Previously…
Kenny informed James, Alex and Renee that the government agreed to drop criminal charges in their role in Stratotech in exchange for a hundred million dollar fine. Blackthorne-Reynolds was liquidated. Alex announced that she was planning on returning to her acting roots in order to help pay the fine. Jordan and Alex got re-married. Jordan’s son Benji arrived and announced that he graduated early from boarding school in Switzerland. Later, he revealed to a friend that he planned on making Jordan pay for what he did to his mother. In private, Jordan opened a hidden compartment in the attic where he’d hidden a locket of Suzanne’s, and a tire iron. Miranda miscarried Brett’s child in her first trimester, leaving him broken and devastated. Heather was informed that she had contracted Congenital Toxoplasmosis, a parasite that is un-treatable in unborn babies, and that her child could possibly be born with an intellectual disability. While waiting for results of the amniocentesis, Heather chose not to tell Brett the news, instead pretending that the baby was in perfect health. James invited Leilani’s daughter in Hawaii, Kelly, to move in with them at the mansion. David blew off a date with Miranda to spend time with Brooke. Brooke and David had a heart-to-heart talk about his father’s passing. Brooke told Ethan that he’s smothering her and he stormed off angrily. Later, Brooke’s mother, Roz, showed up at her door under the pretense that she was there to help her through a difficult time. James awoke from his coma and claimed that he wanted to set things right with everyone he’d wronged in his life.
A single beam of light cut through the darkness, illuminating each step as he walked purposefully across the room. Pausing at the window, he peered outside and surveyed the commotion on Sunset Boulevard. The street was dark, cars were at a standstill, and the valet drivers were stopped, looking up to the sky in wonderment.
He moved away from the window and continued on his way, letting the flashlight guide him to the back of the restaurant where he found the circuit box and switched a breaker. The lights flickered for a second or two before they came back on and the frightened crowd at the Polo Lounge breathed a collective sigh of relief. The maître d’ restarted the overhead music and within moments all was back to normal. As normal as things could get after an earthquake.
“That was scary,” said the woman in the corner booth. “I wonder if the lights are out all over town.”
Her companion, Frank Dunning, peered across the room to the window. “Looks like they’re back on now. Probably just a temporary interruption. It was only a small tremor. Doesn’t look like there was much damage.”
“Tell that to my martini,” she replied with a grin and motioned to her drink that had toppled to the floor during the violent tremor.
He laughed. Frank Dunning was the hottest director at the moment in Hollywood. At thirty-two, he had already directed four blockbusters and had been commissioned for several others. His newest project was to begin principal photography the following day, and his leading lady sat timidly across the table from him.
“Nervous about tomorrow?” he asked, flagging the waitress for another martini.
“Somewhat,” she replied. “It’s been a while since I’ve worked.”
“You’ll be fine. Is that all that’s bothering you? You seem distant. Are you still seeing Dr. Wainwright?”
“Yes. I’m fine, really. I appreciate the opportunity. You and James have been very kind. This film is exactly what I need right now.”
Frank smiled and offered a toast. “I’m glad, Suzanne. Monaco is going to be the biggest blockbuster of 1996. Mark my words.”
It was getting late, and Suzanne had an unsettling feeling of uneasiness after the earthquake, so following her meeting with Frank, she headed home. She pulled her Range Rover up to the mailbox by the curb and removed a stack of envelopes.
Once inside the palatial Beverly Hills mansion, she found herself alone—Jordan and their children nowhere to be found. She remembered they were at a birthday party for a friend of Benji’s.
Aside from a few nick-knacks that had fallen, it didn’t look like there had been much damage from the tremor. She wondered if it was a warning for something bigger coming.
She opened a small, padded envelope addressed to her and found a CD inside. There were no labels, and there was nothing written on the disc, so its contents were a mystery. When she finished opening the mail, she walked to the stereo. Her hand trembled as she ejected the tray and placed the disc into the CD player. She watched the digital display load, and then flash for a second or two before the tinny, high-pitched notes of a nursery rhyme filled the room.
London Bridge Is Falling Down
Falling Down, Falling Down
London Bridge Is Falling Down
My Fair Lady
Build It Up with Iron Bars
Iron Bars, Iron Bars
Build It Up With Iron Bars
My Fair Lady
Iron Bars Will Bend and Break
Bend and Break, Bend and Break
Iron Bars Will Bend and Break
My Fair Lady
She was suddenly at ease, soothed by the feelings of nostalgia the song provided her. She set the jewel case onto the desk next to the envelope. She closed her eyes, standing perfectly still while letting every note soak into her senses. Everything else faded to black…
Barracuda!
Green, Green, Green, Green, Green, Yellow, Whammy Bar.
You’re gonna burn, burn, burn into the wick….
From his position in the center of the game room, Benji Rydell retained his standing as Guitar Hero III champion. The final chords of the song played and he pumped his fist into the air in victory.
“Beat that, dickhead,” he said and handed the guitar to his best friend, Blake Distefano. “One hundred percent.”
“Easy,” replied Blake and started his turn. “Hey, it’s like seven a.m. Isn’t your dad gonna be wondering where you are?”
Benji rolled his eyes and sunk into the plush leather sofa. It was the morning of his eighteenth birthday and he and Blake had been up for eight hours playing Wii at Blake’s father’s sprawling home in Bel Air.
Since returning home from boarding school three months ago, Benji’s skinny, rail of a body had been replaced with a toned, cut physique thanks to hours in the gym every week. He had short dark hair and brooding dark eyes, six feet one inches tall, and towered over Blake, who was just a few months younger than him.
“He’s out of town for work. Besides, I doubt he’d even notice I wasn’t there. His promises of all this family togetherness didn’t exactly hold true. And why would it? My sister’s pregnant and my step mom is in her sexual prime. The last thing he needs is his other kid coming back and getting in the way of his life.”
“Poor Benji,” Blake sighed with a certain amount of sarcasm as he strummed his way through a Killers tune. “Daddy doesn’t have time for you. Get serious, Rydell, he’s throwing you a birthday party, isn’t he? At least your dad is sober enough to manage something like that, which is a lot more than I can say for Victor Distefano.”
“Yeah, well your dad didn’t ship you off to boarding school for fifteen years,” Benji said, his dark eyes penetrating the television screen in a trance-like state.
“Have you talked to him about your mom yet?”
Benji shook his head briefly, offering no verbal reply.
After a few moments of awkward silence, Blake probed another touchy subject. “You heard from Sheldon?”
“No, and he better stay clear of me if he knows what’s good for him. I think he learned his lesson the other night at the Viper Room.”
“Somebody sure did,” Blake murmured under his breath. When he finished his turn, he set down the guitar and turned to his friend. “Well, I think you need to—”
His sentence was cut short when Eddie Distefano entered the room and pushed his younger brother five feet across the room onto a chair. “What are you two losers doing? Don’t tell me you’ve been up all night playing that game.”
“Eddie, what are you doing here?” Blake said with a groan, wincing in obvious pain as he placed a hand over his arm. He exchanged harried glances with Benji before turning back to his brother. “Why don’t you go get back in the Mystery Machine and go home?”
“I came by to talk to dad. He up yet?” As if already knowing the answer, Eddie grabbed the guitar controller and strapped it over his shoulder. He was a self aware twenty-six year old goofball, tall and strapping, and had a shock of brown hair with too much product holding it into place.
“He never came home last night.” Blake tried to catch his breath, his hand still clamped over his arm as it seared with pain.
Laughing, Eddie rocked his way through another round of Guitar Hero. “No way? Victor Distefano scores again. I’m telling ya, if I’m half as a popular with the ladies when I’m his age, I’ll be perfectly happy.”
“You’re not popular with them now, so what’s going to change in thirty years?” Blake said with a smirk.
“Hey,” Eddie said and pushed his weight against his brother on the chair. “I can still kick your ass, you know, you little—”
“Owww, you son of a bitch!” Blake groaned, shooting pain going up his arm from the force of Eddie’s body on his.
“Listen, I gotta get going,” Benji said, stood up and pulled on a t-shirt. “See you tonight, Blake?”
“Yeah, okay,” Blake said, his voice muffled while Eddie had his face buried in the chair and his arm twisted behind his back.
Benji grabbed his keys and walked out to the entryway where he waited for Blake. Moments later, he emerged, his face twisted into a painful grimace.
“You okay?” Benji asked.
Blake nodded unconvincingly. “Yeah,” he said, then removed his hand from his arm. He looked down, growing dizzy at the sight of blood smeared over his hand, soaking through his shirt from the wound in his arm just below the shoulder. “These damn stitches didn’t hold.”
Benji pulled the sleeve up on Blake’s shirt, shuddering at the sight of the wound that had turned green with infection. He ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated and convinced their secret was about to be uncovered.
Alex Reynolds was in bed with a man who was not her husband. She straddled him, holding the sheet over her chest while moving steadily up and down. She licked her lips, leaning down and flicking her tongue inside his ear.
“Baby, you know exactly what I like, don’t you?” Victor Distefano groaned as he laid on his back, his thrusts aligning perfectly with hers. Panting and out of breath, he placed his hands along her milky white shoulders and struggled to keep up with her. She was younger than he was, and supposedly in her prime, and a man of fifty-eight wasn’t exactly in the best shape of his life, as much as he tried to be. Hours on the treadmill and on the racquetball court didn’t seem to be enough.
“I’d forgotten how amazing you are in bed,” she said, her voice wavering up and down with each thrust he made. “I’m almost there. You have to keep going. Don’t stop.”
“I’m trying,” Victor said with a wince. He bucked his hips up and down vigorously, blocking out the sounds of her howling so he could maintain his stamina. One slip and he could….
“What?” Alex said and stopped, staring at him in bewilderment. “You didn’t already, did you?”
Victor was eerily still, his wide eyes staring at the ceiling. His breath came out in quick, short, exasperated bursts. His face twisted into a painful grimace. The last thing he did was reach up and touch his chest where his heart had stopped beating.
“Don’t do this!” Alex screamed, shaking him vigorously. “Don’t you dare do this to me! Don’t you dare die!”
But he did. Suddenly and without warning. A victim of a heart attack brought on by physical exertion.
Or possibly something else…
“I have to give him credit,” said a younger man as he entered the room. “He held out for longer than I thought he would.”
Alex twisted off of the bed and pulled a silk robe over her naked body. “You’re telling me. My first husband couldn’t keep it up for as long as this guy. Are you sure you gave him the dose?”
The man picked up an empty glass from the nightstand. “He drank every drop. He just must have been in better shape than we realized.”
Alex smiled and allowed him to pull her into an embrace. “And now we can be together.” She eyed the bed and pulled him towards it, laying down next to Victor’s dead body.
“You’re not serious?” said the young man. “You want to do it next to a dead guy?”
“Why not?” she asked with a grin and pulled him on top of her. “I think it’s kind of kinky. I think he secretly got off on stuff like that. This could be our last tribute to him.”
Not one to argue, the young stud peeled off his shirt and climbed on top of her.
“Hold on,” Alex said and sighed with irritation. She pushed him off of her and climbed back out of bed. “I’m confused. How would anyone get turned on by having sex next to a corpse? Who in the hell wrote this script, anyway?”
“Cut!” the director shouted and rose from his chair across the set.
Groans and cries of frustration emanated from the crew. Alex shrugged and tightened the belt around her robe. “I’m sorry. I just think this is unrealistic. Normal people don’t have sex on dead bodies.”
“Jesus, can we just get through this scene,” said the young hunk, a popular twenty-nine year old actor named Scott Kelly who was married but was rumored to swing both ways. Alex believed the rumors. No man that good looking could be completely straight.
“I wouldn’t mind doing the scene again,” said Victor as he sat up on the bed and eyed Alex with a knowing grin.
Rolling her eyes, Alex stormed across the set and plopped down in a chair with her name emblazoned on the back. She was a stunningly beautiful woman of forty-six with long auburn hair and porcelain skin. Her assistant handed her a bottle of water and she eagerly welcomed it from her.
“Alex,” said the director, Frank Dunning, and sat down beside her. He was a forty-four-year-old veteran in the business, dressed casually in jeans and a tartan shirt, and had hair that fell to just below his collar. He had worked with many actresses just as difficult as Alex Reynolds, but in the ten days since they started filming Angel Assassin 2: Halo and Goodbye, she’d complained about nearly every scene. “I know that you haven’t worked for a number of years, but I have to be honest—”
“I hope you’re not about to make some crack about my age, Frank,” she said and stared at him in shock. “Because you know damn well I can out-perform any of these simps showing up in town every day with stars in their eyes and producers in their pants.”
“No, of course not,” Frank said gently. “You’re a pro. Every film you’ve done proves it, especially those for Sunset Studios. James seems to have a lot of faith in your abilities…”
“If you’re about to suggest that I got this role because my ex-husband owns the studio, you can think again.”
“Well, I know it doesn’t hurt either. Listen, you’re filling the shoes of the original Angel in the first movie. We have to stay consistent with the character or the audience isn’t going to buy into it.”
“Aeriel Giddish would have screwed her lover next to her husband’s corpse?” Alex guffawed.
“Yes, and she did. Although in the first film, the corpse was headless. Based on the problems with the ratings board in the original, we decided to scale back the gore for this one.”
“Oh, well I guess I should thank the writer for allowing my husband in the film to have a head,” Alex ranted, then stood up and walked back to the set. “How is a sequel even possible? Angel died in the first film.”
Frank gave her a sheepish grin. “I resurrected her.”
Irritated, Alex threw her hands up in resignation. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
The crew returned to their positions, and Alex climbed back onto the bed next to Victor, swatting his hand away when he brushed it against her thigh. Scott Kelly completed a set of two hundred pushups and walked back to his mark, flexing his bulging arm muscles and running his hand over his overly-pumped chest.
“Angel Assassin 2, Scene 3, Take 7,” said the clapper loader as he set the marker for the scene.
“Where’s your sister this morning?” James Blackthorne asked, the L.A. Times spread out in front of him while he sipped a cup of strong black coffee and nibbled on a piece of dry toast.
Before he could answer, Stormy Blackthorne flinched at the sound of doors slamming up on the second floor of the sprawling Hollywood Hills mansion. “Does that answer your question?” he replied, stuffing a forkful of eggs into his mouth while he tapped at his iPhone.
James sighed and folded the paper, placing it neatly on the table. “Do you know what’s wrong with her?” He was a tall, noble looking man of forty-seven with dark hair and deep brown eyes. A few distinguished wrinkles around the eyes lent him a great deal of sex appeal.
Stormy contemplated the question briefly before shrugging and muttering an off-handed, “who knows? Does she need a reason to have a hissy fit these days? I thought it was all part of her charming personality.”
“I have a feeling it’s got something to do with David Jennings.”
“You think?” Stormy said with a great deal of sarcasm. He was a twenty-six-year-old executive at Sunset Studios, working directly under his father. Jet black hair and blue eyes along with an ever-growing number of tattoos, labeled him in the media as the Hollywood bad boy of the moment.
“I don’t think she’s dealt with it very well,” James said thoughtfully. “As a matter of fact, she seems to be worse off than she was when it happened.”
Their conversation was halted when Ethan walked into the room, freshly showered and dressed in a perfectly cut Armani suit. “Good morning,” he said and sat down while Leilani poured him a cup of coffee.
“Good morning Ethan,” James said. “How did you sleep?”
“Fine, thank you,” he said. “Just coffee this morning, Leilani.”
“You’re not having breakfast?” James asked.
Ethan Blackthorne shook his head. He was a thirty-one-year-old man with light brown hair and warm brown eyes. A solid, athletic body and chiseled face balanced his gentle demeanor. After a long estrangement from his family, he’d recently been given a fresh start, and with it his old job as chief financial officer of Sunset Studios.
“I have a meeting with Kenny,” he replied. “The next payment on that loan you took out against the studio is coming due and the bank wants to make sure we don’t default.”
James frowned. “Why would they think we’d default?”
Ethan shook his head dismissively. “We’ll talk about it later. Will you be in today?”
“Yes. Speaking of which, Stormy, I thought you were going to be on set this morning,” James remarked.
“I’ve decided that it’s best to stay away when they’re shooting a scene with mom,” he replied. “She’s still giving Frank Dunning a hell of a time. Dad, isn’t there something you can do? I’m afraid he’s going to walk if she keeps up this diva act of hers.”
James sighed. He was happy to be back in charge of the studio, and having his son and his nephew working closely with him again was a dream come true. But his ex-wife’s behavior so far left much to be desired. She was causing problems all over the set.
“I’ll talk to her again,” he said reluctantly. “But I’m telling you, if she wasn’t your mother and she didn’t need this movie to pay for her fines to the government for that Stratotech business, she’d be out.”
Miranda stalked into the room and planted her hands firmly on her hips, glaring at the three men with squinty eyes.
“Have any of you seen my necklace?” she demanded.
“What necklace, sweetheart?” James asked.
“The pendant mom gave me for my twenty-first birthday. It was on my dresser the day before yesterday and I haven’t seen it since. I wanted to wear it to the party tonight.” She took her seat and swallowed a few sips of orange juice.
“Well, it’s got to be around somewhere,” James remarked. “Have you seen it, Leilani?”
She turned away from her duties at the buffet and shook her head apologetically. “I’m sorry, no, Miss Miranda. But I will keep a look out for it.” She placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It will turn up.”
Miranda sighed heavily and grimaced at the plate of eggs their faithful housekeeper placed in front of her. She had long dark hair, big blue eyes, and full, pouty lips with frosty pink lip gloss. At twenty-three, she was the manager of Hotel Terranova, one of James’s fashionable resort hotels in the Hollywood Hills. “How are you feeling, Daddy?” she asked, deciding to drop the mystery of the missing necklace for the time being.
“Good as new,” he said. “I had a checkup with Dr. Farraday yesterday and he said I’m healthy as a horse.”
“Well, just make sure you take it easy,” Miranda said. ‘It’s only been three months since the shooting. I don’t want you doing anything to put your recovery in jeopardy.”
James smiled, got up and kissed her forehead. “I promise, sweetheart. Listen, I’ve got to go see your mother. I’ll see you later. Ethan, Stormy, see you at the studio.”
“Bye, Daddy,” Miranda said.
“You okay this morning, Miranda?” Ethan asked after a moment of awkward silence.
She shrugged indifferently and tapped at her blackberry. “Fine, I guess,” she said. “Ethan, when’s your house going to be ready?”
“Not for a couple of weeks,” he replied. “The electrician said it was lucky the fire was contained to the upstairs. The entire place is jinxed with faulty wiring.”
“Well, it’s been nice having you here. And I’m glad you and Daddy are close again. I’m telling you, Brooke Taylor is the supreme source of all of this family’s problems. She just won’t leave well enough alone. She takes and takes and takes until there’s nothing left for anyone else. Ethan, you did yourself a favor by offloading that tramp.”
Ethan finished his coffee and stood up quickly. “Well, I’ve got to be going. I’ll see you all tonight at the party.”
After he was safely out of earshot, Stormy threw a muffin across the table at his sister which hit her on the arm.
“Hey!” she complained, tossing it back at him.
“Good going, Miranda. You know how broken up he’s been about Brooke. Don’t you have any feelings for anyone but yourself? What’s eating you anyway? You’ve been storming around in a pissy mood all morning, and I know it’s not because of your necklace. I thought you were over getting dumped by David Jennings. At least it seemed that way when you went home with the mystery man you picked up at the Viper Room the other night. Who was he anyway? You never did tell me.”
“None of your business. And David didn’t dump me. I dumped him,” she corrected him crossly and picked at her eggs.
“That’s not what I heard. So what happened? Did you catch him with another woman? You had to expect that. He’s a wealthy, attractive bachelor.”
“So why don’t you date him?” she spat ruefully. “I told you that I’m over David, and I meant it.”
“Are you?”
“Yes. Why would I lie?” she asked with irritation.
“I don’t know.”
“I have no reason to lie. You, on the other hand, have been hiding something for weeks.”
Stormy frowned. “What do you mean? What would I have to hide?”
Miranda’s eyes landed on him suspiciously. “Mom told me that you haven’t been on the set but five minutes a day in the last month. So what have you been doing that’s so important that you have to lie about where you’ve been?”
The phone rang in Brooke Taylor’s Glendale townhome. She walked down the stairs, thoughtfully admired a bouquet of roses on the landing while removing an earring from her right ear, and picked up the receiver in the living room. From her vantage point, she could see the nanny, Rachel, giving Michael his breakfast in the kitchen.
“Hello,” she said. She was twenty-nine, five-foot eight inches tall, and had silky golden hair and dramatic aquamarine eyes.
“Did you like the roses I sent?” asked a voice on the other end of the phone.
Brooke smiled tentatively and glanced at the bouquet again. “Yes, they’re very beautiful. Thank you, David. But I keep telling you—”
“Have dinner with me tonight,” David Jennings cut her off.
“David, I can’t. I—”
“Why not? You’ve been putting me off for weeks. I told you that I’d give you space until you got over Ethan. You said you didn’t want to jump into anything right away. Well, today it’s been exactly three months. It’s time that you got out of that townhome and lived a little.”
Running her fingers through a tangle of blond hair, Brooke looked at Michael and sighed dramatically. “It’s too soon,” she insisted. “Ethan and I had a lot of history. I spent so long bouncing back and forth between him and James that I can’t remember what it’s like to be alone and to take care of myself. It’s time that I do that.”
Silence on the other end of the line. After a few awkward moments, David replied in a low voice. “Is this because you’re afraid of what Miranda might think if she knew we were together?”
Brooke shook her head. “Whatever reason you broke up with Miranda is your business, David,” she said. “I never asked you to do that. But to answer your question, yes, I would like to avoid any confrontations with her. There’s too much bad blood between me and the Blackthornes as it is.”
“I’m not going to give up. We have a connection, Brooke. I know you felt it the same way I did.”
She cut him off by hanging up abruptly then wiping her sweaty palms on her slacks. Moments later, the door opened and her mother entered the house with a slew of shopping bags dangling from her arms.
“Hi,” Roz Taylor said, out of breath and grinning from ear to ear. “Sorry I was gone so long. Every store I went into there was something I simply had to have.”
“You were up and out early,” Brooke replied, going into the kitchen and sitting down next to Michael at the table.
“Well, I knew you had a lot of errands today, and Rachel has the afternoon off, so I wanted to get out early so I could get back.”
“Dad called again this morning,” Brooke interrupted, wiping a trail of juice from her son’s chin.
“He did?” Roz Taylor asked, distracted as she pulled a few garments from her shopping bags and held them up to her body with appreciation. She was a beautiful woman of fifty-four, golden hair that matched her daughter’s, and a modest assembly of jewels. “Did you see this? Isn’t the color gorgeous?”
“Mom, he wanted to know when you were coming home.” Brooke had come to accept that her parents were having marital problems. When her mother showed up at her door three months ago, she expected it was for a short week-long visit and then she’d go back to Arizona and things would go back to normal. But after a few weeks, Roz came back, then left again, then came back two weeks ago and had remained since.
“Your father is traveling for work, Brooke. Didn’t he tell you that? He’s gone five out of seven days a week and I’m left there alone. I don’t see the harm in spending time here with you and Michael while he’s so busy.” She heard a knock at the door and she flew over to answer it. “It isn’t as if I’ve left him.”
“Or have you?” Brooke asked. “Who’s at the door?”
“I couldn’t get everything in the car so the store was having some things delivered for me,” Roz replied, pulling open the door and greeting a handsome young delivery man carrying two large boxes from a boutique on Rodeo Drive.
Brooke scratched her head, more than confused by her mother’s erratic behavior as of lately.
“You can set those down over there,” Roz said, pointing to the sofa and handing the deliveryman a tip. “Thank you.”
After he’d gone, Brooke followed her mother to the sofa. “What else did you buy? Haven’t you been kind of overdoing it lately?”
“I don’t think so,” Roz said, opening the lid off of one of the boxes and removing a floor-length sable coat. “I mean, look at the pelts on this coat. Isn’t it the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen?”
Brooke snatched the receipt from the box. “How on earth can you afford a fur coat on the salary that dad makes?”
“A woman has to treat herself, Brooke. You should know that. Don’t tell me that you don’t have at least half a dozen of these. James took care of you. I know he did.”
“But the whole reason that dad is always on the road is because he’s trying to make money to support the two of you,” Brooke said, amazed by the price of the expensive item. “You’re not getting any younger. I know how hard he’s been trying to save for your retirement. This coat probably took everything he’s saved for his entire life.”
“Don’t be silly,” Roz said, swinging the coat over her shoulders and staring at herself in the mirror inside the front door. “It’s always been important to your father that I look good. Can you honestly say that I don’t look good in this coat?”
Brooke rubbed her eyes and dropped her hands to her sides in resignation. It was impossible talking to her mother. Having her practically living with her for the past few months had taken its toll. But admittedly, they had gotten closer. She only wished she would level with her on what was going on with her and her father.
“I don’t want to go,” Kelly Kahoano said as she sat in the kitchen at the Blackthorne mansion stirring a spoon in a carton of yogurt. “I hate it there.”
“Kelly, don’t be silly,” Leilani said as she cleaned up the breakfast dishes. “Miss Miranda says you’re doing a wonderful job. She says everyone at the hotel loves you.”
“That’s another thing. Do you know how humiliating it is to have her as a boss? We’re practically the same age and she gets to order me around all day. Clean this, bring this room more towels, scrub that toilet. It’s disgusting! I didn’t come here to be a maid.”
“What’s wrong with being a maid?” Leilani asked and stopped what she was doing long enough to shoot her daughter a look of disappointment. “I’ve been a maid here for over seventeen years and it’s been good enough to support you, hasn’t it? Your father certainly never helped, wherever he is.”
Kelly sighed regretfully and leaned in on her elbow. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, mom.” She was a striking young woman of twenty-two with long black hair and sun-kissed skin, half-Hawaiian and half-American. Since moving to the mainland three month ago, she’d been working as a maid at Hotel Terranova, and made no secret of her detest over it.
“Kelly, Mr. Blackthorne and his family have taken you into their home and given you a job. Before you came here you had nothing. If only you’d stayed with Ke Liu.”
She rolled her eyes and pulled herself out of the chair. “I know, if only I’d stayed with Ke Liu I’d be so much better off,” she said sarcastically. “Never mind that I didn’t love him and wasn’t ready to get married. I can’t believe that you would actually want me to marry someone just because it was convenient.”
“I want you to have everything that I didn’t,” Leilani proposed. “I want you to go to college, to have an education, to have a husband who loves you. You know that Keone loved you, Kelly.”
Sighing, she leaned against the counter and adjusted her maid’s uniform. “The only good thing about Ke was that he was rich. I wouldn’t have to wear this dreadful thing, that’s for sure.”
Suddenly Miranda entered the kitchen with Stormy following close behind.
“Kelly, aren’t you going to be late for work?” Miranda asked and pulled a grapefruit from the refrigerator.
She smiled through gritted teeth. “We wouldn’t want that, would we?” she seethed, eyeing Stormy briefly. “Yeah, I’m leaving. The fourth floor penthouses are calling my name.”
“Morning Kelly,” Stormy said as he watched her leave the room.
Leilani followed her daughter from the room, intent on talking to her more about her future. It seemed that was all she did lately. They argued non-stop about Kelly’s attitude toward life, and about her notion that she was better than everything she’d been given.
Once they were alone, Stormy glared menacingly at his sister and pulled himself up onto the counter. “Why are you so worried about what I do during the day? And why are you and mom talking about it?”
“Believe me, it isn’t as if we don’t have enough interesting things to discuss,” Miranda said, juggling the grapefruit between her hands. “But something is going on with you, big brother, and it isn’t the next summer blockbuster.”
“What? You want to know where I am every minute of every day? You’re my sister, not my wife or my keeper.”
“Where were you yesterday afternoon?”
“Where was I yesterday afternoon?” he repeated, hoping to stall her line of questioning. “Like, where was I?”
“Yes, where were you? It’s a simple question, Stormy.”
“I was in my office working on budgets.”
“Liar,” Miranda said with a devious grin. “Linc saw you at the hotel hanging around the lobby for like fifteen minutes. He said you got a phone call and then went upstairs.”
“Do you pay your concierge to spy on me?” Stormy asked irately. “Jesus, I had a meeting with a crew member. We’ve got a lot of guys staying at the hotel while production is going on. I’d think you’d welcome the business instead of dissecting every single move I make.”
“Well then why lie about it?” Miranda asked. “Why not just say you were at the hotel meeting with a crew member?”
He sighed and looked at his watch. “I don’t have time for this. I have to go.” Before he left, he paused in the doorway and turned to her. “You know, this infatuation with what I’m doing sounds like a deterrent from having to focus on your own life. Your relationship with David ended so you need something else to focus on. Just don’t let it be me.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I’m late,” he said, turning and leaving.
“For what?” she called after him. “According to you, you don’t do anything!”
Sighing, she jumped up onto the counter and began peeling her grapefruit. Maybe Stormy was right. Maybe she was trying to fill her life with other peoples problems. Maybe David had left a bigger void in her life than she’d realized.
James made his way through the maze of sound stages on the expansive Sunset Studios lot. He entered through the back door of stage 4, waved to the security guard and proceeded onto the set. Various crew members were scattered about, a few extras grazing at the crafts service table, and Frank Dunning seated with his head in his hands in his director’s chair.
“Frank, what’s the word?” James said and slapped him on the back.
Frank simply and non-verbally replied with a what do you think expression on his taut face.
“That bad, huh?” James said, dug his hands into his pockets and surveyed the mood on set. “Where is she?”
“In her dressing room,” Frank replied. “She spends more time in there than in front of the camera.”
James shook his head in frustration, turned and started to the back of the stage area. Frank stood up and called after him before he made it too far.
“James, hold up,” he began. “I know I said that I would do this movie, but I’m starting to have reservations. Alex is out of control. I don’t know if it’s that she hasn’t worked in so long that she’s rusty or what, but I can’t work under these conditions. She’s making everyone’s lives miserable. My leading man is threatening to walk and I don’t want to lose him.”
“Scott Kelly has a contract. If we walks, we sue.”
And what if I walk?” Frank asked.
James sighed and put his hands in his pockets again. “Frank, we’ve been friends a long time. Please just give her another chance. I’ll have a talk with her.“
“You’d better, James,” Frank said, brushing his long wavy hair from his face. “Because if I walk and Scott Kelly walks, Angel Assassin 2 will be stuck in development hell for eternity. No one will work with your ex-wife.”
James knew that Frank was correct in his assumptions. He walked back, knocked on Alex’s dressing room and waited a beat before going inside.
“Got a minute?” he asked.
Alex looked up from her dressing table where she pored over a magazine. “James, how nice to see you,” she said, got up and kissed his cheek. “Come to check up on me again?”
He grinned at her cavalier nature and followed her across the room to a sofa. “Frank tells me you’re pulling the old diva routine on him,” he began. “Alex, I don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands. May I remind you that you need this role to pay off your share of the fines to the government?”
“No, you don’t,” she replied, lighting a cigarette and pouring herself a glass of orange juice.
“Good, because Renee and I have already came up with our share. I took a loan out using the studio as collateral, and Renee sold off some of Merteuil Industries’ holdings. Her father’s company. Do you know how hard that was for her to do?”
“She still has the company. It’s just a little lighter through the middle.”
“How can you be so flippant about this? If it wasn’t for you getting us involved with Seth Walker, none of this would be necessary. But thanks to you, we got slapped with a hundred million dollar fine, lost Blackthorne-Reynolds, lost your Uncle Cyrus’s land, and innocent people were killed.”
Alex grew quiet for a moment, sitting back down in front of her vanity and absently applying blush to her cheeks. “Leigh didn’t deserve what she got,” she said softly.
“No, she didn’t deserve it.”
“But you can’t blame me for what happened to her, or to you. Leigh got involved with Seth all on her own.”
James exhaled deeply, thinking sorrowfully about Leigh and how close they had grown in such a short time. He believed they would have gotten even closer if she hadn’t been killed. Despite everything she did, he had cared for her very much.
“Just please try to be on your best behavior,” he finally said. “Frank and Scott are threatening to walk otherwise.”
Alex realized how important it was to him. She got up and walked over to him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “And I’m sorry for bringing up painful memories. I’ve just been sort of on edge lately.”
“Still upset that they passed on you for Dancing with the Stars?”
She cracked a smile and sat back down. “Jordan left a few days ago to scout locations in Switzerland for his new film. I guess I’m missing him a bit. I still feel like we’re newlyweds.”
“When will he be back?” James asked.
“This afternoon. In time for Benji’s party. Will we see you there?”
“I’ll see if I can make it.” He turned and started out of the room, pausing briefly before he left. “Alex, remember. Behave.”
She smiled and waved, turning back to her mirror and examining her reflection.
Kelly Kahoano flitted about the penthouse suite at Hotel Terranova, attacking every surface with a feather duster. She coughed and sneezed, opening a drawer and cringing at a pile of used tissues. Shuddering with disgust, she quickly closed the drawer and moved to another part of the room. She pulled the comforter up over the bed, ignoring the tangle of crumpled sheets beneath it.
Once she had finished her lackluster job of cleaning, she picked up a magazine from her cart and stretched out on the bed. She paged through the ads and the fashion spreads, eagerly soaking in the beautiful clothes and the trendy hairstyles and fragrances. She enveloped herself in a dream world where she could have everything she wanted; the Gucci, the Chanel, the Jimmy Choo handbags. She wanted to go to a salon on Rodeo Drive and be pampered with a six-hundred-dollar haircut and a fancy manicure and pedicure.
Sighing, she tossed the magazine aside and realized she could have had all of that if she’d stayed in Hawaii and married Ke Liu. Now here she was in Los Angeles, a city of infinite possibilities, and she was stuck cleaning hotel rooms for rich society snobs who left their panties in a bunch on the bathroom floor next to their vomit from last night’s partying.
A knock at the door sent her jumping to her feet. Panicked, she walked across the room and tried to peer through the peep hole.
“Hello?” she called.
“It’s me,” said a deep voice from the hall.
A smile spread across her face and she eagerly pulled the door open. “It’s about time,” she said.
“You forgot to leave a tag on the door,” Stormy replied, locking the door behind him and hastily unbuttoning his shirt. “I had to knock on a dozen doors before I found which room you were in.”
“Sorry,” Kelly replied, leading him to the bed as he smothered her with kisses. “After weeks of doing this I should know the routine by now.”
Stormy covered her with his body, taking in her musky scent as he unstrapped her bra and watched in wonderment as her breasts came tumbling out. “We don’t have much time,” he said, burying his face in her cleavage.
“I know, I have three more rooms to clean,” she said, peeling off his shirt and running her hands over his smooth, muscular chest. “Luckily you never seem to have a problem finding just the right spot to put a smile on my face.”
Stormy’s breath came out in quick, short spurts as he mounted her and began making hurried, expert love to her.
James went to Ethan’s office at Sunset Studios and found him hammering out numbers on his computer. He knocked quickly before entering and taking a seat across from him.
“How’d the meeting with Kenny go?” he asked. “You mentioned something about the loan. Is there a problem I don’t know about?”
Ethan sighed deeply and turned away from the computer. “Right now, no. But we have a payment coming due in a couple of a weeks and I’m concerned. Last month we had some trouble making it. It was close. There just isn’t enough money coming in. The interest alone on a twenty-five-million-dollar loan is enough to shut us down.”
James stared at the wall in a daze, taking in the bad news in stride. He knew that taking a loan out of that size would be a financial burden, but at the time they had no other recourse. The fines to the government couldn’t wait.
“Is there anything we can do?”
Ethan shrugged and spread his hands out on the desk. “The WGA strike really hit us hard. We were shut down for close to fourteen weeks. Not being able to start production on Angel Assassin 2 until last week put us behind. We need to rush this thing into theatres if we don’t want to have the bank foreclose on us.”
“I won’t let that happen,” James insisted. “I’ll pull money from my personal accounts to make the loan payments if I have to.”
“But how long can you keep that up?” Ethan asked skeptically. He sighed, shaking his head in frustration. “Listen, I can help. I still have all that money Will left me.”
“Ethan, no. You said yourself that you’d sooner live on the street than take anything from your father.”
“We don’t have much of a choice,” Ethan said. “Besides, you’ve been more of a father to me than Will ever was. I want to help you.”
James smiled. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” he said thoughtfully. “Just a few months ago we were at each other’s throats. Now here you are working for me again, living in the mansion, just like when you first came to Hollywood.”
“It’s because Brooke isn’t in the picture anymore. She was always the source of our conflict.”
“But it’s more than that,” James said sorrowfully. “It was that damn Seth Walker. I mean, if he hadn’t shot me I wouldn’t have almost died and come to the realization that I’d been…less than human during the past year. The way I treated you and Brooke was unforgivable. I had no right to blame you for our marriage ending. I accomplished that all on my own.”
“Well, the important thing is that we’re family again. Brooke’s out of my life, except for when I have to go pick up Michael at her place. I’m just sorry that she came between us.”
“I’m sorry that things didn’t work out between you,” James said. “I honestly mean that, Ethan. If you worked things out today, I wouldn’t stand in your way.“
“Do you mean that?”
“Absolutely,” James replied, standing up and straightening his suit coat.
“That means a lot to me,” Ethan said. “But the truth is, Brooke and I are over. She wasn’t able to commit to me. She pushed me away and she turned to another man.”
“You’re talking about David Jennings,” James said. “Are they seeing each other?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. He was always around. For months he was the one she went to with her problems, with her thoughts and feelings. Not me. I assumed when he broke up with Miranda that it was because it was Brooke that he wanted.”
“For God’s sake don’t tell her that. The longer we can keep that from Miranda the better. If she found out that there was even a remote possibility that David was interested in Brooke, it would be a very dark day in the history of the Blackthornes.”
Ethan nodded with an amused grin. “So about that money?” he asked. “My father may have been useful for something after all.”
James shook his head before leaving. “Let’s wait and see how things pan out first,” he began. “But Ethan, just the fact that you offered means the world to me. You really are like another son to me.”
Ethan smiled appreciatively as James left the office and closed the door quietly behind.
“The good news is you’re in excellent health,” Dr. Mitchell said to Heather in the pre-natal ward at Cedars-Sinai. “Your blood tests show no lingering signs of the toxoplasma antibodies. The antibiotics did the trick.”
Heather smiled with relief. “That’s good news. I feel better, that’s for sure.”
“Good,” Dr. Mitchell said. “Now are you sure that you don’t want another amniocentesis to determine the health of the baby? The first test was inconclusive—most likely because you were only a few weeks pregnant at the time. We can do another one, Heather. The choice is yours.”
Shaking her head, Heather jumped off of the exam table and started to get dressed. “I don’t want it,” she said. She was twenty-six and model-skinny with long, straight dark brown hair and a thin face. A now very noticeable pregnant stomach protruded from her gown.
“Are you absolutely certain?”
Heather met her gaze. “I want this baby regardless of whether there’s anything wrong with it or not,” she said. “So I don’t see what good an amniocentesis would do.”
Dr. Mitchell nodded. “I just want you to be prepared.”
Heather took a deep breath and nodded. “I know what the odds are, Dr. Mitchell. You don’t have to tell me. It’s all I’ve thought about for the past three months.”
“Good,” said the doctor, shifting her focus momentarily. “Heather, can I ask you something personal?”
“Of course.”
“Well, you’re in your sixth month of pregnancy and not once have you brought your husband with you to one of your checkups. Is he still in the picture?”
Heather closed her eyes and thought about Brett. “Yes, he is. He’s just….very busy, and I don’t want to worry him about things he can’t—”
“He doesn’t know, does he?” Dr. Mitchell asked. “About the toxoplasmosis.”
Heather lowered her head and shook it back and forth in sorrow.
“You have to tell him,” Dr. Mitchell said. “I understand your concern. You don’t want to worry him needlessly. But the reality is that—”
“Dr. Mitchell, you don’t understand my reality,” Heather said, strapping her purse over her shoulder and heading for the door. “You don’t understand at all. My husband lost a baby once before. It nearly destroyed him. Now I’m pregnant with his child and there’s a chance something could be wrong with him or her. I won’t put that on him until I’m absolutely sure.”
“All the more reason to get the amnio.”
“No, I’m sorry” Heather said hastily and started out of the office. “I have to go. I’ll see you next month, Dr. Mitchell.”
With that, she flew out into the hall and met up with Brooke in the waiting area.
“How did everything go?” Brooke asked with concern, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Fine,” she replied, stifling the tears that burned her eyes. “She said I’m healthy and the baby is developing normally. Physically, at least.”
“You still want to wait until the baby is born before you find out if—”
“If my baby is normal or not?” she finished for her. “Yes, I’m going to wait. Nothing about this baby is going to make me love him or her any less. Or Brett for that matter.”
“You still haven’t told him,” Brooke said, clasping her purse in front of her. “He has a right to know, Heather. When you give birth to this baby and something turns out to be wrong with it, how are you going to be able to tell him that you knew it might be a possibility?”
Devastated, Heather barreled toward the elevator. She paused, leaning against the wall and burying her face in her hands. She saw no reason to worry Brett until she knew for sure. After the baby was born they’d have the tests done and then they’d deal with it together. That was her plan and she was convinced it was the only thing to do.
Jordan Rydell was a solid, masculine man of forty-seven with light brown hair and a rugged jaw line, the CEO of Rydell Productions, a fast-growing film production company based in Hollywood. His plane from Switzerland landed at two-thirty that afternoon and he immediately called Alex, who had just wrapped shooting for the day, to let her know he was back and that he’d meet her at home in an hour. He called Benji to wish him a happy birthday but he didn’t answer his cell. Next he called Heather to see how she was feeling and she said she was fine and that she’d see him later at Benji’s party. Finally, he called his son-in-law Brett to see how things were going at the studio in his absence. All seemed fine on the homefront, so before going home, he stopped by Hotel Terranova to have a drink. After the trip he’d had, he needed it.
Taking a seat at the end of the bar, he ordered a vodka gimlet and sat quietly, reflecting over his trip. To his right he detected a man approach and sit down a few stools away from him.
Frank Dunning.
Before he could get up and move to another seat, Frank spotted him and approached with slow, deliberate movements.
“Afternoon, Jordan,” he said and sat down with his drink. “It’s been a long time.”
Jordan sighed, sipping from his drink and avoiding eye contact with him. “Sure has.”
“Just left your wife on the set,” Frank continued. “Blackthorne must have had a few words with her because we actually stayed on schedule today. Even got done early.”
“Good,” Jordan said simply. He had nothing to say to Frank Dunning. They hadn’t spoken much in years and he didn’t see that there was anything to say now. The only thing that he succeeded in doing was reminding him of a bad time in his life.
“Kind of funny that I’m directing your second wife in a film twelve years after your first wife and I—”
“Frank, if you don’t mind, I kind of just wanted to be alone for a while,” Jordan cut him off. “I’ve been out of town all week and I just want to finish my drink and go home to my family.”
“Oh sure,” Frank said and turned to look into his drink. “I’m sorry. I just get nostalgic once and a while.”
“Nostalgic?”
Frank shrugged. “Well, maybe curious is a better word for it.”
“Curious about what?” Jordan asked with exasperation.
“About Suzanne,” was Frank’s thoughtful reply. “The way she just left like that.”
“I have to go,” Jordan said, attempting to get up from his seat.
“The night before we were going to start production on Monaco,” Frank continued. “The night of that earthquake. That was the last I ever saw her. She was excited to be going back to work. She was nervous, but she was excited to be working again.”
“What’s your point?” Jordan asked.
He shrugged. “Just curious is all. It must have been very hard for you to move on after she left.”
Jordan slapped a ten dollar bill onto the bar top and finished the rest of his drink. “It was.” He turned and started walking away again.
“Why did she leave?” Frank asked.
Jordan stopped in his tracks and turned back to him. “We had problems.”
“Problems? Did those problems have anything to do with Dr. Wainwright?”
Clenching his teeth, Jordan walked forward and glared at him heatedly. “How do you know about Wainwright?”
Frank knew he’d struck a nerve. “Suzanne told me.”
The news troubled Jordan more than he realized. Shuddered to the core, he backed up and started to leave again.
“Did Suzanne just leave?” Frank continued ominously. “Or was it something else? Something that took her away from this place?”
Ignoring him, Jordan stalked through the bar and made his way across the lobby of the hotel. He took a deep breath, refusing to look back. If he looked back the truth would show all over his face.
When he got to the lobby, his cell phone rang. Fishing it from his pocket, he answered in a grim tone.
“Jordan Rydell?” asked a female caller.
“Yes. Who the hell is this?”
“This is Detective Stephanie Callahan from the Los Angeles Police Department,” said the caller. “Mr. Rydell, we need you to come downtown as soon as possible. There’s a problem.”
“What kind of problem?” Jordan asked. “A problem with what?”
“With your son. He’s been arrested.”
Next time….
Benji’s secret is exposed as we relive his 90+ days since returning home from boarding school.
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