nicknames: because of his large extended family, he's had a number of nicknames including james, jamie, jay, jj, jc, jimmy, dave, davie, carter, henny, hennessy (only by his baby sister)
age: thirty-eight
date of birth: february 10, 1985
hometown: covington, georgia
gender: cis male
pronouns: he/him/his
occupation: professor of anthropology, true crime podcaster
family: everyone under the sun; emmett carter (father), cassidy davis-carter (mother), asher franklin carter (nephew), eliana almeida (paternal cousin)
born into the large davis-carter clan, jameson was surrounded by family as far as the eye can see. this meant that there were no secrets, no disobedience allowed. the family was tight knit and stressed the importance of being there for each other at all costs. through thick and thin, family was paramount. while this remained true for jameson, he got his first taste of freedom when he left for college just under an hour away at emory university. he met his wife there and as soon as they graduated, they were married. he continued to turn to education as a way to stall his inevitable return to covington, and then on his career. after a number of fertility issues, he killed his marriage by choosing to save his wife over their unborn child. raised to think marriage was until death, they tried to stay together but they were living completely separate lives. which was why it was no surprise when he caught his wife's affair. with a valid reason to separate, jameson returned to covington and his alma mater to teach. recently, he's stepped into the role of guardian for his one year old nephew, asher, while his youngest sister is in rehab.
IN THE WEEDS. . .
It takes a village to raise a child. For the Carter family, they needed to look no further than a few houses to their left and right. Covington was their home for generations, with few looking beyond its borders for fulfillment and thrill. Family was paramount. And family meant Covington. Thanksgivings alternated between grandparents, aunts, and uncles’ houses. No family was extended. They were all just one. It was in this bustling and boisterous environment that Jameson Carter was raised. Surrounded by cousins and two siblings of his own, it was almost impossible to get a moment to be alone. To be by himself. Growing up with a clan that made up half the town made it extremely difficult to rebel. So even if wanted to sneak over a friend’s house to try alcohol when he was fifteen or dabble in truancy to take a girl out to Lake Shoal, it would inevitably find its way back to his parents, and by extension, the entire family. It was impossible to keep a secret, and that was precisely what kept Jameson on the straight path.
He was nothing less than a nerd. With a father on the force, he grew up listening to stories of crime and punishment. Some convinced him that the justice system in his small town was impeccable. Others made him doubt that conviction. Graduation meant leaving his tight knit community. But he didn’t venture far, double majoring in psychology and anthropology in Emory. He was fascinated by people, but his own family structure had him intrigued by cultures beyond his own. Freshmen year exposed him to a whole world of freedom he never felt before. Overwhelmed by the lack of oversight for the first time in his life, Jameson had his typical movie like college life. With the same cliché whirlwind romance. They met as stupid eighteen-year-olds, stumbling into the same Intro to Organic Chemistry class. And the rest was history. Which was the exact terrible pun Jameson used when recounting this story at their wedding a short two years later.
The decision was shortsighted and naïve. As fresh-faced twenty-one years olds, it was easy to venture into the world with unbridled optimism that love was all they needed. But as they grew together, they also realized that maybe their experiences weren’t as compatible as the bubble that was college taught them. She wanted a family. He wanted to finish his degrees and establish himself before they set down roots. A part of him knew that the moment he finished his education, the pressure from his family would pick up for him to come back home. His freedom extended only so far as his education. Which was why from Georgia, he went to North Carolina. It was his first step away from his home state. Not too far, but enough to give him the separation he needed. The next step was Illinois. A PhD from Northwestern gave him a handful more years to find it in him to shake off the guilt that was eating away at him. Meanwhile, his wife was waiting on the dream she had for them to start a family together, that he kept stalling.
Jameson knew he wanted a big family, just like the one he grew up with. Eventually, he wanted to go back to Covington. But Christmases and Thanksgivings back reminded him both of what he loved, and hated, about his relatives. “I didn’t get the position.” He said when asked why he wasn’t trying to teach in Georgia. Instead, he ended up Houston next, his first position teaching. It was also the first place he got to put his degree to work outside the classroom as he was called upon to help a series of cold cases that they had struggled to crack. And as he finished the first exhilarating case, his wife slapped him with an ultimatum. The years had been rough on them as it was, and she was tired of him wagoning her around the country. It was time for her dreams. It was time for their family. And he agreed. Brought up in a house where marriages lasted forever, he did not want to see this one crumble.
Life had other plans for them. It couldn’t have been too late. They were both only just entering their thirties. But after three years of trying to conceive, going to doctor after doctor, they were finally pregnant on December 25. A true Christmas miracle. The pregnancy test was left in the trash in his family house and before he even learned the news, everyone was congratulating him. Maybe there was a reason that pregnancies were kept a secret until after the first trimester. Because the complications began almost immediately converting the excitement and jubilee into anxiety. Once again, they were in and out of doctors’ offices. Only this time, the last stay came with shocking news and a horrific decision. Mother or baby. He hit the last nail in the coffin that was their marriage when he picked his wife. When she woke up and claimed that he killed their baby, he didn’t know what to say. A house once filled with love, then anger, then anticipation soon was filled with apathy. They coexisted in parallel lives. Which was why when he was offered a better position in one of his alma maters, his wife didn’t go with him. She couldn’t uproot her life for him again. Long distance didn’t sting nearly as much as the discovery that she found comfort in the arms of another man. And the cheating didn’t sting nearly as much as the realization that her infidelity didn’t hurt.
The divorce was quiet and at an arms-length. Within a year of signing the papers, he realized the importance of having his family. Rather than returning to an empty, barren home, he surrounded himself with his relatives. The ones who, despite talking of his divorce to his face, at least cared enough to make sure he had food in his fridge. Taking a position in Emory, reacquainted himself to a life with no privacy. At thirty-seven, he learned that maybe he was the only one who struggled to keep his life hidden. His youngest sister announced that she was pregnant out of wedlock, the father of the child unknown to the family. Within a few months of delivery, the heartbreak and postpartum depression clouded her better judgment, and she took a few too many of her prescribed painkillers. And he learned for the first time that while he’d been roaming the country, his family back home had been counseling his baby sister through addiction. And as she was sent to get help, Jameson stepped in to be the guardian for her son while she got herself back on track.
WITH: @angelwallace
LOCATION: bell's grocery store
While he had always known it to be the case, he was learning first hand that childcare in this country was truly astronomical. Even in a small town like Covington, where he’d assumed that it would be more reasonable. His family had each been pitching in to take care of Asher while he was working and when he had to be out of town for conferences. It did not however, change the fact that he could not keep asking them to help him with the responsibility that he’d taken on for himself. It was why he’d considered enrolling his nephew in daycare and had decided to give it a try for a month. That evening, he was headed back a bit earlier than he otherwise would have which was precisely what gave him the time to both pick his nephew up and head to the local grocery store so they could find themselves something for dinner.
Having placed him securely in the cart, he gave Asher a bag of soft snacks to play with while Jameson navigated through the aisles. And as he walked past the canned goods aisle, he stopped abruptly. From the corner of his eye, he could have sworn he caught the outline of. . . it was impossible. He was nearly about to walk past, but curiosity ( and a desire to squash the thought ) prompted him to pull back a few steps. Yet as he sought confirmation that he was just imagining the woman from his past, Jameson instead found himself face to face with his ex-wife. The confused surprise was hard to hide at seeing her back in this town. There was no reason for her not to be in Covington. The only times she’d been here were when they were still together. “Angel. . .” he questioned, eyes peering into hers, scouring for answers for her presence in a town that he’d called his since birth. “What’re you doing here?”
GEORGIE: you're not doing a very good job if you ask me, especially since it sounds like you're supposed to be doing something else and NOT texting me
GEORGIE: all of those female relatives sound like a big ol' excuse for you knowing about gossip girl
GEORGIE: i'm the girl to call for fashion advice and to convince the sponsors of your podcast not to drop out
GEORGIE: don't lie, my presence in your life only makes you love blondes more ( @jamesonxcarter )
JAMESON: Lucky for me, you're not my employer. I, on the other hand, am yours. But I haven't seen you in the building all day.
JAMESON: I study culture. It's a given for me to stay on top of trends.
JAMESON: I can admit the latter.
JAMESON: Makes me question my life choices a bit as well.(@georgie-abhrams)
"Correction. We are drinking and celebrating." Because, he wasn't joking about the strippers. All it took was his phone, an app and a credit card to make sure the Thai surprise would come through.
The ETA on her was estimated for 10:30PM. A few hours from now so, they had enough time to kill as they ordered a round of drinks, a basket of fries and some wings to curb the belligerence from creeping in too early.
The only thing sadder than turning another year older, or so he assumed, was not being able to make it the twenty four hours of unsolicited fun.
"Your surprise is on the way. When it gets here, I'll be sure to give you two a few minutes. You can thank me later." Without allowing too much time for Jameson to decipher what he meant by that, Ryan continued. "In the meantime. What's new with you?" Nevermind him or his problems. "What's it like being.... how old are you again, 40?" | @jamesonxcarter
While he wasn’t sure he had quite the mood to celebrate, Jameson wasn’t opposed to grabbing a drink or so. “Let’s just focus on the former,” he said with a chuckle, watching as Ryan pulled out his phone once again. The confusion crept in when his friend announced that his surprise was on its way. “I really don’t need anything, Ryan,” Jameson assured. Especially considering that something about the way that Ryan kept things vague had him doubtful on what he had up his sleeve. Nonetheless, he sipped at the beer he was handed, and laughed with a shake of his head. “Not 40 yet. Just shy a year. Though I can’t really say it feels all that different.”
The passing years never really did. As he reflected on where his life was, if asked just ten years before, he would have never imagined that as he was closing out this decade, his life would look like this. He’d thought he’d have a family of his own by now. Instead, he was divorced, taking care of his nephew temporarily instead. He’d built the career he’d wanted, but maybe it truly had been at the expense of everything else that he’d wanted to have as well. He took a longer drink of his beer at the thought, reaching for a few fries as a preventative measure. “How’re things with you? Sounds like you’ve gotten quite a bit of news yourself recently.” | @ryanparrish
To know Lake was to know that she was usually all smiles, and easy going. And how could she not be? Life had been great for the last few years. She was successful, had a woman that she adored, and as far as she knew -- adored her back. Had a happy healthy kid at home, and great friends and family to boot. Lake was very much someone who could look at all the wonderful things in her life, and feel grateful. But when she wasn't feeling so happy, it was usually hard to miss. The last couple of days, Lake had found it easier to distract herself with friends. Jameson was on that list. Not only was he a great friend to her, but she trusted him. And that was, well -- that was something to be had at this moment.
Arriving at his place, Lake had attempted a fake smile that, of course, failed to reach her eyes, the moment Jameson greeted her. She doubt he bought it, but he didn't say anything as she made her way into his home. She took a seat at his dinning table, the aroma of food causing her stomach to growl. Shit -- she was hungry. When was the last time she ate a meal? She slowly lifted her eyes, meeting her friend's in hesitation. If she didn't know the answer before, she definitely did now. There was worry there, concern. She was fine. She lowered her eyes to the wine glasses he filled, the caution in his tone when he first spoke hadn't been missed.
"I'm fine." She quick fired, but would immediately shake her head; as she ran her hand through her long locks. "I think my relationship might be over." She'd decide to say after a few moments, "I don't know. I don't know anything right now. Other then wanting to throw up." Every time she thought about it, she found herself nauseous. She'd glance around once, before looking back at JJ. "Asher in bed?"
In the time he’d known Lake, he’d known her to generally greet him warmly. With a smile. It was obvious, despite her attempts to keep her mood light and to keep her lips turned upward, that she was preoccupied. The artificial smile never made it past her lips. There was no pep in the way she greeted him, muted in a way that he had never seen her in the four years that they had been friends since he returned to Covington. As she initially assured him that she was fine, the answer was both too quick and too lacking in conviction to be believable. And while Jameson was never one to pry, he also knew better than to take her answer and drop the subject all together.
Luckily, he didn’t have to dig much deeper because Lake divulged what was on her mind very soon after. Granted, it wasn’t in enough detail to justify the shocking news that she was sharing. But he kept his expression neutral. Perhaps in part because he had experienced this very same thought a four years back. And again, when Jace had come to him to inform him that Cami and he were getting divorced. Like a plague, it was as though each of his friends were doomed to face the potential demise of their otherwise happy relationships.
“He’s in bed,” Jameson affirmed, nodding to the baby monitor that he had on in case he woke up. “He had a really busy day and I might have had something to do with that.” Jameson wore a soft smile as humor laced his voice, before diverting the conversation back to what she’d shared with him. “What happened between you and Greta? Did you get into an argument?” Because she hadn’t said that her relationship was over. Only that she thought it was. Either way, there was more to the story. Because when he’d met both Greta and Lake separately the previous month, they’d been blissfully planning their wedding and thinking of having Asher involved. | @laikynparrish
It was almost second-nature for Aiyla to step into work mode, the regular happy-go-lucky self had taken a backseat and the level-headed professional took control. Years of training and working in the field had meant Aiyla could switch between the two in the click of the finger. Of course, she still had her usual sunshine attitude with her patients but she also knew when something was serious. And with the way Asher was screaming and crying, and the way Jameson was panicking, she knew this wasn't a regular occurrence for the child, and Jameson needed all the reassurance he could get.
"Okay, okay." Aiyla nodded, her eyes solely on Jameson although she watched every movement in her peripheral. Luckily the nurse examining Asher was checking all the vital signs that Aiyla would, although her job of questioning Jameson was arguably just as important. "Did you use anything different in the bath? Have you been trying any new foods?" from the simple observations Aiyla had made, her initial diagnosis would be a strong allergic reaction to something, and from the glances from the other nurse, it seemed she shared Aiyla's suspicions.
"I know it's difficult to think back right now, but was there anything out of the ordinary?" Aiyla hoped it was an allergic reaction, because they were simple enough to manage. An IV drip and epinephrine if necessary, and then ongoing management of the allergy would be enough, maybe even blood tests. "Jameson, we are going to do everything we can, okay?" although she imagined no amount of words could pierce through Asher's cries.
Jameson wasn’t thinking straight. He hated hospitals and everything that they stood for. And the fact that now, he was back, again due to something to happen to a child in his care. He was close to spiraling if only because his mind forced him to recall the decision that had shattered his life years ago. Rationally, he knew that this situation was nothing like that. Rationally, he knew that if he wanted to be a good guardian for Asher in that moment, he would need to get a grip and focus on his nephew. But it was growing more and more difficult as his wailing continued and Jameson couldn’t figure out how to get him to stop.
Between the chaos, it was Aiyla’s gentle and soothing voice that managed to ground him slightly. Her clear cut instructions reminded him of what he needed to do in this moment. He needed to explain everything that happened leading up to this moment so that they could treat Asher properly. He looked up and met her gaze, trying to calm himself down as he mentally walked through anything new that they had done that day that was different from before. “Um no, nothing new in the bath. The same thing as usually,” he explained, voice shaking slightly. She assured him that they would do everything they could, but he’d heard a similar promise in the past. One that hadn’t panned out in his favor.
Regardless, he took her word for it in that moment and nodded, still going through everything in his mind. And then he realized the difference between the day and all other days. “Blueberries. He tried blueberries for the first time today.” And he began to understand that maybe what she was suggesting was, “you think he’s allergic to blueberries?” He wasn’t sure if she could know that just by the symptoms alone without actually running tests. But maybe.
It was funny... to think of how this whole situation had started. From simply pressing play in a Podcast episode, to meeting up with its creator, and also, reading the first few chapters of what would or could become his new book. She felt like Selena Gomez character—hmm... no, more like, Steve Martin's character in Only Murders in The Building. It often brought a light chuckle to her lips whenever she submitted a new review to his recently-posted episode. And, just like Steve Martin's character, Reyhan too, kept coming week after week for one more episode.
She found Jameson's voice soothing in a way. He had the eloquence and diction professors usually had, but he also carried some form of youth in his voice. The type she enjoyed listening to whenever talking to a group of friends from New York. Something strangely familiar and cozy. Now, as Reyhan shared a table with the man that accompanied her afternoons once a week, it was nice to put a face to the voice. It was just as soothing.
As Jameson went on to apologize, Reyhan shook her head, offering him a sweet smile in return, more than her usual polite ones for whenever her clients were late. Jameson wasn't a client yet. If anything, she was his fan, therefore, the brunette wouldn't mind it if he were. "Please, there's no need to apologize. I completely understand." She then motioned for him to take a seat, and returned to her chair, picking up the Kindle she'd been reading from and placing it in her bag so that he would have her full attention. "You're a professor at Emory, right? I'm sure it wasn't easy to find a little spot in your schedule for us to meet." Really, she understood.
From her couple of years working as a T.A. in New York colleges not as prestigious as Emory, she understood. Professors were either preparing classes, or grading papers, or being stuck on traffic... and in Reyhan's case, she didn't even have a professor's paycheck to make it all worth.
When Jameson made his choice over the pastry, Reyhan waved one of the waitresses over and placed their orders, before retuning her attention to him. "There were a few parts where I had stop reading to look up a few terms, and I wrote in the e-mail I sent you this morning, I'm not sure if you had the chance to look at, but, they are definitely worth adding a footnote about." His pacing was good. His narrative was enthralling in ways Reyhan hadn't seen in books that had sold millions around the world, but Jameson was right... sometimes, his vast knowledge over the subject, — or, should she say, his specific knowledge over it? — overpowered his balanced narrative. "I mean, I don't mind looking up terms because I'm a language nerd, but, if you're looking to get this book to a broader audience, I'd advise you to break things down a little. Maybe you can add a character that would explain the technical terms in a more straightforward way? Have you thought about anything like that?" / @jamesonxcarter
“I am,” he confirmed when she correctly identified his profession and affiliation. It was probably on his bio for the podcast, but he hadn’t expected Reyhan to have looked at that or for her to have remembered it. Then again, they’d been exchanging emails and perhaps part of her job entailed looking into his background. Not that he had sought her out for her professional expertise, per se. But it didn’t hurt that the person that had expressed her opinions in such a thought-provoking manner on his podcast also happened to be an editor by trade. It just gave that much more credibility to her opinions on the work that he’d shared thus far. “It’s not that bad actually. I’ve pared down the number of classes I’m teaching his semester to work on my research. So it’s less finding the time, and more finding a moment when my students aren’t at my door.”
Orders placed, he listened closely to the few comments that she had. “Actually I have,” he said, pulling out a print out of the email that she’d sent him. He was old school in that way, preferring to mark up directly on the piece of paper than trying to do so on his laptop or a tablet. Looking down at the points she had made, he nodded as she explained that certain terms were too foreign for a lay reader. Explanatory footnotes would help but he also wondered, “would it be better for me to pull back the technical explanations? Obviously not everywhere, but at certain points. For example,” he pushed the paper towards her so that she could also read. “Maybe point four and six?”
He considered adding in a character that would be able to explain things, though he eventually opted against it. “Unfortunately, I’m not the best with weaving in a narrator of sorts. It’s obviously meant to be more storytelling, but I’ve tried a few drafts with characters like you’re talking about and it always ends up reading more like a piece of fiction rather than a vignette based work of nonfiction.” And perhaps she had a way to counterbalance his competing desires. Readability without veering too far away from academic. | @reyhansolmaz
Something was up. He could see it in her expression that something was wrong. Just a month ago, when they had met around Valentine’s Day, Lake had been beaming with joy. Planning a wedding, discussing her book deal. She was prattling on about love and how much she loved love. Now, he could sense the difference in her entire being. And though he had not received too many details when he reached out to catch up because it had been a while, the moment that he called her to figure out the details, he could hear it in her voice. Maybe that was why, rather than choosing one of the familiar haunts in Covington, he suggested they stay in.
He’d already put Asher down for bed that night, planning it carefully and tiring the toddler out during the day with a visit to the park and a few different activities. Dinner for his nephew taken care of, he’d already plated up their dinner for the evening by the time she arrived. With a few pleasantries aside, he let the silence settle between them for a moment. Watching her cautiously, he broached the subject with a touch of hesitation. Jameson did not want to pry nor did he want to push her to share something that she didn’t wish to discuss. Maybe she was just looking for a distraction. Something Jameson understood all too well. “How’ve you been? I feel like something’s off with you, but maybe I’m just tired and reading into things.” He watched her from the corner of his eye as he poured them two glasses of wine.
Renovating a home on a budget was a gift that kept on giving. Sometimes it gave you the greatest reward when the shelf you built turned out even better than expected, sometimes it gave you a crying session in the cracked bathtub. Like a box of chocolates, you never knew what you'd get but at least Jenna made some discoveries. She was a surprisingly clean painter, installing new light fixtures wasn't as hard if you simply followed the wiring, and giving things she bought at Nook Antiques a fresh coat of paint really did the trick. But some things couldn't be bargained with and one thing Jenna always wanted was a stained glass arch above her kitchen window. Having it installed wasn't a cost she was willing to inspect just yet but looking at the materials was definitely something she could wrap her mind around - and start saving up for.
Marrying a construction worker meant she spent half her life planning their future home and how her late husband would make all her dreams come true. The picket fence, the porch, the swing in the backyard for the kids, and colorful glass adorning her kitchen. It was all there on paper, they just never had the time. Between Taye's work hours, Jen's clinic, and the prices in Chicago, they were still stuck in their flat when Nico was born. And then came Lena. And then Taye died and so did their dream. However, moving to Covington was like an inspiration to try to make at least some of it come true. The fence was old and with holes but it was there. The swing turned into a tire that creaked when it swung from the old mossy tree in the backyard. The porch wasn't feasible but her colorful window? That could still be done. So she stood in the store, picking up different stained glass samples and blowing away a strand of hair away from her face. With a sigh, she turned to the person near her. "What do you think works best together? Light green for the center and dark green for the details or maybe brown for the details instead?" She picked up another sample. "Or maybe orange?" Offering them an unsure smile, she nudged another sample toward them. "Blue?"
Jameson hadn’t the slightest idea about home décor. His home in Chicago and then in Texas had been decorated by his ex-wife. She’d always been the one who knew how to transform their lifeless apartment or townhome into a house that was welcoming. One that for the longest time, he couldn’t want to return to. Time changed everything, and the home décor that once brought him comfort soon became property to be split. Who received the television? Who received the stupid Thanksgiving china? He told them to give it all to her. She said she didn’t want a single memory of them. And like that, maybe every single remnant of their time together, every memento that pertained to their decades long relationship had been dispersed to strangers who had no attachment to the items. Much like the antique store that Jameson accompanied Jenna to on occasion, their treasured possessions became trinkets in the homes of others.
As she held up two different stained glass samples, seeking his opinion on which would be better, Jameson wondered how life could be so cruel. It was a bleak thought, but one that he often pondered when they set out to build the house that he’d heard her gush about in the past with Taye. He recalled the breakfast where he’s sat alongside them, listening to them vividly discuss each minute detail that went into building the perfect home. And yet now, as it came time to build that very home in the town that Taye had grown up in, he was no longer among them. He often sought answers to this why? He’d done so when he’d been asked to choose between his wife or his child. He’d wondered why when the two of them chose to separate. And he wondered why when he received the call informing him that his friend, a man who was nothing less than an older brother to him, was no more. Merely days before he was scheduled to see them. Delayed in doing so, only because the flights had been full by the time he tried to purchase a ticket. “You know I don’t have an eye for these things,” he began, trying to put the pieces together to imagine what they would look like. “But maybe the orange and blue? I’m not a fan of the green on green.” | @jennamarsdcn
Her eyebrow quirked up at his words, a flash of a challenge lighting up her eyes for a brief moment. "You not a 90's country fan, JimJam?" She mused, tempted to turn the music back up just to mess with him but just as quickly as the thought entered her mind it exited it and she kept her phone in her pocket. There'd been a time in the not so distant past that this level of music would have been coming from an open window of her home, but as much as she and Jack enjoyed dance parties the music wasn't quite as loud as it'd been before. "What an absolute privilege." Putting her hand over her heart as if she were supremely touched, a laugh broke out past her lips after a moment. "And here I thought you were comin' so early just to see lil' ol' me."
As she began to make Jameson's usual drink, humming along quietly as the song changed to one of her favorites- Independence Day by Martina McBride, Stevie's gaze traveled around the empty shop before landing on Jameson as he continued to lower the chairs from the tables. She was about to make a quip about him having a job here unstacking chairs if he ever decided to leave academics, but closed her mouth once he began speaking, answering the question she'd posed to him. "Was he alright? It wasn't a boogeyman under the bed or anything that kept him up, was it?" She'd helped Jay through a situation like that with Jack when they'd first moved in with her. Both adults had spent a week sleep deprived because of it. "It's hard doin' it alone, isn't it?" She asked, tone gentle as she brought his completed drink over to him along with a blueberry muffin. "You ever need some help, you know I'm right next door right? I could grade some papers for ya, you just base it off how clever their title is right?" ( @jamesonxcarter )
“I guess I’ve never been introduced to it properly,” he confessed with a laugh as she questioned his taste in music. Which only made him figure that if he were to share the quirk that he didn’t particularly care for any type of music, she’d have a field day. Ironic, given that his sister was a musical genius and Jameson was ambivalent to the entire thing. Though he could appreciate the free-spiritedness of Stevie, swaying and humming along to the melody as she worked behind the counter. It was, as he said, a unique welcome. He let out a weary, somewhat sheepish laugh. “I didn’t say that exactly,” he justified. “My machine being broken could have been a happy coincidence allowing me to pay you a visit first thing.” Though as he pulled down a few more chairs, he cast a glance over his shoulder. “Though, I will say, it’s probably better if I seek you out after a few cups of caffeine.” He’d often been told he could be a bit touchy in the mornings. And these days, without sufficient sleep and a toddler’s routine to check up on before he walked out the door, it was a true challenge to keep his composure.
“No, at least I don’t think so? I don’t know, really. Can one-year-olds have nightmares? I am not sure if they have a concept of fear.” It was outward musing. There was no reason he’d expect that Stevie would know the answer to this question. She had some experience with Jack, but he wasn’t exactly sure how involved she was in the childrearing. He was grateful when Stevie walked over with his usual and a muffin to pair. Thoughtful. Jameson hadn’t eaten. So, while the caffeine is what his headache needed, hunger would inevitably exacerbate the growing pain. “Thank you,” he said with utmost gratitude reflected in his gaze, taking the cup from her as there were only a few seats left to set. Taking a lengthy sip of the drink, he set it down on the table nearest to him. “I’d love to be able to say, not at all. But it is. And I’m not even really on my own. I have my family to help. Still, there’s only so much they can do.” They couldn’t relieve him of duties overnight, not when Jameson had willingly accepted this responsibility. Nor did he regret doing so, despite the difficulties. He laughed again, shifting around the shop to complete his end of the bargain and pull down the remaining seats. “Exactly. Where’d you learn that? Here I thought we professors kept that secret under lock and key.” | @stevienelson
"Don't worry about it, J, I'll have it cleared up by the end of the day." Callie assured, making a mental note to have a discussion with her secretary by the end of the day. In all honestly, she could probably tell her to not worry about doing that anymore. She had long stopped attempting to date, much less have anything causal with the opposite sex. So, there really wasn't any need or worry about some unwanted man coming to the office. Well -- almost. She'd have to make sure that Wayne, Harper's father, was still blocked from visiting in case he decided to pull a reappearing act on her. God, she hoped not. It has been a rather peaceful couple of months. "What can I say? Steph is good at her job. She gotta keep all my visitors on their toes."
"Well, Carter, what can I say?" She smirked, and gave him a nonchalant shrug, "I am nothing but retaliatory. In fact, I'd like to say it's my strongest suit. Just ask the people I prosecute." Maybe revenge was slightly too strong of a word, but she still liked the sound of it. You don't get to go around hurting people, and think your day wasn't coming. She'd take her last breath proving that. "Listen--" She held her hands up, "I am used to disappointment. But, I guess I do have to give you that. You are definitely smarter then to show up here with trash. Especially because I haven't eaten yet today, and I'd hate for you to bring out my hangry when you were just trying to solve the problem." She'd turn her attention upon the sandwich, and began to unwrap it, her smile only enlarging during the process. "Steak and cheese, on pretzel bread with onions and peppers." She mused, before looking up at him, "Have I told you that I love you lately? I think you're my favorite of the day."
“There it is. The means business DA that I know and love. I’m also so reassured when I leave things in your capable hands.” Granted, in this case his tone was laced with humor, but Jameson really did appreciate how capable Callie was. It was an admirable quality to see that she managed to balance both a successful career and motherhood simultaneously. Jameson wasn’t sure that, were their positions switched, he would have been able to manage both so seamlessly. He was grateful for the family support he had in town when it came to Asher. Otherwise, there was a high likelihood that he would have fumbled one or both. And while dropping the ball professionally could have its repercussions, doing so with his nephew could be damage beyond repair. Something that he could not afford. “She’s excellent. Takes after her boss, clearly. I’ve been having to jump through all sorts of hoops.”
He feigned concern when she so proudly declared that she was retaliatory. “All that prosecutorial discretion is getting to your head, Callie. Absolute power corrupts and all.” Jameson was pulling her leg, exaggerating, twisting her words slightly. He knew what she meant. She retaliated against those who deserved it in the eyes of the law. She brought charges and was hard on them as it was required. He did not suspect that she used the arm of justice for her personal vendettas. The woman he knew Callie to be had too much integrity to do such a thing. “I’ve been told I’m quite good at guessing what people need.” In fact, to the bitter end, he’d fought to try and provide what he thought his ex-wife needed from him. It just turned out to be not enough. As she took stock of the sandwich that he’d gotten her, Jameson surveyed her reaction and was pleased to know that it was the right guess. “I’m observant. So, you haven’t, but I’ve gleaned as much.” Unwrapping his own turkey on rye, he nodded for her to start because he could only guess when she’d suddenly be whisked off. “What else is new other than work? How’s Harper?” | @calliemontgomery
Eliana knew how to be sympathetic and perhaps she should have been once she saw all that the stranger before her was juggling, but when she was zoned in on work and in a bit of a rush - she didn't care about much else around her. All she could focus on now was the damp feeling sinking into her shoes and the very evident stain that would be caused. She silently cursed the man again, as she at least had the respect to not do so in front of a child. Although, if he had tried to argue about repaying for her order she likely would have let go of said decency and made an absolute scene.
The brunette, her impatience being one of her fatal flaws, tapped her foot as the man adjusted himself and the child with him. She had somewhere to be, a meeting, and the line to the counter was already growing. This was going to slow her down at least a good twenty minutes. She ignored his apologies and began typing furiously on her cell phone to let her client know she would be at their proposed meeting spot as soon as she could. She was hopeful they would be understanding. Once she hit send, she slid the phone back into her pocket and brought her dark eyes back to the man in front of her who seemed to have pulled himself and the child with him together. "I don't need anything other than my order, no need to offer more." She turned her back to him, heading toward the counter, "Come on, I can't let this line get any longer than it already has."
Jameson could understand the icy response he received from the brunette. After all, he’d spilled her drink all over her. Not the best way to start the day. Yet even before he took over guardianship of Asher, he’d tried to show some grace to parents who were balancing going through life with children in tow. He’d have hoped for the same grace to be extended to him and while, for the most part, people obliged, not everyone did. And the rational, less tired side of Jameson knew that he could not expect understanding from every person he encountered. Nor was he entitled to it when his behavior inconvenienced another.
Unfortunately, he was not all that awake or patient that morning either. Hence why her curt responses did not sit well with him. He chose not to mirror her attitude. “Sure, just the coffee and pastry then.” Nodding, he followed her to the line with the intention of only purchasing what she’d ordered before. But his nephew was fussy, and again began to pull at his ear and Jameson could only hope that this wasn’t going to cause any more issues than he already had. He began to bounce the toddler up and down, trying to get him to calm. He was usually such a well-behaved child. “Shh, shhh, we’re almost at the front. Almost done. Then we can go home,” he tried to comfort, casting a glance towards the front of the line and the lack of sufficient staffing behind the counter. | @elianaalmeida
"Don't I always give riveting lectures?" Taylor offered her friend a smirk, although neither could see each others' faces as she organized her papers and files inside her messenger bag. She had noticed Jameson walk in as she changed the slides of her presentation, and having her friend there was always nice. It was a good pet for her ego, she would dare saying. "The day I say no to a burger, Jamie, you might as well consider me dead inside." Taylor chuckled as she flung her bag's sling on her shoulder and motioned her head towards the door. "But more than that, how about you update me on your life in dear old Covington? Are you enjoying that dead-end town?" / @jamesonxcarter
“I don’t know. I’ll have to check your Rate My Professors to see what the populus is saying,” he teased with a shrug. “But you ask me, sure. It’s just that this was especially interesting. Unless you make a habit of ending on a high note. I only caught the last few minutes.” Jameson appreciated having Taylor in Emory with him. He followed her work and admired her professional accomplishments immensely. It helped that she was an easy friend to have and a much needed one on campus. Someone whose interests aligned enough to inspire his own research.
He accompanied her out of the lecture hall towards the cafeteria to grab a late lunch. “I know, that’s why I was testing to see if the start of the semester had you down. Consider that my pulse check. Glad to see you’re still alive and kicking.” He was well aware of how Taylor felt about their hometown, and though he did not dislike Covington as much as she did, he had his reasons for having wanted to leave when he was older. Now, years later, he actually appreciated the stability and solidarity having his family provided. “It hasn’t been all bad, as surprising as that may be for you to hear. I’ve grown used to the slower pace. I actually like it.” Maybe he was just getting old. | @taylorstahl
Cami's gaze subtly wandered to the other side of the coffee shop. Sure enough, the girl in question was still eyeing up his empty chair like her next breath depended on stealing it.
She wished she could blame the haste in which she promptly sat in it on some kind of savior complex, ensuring that apparently dreaded outcome didn't come to pass, but it was nothing so altruistic as that. Cam just wanted to get off her feet, and if that meant squashing a strangers dreams so be it.
"It really has, hasn't it?" Her smile took a rueful turn at the corners while she made herself comfortable, though she'd lost the ability to meet Jameson's gaze. "I've been alright." Mostly going through the motions, but who was she to complain? "I took over at the stables about a year and half ago now so that keeps me pretty busy."
Meaning: she let work take over her life, because having something entirely unrelated to Jace and the demise of their marriage was the only way to stay sane.
"I'm hoping to start up a horse sanctuary and rehabilitation center on the property. You know. Eventually." When she had the finances in place (however unlikely that seemed to be). "How about you? How have you been?"
She couldn't help but wonder if he hated her now out of solidarity with Jace. Did he blame her for the divorce? Did he and Jace sit around running her name through the mud over pizza and beers? It was tempting to ask, if only to address the elephant at the table, but she refrained.
Despite his efforts to dissipate the awkwardness around them, it was hard to deny that there only connection to each other had severed when Jace and Cami signed their divorce papers. He knew aby extension of his best friend. Much like she knew him by extension of her husband. While Jameson held no animosity towards her, knowing the nature of their split was inevitable. They wanted different things. Having gone through a divorce himself, Jameson knew that the downfall of a marriage very rarely lay with only one person. In the case of these two, that was especially true.
Thus, he did his best to maintain the same attitude he had with her when she was still married. For what it was worth, in the years that Jace and Cami were married, Jameson shared a number of fond memories with the brunette sitting across from him. “That’s amazing,” he began when she shared how she kept herself occupied. “Being a business owner is no easy feat.”
For a woman that left her husband because she wanted a family, he could only wonder if she was any closer to finding someone who could give her that. Having spoken with Jace, there was a part of him that desired to ask her about the auction that had caused his best friend such annoyance. But if Jace had little right to ask her those questions, Jameson had even less. So, he held his tongue, allowing her to share more about her plans for the stables. “What would starting something like that up entail? Sounds like a massive undertaking.”
The small talk was redirected to him and Jameson shrugged. “I’ve been okay. Still teaching at Emory. I’ve been helping take care of my nephew these past few months while my sister’s out of town, so that’s been taking up a lot of my time.” As much as Cami was privy to the happenings of the Carter household in the past, he kept the truth about Elora’s hospital visit and overdose quiet around town. She need not be greeted with stigma and gossip when she returned. “Suffice to say, it’s been a sleepless few months.” | @camgarza
Roman more than understood the overwhelming feeling Jamie was describing all too well. When Ivy first came into his life, he had been completely lost on how to care for a young child. His parents tried to chip in, even Kaira did, but it was still hard. Trying to provide a good home for his girl, getting her ready for preschool, and getting her hair done every morning, it was something he had to learn. It took time to adjust, so he knew without a doubt, his friend would get it too.
"It definitely gets easier over time. You’ll figure it out. You’re a smart man," he said with a smile. “I’ll tell you what though, from what I heard terrible twos is a nightmare, so I hope he never get to that stage.” Sometimes, parents got lucky—why would Jamie not be one of them. Especially considering the man was a good guy. "I won't lie though, I’m glad I didn’t get Ivy when she was still in diapers. But Asher is lucky to have you. You've got this and if you need help, you can always come to me. I might be shit at cooking, but I could take him out of your hands if your family doesn’t get to Asher first." Knowing the other man, he wouldn’t have to worry about it though. Unlike Roman, the other man was surrounded by family.
Maybe it was the lack of preparation that had Jameson scrambling so much with Asher. He had taken guardianship so quickly to avoid the boy being taken away from their family. And suddenly, he was responsible for ensuring his nephew’s wellbeing. When him and his ex-wife had been expecting, Jameson spent every free moment researching. Their entire house had been full of books about parenting and tending to newborns. In a way, those lessons were coming in handy now. But Jameson quickly realized that theory and reality starkly differed. He might have known how to parent based on the books, but recalling those tips and tricks while dealing with a fussy toddler was no easy feat. Frequently, all he could do was wing it. Much like many first-time parents, he was sure.
“That’s what I thought, but parenting seems like a subject that no amount of intelligence will make easier,” he confessed, taking a sip of the coffee he desperately clung to like a crutch these days. “Because if it were, then the smartest people in the world would have cracked the secret to parenting and monetized it. So, I guess the great equalizer is parenthood.” Not that he was really Asher’s parent. He was but a temporary guardian. “Well Roman, he’ll be there in seven months. So you’re telling me to count my blessings and enjoy my peace while it lasts?” With a chuckle, he nodded appreciatively at the offer. He was truly fortunate to have the support of his friends and family during the transition into taking care of this nephew. He wasn’t sure if he could have done it just on his own. “I might just be figuring this stuff out, but I extend the same to you as well. Especially because I know you just moved here and might still be finding your footing. How’s it been? Are you feeling fully settled?” | @romanwagncr
"You won't regret it, I promise. The story and writing are so beautiful," Harlow said. Being someone who inhaled books like it was going out of style, Where the Crawdads Sing hit all the checkmarks for a good book for her. She wouldn’t dare recommend it otherwise. It truly had been some time since they'd seen each other around. She was busy with the bakery and it looked like life kept him busy, too. While she loved what she did—there was no denying it consumed much of her time and energy.
"Adulting takes away from our time to socialize, and I can’t blame you for being busy. I'm the same way lately," she added with an understanding smile. "I'm glad to hear my chocolate cake was a hit. I was worried it might melt on the drive over, but it sounds like it held up alright." While she had always ensured that her cakes were packed properly for transport, the fear that something might go wrong always twisted her stomach. More than once, she had visions of a cake collapsing en route to its destination. Thankfully, no major catastrophe ever arose. "I miss being around your family, to be honest. One of these days, I promise I’ll take some time to chill with you lot. How’s Asher? I swear, he’s going to break hearts when he grows up.” The kid was a looker, much like his uncle.
“Well, it’s just moved up to the top of my list after that glowing recommendation,” Jameson said with a smile. While he had heard that the book was a must read, it was rare that he actually ventured towards fictional works. Yet they were helpful to guide his narrative style when he was writing episodes for his podcast. While they were not fictional stories that he shared with his listeners, mimicking the styles of authors that were well respected and loved always helped keep people engaged. Despite it being a small enough town that Harlow and Jameson would have run into each other, between classes in Atlanta and looking after Asher during his down time, Jameson rarely had reasons to leave his house for either social or personal reasons. Therefore, it was no surprise that he had not seen Harlow in a while despite frequenting her bakery often in the past.
“Really? What do you have going on,” he asked, curious to hear what had the baker so busy. Hopefully something that was not just work, though it would be understandable if so. Adulthood came with responsibilities and as a business owner, that was even more heightened for her. “No melting to be seen. But it was gone in a flash, so even if there was no one really noticed.” In fact, he had gotten a rather small slice that day because it had been served so quickly. Typical of their massive family of course. The desserts were never enough to satisfy everyone that attended their celebrations. “You should. We have something happening every weekend pretty much. Maybe swing by around Easter if you don’t have plans. We always have a ton going on. It should be fun.” With the invite extended, Jameson laughed at the compliment for Asher. “Well hopefully not too many. I’m not trying to have a Casanova on my hands,” granted by that point, Jameson hoped that Asher would once again be under the care of his mother. “He’s good. Growing up insanely fast. I’ve always heard that babies grow out of things at lightning speed, but I’m seeing it for myself, and it’s astonishing.” | @harlowmiller
“It’s boys’ day, Ashy. Are you excited?” With students also on Spring Break, Jameson had two weeks off to actually spend the entire days with his nephew. He of course loved his job ( enough that it had almost cost him his marriage at a time ). But he could not deny that he also equally appreciated the down time he had to just unwind with Asher. He was a little overly attentive these days, worried that the boy could feel the absence of his mother. Children internalized and experienced more than adults understood, and Jameson desperately hoped that his nephew would not feel the lack of the woman that had raised him up until a few months ago.
Parking his car a few blocks away from the station, he had the boy in his arms, walking him towards the firehouse. Would he actually remember this visit? Unlikely. But, he had been pointing excitedly towards the firetrucks he saw on his cartoons, trying his best to say fire. He’d been lucky enough that someone at the station agreed to allow him to visit with Asher briefly, and as he met up with Devika outside the station he expressed his gratitude for the millionth time. “Truly, thank you so much for agreeing to do this.” Casting a glance at his nephew who was staring at the woman silently, but curiously, he spoke to him softly. “You’re grateful that Devika’s letting you see the firetrucks today, aren’t you Ash? Say thank you, Devika,” The most he could get was a bit more blank staring. “He’s excited. Even though he’s being a little quiet right now, just wait until we actually start walking through.”
