There's Only One Girl In the World For You (25/?)
Title: There’s only one girl in the world for you (25/?)
Author: lapacifidora
Spoilers: Season 1 and into an AU Season 2
Rating/ Warnings: PG-13, for the time being
Word Count: 3,905
Disclaimers: Not mine. Although I think Dan Harmon knows this friend of mine and based Troy on her… The title comes from a Wreckless Eric song.
Author’s note: This is for shan21non ’s Ficcy Friday prompt for Greendale’s inaugural study abroad program. Gold stars for everyone who has responded thus far. OK, I hope none of y’all form a mob and come after me when you’re done reading this chapter. Much like the chapter where the group started planning Luc’s comeuppance, this chapter isn’t directly Annie & Jeff, unless you squint and tilt your head sideways. But it wouldn’t leave me alone, and I promise, the next chapter will get things mostly back on track. Really, though: Please don’t pelt me with rotten veggies. I don’t do well with slimy things.
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6
Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 a/ b Chapter 11 Chapter 12
Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18
Chapter 19 Chapter 20 a/ b Chapter 21 a/ b Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24
***
Shirley Marie Bennet had not always been a good, God-fearing woman.
That is to say, when she was 16, she argued with her parents about whether she could sing Whitney Houston’s ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody’ for the school talent show the spring of her sophomore year in high school.
Shirley’s argument: Whitney Houston had a beautiful voice, always dressed like a lady and was a great role model for young women, as she was strong, independent, would never stand for a man who was triflin’ and was squeaky clean.
Mr. & Mrs. Williams argument: Why couldn’t she pick a nice song, like ‘You Brought the Sunshine’?
It had taken nearly six weeks, a sit down one Saturday morning with their pastor and a promise from Shirley to clear her dress, hair and makeup with both of her parents before she’d been given permission to sing the pop song.
(As it happened, Shirley won first place in the music category and second overall. Not that her parents were there, as her grandmother had called early in the afternoon to report she was having one of her ‘episodes’, which meant her parents missed the fifth talent show in a row and her third top-three ranking.
In light of that, Shirley always regretted having gone the safe route and singing the song she did when what she really wanted to sing was Madonna’s ‘Into the Groove,’ which she memorized after she and her friends snuck out of ‘The Care Bears Movie’ and into ‘Desperately Seeking Susan.’
She especially regretted when her younger sisters did a decidedly raunchy duet a few years later from The Immaculate Collection and won first overall in the school talent show, as their parents cheered from the front row.)
When Shirley was 21, starting her junior year of college and falling deeply in love with Victor Steimer, her desk buddy in her accounting classes, she had a crisis of faith.
(Actually, she seriously considered marrying a man who wasn’t a member of her church, much less her particular sect of Christianity.
It was a bothersome consideration, but it bothered her less than the thought of not spending the rest of her life with Victor.)
And when her parents and her pastor and her friends all talked her out of letting things with Vic get too serious, Shirley had spent the better part of a night, huddled in the locked bathroom of her childhood home, wondering what kind of God would put someone so right for her in her path if she was just going to be made to give him up.
Less than a year later, when Shirley met Warren, who was new in town and new to her congregation, and every one started finding reasons to let them alone after Sunday service to chat, she’d zone out while Daniel talked about his family and his friends and his medical classes, pondering if the last 18 months had all been a test the Lord expected her to pass.
(More than a decade later, Shirley would find herself, washing dishes at the kitchen sink, trying to keep the sound of her sobs softer than the salsa music she’d listen to after dinner and wondering if this was her reward for passing that test.
First, she’d given up an offer from a prestigious accounting firm to take a job in a bank to support herself and Warren while he was in med school.
Then, just as her career at the bank was beginning to take off, she’d agreed to cut back her hours to provide Warren with the social life he expected a doctor to have.
Later, she’d given up the possibility of an assistant manager position to raise the children Warren had decided he was now ready to have.
Finally, she’d watched as Warren walked out the door and out of her life, explaining he needed someone who had a more stable sense of self, someone who didn’t rely on him to give her life purpose.
Coincidentally, Shirley had stumbled across Victor one day on Facebook, and had briefly considered sending a friend request until the nauseated feeling in the pit of her stomach, which pooled as she clicked through photos of Vic and his wife of 15 years, their children and their two dogs, grew until she had to close her internet browser and spend the next 10 minutes struggling through dry heaves.)
So, no, Shirley Marie Bennet hadn’t always trusted that everything happened for a reason, and she had her fair share of regrets.
That was why when she received an invitation from Greendale Community College to be a panelist on a ‘GCC Success Stories’ board at the 12th annual Pierce Hawthorne Memorial Job & Innovation Fair, she didn’t think twice about checking the ‘yes’ box on her RSVP card.
***
In the years since Shirley had graduated from GCC and gone on to launch her thriving mail-order baked goods empire - Sweet Thangs, Inc. - the main campus hadn’t grown or changed much, though she’d seen one or two of the branch campuses as her driver had navigated from the airport into town and to her hotel.
The buildings were still squat and generally unattractive, though fresh pain, new windows and other renovations following the Green Rejuvenation and Building Act of 2014 had at least brought the main campus into the 21st century.
Shirley took her younger son’s hand as he helped her from the sedan and took his arm as they walked toward the cafeteria, from which the sounds of voices and laughter escaped. Entering the building, she bit back a snort as she took in the new materials still arranged in the old haphazard manner. Her son excused himself to go get drinks, and Shirley stood, glancing around and tucking back a stray strand of curly, now graying hair.
“Shirley?!” A vaguely familiar sounding voice from behind caused her to turn round. There stood a tall blonde, with shoulder length curls running riot around a beaming face. Shirley blinked once or twice, her memory taking away some of the fullness of the blonde’s cheeks, tweaking the hair color a little, replacing the conservative skirt suit with skinny jeans and a leather jacket.
“Britta!” The two women stepped forward, hugging for several long moments. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“I didn’t know you’d be here, either. Then again, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.” Britta quirked an eyebrow and nudged Shirley’s side with an elbow. “You do run a multimillion dollar food company, after all.”
Shirley flushed, pleased at the praise from her old friend. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Thank you, dear.” She took the glass of wine her son handed her as he said hello to Britta and said he’d be back after he took a look around the exhibition hall. “What are you doing here, anyways?”
Britta cleared her throat and looked a little embarrassed. “Have you heard of Americana Apparel?” When Shirley nodded and gestured to the blouse she was wearing, Britta continued. “Well, after American Apparel folded in the first quarter of 2012 - you remember how they were in dire straits by the end of 2010? - well, I approached an entrepreneurial foundation in east L.A., presented a business plan, wrangled some other investments and got enough capital to reboot the company. Now, it’s all sweat-shop free production, made with locally sourced or fair trade materials and affordable. Plus, I hired some designers and artists I met here at GCC, put them in charge of advertising, and now our layouts and commercials don’t make me want to gag on sexism.” Britta shrugged. “Y’know, just trying to not be Guatemala.”
Shirley laughed and nodded. She was about to speak when a commotion from the direction of the doors captured both women’s attention. A flurry of flashes and shouts made it difficult see what was going on at first, but soon, several tall, broad shouldered men forced the paparazzi out of the doorway.
A tall, lanky man in shiny dress shoes, a pair of close cut trousers, a safari jacket and cravat, with an equally tall, lanky redhead on his arm, stood with one hand in his jacket pocket and glanced around the room. His gaze roamed over the assembled crowd, passing Britta and Shirley before coming back to rest on them. He removed his hand from his pocket and removed the pair of dark-tinted glasses, tucking them into a breast pocket. His mouth twisted up and to one side a little, as he inclined his head to his companion and spoke without taking his eyes off the two women. The redhead nodded and headed toward the bar and buffet as the man sauntered across to Shirley and Britta.
“Shirley.” A brusque but not unfriendly nod. “Britta.” The same nod, but his eyes lingered on the blonde’s shorter hair for a long moment before he shifted so he could see both of them.
Shirley stared at him for a moment, a little in shock that scrawny Abed Nadir - he of the skinny jeans, sneakers and hooded sweatshirts - was the same, solemn-eyed, carefully put together man before her. Finally, she shook off her surprise and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Abed, who responded with a hesitant pat on the back.
At least some things don’t change, Shirley thought to herself. Thank God for small miracles.
“Well, well, if it isn’t three-time winner of the Palm D’Or and five-time Oscar nominated film auteur, Abed Nadir.” Britta’s tone was wry but not mean. “I’ve always wanted to ask you: What on Earth possessed you to pick Betty White for a character with that many nude scenes?”
Abed considered Britta silently for a moment before he quirked a small grin in her direction. “What does it matter what an actor is or isn’t wearing? It was Betty White, and she’d agreed to do the film.” He shrugged and tilted his head to one side, as though that explained everything.
“It was certainly a bold choice.” Britta snorted, raising her left hand to tuck a piece of hair behind her ears. Abed’s eyes shot to her empty ring finger.
“You’ve done pretty well for yourself.”
“Thanks.”
“So, are you here with anyone?” Britta blinked a few times, looking taken aback at Abed’s abrupt subject change.
“Uh, yeah. My fiancé is over in the exhibition hall.” She pointed in the direction of a good but average looking man holding a little girl on his hip. “Arabella wanted to see all the inventions.”
“Oh.” Abed looked uncharacteristically disappointed before he cleared his throat and nodded in the direction of the redhead at the bar. “That’s Joan. She’s a producer on my latest movie.” Shirley noticed that Abed seemed to want to say something else but seemed unable to think of where to start.
“Dude. I see you’re still taking style tips from Jeff.” A black man with a familiar grin and a pair of trendy plastic frames (actually made from plant-based polymers designed to look retro, from the early ‘00s) approached from the side, a cup of soda in each hand. He made to hand one to Abed but paused. “I asked for one regular diet and one caffeine-free diet.” He raised each one, sniffing. “OK. Here’s the regular diet.” He and Abed clinked their glasses and each sipped his drink, made a face and exchanged their cups.
“My, Troy, I never would’ve thought you’d go in for a ’fro.” Shirley patted the younger man on the shoulder, fighting the urge to ruffle his fluffy curls.
“Well, it’s not as big as I first let it grow, but I find, when you’re dealing with artistic types, it doesn’t hurt to look a little less ‘establishment.’” Troy smirked. “Plus, it annoys the senators who think I should have a crew cut, like the brass they’re used to dealing with.”
“I’ve got to tell you,” Britta began, looking a little breathless, “at first I thought your efforts to shock Congress into giving more money to the National Endowment for the Arts by staging flash mobs in the halls of the Capitol was going to backfire. But it worked, and the programs you’ve instituted at the elementary school level are awesome.” Britta gestured again to her fiancé and daughter. “Arabella loves the sculpture classes, and it’s not like the schools have the budget for that sort of thing anymore.”
Troy nodded and grinned good-naturedly. “What can I say? You don’t get to be the youngest director in NEA history without pushing some boundaries - or some people’s buttons.”
Shirley looked around. “Does anyone know if Jeff or Annie are coming?”
“Shirls, I know you’ve been waiting a long time to declare your undying devotion for me, but you’ve got to develop some discretion.”
Shirley turned to face the man approaching. She took in his artfully arranged, graying hair; his carefully covered under eye circles; his neatly tailored black suit; and the friendly smile on his lips. (She was trying not to notice the leggy, twenty-something blonde who trailed after him, goggling first at the crowd then Abed when she caught sight of him.) Shirley moved forward to meet Jeff, who returned her hug fiercely.
“It’s good to see you, Mama Bear.” Jeff’s voice was a little hoarse and weary sounding, and Shirley was tempted to take him by the ear, drag him outside and make him tell her what was wrong.
“You, too, Goldilocks.” She gave him an extra squeeze before she let go and stepped away, smiling when Jeff kept one arm around her shoulders.
“OHMIGAWD.” Jeff’s date was flapping her hands around, and Shirley was sure if her eyes got any bigger, the balls would pop out and hang there uselessly. (Though Shirley was pretty sure most this girl did most things uselessly.) “You’re Awbead Nardear!”
Jeff cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Kim, we went over this. It’s ‘Ah-bed Nah-dear,’ not- well, not what you just said.” He shot the rest of the group an apologetic look and raising his eyebrows in a ‘what can you do’ look in Abed’s direction.
“Oh, right! Sorry, Jeffie!” The blonde made a squealing noise as she threw herself at Jeff, clasping her hands around his arm. Britta and Troy looked at each other, silently mouthing ‘Jeffie?’ to the other in bemusement. Standing next to him, Shirley felt Jeff flinch away from his date a little, then stagger again as the girl let go.
She knew he wasn’t drunk, as she hadn’t smelled drink on him when they hugged, and she knew he knew better than to show up to a group or school function ’faced. But, as she glanced up, Shirley noticed Jeff’s cheeks were a little sunken and the shadows under his eyes were deeper than she’d first thought. She wrapped an arm round his waist, seemingly returning his friendly half-hug, but frowning as she noticed that he seemed gaunt; he seemed like he might blow over at the first draft.
“Sorry! But I’m just such a huge fan of yours!” The blonde beamed at Abed, who smiled and nodded politely. “My name is Kimmyberly.”
“Kimberly?”
“Kimmyberly. And, y’know, like, I’ve been taking these acting classes? At Los Angeles City College?” She leaned toward Abed, who fought the urge to lean away as the young woman’s prodigious rack threatened to invade his personal bubble. “Jeffie thought it would be a good idea for me to take classes? Because he works so much?”
“Yeah, Winger. What’s keepin’ you so busy these days, anyway?” Troy took the momentary break in Kimmyberly’s prattle to turn the conversation back to a more intelligent, if not more interesting topic.
“Well, it’s not like adjudicating environmental class-action suits is a part-time job.” Jeff shrugged, looking modest. “Of course, it’s nothing like what you’ve been up to, T-Bone.” He gave Troy a proud and fond look. “Excellent work, Mr. Barnes.” Troy returned the look with a self-effacing grin.
“Oh, I wouldn’t sell yourself short, Jeff.” Annie stepped up to the group, a tall, dark haired man following behind her. “I read about that Half Moon Bay-toxic-seepage-into-the-water-table case you ruled on. That’s pretty excellent work there, Mr. Winger.”
Shirley felt Jeff tense at the first sound of Annie’s voice, and felt a surge of sympathy: Things between some of them hadn’t ended well, and the memory of that, added to Jeff’s apparent ill-health, couldn’t be making this as pleasant as their chit-chat seemed to imply. Shirley patted Jeff on the side, shifting when she felt him lean a little of his weight against her. Turning her attention to Annie, she took in the blunt-cut bob, the almost unnatural brightness of the younger woman’s eyes and the beaming grin stretching Annie’s mouth wide.
“And what have you been up to lately, Sweetie?” Shirley almost bit her tongue, but the endearment was out of her mouth before she could remind herself that Annie was in her 30s now.
“Well, I had a video conference this afternoon where I found out the foundation is getting a grant we’ve been working toward for the last two years.” Annie looked incredibly pleased. “It means we’re going to be able to put the materials and help at-risk students need not just in their counselor’s offices or in their hands, but give it to them online or wherever they connect.” The dark haired man, who had come to stand behind Annie, gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Oh! I almost forgot. Everyone, this is Chad. Chad, this is Troy Barnes, Abed Nadir, Britta Perry, Shirley Bennet, Jeff Winger and-” Annie stopped short as she noticed Jeff’s date. “I’m sorry; I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”
“Oh, that’s OK! I’m Kimmyberly Turner!” The blonde giggled and waved.
“Right.” Annie took Chad’s hand as he stepped around to stand next to her, putting one arm around her waist and placing his other hand over her abdomen. Shirley watched as Annie glanced up at her husband, her smile turning soft as she placed her own hand over his.
“Oh, sweet Lord, are you-?” Shirley exclaimed, loosening her hold on Jeff as she stepped forward to Annie, who looked shy before she nodded and beamed.
“I’m nearly three months along, which is why we didn’t tell anyone. It’s still so common to miscarry, especially when you’re in your thirties…” Annie trailed off as the group crowded around to offer their congratulations.
As Britta released her from a bear hug and turned to shake Chad’s hand, she looked up, expecting to meet Jeff’s gaze. When she didn’t seem him, she craned her neck, and finally caught sight of him standing a few feet away.
Jeff was slightly bent over, a hand on one knee to brace himself as the other worked at his collar, trying to loosen his tie. His date was fluttering around, clearly concerned but clueless.
“Jeffie? Jeffie, are you alright?” Kimmyberly’s face lost a little of its dullness as her brow knit, and she stepped forward, reaching forward to pull at the knot in Jeff’s tie to help.
Shirley noticed Annie’s attention was focused behind their little crowd and looked over her shoulder to see what had so fascinated her friend.
In the following hours, Shirley would tell paramedics and police officers and emergency room personnel the same story.
Jeffrey Winger had always been a model of physical health, with the exception of having a little too much to drink every now and again. Yes, of course he worked long hours, he was a judge who had made his career as a lawyer representing people who had become sick because of a lack of corporate oversight. No, she didn’t talk to him on a regular basis, but then they all had busy, complicated lives with time-consuming jobs.
No, she wasn’t aware of anything that would’ve been a sudden shock to his system; certainly nothing that would’ve brought on a heart attack.
No, she didn’t see it start: One minute, she was congratulating a dear friend on her pregnancy, the next Jeff’s date was screaming as he clutched at her hand and collapsed. Troy and Abed had turned him on his back, trying to make sure his airway was clear and had begun to perform chest compressions as Britta had dug through her purse for a bottle of aspirin. Annie had stepped away from her husband, who was trying to pull her away so she didn’t get trapped in the crush of people now crowding around. Shirley had simply stood there, her son making his way through the crowd to stand at her elbow and calling 911, doubtless one of many.
No, she didn’t know what Jeff had meant when he’d met Annie’s gaze and hoarsely asked her, ‘What the hell, Annie?’
No, Shirley didn’t have the first idea who the executor of Jeff’s estate might be. She stared up at the police officer who had been interviewing her and taking notes when something from the corner of her eye caught her attention.
Warren was standing there, arm wrestling with Victor. And Sexy Dreadlocks was dancing with a gigantic roasting chicken. Dragging her gaze away, Shirley looked down the opposite end of the hallway and saw the rest of the study group, dressed in black, gathered around an open grave.
Shirley looked back at the officer, who had disappeared, leaving behind a reflective window, in which she saw her own reflection, wrinkled and white-haired.
It was at that moment that two things happened: Shirley realized she was dreaming.
And she started to scream.
***
“Shirley? Oh, god, Shirley. Wake up! Wake up! It’s alright. Please wake up!”
Shirley pulled away from Britta before she realized who it was that was shaking her and talking to her. Britta sat down on the edge of Shirley’s bead, her face pale in the faint light coming in around the blinds, and her eyes wide and frightened. Shirley sat up against her pillow, still feeling tense and anxious. She ran a hand over her face, surprised to find it was wet. She stared down at her fingertips in consternation.
“Shirley?” Britta’s voice was quiet and tremulous. “You were crying. And mumbling. But you-” Britta inhaled sharply and she sniffed, sounding as though she were about to start crying herself. “You were crying, and you looked like you were in pain. An-and you weren’t waking up, and I couldn’t get you to stop and-” Here Britta did start crying, hiccoughing as she reached a hand out toward her friend.
Shirley tugged on Britta’s hand, pulling the younger woman into a hug and patting her on the back as she took several deep breaths to steady her nerves. “Shh, sweetheart, it’s alright. I was having a bad dream.”
Britta pulled back far enough to look Shirley in the eye and sniffled, her face pink and blotchy. “I thought you maybe said something about a giant chicken?”
Shirley managed a nod and chuckled thickly. “Among other things. You were there, and Troy and Abed and Jeff and Annie.”
“Pierce?”
“Dead. But, we weren’t friends anymore. And then-” Shirley cut herself off, seeing no reason to further upset Britta. She took a deep breath. “This has gone on long enough. At breakfast, we’re all going to figure out when we’re going to sit down and have this out.”
Britta nodded and put her head on Shirley’s shoulder as she leaned back against the headboard. “Agreed.”
***