Prologue

Chapter I: The Wedding

 

A wedding, they say, is the happiest day of a woman’s life. It’s when her hopes and dreams come together in a perfect day, when she is at her most beautiful, when her heart is filled with love, her head is filled with visions of the future and the eyes of all of her friends and family are, ideally, filled with joy and a twinge of envy, to taste. 

The woman at the bar thought it was all bullshit. Despite the fact that she was two shots deep into a three-finger whiskey, she felt she wasn’t wrong. The idea of the day of the wedding being the happiest day of a woman’s life was miserable, wasn’t it? Like, what was the point of getting married if it was a drop-off point? If everything got worse after that? She shook her head and downed her drink, hissing through her teeth. 

“Another one?” The bartender, some plucky twenty-year old with ambition and a vest he didn’t quite fill out just yet, leaned towards her conspiratorially. 

“No thanks,” she said. “I fucking hate whiskey.” He looked at her in confusion. 

“But… you just…”

“I know,” she said. “I know.” He stared at her for a moment, and then changed gears.

“You know,” the bartender boy grinned, “I don’t think I caught your name.” She looked at him. He looked at her. The question hung in the air like a particularly unwelcome mosquito, and a part of her wanted to swat it away and be done with the whole conversation.

“Call me L,” she said. “And I’ll have another drink, thanks.”

“Like, Elle? Or Ellen?” 

“Like ‘L’. The letter.”

“Oh. Um, what drink?”

“Dark ‘n’ Stormy for the lady,” someone to her left said. L turned to face them. The figure standing behind her was dressed like the seventies had gotten drunk and driven the eighties into the nineties, and were now experiencing a distinctly two-thousands hangover. Between the Ray-Bans, the exceedingly loud shirt and the bowtie, they looked like they were trying to commit murder-by-fashion.

“It’s you,” L said, and nodded to the bartender, who realized that this party was either too rich or too weird for his tastes, and went to make the drink. 

“It’s me,” they said, opening their arms dramatically. “What, no hug for an old friend?”

“I’m surprised you even showed up, Mads,” L said and turned back to the bar. “I remember you ditching all of us without a word.”

“Not how I remember it,” they said as they sat down. “But it’s been a while.” 

“Maybe not long enough,” L said darkly as she took her drink. 

“Don’t be like that, Ladybug,” Mads said with a look on their face. A Look. Regret? Sadness? Guilt? She wasn’t very good at reading expressions, and Mads wasn’t very good at making them, so it all worked out wonderfully. Mads had been teased for their strange behaviors since childhood. They thought it was really funny, even though nobody laughed.

“Fuck you,” she mumbled. 

“Been there,” Mads said, “done that.” They both chuckled. “No regrets there, though.”

“None,” L said with a little smirk. They were frustratingly endearing. It was like trying to be angry at a dog in a blazer and sunglasses on a skateboard. You just couldn’t be mad. “What is it today? Madelyne? Maddison?”

“Just Mads today, thanks,” Mads said.

“Anything for the gentleman?” The bartender looked so uncomfortable, L had to repress another laugh. The boy had no idea how awkward things could potentially get. 

“I am absolutely not a fucking gentleman,” Mads said with a grin.

“But they’ll have a Belgian Blonde,” L finished. She turned to them as they took their drink and paid. “So, what have you been up to with all of your money, Mads?”

“Not much,” Mads said with a shrug. “Been traveling. Seeing the world. Freeing my mind.” They dipped their hand into their pocket. “Turns out there’s a lot of ways to get high.”

“How’d you get an invite?”

“What, to the Queen Bee’s wedding? Knowing the others would be here too? I couldn’t resist.” They raised their beer. “I had to be here.”

“Oh my god,” L said, laughing genuinely now. “You crashed Beatrice’s wedding? She’s gonna tear you in half.” She pretended like she hadn’t shown up the exact same way.

“Nah,” Mads said. “I’m way too precious for that.” L shot them a sideways glance.

“The older you get, the less cute you get, you know that, right?”

“That’s why I just don’t get older,” Mads said with the kind of grin comic book artists can only dream of, lowered their sunglasses, and retrieved a coin from their pocket. L immediately shot forward and covered it with her hand, looking around. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Mads, you brought it? Here? What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“Chill, Ladybug, what’s the worst that could happen?” They put the coin away and sipped their beer, smacking their lips. L resisted the urge to slap them.

“Do you want an alphabetized list, or a chronological one?” L asked as she downed the rest of her drink, hoping the buzz would either take the edge off or give her the energy she would need to take Mads’ head off if it came to that. “That thing belongs in the past.”

“It belongs,” Mads said, “in my pocket.” They patted the barely-visible outline. L wanted to say something snarky, but decided not to. Mads, whatever name they went by today, was many things. Loud. Obnoxious, sometimes. A little too quick to spend their money and too slow to think things through. But they weren’t dishonest. And right now, their eyes told every truth. They needed that coin, just like L had needed it once. Before she had ever been L. Before she’d been Lily, Luna, Lizzy, Laura or Linda. The coin had saved her life. But boy fucking howdy had it been a trip. 

“As long as it stays in your pocket,” she said as she held up her hand to the bartender and pointed at her drink. If she was going to be here for a while, she wasn’t going to do it sober. In the distance, bad dance music indicated that it was the polonaise part of the wedding, and she was once again delighted to not be a part of it. 

“Holy shit,” she heard behind her, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Great. She’d hoped to just say hi to Bee, get wasted at the open bar, avoid talking to anyone, and then take a cab home. But this really was turning into a reunion. 

“Heya, Jacks,” L said as she turned around. The guy walking up to her had his hands in his pockets, looking maybe a little too casual for a wedding. “You’re still the only person I know who can wear yellow leather without looking like an asshole.” She winked at Mads, who looked offended. 

“Hey, Ladybug,” he said and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “How’ve you been?” 

“I’ve been alright,” she said. “Still got the Gold Bar. It’s chugging along. You?”

“Me and Wasp got here at the same time.”

“Fashionably late,” Mads said, looking at their wrist, “by about three hours. That’s gotta be some kind of record, right?”

“That you, Maddie?” Jacket said. “Holy shit, you look different.” He ran his hand through his hair. Jacket had always been handsome, but never in a way that did much for L. He’d been too boyish back then, and he was too much of a dad now. Literally, from what she’d heard.

“That’s the idea, Jack,” Mads said. They hopped off their stool and pulled Jacket in for a hug. “You look good, man. Dig the beard.”

“Thanks,” Jack said. “Grew it myself.” He looked genuinely proud. 

“So, is it true?” Mads asked. “You’ve got kids now?” Jack nodded as he waved at the bartender. 

“Yeah,” he said. “We separated last year, but we get along well and it’s her week to take care of them.” Jack took off his jacket and threw it on a stool. “Hard work, but rewarding, honestly.”

“Woah,” Mads said. “Couldn’t imagine being a parent, tbh.”

“Same,” L said. “I’m way too much of a disaster.” Not that she hadn’t thought about it, of course. She had a very complicated relationship with motherhood, like anyone who only really experienced a proper chance at going through their formative years in their twenties. She waved at the woman who had just come in, the woman who was not the mother of Jack’s kids. Wasp was the kind of woman who could wear a simple black dress at a wedding and somehow make the bride feel underdressed. It was something about the way she walked, like she was on her way to step on someone. You, if you were lucky. “Hey, Wasp,” L said.

“Hello, everyone,” Wasp said. “Ginger ale, please. Mads, you’re… ridiculous.” She smiled softly. Mads gave her a big grin and a hug. L wanted to mirror the gesture, but it looked like Wasp wasn’t going to let her. She was pulled in close for a slight kiss on her cheek, where Wasp held her for just a moment. L was already getting flustered. Not only had Wasp never been a particularly physically affectionate person, she also hadn’t been all that forceful. It was when she brought her face close to L’s ear that the latter realized what was happening. “They brought it, didn’t they?” Wasp asked. 

“How can you tell?” L asked, trying to maintain the pretense that she’d just been caught in a very long hug. 

“I’ve known them for fifteen years, Ladybug, I don’t need to recognize the face they’re wearing for me to recognize that shit-eating grin,” Wasp said quietly, and she pulled away. “But I’m glad to hear it.” L frowned, not understanding, but she couldn’t just ask. Not in front of the others. “And I’m happy to see you.”

“O-kay,” she said. “Well, it’s good to see you regardless, Wasp. You look as beautiful as ever.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk, Ladybug,” Wasp said, putting a strand of hair behind L’s ear. “I’ve never seen you so radiant.” L was too busy choking on her own tongue to offer a proper response, so she spun around coughing and tried to wash down the blush with a sip of her drink. Behind her, Wasp laughed softly to herself. 

“Well, you’ve changed,” Mads said. “Had a big realization about yourself, Wasp?”

“You could say that,” she answered. “Just trying to be a little bit more relaxed. Nothing major.”

“Can’t say I hate it,” Jacket said. “And neither can our little Ladybug.” 

“I will kill you all,” L said, her face still red. 

“Speaking of murder,” Jacket asked, “Frankie make it here yet?” He pointedly ignored L’s withering glance. The two of them hadn’t parted ways on the best of terms, leaving her with a broken heart and a boxed set of old Star Trek episodes. 

“He’s inside,” Mads said. “He didn’t recognize me, and I wasn’t in the mood to start drama yet. But then I bumped into Ladybug, so that was pointless.”

“Swear to god,” L said, rubbing her face, taking care not to smear her makeup. “You’re the worst.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Mads said. 

Jacket nudged them. “One day, Maddie, you’re going to get that woman to murder you, you know that, right?” They shrugged. 

“I’ll thank her for the privilege,” they said, and put their sunglasses back on. 

“Speak of the devil,” Wasp said quietly to L. “Incoming.” 

“Holy shit,” Jacket said “You beefed up, Frankie.” 

“Good to see ya, Firefly,” Mads said and wrapped the large man in a hug. L, pointedly, didn’t look at him. She knew he looked good. Franklin. Her Firefly, once. She knew the buttons on his shirt would be straining to keep the fabric together, like Spider-man trying to stop a railcar. She knew he would have a slight stubble and that it would make the blue of his eyes all the more piercing. She couldn’t bear to make eye contact with those. She just raised her drink.

“I did tell you not to call me that, Mads,” he said, “but then again, I also know better than to tell you to do anything. C’mere. Hey, Wasp. Jacket.” There was a slight pause. “Ladybug.”

“Hey, Firefly,” L said, drinking and looking straight ahead. She couldn’t look into his puppy eyes. Not right now. She’d be able to in a bit, and she’d be able to do so without crying, she was pretty sure.

“So, how’ve y’all been?” he asked, without telling her off for using his old nickname. “Whiskey. Neat.” 

“Yeah, it is,” Mads said, chuckling at their own little joke. “I been doing alright.”

“Same,” Jacket said. “I got kids.”

“Shit, no way,” Frank said. “Congrats, man. What about you, Wasp?”

“Still working cybersecurity,” Wasp said. “Pretty good, all things considered.”

“Good. Good. Glad to hear it.” He sat down on one of the stools, and L was grateful he didn’t try to engage her in conversation. 

“What the fuck,” someone said, “are you fuckers doing at my wedding?”

Five heads turned to face the sixth. Bee, in a gorgeous white dress, stood at the end of the bar. Some people, when they’re angry, have something about them, like a bull about to charge. You can see the steam come out of their ears and the red go over their eyes. 

Bee wasn’t like that. Ice. Fucking. Cold. 

“This is how I die,” L said quietly. 

“All of you,” Beatrice said, “after everything that happened, have the gall to show up, today.” It wasn’t until she saw Bee glaring at the others that she realized none of them had received an invitation. Well, that was on brand, at least.

“I can go,” Jacket said softly, reaching for his jacket. 

“Don’t you fucking dare, Jack.” Bee glared at everyone individually. “I’m going to make each and every one of you pay.” Before L could contemplate their fate, Bee was already acting. The bride pointed at the bartender. “You,” she said, making eye contact with everyone gathered. “Six shots of tequila.”

“Ah, fuck,” L said. 

“We’re so fucked.” That was Franklin. 

“Fuck it,” Wasp sighed. “Let’s get hammered.”

“Oh boy,” Jacket said. “Here we fucking go.”

Mads took their sunglasses off, grabbed their shot from the bar, and retrieved the coin from their pocket. Before anyone could do or say something to stop them, they flipped it. “Heads,” they said. It landed in their hand, and they slammed it down on the table. There was an almost inaudible rush of air as Mads displaced, slightly. Then, with a wide grin, top hat and all, Abraham Lincoln put the Ray-Bans back on. “I’ve missed hanging out with y’all,” Mads said with a wicked grin.