“Jesus, guys, you’ve got to see this,” Fitzgibbon said, holding up his phone.
“What is it?” Jude asked, having a very bad idea whatever Fitz was going to show them had to do with the debunked psychic.
Fitz set the phone down on the counter. Jude could see Alistair’s Instagram page. “Hooke just posted a video.” He tapped the phone and Alistair’s face came into view. “Hello, friends and enemies!” Alistair proclaimed. He was dressed in a Salem Witches tee-shirt and wore more eyeliner and mascara than Tammy Faye Baker. It’s taken me some time to recover from the debacle of last night where professional agitators crashed my show in order to make a fool of me. Well, the joke is on them, because I knew they were coming. That’s why I chose to read Bethany Koonz, the woman portraying herself as Stephanie. I knew what she was up to because, spoiler alert, I’m a psychic. I didn’t need to read Facebook for information about her. I simply needed to read her.” Alistair smirked into the camera.
It was perfectly reasonable for Alistair to make this video, to attempt to save his reputation and his career, but Jude hada feeling Alistair was after something more. Something bigger. Something to do with Cope.
“Now, onto today’s business…” Alistair clapped his hands and was suddenly dressed in his sparkly top hat. “I’ve added a second show to my stop in Salem. One Night with Alistair Hooke, has now turned into a two-night stand. I would like to invite each and everyone of you who attended last night’s performance to join me on Friday. Tickets offers will be sent via the email address you signed up with. For the rest of you, tickets will go on sale tomorrow morning. You’re not going to want to miss this show and my special guest, Copeland Forbes! Catch you Friday!” Alistair flashed the peace sign and the video ended.
“What the hell is he talking about, Cope?” Jude asked, turning to face his husband, who looked even worse than he had minutes ago.
“I have no idea what he’s talking about.” Cope fumbled with his phone. “I’ve got no missed calls or text messages. Did any of you take a call from Alistair Hooke?” He pointed between Ronan and Fitz.
“No, I would have grabbed you if I had,” Fitz said. “Ronan?”
“No, I didn’t speak with him either. What the hell is going on here?” Ronan fisted his hands on his hips. “I’d suggest calling the cops, but we’re already here. Fitz, we need to get Cisco on the phone and-“
Whatever Ronan was about to say was lost when the bell to the shop jingled and in walked a man who needed no introduction. It was none other than Alistair Hooke. He was dressed in jeans and a leather jacket. His grey eyes smoldered thanks to his eye liner. “Well, hello! Fancy meeting all of you here.” Alistair surveyed the room. “Almost all of you, anyway. It’s a shameyour little Everly isn’t here, Tennyson. Same with Wolf or is it Wolfie?” Alistair’s eyes never left Cope.
Any asshole could look up their family online. It wasn’t hard at all to find out the names of his and Ronan’s kids. “What do you want, Alistair? We saw your Instagram video.”
“Of course you did, my darling Jude. I tagged all of you in it, which is how I suspectCaptainFitzgibbon found it in the first place.”
“I’m not appearing at this redemption show with you, Hooke.” Cope said.
“Oh, yes, you are!” Alistair grinned brightly at Cope. “You humiliated me last night. You’re the reason my social media is lit up like a Christmas tree with vitriol and threats to my life. You owe me Cope. What you did last night was tasteless, classless and just plain wrong. I expected more from a southern boy. Where are those famous manners? Obviously absent.”
“Look, Alistair,” Cope began, “I’m so sorry for what I said and did last night.”
“I know you are. Which is why you’re going to make things right on Friday. I want you onstage with me. Front and center, reading me, from top to toes, exposing all of my ghosts, skeletons in my closets and all the demons that plague me.” He fisted his hands on his hips and continued to stare at Cope, who looked like he was barely breathing. “What do you say, partners?”
Jude could see Cope was panicking. He was about to step in and help when Tennyson did it for him. He pulled Cope to the side and started speaking to him quietly. Ten spoke. Cope seemed to be listening. After a few seconds, the mini-meeting broke up.
“Fine, I’ll do it, under one condition.” Cope arched his left eyebrow high.
“Name it,” Alistair dared Cope.
“You keep our kids out of it. None of them are coming Friday night and you will not speak one word about them. Are we clear?”
“You’re hardly in a position to make demands,” Alistair paused, drumming his fingertips together like a cartoon villain, “but since you’re willing to help me rehab my image I’ll acquiesce to your request. It’s not like your little darlings have any kind of powers that could help me rise from the ashes of the fire you lit, now is there.”
Cope shook his head. “Not one little bit.”
“Be at the theater at five on Friday. Curtain goes up at seven.” Alistair headed for the door. “If you don’t show up or don’t do what you can to help me salvage your reputation, I’ll be forced to do something I don’t want to do and I’m afraid the ones to pay the price will be Wolf, Everly, and Aurora. Until Friday.” With a sly grin, Alistair left the shop. Jude could hear him laughing as he crossed the street to his car.
“Well, fuck!” Cope said.
Fuck was right. Jude flashed back to Everly saying something bad was coming. His niece was right. The question now was, would they be able to stop this something from destroying them all?
6
Cope
An hour later, the kids were sitting in the living room eating their burgers and chicken nuggets, while the adults were sitting around the table in the kitchen. Jude looked as shell-shocked as Cope felt and no one was speaking, which was unheard of for their friend group. To be honest, Cope had no idea what to say to break the ice.
“Okay, here I am,” Everly said, walking into the kitchen with her trash, which she put in the basket. Pulling out the chair beside Ronan, she took a seat. “Now the meeting can begin.”
“What do I do?” Cope asked, his voice barely above a whisper. It killed him to ask his seven-year-old niece for advice, but being scared and upset, his gift was giving him nothing. “Is there something you know that can help me? Help all of us?”
