the full meaning of that because they are unwilling to give credit to African-Americans as innovators of jazz, which [Shepp referred] to as ‘American realty – total reality.’  As Shepp contended, whites ‘think they have a right to jazz’ instead of being grateful for jazz as a ‘gift that the Negro has given.’  He said even white Americans in the jazz world ‘deny that jazz is first and foremost a black art created and nurtured by black people in this country out of the wealth of their historical experience’ (Mathieson, 1999).

References

Carrington, T.L. (2017).  Sexism in jazz: Being agents of change. Retrieved from https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/sexism-in-jazz-agents-of-change_us_58ebfab1e4b0ca64d9187879

Cartwright, J.  (2009).  A history of African-American jazz and blues. FYI Communications, Inc. (www.lulu.com/spotlight/divajc)

Cartwright, J. (2017). Women in Jazz: Music Publishing and Marketing. FYI Communications, Inc. (www.lulu.com/spotlight/divajc)

Mathieson, K. (1999). Giant steps: Bebop and the creators of modern jazz, 1945-65. Retrieved from https://books.google.com/books

Pelligrinelli, L. (2017).  Women in jazz: Blues and the objectifying truth. Retrieved from https://nationalsawdust.org/thelog/2017/12/12/women-in-jazz-blues-and-the-objectifying-truth/#comment-5707

Dr. Joan Cartwright is a Jazz/Blues vocalist, composer, and author of books on Jazz and Blues and Women in Jazz and Blues. She is the founder of Women in Jazz South Florida, Inc., a non-profit organization that promotes and advocates for women musicians, globally! www.wijsf.org

  Now this! Now, this! By Dr. Joan Cartwright Jazz journalist Lara Pellegrinelli’s recent article Women in Jazz: Blues and The Objectifying Truth…

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The First 2 Openly Black Professional Baseball Players - Fleet and Weldy Walker

Moses Fleetwood Walker

Moses "Fleet” Walker (1857-1924) was born at a way station along the Underground Railroad in Mount Pleasant, Ohio. He was officially the first African American to play Major League Baseball (MLB) in the 19th Century.

According to the University of Michigan Library:

"In 1882, Moses "Fleetwood" Walker was the first African American to play baseball at the University of Michigan. Walker may have also been the first African American to play college baseball. He left Michigan in 1883, without a degree, to join a professional baseball team in Toledo. He became the first African American major leaguer when that Toledo team joined the American Association."

The University of Michigan’s “Michigan Wolverines” Baseball Team Photo 1882

(Source: Robert Edward Auctions)

According to James A. Riley, a baseball historian and the author of several books on the Negro Leagues:

"Walker was playing at a time when the Civil War was not in the distant past. Many of the fans would yell things out of the stands when he'd go into the game. They'd call him names.

As a player, he was not the equal of Jackie Robinson in any sense of the word. He wasn't that good. He was more of an average player."

He soon left “Organized Baseball”.

The “Toledo Blue Stockings” Team Photo with Fleet Walker standing at back

Source: Official Site of the Philadelphia Phillies 

As listed on BlackPast.org, he then played in the minor leagues on teams in Cleveland (1885), Waterbury (1885, 1886), Newark (New Jersey; 1887) and the Syracuse (New York; 1888, 1889), of the International League.

The “Syracuse Stars” baseball team photo taken in 1888 with Fleet Walker at top left and Bob Higgins at bottom left (Sources: 1, 2) 

Walker left baseball for good in 1889.

The New York Age reported of Walker on January 11, 1919:

“Toledo once had a colored man who was declared by many to be the greatest catcher of the time and greater even than his contemporary, Buck Ewing."

According to writer John R. Husman with the Society for American Baseball Research (SABR):

Moses Fleetwood Walker of the 1884 Toledo team is, without question, the first to play major league baseball openly as a black man. His brother Weldy became the second to do so that same year, also in Toledo. Jackie Robinson, the best known of these black players became the third, much later. There is no quarrel that Toledo was a major-league city that year or that the Walkers were team members. Baseball historians, researchers, writers, the Mud Hens, yours truly, and John Thorn, major-league baseball’s official historian, all agree. Thorn has said of Walker, “He would be the last black player in the major leagues until 1947.”

Recent research has caused some, including Thorn, to suggest that still another man was the first black to play major-league baseball. William Edward White, who was partly African-American and partly white, did have a one-game major-league career in 1879. White, however, played and lived his life as a white man and faced none of the trials that Walker and Robinson did.

Weldy Wilberforce Walker

In the spring of 1881, the Walker brothers played on Oberlin College's first varsity inter-collegiate baseball team. Weldy, a freshman, played right field while Fleetwood, a junior, was the catcher.

Oberlin College (now called the “Yeomen”) baseball team photo taken in 1881 with Moses Fleetwood Walker seated at left and Weldy Walker standing in back row.

(Source: Oberlin College Archives)

Arthur Packard, Weld’s fellow team pitcher and transfer from Oberlin College to Michigan, wrote in The Chronicle on Dec. 17, 1881:

"All the steps have been taken to secure such a nine and we firmly believe that we will have one in the spring that will do honor to our University. The weak point in our nine has for some years been in our catcher. This will no longer be the case. We will have one in the spring who is second to no amateur catcher in the country. By many he is considered the equal of most of the League catchers." 

After the 1881 baseball season, Weldy's brother Fleetwood transferred to the University of Michigan and played as a catcher in 1882.

The Chronicle wrote on May 27, 1882, after a victory over Wisconsin: 

"Walker's catching cannot be too highly commended, and the general verdict is, that the man is a wonder... With two men out and two on bases, Walker came to the bat. With two strikes called and the crowd in great suspense, the 'wonder' struck the ball square in the face for the most beautiful home run seen on the grounds this year."

The Chronicle frequently said that the fans took well to Walker, and there is no documented evidence of any racism in Ann Arbor. After his home run against Wisconsin, The Chronicle said that Walker was greeted by "tumultuous applause."

The University of Michigan’s “Toledo Blue Stockings” Baseball Team Photo 1883

(Source: University of Michigan Bentley Historical Library)

Weldy Walker

In the fall of 1882, the Oberlin Review reported:

"Weldy Walker, '85 leaves to assist his brother in making the 'Ann Harbor' nine a little more able to compete with Oberlin."

Two weeks later, a writer for an Ann Arbor newspaper noted that

"we have added to the list Weldy Walker, a magnificent fielder, safe batter, and phenomenal base runner."

Fleetwood left Michigan to play professional baseball for a team from New Castle, Pennsylvania.

During the 1883 season, Weldy became the second African American to play for the baseball team at the University of Michigan. He played third base for Michigan and also served on the Board of Directors of the University Base-Ball Association.

On April 29, 1883, after a loss to a Detroit professional team, the paper wrote:

"Many doubts had been expressed previous to the game, as to the strength of our nine, but they are now all dissipated. Walker, as catcher, did some of the finest work behind the bat that has ever been witnessed in Ann Arbor."

The paper referred to Walker's color only once in the entire season.

During the 1884 season, future hall of famer Cap Anson refused to play against Toledo until the Walker brothers were benched. Later in 1887, Anson again refused to play against the Newark team on which Fleetwood played.

Racial pressure against both Walker and the organization was persistent. Prior to the Toledo team’ visit to the Southern city of Richmond, Virginia, Toledo manager Charlie Morton received this letter written September 5, 1884 and published in the Toledo Evening Bee 2 weeks later:

“Manager Toledo Base Ball Club:

Dear Sir: We the undersigned, do hereby warn you not to put up Walker, the Negro catcher, the evenings that you play in Richmond, as we could mention the names of 75 determined men who have sworn to mob Walker if he comes to the ground in a suit. We hope you will listen to our words of warning, so that there will be no trouble: but if you do not, there certainly will be. We only write this to prevent much blood shed, as you alone can prevent.”

In October 1884, Weldy and a partner went into business operating Delmonico Dining Rooms in Mingo Junction, Ohio, near Steubenville.

By early in the year 1887, there were 13 African Americans playing in the "white" minor leagues, including four in the Ohio State League. Weldy began the 1887 season with the Akron Acorns of the Ohio State League. However, he appeared in only four games for the Acorns. During this year, racial segregation began to become the official policy in certain minor leagues.

Tri-State League (which was the successor to the Ohio State League) had abandoned racial integration. In March 1888, Weldy wrote a letter to the league's president protesting the decision. In his 1970 book “History of Racial Segregation in Baseball, Robert Peterson described Weldy's letter as "perhaps the most passionate cry for justice ever voiced by a Negro athlete."

On March 14, 1888, and at Weldy's request, his letter was published in The Sporting Life under the headline "Why Discriminate?"

Here is part of what is written in the letter:

The law is a disgrace to the present age, and reflects very much upon the intelligence of your last meeting, and casts derision at the laws of Ohio – the voice of the people – that say all men are equal. I would suggest that your honorable body, in case that black law is not repealed, pass one making it criminal for a colored man or woman to be found on a ball ground ... There should be some broader cause – such as lack of ability, behavior and intelligence – for barring a player, rather than his color. It is for these reasons and because I think ability and intelligence should be recognized first and last – at all times and by everyone – I ask the question again, 'Why was the law permitting colored men to sign repealed, etc.?'

There was no answer.

[You can see the full newspaper clipping here (via the LA84 Foundation)]

Walker and other African Americans in Ohio left the Republican Party and formed the Negro Protective Party in response to an incident in June 1897 in which residents of Urbana, Ohio, formed a lynch mob, removed a black man named "Click" Mitchell from the town jail, and publicly killed him by hanging.

The party adopted a platform (published in the Annual  Report of Ohio Secretary of State) demanding "an immediate recognition of our rights as citizens such as have been repeatedly pledged and as often violated," and declaring an intent "to take immediate political action that we may show to the world that we are no longer the plaything of politicians or chattels for sale to the highest bidder." The party also began publishing The Negro Protector.

In 1897, Weldy and Joe Jetters opened an oyster and fish store on North Sixth Street in Steubenville as recorded in the Cleveland Gazette (the longest-publishing African-American weekly in the United States). 

Fleet Walker's life seemed to take a spiral turn after the sport:

In April, 1891, a group of white men, all of whom were drunk, attacked him while he was walking home from a bar. Walker, also reportedly drunk, stabbed one of them, Patrick Murray.

Sporting Life wrote of the details:

"Walker drew a knife and made a stroke at his assailant. The knife entered Murray's groin, inflicting a fatal wound. Murray's friends started after Walker with shouts of 'Kill him! Kill him!' He escaped but was captured by the police, and is locked up." 

Walker was tried for second degree murder. A number of his friends testified on his behalf, saying that he wasn't drunk, but rather dizzied from being hit in the head. Walker pleaded self defense.

During the trial, Walker, who was popular with the Stars and considered charming and intelligent, received support from the public. When Walker was acquitted, Sporting Life wrote:

"immediately a shout of approval, accompanied by clapping of hands and stamping of feet, rose from the spectators."

He became involved with the Knights of Pythias and then the Negro Masons.

In September 1898, while employed as a railroad postage clerk, postal inspectors charged Walker with embezzling the contents of registered letters addressed to a dozen different persons. He was found guilty and sentenced to a year in jail.

When he was finally released, Fleet joined his brother Weldy in operating the Union Hotel at 105 Market Street in downtown Steubenville, Ohio and in 1904 Fleet became the manager of the Opera House in nearby Cadiz, Ohio. Around this time, he became a vocal critic of integration. Inspired by the "Back to Africa" movement, he and Weldy jointly edited a black-issues newspaper, The Equator and a 1908 47-page book, “Our Home Colony: a treatise on the past, present and future of the Negro race in America”.

Here are 2 quotes from the book:

"The only practical and permanent solution of the present and future race troubles in the United States is entire separation by Emigration of the Negro from America."

"The Negro race will be a menace and the source of discontent as long as it remains in large numbers in the United States. The time is growing very near when the whites of the United States must either settle this problem by deportation, or else be willing to accept a reign of terror such as the world has never seen in a civilized country."

Fleet Walker was an established inventor, responsible for an exploding artillery shell and techniques related to the improvement of changing movie reels.

Fleet Walker married twice and had three children. On May 11, 1924, Fleet Walker died of lobar pneumonia at 67 years of age at his home in Cleveland. His sole grandchild did not survive infancy, and so he left no direct descendants. He was buried, in a grave unmarked until 1991.

Weldy Walker never married. In November 1937, he died from pneumonia at his home at 100 Market Street in Steubenville. You can see Weldy’s death certificate here.

Both were buried at Union Cemetery in Steubenville, Ohio.

In February 2016, the Ohio House passed a bill honoring Fleet Walker as the first black professional baseball player. The measure mandated that Oct. 7 be declared Moses Fleetwood "Fleet" Walker Day each year in Ohio.

Read More on Fleet Walker from a biography “Fleet Walker and the Twilight Zone” published 1992 by Donald Lankiewicz in the Queen City Heritage and More on Weldy Walker from a biography "Fleeting Evidence: A Case Study of Handwriting and History" published by David Zang in the Journal of Sport History.