Previously…
After learning that T.T. had a girlfriend in New York named Angela Warner, Renee told him she was through with him. Sierra expressed her desire to reach out to Benji, but Malcolm cautioned her otherwise, jealous of their bond since the earthquake. Miranda’s bandages were removed, revealing scars that Dr. Gutman said would heal in time. Miranda continued to push Eddie away, who reaffirmed his feelings for her, then kissed her. Jordan told Alex they were through after learning she’d told Stephanie he could have been responsible for Scott’s beating. When Stephanie questioned Benji, he lied and told her that Jordan used to beat him, therefore was a prime suspect in the beating. T.T. warned James that the bad press circling Angel Assassin 2 had better not reflect on Titan Records. After Renee pushed him away again, he slept with Angela. Eddie informed Stormy that he’d discovered Kelly was working as a model in New York. Jordan served Alex with divorce papers, prompting her to resort to pills to ease her pain. After receiving a mysterious phone call, Heather grew into a trance and left the condo with Violet.
Brett Armstrong drove carefully, both hands on the wheel as he maneuvered his black Maserati through the access roads at the marina. The rain hammered down, flooding the streets and grassy areas. When he reached the parking lot next to his condo, he decided he’d have to start looking for a new place with a garage. It was probably time for him and Heather to upgrade to something larger anyway now that they had Violet. His one-bedroom condo wasn’t exactly family-friendly.
As soon as he stopped, he spotted Heather’s car parked under the overhang on the building. She was holding Violet, tucking her into the car seat in the back. He frowned, wondering where on earth she could be going with the baby in this kind of weather. He realized it could be an emergency. Maybe something had happened. Panic quickly set in.
He forewent any attempt at locating an umbrella inside his car, instead darting out into the rain and toward the shiny yellow Mercedes. As he drew near, he could hear Violet’s cries.
“Heather!” he called through the rain.
But she didn’t respond. She closed the back door and climbed into the driver’s seat. Her eyes didn’t even move in his direction.
“Heather!” Brett screamed again, soaked from his jog through the parking lot. He knocked on the window, desperate to garner her attention. At first he thought maybe she didn’t hear him through the driving rain, but then quickly realized it was something else.
The look in her eyes was unmistakable. It was the same look he’d seen the night she shot him. Blank, expressionless, and unfocused. Horrific thoughts raced through his mind until he came to the conclusion that she was in a trance. She was still under Victor’s control. Only this time it was worse. This time his infant daughter was the one in danger.
“Open the door!” he screamed as he continued banging on the window. Through the back he could see Violet crying miserably in her car seat. He tried opening the door but found it to be locked. He darted around to the other side of the car, hoping that he could at least get inside before she took off. Before he made it around, however, the car was speeding off down the access road in the rain.
“Noooo!” he screamed hoarsely.
Stephanie Callahan hated paperwork. It was the one thing about being a cop that she detested. She could handle the eighteen hour days, the dangerous criminals she encountered, the low pay, even the thankless commitment she made each day when she put on her gun and her badge and hit the streets of Los Angeles. But paperwork she couldn’t handle.
She sighed, pulled a stack of files in front of her and tried to decide where to start. Her eyes settled on a folder labeled New York that rested toward the bottom of the stack and she quietly pulled it out and opened it up. Her hands trembling, she paged through the documents inside. After less than a minute of reading its contents, she quickly closed it again and buried her face in her hands. She couldn’t go there again, she decided. The memories were too difficult.
Her moment of weakness was interrupted when the door opened and Jordan Rydell barreled inside, intently placing his hands on her desk and leaning in toward her.
“You’ve got to do something,” he said. “This has gone on for too long.”
She shuffled the folder beneath the stack before standing up and trying to hide her frazzled state. “Let me guess,” she began patronizingly, “this is about your ex-wife again, right?”
“You know damn well it is,” Jordan insisted. “This is ridiculous. She’s behind bars for a crime that wasn’t even her fault. Are you that pig-headed that you won’t open your eyes long enough to see what’s right in front of you?”
She sighed and sat back down. “You know, Victor Distefano’s body still hasn’t been recovered. Then again, that may be to your benefit. Another corpse showing up right now could seriously damage what legs you have left to stand on.”
“He tried to kill me, and then he tried to kill my daughter and her mother,” Jordan said through gritted teeth. “How many times do I have to tell you he was out of his mind?”
“What do you want me to do about it? The D.A. has been very adamant. He believes he has the right person behind bars.”
“Convince the DA otherwise,” Jordan demanded. “Look into Distefano’s personal affects. Do some investigating. Isn’t that what your job is?”
She glared angrily, standing up again and slammed her hand on the desk. “Who the hell do you think you are, anyway?” she bellowed, ignoring the fact that she found him incredibly sexy. “You’ve been nothing but a pain my ass for weeks, and now you have the balls to come here and try to tell me what my job is?”
“I wouldn’t have to if you were any kind of cop!”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah.”
Stephanie realized that hostility wasn’t going to get her anywhere with him. Contrary to what he probably thought, she did feel for what he was going through. His family was a mess and he was desperate to repair it. His son alone was enough for one man to handle.
“Look, I can’t promise anything,” she said with resignation. “The D.A. wants Scott Kelly’s beating to be my number one priority right now.”
“Of which I’m a suspect in as well, right?” Jordan asked with a chortle.
She clasped her hands together and walked around from behind the desk. “I spoke to your son earlier,” she began. “He had some curious insight into the case.”
Jordan frowned, preparing to respond when his cell phone rang. Sighing, he reached into his interior pocket and saw that it was Brett calling. He would have let it go to voicemail, but in light of everything that had been going on, he couldn’t risk it if it was an emergency.
“Brett?” he said after answering. “Look, I’m in the middle of something, so—”
“Victor’s alive,” Brett cut him off. He was in his car, following Heather’s yellow Mercedes in the punishing rain.
“What?” Jordan asked in a panic. Stephanie saw the urgency in his voice and stepped forward in concern. “Brett, slow down. What are you talking about?”
“He’s hypnotized her again,” he hastily explained.
“That’s impossible-“
“I saw the look in her eyes, Jordan. It’s the same look she had back on the yacht. It was like I wasn’t even there.”
Jordan closed his eyes, making a futile effort at willing himself to remain calm. “Where is she?”
“In her car,” Brett replied. “She’s on PCH. Jordan, she has Violet in the car with her.”
“Oh my god,” Jordan said and looked at Stephanie. “Tell me exactly where you are.”
“Headed toward Malibu,” Brett replied.
Jordan placed a hand over his forehead. “That’s close to where she and Suzanne crashed twelve years ago,” he said, then looked at Stephanie. “Brett, we’re on our way.”
“What’s going on?” Stephanie asked in confusion.
“Come on, I’ll explain in the car,” Jordan said as he led her from the office.
Violet cried in the back seat as the car splashed through puddles of water in the road. Heather maneuvered the Mercedes through traffic, slowing when necessary and staring blankly through the windshield.
The wipers worked feverishly, rain impeding her vision as quickly as they swept it away. It was just like that night in the car with her mother. She recalled every detail as if it were happening at that very minute. Her mother’s cries of despair, the blinding headlights that careened toward them, and her own frightened look of confusion.
“They don’t know how much it hurts,” she heard her mother cry from the driver’s seat.
“Mommy, the road!” she had cried, pointing out the windshield when the car crossed into the next lane and came dangerously close to the guardrail.
She swerved to avoid hitting a stalled car next to the shoulder. The driver in the next lane honked when she came dangerously close to sideswiping them. Steadily, she steered back into her own lane. The road began to angle around the cliff that bordered her on one side, a guardrail separating the road from the hundred-foot drop into the ocean.
Violet’s cries grew louder over the pelting rail on the roof of the car. She twisted in her car seat, tiny fingers clutching at the air.
Heather saw images of her surgery flash over and over in her mind. She was on the operating table, awake as they cut into her head to fix whatever damage the accident had caused. She saw the flap of skin they’d removed so they could cut into her brain. She saw the accident on the cliff over and over again.
She pushed the pedal to the floor, racing to the same spot where the nightmare had began so many years ago.
Brett had slipped four cars behind. He struggled to regain his position, weaving through traffic on Pacific Coast Highway as he kept his sights locked onto Heather’s yellow Mercedes.
His cell phone alerted him to a call and he answered it quickly.
“Where are you?” Jordan asked from the passenger’s seat in Stephanie’s unmarked car. She’d turned on the sirens and they were barreling past every car as they sped down the highway.
“About a hundred feet behind her,” Brett replied. “A mile from Point Mugu.”
Jordan nodded eagerly. “We’re right behind you.” He clicked off the phone and turned to Stephanie. “Can’t this thing go any faster? She’s almost there.”
“Hang on,” Stephanie warned him, gunning the engine and taking the shoulder close to the cliff so they had a straight shot down the stretch of road. Jordan clung to the door handle, staring at her in amazement as the car hugged the curves.
“Where’d you learn how to drive like that?” he asked.
“The police academy,” she said with a grin and blew past Brett’s car. Moments later, they were lined up with Heather’s.
“Try to get as close as you can,” Jordan said, rolling his window down and climbing up so he was half out the door.
“What are you doing?” Stephanie yelled as she tried to steady the car. “You’re crazy, Jordan!”
“Closer!” Jordan instructed her over the howl of the rain and the highway traffic.
Stephanie shook her head in frustration. Against her better judgment, she did as he asked. She couldn’t think of a better way of stopping the inevitable tragedy. With as much dexterity as she could muster, she maneuvered her car next to Heather’s and matched her speed.
Jordan realized he would have to physically stop her, so climbing out through the window, he waited until he had a clear shot of her car. In one desperate move, he jumped onto the roof of the Mercedes and clung on with all his strength. Rain pummeled him and he couldn’t see a thing from water in his eyes. He tried to focus on the road ahead and came to the realization that they were less than a hundred yards from the bend at Point Mugu. Horrific thoughts from the past of Suzanne and Heather’s accident played over and over in his mind. Him getting the phone call that they’d been hurt, and that Heather was being taken on a life flight to the hospital. He’d never been more terrified in his life until now.
The car careened toward the bend in the road, a guardrail blocking the hundred foot drop to the rocky shore below. Clinging to the roof, Jordan struggled to reach down and open the passengers’ side door. He slid against the wet metal, nearly losing his grasp and falling to the pavement. He recovered quickly, stopping his fall and managing to grab hold of the door handle. Once he did, he pulled it open and lowered himself into the car.
Inside, Heather didn’t react. Jordan could see Violet in the back seat crying her eyes out, unharmed at first glance. He reached over and tried to grab the wheel from her but she resisted, pulling it to the left toward the bend as they drew near.
“Heather, let go!” Jordan screamed, struggling with her strength. “Stop it or you’ll kill us all!”
The car lurched forward, mere yards from the guardrail and the cliff. Stephanie kept up as long as she could but eventually had to stop on the shoulder. She jumped out of the car and watched anxiously as the Mercedes inched closer to the cliff.
“No!” Heather screamed inside the car, jerking the wheel away from Jordan. She saw images from the crash, the car going over the cliff with her and her mother in it. “Mother! No!”
Jordan had no choice but to take drastic action. He hit her in the face with his elbow, knocking her unconscious just as the car reached the cliff. Once she was no longer fighting with him, he turned the wheel a hundred and eighty degrees and held on as the car spun out on the gravel bend. The back tires slid on the mud, inching toward the edge.
James knew that making love to Jackie would be a mistake. He knew she had designs on Sunset Studios and on his house, holding on to the belief that Jonas would have wanted it that way. He knew she was using her sex appeal to weaken him and to gain the upper hand. He didn’t know what her master plan was, but he had learned in a short time to tread very carefully with Jackie Lamont.
However, when it came down to it, his own libido took over, as was often the case, and they spent the afternoon in bed. He immediately regretted his actions.
“I should call Stormy and see if he made it to New York,” he said and sat up on his bed. He glanced over his shoulder as she stretched languorously in his designer sheets. When she didn’t react in the manner he’d hoped, he weaved in another hint. “Maybe you should leave. I don’t want the family getting the wrong idea.”
“And what idea would that be?” Jackie asked, sidling up next to him and rubbing her hands down his bare back. “That you’re a grown man and I’m a grown woman? It isn’t as if it hasn’t been building to this, James. There’s been a spark since the day I walked in the door.”
“And announced you were going to try to take over my studio,” he added bitterly.
“That’s all in the past,” Jackie said, choosing her words carefully. Was it really over? No. She had every intention of taking back what the Blackthornes had stolen from her. But since David had thwarted her plans by buying James’s bank loan, she simply had to find another way. Getting him into bed was the first step.
James laughed to himself as he stood up and pulled on a robe. “I wasn’t born yesterday, Jackie,” he said. “Don’t think I don’t know what this was all about.”
“Oh, James, why do you have to make everything about something?” She twisted off of the bed, stalking across the room in the nude and placing her hands on his waist. “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.”
He didn’t respond, instead using all of his energy to will himself to resist her intoxicating scent. Jackie was not a young woman. But at sixty years old, she had the most phenomenal body he’d ever seen in his life. That, and her simplistic view of life and a penchant for money and power were a dangerous combination. He could see why Nathan had been so in love with her.
She opened his robe and ran her hands along his bare chest. Softly, she pressed her lips against his neck and drew him back toward the bed. Again, James decided he couldn’t resist her. He pushed her onto the bed and covered her body with his.
T.T. decided to order dinner in. Angela stayed. He’d already come to regret making love to her, particularly when he’d gone to such lengths to convince Renee how much he cared for her. Instead of fighting for her, he caved and fell right back into Angela’s arms. He began to wonder if Renee was right about him. Maybe he was just an untrustworthy bastard.
“I thought it never rained in Southern California,” Angela said as she stared out the patio doors of T.T.’s lavish penthouse suite at Moonshadows. “This is ridiculous. I want to go out.”
“Who’s stopping you?” T.T. asked, barely looking up from his laptop.
She screwed up her face and folded her arms with a pout. “You said you didn’t want to go out.”
“I don’t, but that doesn’t mean you can’t.”
“What? I’m supposed to go out by myself?” Angela asked irately. She walked toward him, bundled tightly in a thick, luxurious bathrobe. “No thanks.”
“So don’t go out,” he said, irritated by her constant complaining. “I don’t care. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got to get some work done.”
She glowered, flopping down into a chair and swinging her legs up over the arm. “Why did I even come here if you were just going to be working the whole time?”
“I didn’t ask you to come,” T.T. snapped and stood up from the sofa. He poured himself a glass of wine and gazed outside at the falling rain. “If you’re not happy then go back to New York.”
“Not without you,” she said and shot across the room to where he was standing. “T.T., I want to be with you. Why can’t you understand that?”
“I told you I have work to do,” he said, prying her hands from his chest.
“But for how long? When can we go back to New York? I want to go soon.”
“When I’m done with my business,” he said sternly. She was beginning to get on his nerves, but maybe he was being overly harsh. He could tell she was getting upset by it, but he had little compassion. As soon as she’d gotten the hint that he was moving on, she sunk her claws in deeper.
She folded her arms. “This is because of that woman, Renee, isn’t it? She’s the real reason you want to stay.”
“Leave Renee out of this,” T.T. snapped, picking up his laptop and walking into the bedroom.
“Where are you going?” she demanded, following fast on his heels. “We aren’t finished talking about this.”
“Yes, we are,” he insisted, sitting on the bed and propping himself up against a pillow. “Now for the last time, I have work to do. Go down to the hotel bar if you’re bored.”
Fuming, she darted into the dressing area and pulled on a black dress, slipped into a pair of pumps, and grabbed her purse from the dresser. Before she left the bedroom, she looked at him briefly, hoping that he’d stop her. When he didn’t, she tore out of the room and out to the elevator. From there, she rode down to the lobby where she ran directly into Malcolm.
“Whoa,” he said, hands on her arms. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
She shook her head, fighting tears that threatened to explode. “I don’t even know,” she said miserably.
Malcolm put an arm around her, drawing her close and trying his best to comfort her.
For a few heart-stopping seconds, Jordan was convinced the car would slide in the thick mud and roll over the cliff. He’d managed to get control of the wheel and turn before they plunged to their deaths, but the rain had provided a surface that was slick as ice. The back tires inched toward the cliff and he held his breathe, eyes squeezed tightly shut while he said a silent prayer.
Seconds later, he realized the car had finally stopped on the asphalt. Violet had stopped crying and for a few eerie moments it was deadly silent.
Jordan opened his eyes and suddenly it was as if pandemonium had erupted. Heather came to and Violet began crying again. Several cars on the highway had stopped and were gathered around as if spectators at a sporting event. Stephanie raced up to the car and pulled the door open. Behind her, Brett followed in a panic.
“Are they okay?” he screamed, brushing past the detective and peering inside at his wife and daughter. “Heather?”
He took her hand and pulled her from the car. She looked into his eyes as the rain pelted them. Her eyes were glazed over and her face was pale and listless. He held her close. He couldn’t bear to see her this way. Just when they thought they were done with all of the pain and misery, it started up again. Would she ever be free of Victor’s control?
Exhaustion setting in, Jordan climbed from the car and met with Stephanie’s gaze. “Now do you believe me?” he screamed and pointed to his daughter. “Look at her! Look at what he made her do!”
Stephanie turned to Heather, obliviously clutching to her husband with their infant still crying in the back seat. She wouldn’t have believed it if she wasn’t there to witness it herself, but maybe Jordan was right all along.
Sunny skies returned the next morning, prompting Sierra to do some shopping on Rodeo Drive. With Malcolm tied up with work all day, she headed out and started her expedition at Badgley Mischka where she’d ran into Miranda.
“Oh, hi Sierra,” Miranda said from behind a display rack, large round sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat hiding the remnants of the bruises from her surgery. “I couldn’t tell if that was you or not.”
“Miranda, what are you doing hiding back there?” Sierra asked as she motioned toward her.
Sighing, Miranda removed her sunglasses.
“Oh wow, your burns are gone,” Sierra said. “It looks amazing, Miranda. The doctor did a great job.”
She turned and looked in a mirror. Yes, her burns were gone. The bruises and swelling from the surgery were healing. The scars Dr. Gutman spoke of were visible, but were not quite as bad as she’d anticipated. Still, venturing out to the most exclusive shopping district in the city wasn’t without reservations. Thus the big hat and sunglasses. And when she spotted two girls from her class at Hollywood High, she quickly lost her nerve, her scars suddenly seeming worse than the day of the earthquake.
“See those girls?” she asked, pulling Sierra to her spot behind the rack. “They were the meanest girls in school. Everyone was afraid of them. The one on the left, Aerial Woodser, was the leader. If she so much as saw you in last year’s Prada shoes, she would humiliate you in front of the whole school and leave you a cold, lonely outcast. Totally ruthless.”
Sierra regarded the woman carefully, noting her perfect figure, seven-hundred dollar highlights, and flawless complexion. “I guess they were pretty awful to you, huh?”
Miranda looked at her, frowned, and shook her head. “No, we were best friends. We did everything together.”
“Well maybe you should say hi,” Sierra suggested. “They seem like they’re nice.”
Miranda laughed. “Nice?” she asked. “Nice isn’t in Aerial Woodser’s vocabulary. Come on, let’s get out of here.” She took her arm and led her to the door. Just as they began to leave, a voice squealed through the store.
“Oh….my….God! Miranda Blackthorne? I don’t believe it!”
Cursing to herself, Miranda stopped and turned, ensuring her hat was securely in place. She knew it wasn’t enough to hide her face, but it would have to do.
“Aerial, hi,” she said, then nodded to her cohorts. “Courtney, Shay.”
“I can’t believe it,” Aerial continued. “Miranda, it’s been so long. Like I don’t think I’ve seen you since you dropped out of UCLA freshman year. Where have you been hiding?”
She shrugged, glancing at Sierra who offered an encouraging nod of her head. “I’ve been busy,” she said.
“Oh, that’s right. You were married to that babe, Brett Armstrong, right? Oh, and didn’t you like, run a hotel or something?”
“Yeah, totally,” Miranda said with a smile, every part of her screaming with discomfort. “Aerial, you look amazing. What’s your secret?”
The woman beamed proudly, nodding to the other girls. “Oh, you know, it takes money to look this good. The best estheticians, a personal trainer, a masseuse. I just can’t stop. It’s addictive.”
“Wow, that’s great,” Miranda said with as much sincerity as she could muster. How could she ever have been friends with these girls? Was this all they really cared about?
Aerial shrieked, stepped forward with outstretched arms. “Oh my god! What am I thinking? Don’t just stand there! Give me a hug, Miranda! God, I’ve miss you.”
Resisting the temptation to cringe away, Miranda instead stepped forward and went through the motions. Aerial went in to kiss her on the cheek and stopped, pulling back instinctively.
“Oh my god!” she shrieked again.
“What?” Miranda asked.
“Your….face……” she uttered, glancing at Courtney and Shay with repulsion.
“What about it?” Miranda asked defiantly.
Covering her mouth with perfectly manicured hands, Aerial shook her head in despair. “I heard you were burned in that fire after the earthquake, but I had no idea how severe it was. Didn’t you see a plastic surgeon?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I did.” She looked at Sierra who clasped a hand around hers and squeezed tightly.
Aerial appeared surprised. “Oh, well, don’t worry. My daddy has the best lawyer in Bel Air. Say the word and I’ll have him eating that surgeon for breakfast. We won’t let him get away with this atrocity, Miranda.” She grabbed her other hand. “I promise.”
“Actually, the doctor did an amazing job,” Sierra piped in.
“Yeah, if you could have seen it before,” Miranda joked.
Again, Aerial’s face was filled with surprise. “Oh, so you’re not suing?”
“No, I’m not suing.”
Aerial raised an eyebrow, mouthing something to Courtney that Miranda couldn’t quite make out. “Wow, okay. Well, no worries. You know, my step-mother broke her foot in the earthquake. She can’t wear the new Manolo’s Daddy bought her until next year, and then they’ll be out of season. Can you even imagine how embarrassing that’s going to be for her? So, you’re not alone, Miranda.”
Miranda’s insides screamed with irritation. Every second she spent talking to her felt like a million years that she’d never get back. “Yeah, totally. That’s exactly the same.”
Aerial cocked her head in a thoroughly patronizing manner and reached her hand out to hers. “Take care, Miranda. Try to look the bright side, okay? At least you’ve already been married once. This way you won’t have any regrets.”
A million comebacks raced through her mind as she stared with contempt at the young woman. Instead, she offered a well-thought out snarl and turned to leave the store. Sierra followed fast on her heels.
“What a bitch!” she exclaimed once they were out on the street. “I can’t believe you ever used to be friends with her!”
“Neither can I,” Miranda said, fuming as she stalked down the sidewalk.
“Your life is not over,” Sierra informed her. “Miranda, you’re still as beautiful as you ever were. Inside and outside. Don’t pay any attention to Malibu Barbie back there.”
Miranda knew Sierra was right. Besides, she had Eddie. He truly cared about her, regardless of what she looked like. That was one thing she knew for certain. Her old ways of materialism and superficial beauty were a distant memory. Girls like Aerial Woodser were just a bitter reminder of that.
Plucking her cell phone from her purse, she quickly dialed Eddie’s number. Right now she needed him to reassure her. “I know, Sierra. I just hate to think I let her get to me.”
“You’re only human,” she said.
When Eddie picked up, Miranda smiled and blurted out a hasty greeting. “Hi, what are you doing? I was wondering if you wanted to meet for lunch.”
“Oh, hey, Miranda,” Eddie replied. “I’d love to but I can’t. I’m…on a case right now.”
“Oh.” She tried to hide the disappointment in her voice. “Okay. Well maybe dinner?”
“Yeah, maybe. We’ll see. Look, I gotta go. Sorry. I’ll call you later.”
“Sure,” Miranda said and clicked off her phone. She didn’t know if it was just her imagination, her insecurity over her run-in with Aerial, or if Eddie was trying to give her the brush-off. Either way, there was something in his voice.
“You okay?” Sierra asked as they continued along Rodeo Drive.
They turned a corner and Miranda stopped dead in her tracks. “No,” she said.
Sierra frowned, following her gaze a block up the street where Eddie was sitting on a bench next to a young brunette, his arm resting tenderly around her.
“Who’s that girl with Eddie?” she asked.
Miranda shook her head, total disappointment quickly setting in. “I don’t know,” she said. Suddenly she realized that maybe Aerial was right. She could very well be alone for the rest of her life.
When the Sunset Studios jet landed at the private air strip at JFK, Stormy rented a black Spyder convertible and proceeded to the address in Brooklyn that Eddie had provided him with. After parking, he located the building on foot. When he arrived at the run-down four-story walkup, he carefully double-checked the address to make sure he was at the right place.
A million horrible thoughts ran through his mind as he made his way up the creaky old staircase. A woman sitting on the steps in thigh-high boots and a hot pink tube top caught his attention. She made a lewd comment which he ignored, too busy wondering why Kelly would be working somewhere like this. Eddie had said she was working as a model, but from the looks of it, she hadn’t exactly gotten herself into a high-profile agency.
When he reached the door to the Jared Honeywell Modeling Agency at the top of the staircase, he took a deep breath and walked inside, half expecting to see half a dozen naked women posing in front of a greasy photographer. Instead, there was a vacant reception desk, a Be Back in 5 Minutes sign taped to the front, and a pot of scorched coffee sizzling on an old burner.
“Hello?” he called out to no one in particular.
Pushing a lock of black hair from his eyes, he stood in the lobby while he waited for someone to return. A minute later, he decided it was futile. He turned to leave, deciding maybe it would be better to come back later. There was obviously no one there.
But before he left, he heard the distinct sounds of voices coming from the back of the office space. He frowned and turned back, proceeding down a hallway, past the scorched pot of coffee, and came to a door with a handwritten sign that read: Quiet! Photo Session in Progress.
Again, he listed at the door. He could hear a man’s voice inside, only some of which he could determine.
“That’s hot,” he heard him say. “God, you’re sexy.”
Determined to talk to someone who knew Kelly, Stormy turned the knob and burst into the room. Salsa music played on a boom box, crude lighting equipment was set up in the corners, and a shirtless man with greasy black hair and too many piercings turned to him with annoyance.
“Can I help you?” he demanded angrily.
“Sorry, I was—” Stormy began, then saw who it was that was being photographed. “Kelly?”
“Stormy!” she shrieked, laying in front of backdrop in a tiny pink bra and matching thong. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk to you,” he said, glaring at her and then at the photographer.
“Make an appointment, buddy. We’ve got work to do.”
Stormy shot him a look of warning, rushing across the room and thrusting a robe at Kelly. “Is this the kind of modeling you’re doing? What the hell is going on with you?”
“Stormy, how did you find me?”
“Look, buddy,” the photographer said and tapped Stormy on the shoulder. “Get the hell out of here before I have to throw you out.”
“Call me buddy once more and I’ll toss you out that window,” Stormy cautioned him, his eyes wild.
The man puffed out his chest and approached him threateningly.
“Jared, stop it,” Kelly ordered him. “This is my husband. Can you please leave us alone for a minute?”
“Your husband?” he asked, eying Stormy carefully. “You didn’t tell me you were married.”
“Five minutes, please,” Kelly said, wrapping herself in the robe.
Reluctantly, the man left the room, murmuring to himself as he slammed the door behind him. Once he was gone, Stormy turned to Kelly and leveled a look of disgust at her.
“Are you sleeping with that guy?” he asked.
“No!” she replied. “Of course not. Jared owns the agency.”
“And takes the pictures?” he asked. “Quite the high end organization you’ve got yourself hooked up with, Kelly.”
“It pays the rent,” she said and stormed across the room where she poured herself a glass of water. “And you never answered me. How did you find me?”
“I’ve been looking for you since you left,” he said and followed her.
“You should have just left me alone.”
“You owe me an explanation. Why did you take off like that? Damnit, Kelly, we were married for all of two hours before you decided to leave me. You never even told me to my face. I had to read it in a note.”
She turned away, staring at the floor in confusion. “You mean your mother didn’t tell you what happened?”
He shook his head. “No. She claims she didn’t do anything to make you leave. I didn’t believe her, of course. What happened? What did she do? She tried to buy you off again, didn’t she?”
Kelly thought back to the day of their wedding and when she and Alex became trapped in the coat room at Hotel Terranova after the earthquake. She thought for sure the woman would have been all too eager to reveal her selfish actions. The fact that she didn’t told her she felt just as guilty as she did.
“After the earthquake, I was pinned under some rubble,” she explained. “Your mother was there. She told me she would help me if I left you.”
“Damn her,” Stormy seethed angrily. “I knew it. I knew she pulled something. You mean she was actually going to let you die if you didn’t—”
“I didn’t believe her,” Kelly cut him off. “Your mother is a bitch, but she isn’t a murderer. I told her what she wanted to hear, and then I turned it around on her once I was free. I told her I was going to tell you everything.”
“But you left anyway. Why?”
Taking a deep breath, she turned to face him. “Because I pushed her,” she explained. “I pushed her and she fell and hit her head. She was unconscious. I should have gotten help or tried to get her out of there but I knew that if I did she would keep trying to come between us.”
His eyes narrowed on her. “What did you do?”
“I left,” she said with a shrug. “I left her there and I got out of the hotel.”
Stormy couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She actually would have let his mother die? “You’re lying,” he said. “You wouldn’t have done that.”
She laughed weakly. “I didn’t think I could ever do something like that either but I did it. Then once I was outside, I started to feel guilty. That was when I saw them wheeling her out to an ambulance. I knew then that she was alive, but I was sure she would use what happened against me.”
“So you just left town?” Stormy demanded. “Why?”
“Because it would have never ended!” she screamed. “If I’d stayed, Alex and I would have kept going round and round the same as we did since the day she found out about us. I would never have been good enough for her son. Don’t you see? I couldn’t keep defending myself to her and Miranda. And you sure as hell weren’t sticking up for me.”
“That’s not true,” he insisted. “I told my mother that I wouldn’t stand for her undermining our relationship.”
She rolled her eyes. “Do you think that would have made a difference? What Alex Reynolds wants Alex Reynolds gets. She wouldn’t have let it go. Ever. How was I supposed to live like that?”
“You could have tried. If you loved me enough you would have stuck it out instead of throwing in the towel.”
“I did love you,” Kelly replied. “As much as I knew how to. But with everyone against us, I had no choice but to leave.”
Stormy took a deep breath, rubbing his temples with the tips of his fingers. He looked up and gestured to the crude modeling studio. “Am I supposed to believe that you prefer this to being my wife and putting up with my meddling family? My god, Kelly, you had a starring role in a major studio film. Now you’re modeling for a scurvy photographer in a seedy place like this? I don’t get it.”
“Don’t you think I’ve thought about that?” she asked. “Don’t you think I tried to do better than this? For the last month I’ve gone on dozens of auditions, sent headshots to every agency in town, and this is what I wound up with. But at least I’m doing it on my own.”
“But this is degrading,” Stormy said, gesturing to the wall of semi-professional photographs, all of women clad in as little as possible. “You’re a movie star, Kelly. You didn’t give it enough time.”
“Do you think that matters?” she asked with a frown. “This is a tough industry. Hell, there’s a lady in my hotel who starred in a soap opera for ten years. She’s on food stamps now. Do you honestly think one movie is going to put my name in lights for the rest of my life?”
“It could if you came back with me,” Stormy said, walking toward her. “Kelly, I love you. We’re still married. I promised you I would make you a star and I want to keep that promise.”
She considered his offer only briefly, then shook her head adamantly. “It’s not worth it,” she said. “Not with the way your family feels about me.”
Frustrated, Stormy ran his fingers through his hair. “Please don’t do this.”
She shook her head solemnly. “When you see my mom, tell her that I love her,” she said, opening the door of the studio. “Goodbye, Stormy.”
As Jared came back inside, Stormy looked at him and then back at Kelly. “I’m not going to give up on you,” he said before turning and leaving.
Once he was gone, Jared approached Kelly with a smirk. He reached out and untied her robe. “Now, where were we?”
Lowering the robe, Kelly Blackthorne tried to forget about Stormy and the life that she’d left behind. She was better off now.
Stephanie dumped the contents of the box onto the conference able at police headquarters. Jordan examined the items, shaking his head in disgust.
“Where’d you get all of this?” he asked, his hands dug deep in his pockets.
“Some from Victor Distefano’s house,” she replied. “Others from a safety deposit box at his bank. There’s enough evidence here to put him away for life.”
“That’s if we can find him,” Jordan said irately. He examined the items she had presented. Fake beads, eyeglasses, phony college diplomas bearing the names Julian Wainwright and Erich Anderson, leases for office space rented in both names.
“We will,” Stephanie said with reassurance.
“This doesn’t seem like much,” Jordan said when he gestured to the evidence.
“This isn’t all of it,” she replied. “We got fingerprints from the office he was using when he treated your daughter. His were all over the place. He may have been smart, but he wasn’t that smart.”
Jordan picked up a book on hypnosis, opening to marked pages that were highlighted in various spots. “He planned it all so perfectly,” he said. “It makes my skin craw to think about how detailed he was. I mean, what if my daughter never comes out of this? What if his hold over her never goes away?”
Stephanie took a deep breath and took the book from him. “Listen, there’s something I need to tell you, Jordan.”
“What?” He didn’t like the dour tone in her voice.
“We traced the call that was made to your daughter just before she left home yesterday afternoon,” she explained. “Naturally we expected it to lead us to Distefano.”
“And?”
“The call wasn’t from Victor Distefano,” she said. “It was from your step-daughter, Miranda Blackthorne. I followed up on it. She called her to check up on her.”
Jordan shook his head. “I don’t understand. If it wasn’t Victor who called her, then what brought on the post hypnotic suggestion?”
Stephanie shrugged. “You’re assuming she was in a post hypnotic suggestion,” she said, her voice filled with doubt.
“Of course she was,” Jordan insisted. “Why else would she have tried taking her daughter on a joyride over a cliff?”
She looked at him knowingly. “Maybe Victor really is dead, and maybe her actions yesterday were based on something totally different.”
“Like what?” he demanded angrily.
Brett Armstrong sat in Dr. Madison’s office at Cedars-Sinai, his heart thudding inside his chest while his wife underwent more tests. She’d spent the night in the hospital for observation following the close call on PCH. Her fragile state of mind after the events had everyone concerned. Besides, until they located Victor, she was a moving target. It didn’t appear that the madman would stop until he took something from Jordan.
She sat listlessly on the examination table, staring blankly at the wall while Dr. Madison flashed a penlight in her eyes. Suddenly, and without warning, her temperament changed drastically.
“What are you doing?!” she screamed, hysterically pushing his hand away from her. “Get that needle out of my eye! Are you crazy?”
Brett had sprung to attention, watching her reaction with a sense of helplessness. He’d never seen her so out of touch with reality. It wasn’t like when she’d been under Victor’s control at all. This seemed different.
“Heather, calm down,” Dr. Madison said, showing her the penlight. “It’s not a needle. It’s a light. It’s just a light.”
She looked at him in confusion, then at Brett. Shaking her head, she covered her face with her hands and wept silently.
“What’s wrong with me?” she whimpered. “Dr. Madison, what’s wrong with me?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” he said tenderly. “Your husband and I just want to help you. Heather, do you remember what happened yesterday?”
“Yesterday?” she asked quietly. “What happened yesterday?”
“You took your daughter and you tried to drive over a cliff,” Dr. Madison said. “Do you remember that?”
She looked at him and then at Brett. She looked down at her fingers and began counting them quietly under her breath. “I didn’t take my daughter anywhere,” she said slowly. “I wouldn’t have taken her anywhere because she’s been fussy and she had a fever and she didn’t feel very good. Where’d you put that needle?”
Dr. Madison and Brett exchanged glances. “Heather, I need you to look at me,” the doctor said. “Look at me, Heather.”
She turned to him and shook her head. “You want to take my daughter from me,” she said, then looked at Brett. “You both do. I know you want to take my daughter from me, but I won’t let you. You want to send her away. I’m not going to let you do that.”
“We don’t want to take Violet from you,” the doctor said, his voice calm and soothing. “We just want to figure out if you’re well enough to care for her. We don’t want you to hurt her or yourself.”
Her eyes stung with tears. “Hurt her? I wouldn’t….I ….hurt her?”
Brett closed his eyes and turned away. He couldn’t stand to see her like this, or listen to her incoherent rambling. Dr. Madison walked toward him and pulled him off to a corner of the office.
“What the hell is wrong with her?” Brett asked, his eyes red. “She’s not making any sense. Is she still under hypnosis?”
Dr. Madison looked over his shoulder where Heather was fidgeting nervously with her fingers. “She’s not under hypnosis,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I don’t believe that’s why she did what she did yesterday.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She’s not exhibiting signs of post-hypnotic suggestion,” the doctor explained. “This is something else. I’d like to keep her for another day for observation.”
“What do you think it is?” Brett asked, terrified.
Dr. Madison took a deep breath. “I think she’s suffering from a psychotic break,” he said. “And after everything she’s been through, I’m surprised it’s only now happening.”
Brett gazed across the room at his wife, his heart breaking.
Jackie spent the night, much to James’s chagrin. He thought she’d leave after breakfast but she remained, making her presence known with each passing minute. By the time Leilani served a light lunch in his study, he’d realized the consequences of his actions.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, standing at the window that overlooked the gardens. “You’ve barely said anything all day.”
Sighing, he looked up from a press release his PR people had prepared for Angel Assassin 2. “Nothing,” he said, wishing to drop the subject and defray any feelings of hostility.
She shrugged and sipped a cup of tea, turning back to the window and gazing outside.
“Actually, there is something,” James said after a moment of hesitation. He tried to put it as delicately as he could, but soon realized there was no way of sugarcoating it. “Jackie, last night was a mistake.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed. “More tea?”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t want any more tea. I want to talk about what’s really going on here.”
“What is going on here?” she asked indifferently. “We’re sharing a lovely day together after a night of unbridled passion. Doesn’t seem too difficult to understand to me.”
“But the only reason we slept together was because you are trying to force your way into my life,” James insisted as he remained seated behind his desk. “You said yourself the day you showed up here that you would do anything to get control of my studio. When David foiled your first attempt, you thought up something else. Admit it, you’re trying to seduce me.”
“There wasn’t much seduction going on,” Jackie protested. “If I remember correctly, you were just as eager as I was. If not more.”
“Yes, but my intentions were different than yours. I haven’t had the company of a woman for a year—since Leigh Purcell died. I’m not proud to admit it, but I was using you, Jackie. I was in need of a warm body, and you were available. End of story. You, on the other hand, have much more to gain from our lovemaking.”
Glaring angrily, she set her cup down on the desk and folded her arms across her chest. “You have a lot of nerve,” she began. “I slept with you because I wanted to, not because of some absurd notion you have that I want to take over your assets.”
He laughed. “I’m on to you.”
“You bastard,” she said, taking her cup and throwing her lukewarm tea in his face. “How dare you humiliate me like this? Who in the hell do you think you are?”
“Let me make this clear to you,” James began, rising from his chair and wiping his face with a tissue. “Jonas gave me Sunset Studios and this house after he died because you were off in New York with Royce and David and showed no interest in them whatsoever. Now you come back and claim that they’re rightfully yours?”
“You’re damn right they are,” she said. “I don’t know what you did to my father but when he left you those things he obviously wasn’t in his right mind. For all I know you and Nathan coerced him into it.”
“Nobody coerced Jonas into anything,” James shouted in amusement. “And he was the most together man I’ve known in my entire life. Believe me, there was no mistaking what he intended when he died.”
“At your wedding,” Jackie reminded him. “How convenient that he chose that of all days to forget his medication and have a heart attack. You on the verge of a new life with Alex, dreams of power and money. For all I know you were responsible for that heart attack.”
“I loved your father,” James said, suddenly not finding the situation quite as funny as he had. “Nathan did too. He was a good man. A little intense at times, but nevertheless he was a good man. I wouldn’t think of doing anything to hurt him.”
Grabbing her purse, she prepared to leave. Before she did, she made another promise to him. “If you think I’m going to just walk away and forget about this, you’re wrong. One way or another, I’m going to take back what you and Alex and Brooke Taylor and her drunk of a mother took from me. Then you’ll be out on the street and this house will be mine.”
“Jackie, come on,” James said as she made her way to the door. “What are you going to do?”
“Nothing much,” she said with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. “I’m just going to decimate every single one of you.
Much to his surprise, Benji got a text from Blake with an apology and an invitation to the 1:30 showing of Drag Me to Hell at the Beverly Center. After going back and forth, still angry over their fight at the marina when everything blew up, he decided to chalk it up to another casualty of their screwed-up families. They met up outside the main entrance, bumped fists, and each murmured a hasty apology over their respective outbursts.
“How’s things at Eddie’s?” Benji asked, struggling through the first few minutes of awkwardness. “He cracking the whip on you yet?”
Blake laughed, hands dug in the pockets of his plaid shorts. “Yeah, right. Eddie has as much authority as my dad did. Zero.”
“So, they find him yet?” Benji asked. “Your dad, I mean. Is he really…”
“Dead?” he finished for him. “Yeah, it looks like it.”
Benji wasn’t sure how to respond so he murmured another inaudible apology.
“Whatever,” Blake responded. “Hey, you wanna blow off this movie and go get drunk?”
“Come on,” Benji said with a grin and turned to leave.
Just as they were about to exit the theatre, Sierra and Malcolm approached, hand in hand on their way to the ticket counter. They stopped and Malcolm exchanged contemptuous looks with Benji.
“Hi,” Sierra said with a good-natured smile. “Did you guys see a movie?”
Benji shook his head. “We decided to catch the next one,” he said. “What about you?”
“We’re going to see Management,” she said, smiling up at Malcolm.
“The latest romantic comedy with Jennifer Aniston,” Blake said with a roll of his eyes. “Does she have you whipped or what, man?” he suggested to Malcolm.
Offering a slight chuckle, Malcolm quickly tried to steer Sierra away toward the ticket counter. “Come on, babe, we don’t want to miss the previews.”
She nodded, then stopped and offered a sympathetic look toward Benji. “I’ve been wanting to call you,” she said. “You know, to tell you how sorry I am about everything. With your mom and all that. How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay,” he said with a shrug. The fact that Sierra had been thinking about him at all caused his mood to soar. “So when are you heading back to school?”
“In a couple days,” she replied. “I’m glad I got the chance to see you again before I left.”
“You should stick around,” Benji suggested hopefully. “There’s a race at the track that I got tickets to. I’ve got my eye on a stallion that reminds of the one who won the Preakness.”
Sierra raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”
“Yeah, well, unfortunately Sierra and I have a lot to do back in New York to get her demo ready for the radio stations,” Malcolm broke in. “So looks like you’ll have to find someone else to con into going to the race with you, champ.”
“I think Sierra can answer for herself, champ,” Benji replied angrily.
“You got a problem, man?” Malcolm asked and stepped toward him. “You’ve been all over my girlfriend ever since we got here.”
“Possessive much?” Benji asked with a chortle and turned back to Sierra. “So anyway, this horse’s name is Allegre. You heard of him?”
But by that time, Sierra was uncomfortable by the awkward situation. She knew Benji rubbed Malcolm the wrong way, and Benji used it to his advantage.
“I’m not being possessive when you hit on my girlfriend right in front of me,” Malcolm said, taking his hand and pushing Benji back a step. “Now why don’t you back off and run along to the playground with your boyfriend here.”
Blake’s eyes widened, fully prepared for an explosion on Benji’s part. He almost wanted to run and hide, but the sheer curiosity got the better of him and he stayed put.
“You better watch your self, man,” Benji said, eyes flaring wildly. “Touch me again and I’ll mess you up.”
“I’ll knock your teeth out the next time you talk to my girlfriend like that,” Malcolm said.
“All right, stop it!” Sierra yelled angrily. “The two of you are acting like Neanderthals. I am not anyone’s property.”
“He sure thinks you are,” Benji harrumphed, arms folded belligerently.
“Benji,” Sierra warned him. She took Malcolm’s hand and led him toward the ticket counter. “Look, Benji, it was nice seeing you again. Maybe we’ll run into each other next time we’re in town.”
He bit his lip and watched as they disappeared in the crowd. Blake hastily ushered him out to the parking lot and leveled a look of warning on him.
“Take it easy,” he said. “They’re leaving in a few days and you won’t have to see them together anymore.”
Benji shook his head, glaring inside at Malcolm who turned and offered him a cocky grin. “That guy’s gonna learn when to keep his mouth shut,” he said in quiet rage. “I’ll make him sorry he ever messed with me.”
From her window in her bedroom at the Blackthorne mansion, Renee could see the woman drive up in her car. Standing in awe, she did a quick double take and shook her head in amazement. In a flash, she flew out into the hall and down the stairs to the foyer where Leilani was opening the door.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she called from the landing, beige evening gown flowing behind her.
Angela entered the foyer, removing her driving gloves and handing them, along with her purse, to Leilani. “I’m impressed,” she said, gazing around her lavish surroundings. “You are one bitch who’s done well for herself.”
“This bitch is only staying here temporarily,” Renee said as she completed her walk down the staircase. “My home was destroyed in the earthquake and James Blackthorne invited me to move in. And you haven’t answered my question, Angela. What are you doing here?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” she preened. “To size up the competition. To see the queen in her natural habitat. This may not be your permanent address, Renee, but you have done well for yourself. You’re obviously very well bred. Those clothes and jewels are not those of a peasant. My guess is that your family has been very lucky.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Renee said. “I’ve worked hard for my money.”
“Don’t you mean your father worked hard for his money?” Angela cut him off. “I did some checking up on you, Renee. Everything you have was left to you by Charles Merteuil, your late father. Somehow I don’t think hard work had anything to do with your family’s money. I still call it luck.”
Renee was only too happy to put the young woman in her place. “You said you came here to size up the competition,” she began. “Well let me enlighten you. My father built Merteuil from nothing, scrimping and saving every penny he’d ever made. He didn’t get any handouts. As a matter of fact, he went to a bank for a business loan and was turned down because of the color of his skin. Rather than let that kind of ignorance stop him, he worked twice as hard, putting food on the table for my mother and I. This was all before he turned twenty-five, by the way. By the time he was thirty, Merteuil Industries was a Fortune 500 company, and on the day of his death he put me in charge, where it has retained that distinction ever since.”
Angela held her ground, folding her arms and leveling a look of defiance at her.
“Now if you’re done sizing up the competition, why don’t you cut to the chase and get to the point of this visit,” Renee continued. “You’re here because of T.T., not because of my family.”
“I don’t know what went on with you and T.T. in the past, but he’s with me now, I can assure of that.”
“Then what are you doing here?” Renee asked. “If you’re so assured of your relationship with T.T. then I’d think you wouldn’t need to come here and stake your claim on him. Unless of course you’re afraid of losing him.”
Angela laughed, mostly to mask her feelings of insecurity, but took care not to let it show. “I’m not afraid of anything,” she said. “T.T. and I are going back to New York soon, so don’t get any ideas of rekindling your romance.”
“It’s laughable to me that you feel the need to take T.T. away from here just to hold on to him,” Renee hissed. “I predict nothing but doom for your relationship, but it won’t be from my doing, Angela. That distinction will be all yours.”
Again trying not to let her words get to her, Angela offered an indifferent shrug and turned back to the door. “Well I guess there’s nothing left to say then.”
“Goodbye would be nice.”
Smiling, Angela left the house and closed the door behind. Back in the foyer, Renee shook her head with contempt before proceeding down the hall to the family room.
At home in Beverly Hills, Jordan led Suzanne into the living room where she looked around thoughtfully at the familiar surroundings. He studied her carefully, fully aware of how difficult it must be for her to be there again after everything that had happened.
“I want to thank you for everything you did,” Suzanne said, turning and looking at Jordan and Stephanie. “You especially, Detective Callahan. I know you probably could have just as easily let me stay in prison indefinitely.”
“The D.A. decided that there was enough evidence to drop the charges,” Stephanie said. “I’m glad it all worked out. And if Victor Distefano really is dead, then it’s likely over for you.”
“But not for Heather,” Jordan said sorrowfully as he thought about his daughter alone in the hospital.
“She’ll get through this,” Suzanne said, her voice full of hope. “She’s stronger than any of us realize.”
Stephanie didn’t know about that, but she did know that they had other problems to deal with. Bigger problems. “Jordan, we were talking yesterday about your son before you got the call from Brett Armstrong.”
“Yes, you were about to say something,” Jordan said. “What was it?”
“I spoke to Benji briefly about Scott Kelly’s attack,” Stephanie explained. “He was all too eager to point the finger at you. He even went as far as to claim that you’d abused him as a child.”
“Abused him?” Suzanne asked. “That’s ridiculous. Jordan never laid a hand on our children.”
Jordan shook his head angrily. “Why would he say something like that?” he asked in a rage. “I know he’s angry, but to blatantly lie about something like that just to point the finger at me? I don’t understand him sometimes.”
“You can’t believe this, Detective,” Suzanne said in a panic.
She shook her head. “No, I don’t believe it. I’ve been around enough criminals in my career to know when someone’s lying. The only question is, was he just trying to lash out at you for lying to him about his mother, or was there another reason he’d want to implicate you?”
Miranda was seated in the game room at the Blackthorne mansion when Eddie appeared, a bouquet of tattered flowers held proudly in his hands.
“Hi,” he said, kissing her on the forehead and spotting a dish of nuts on the table. “You ready for dinner? I’m starved.”
Frowning, she looked at the sorry display of flowers. “What happened to them?”
He scratched his head and pulled a face. “Oh, yeah, never try to talk on your cell phone while getting out of the car holding flowers. You really lose coordination.”
Miranda raised an eyebrow, at least flattered that he’d made an attempt, despite his lack of grace. She calmly laid them on the coffee table and sat down on the sofa.
“So how was your day today?” she asked. “How’d that case turn out?”
“Case?” he asked, shoveling a handful of peanuts into his mouth. “Oh, the case, yeah, it’s great. Looks like it could be really interesting. The case, I mean.”
She glowered, knowing full well he was lying through his teeth. The only thing she couldn’t figure out was why. Who was the girl she saw him with on Rodeo Drive and why did they look so close? She quickly decided he was already two-timing her. After all of his proclamations about how much he cared about her, he had turned into a lying dog like every other guy she’d been out with.
“Who’s the client?” she asked.
“Oh, I can’t tell you that,” he said, peanuts spewing from his mouth while he piled more in. “Patient Doctor confidentiality and all that, you know.”
“You’re not a doctor.”
“You know what I mean,” Eddie said with a smile, pulling her from the sofa and leading her to the door. “Where do you feel like eating?”
“Anywhere,” she said, wishing she could come out and tell him that she saw him with another woman. But was it too early? She didn’t want him to think she was some insecure maniac, even though that’s just what she felt like. After all, the woman she’d seen him with was beautiful and had no scars obstructing that beauty.
To Miranda, she had everything that she didn’t.
Dinner in the dining room at Moonshadows was laced with tension. Malcolm, still angry over his run-in with Benji that day, was dodging evil stares from Sierra every other minute. As much as he’d apologized for instigating the fight, Sierra refused to let it go. But in typical Sierra fashion, she insisted they keep their dinner plans with T.T. and Angela. It would be rude to cancel, she’d said.
Angela spent most of the first two courses fuming over her exchange with Renee and her insinuation that she was insecure about her relationship with T.T. Mostly due to the fact that it was more or less true. For weeks they’d been on the verge of calling it quits once and for all, and as much as she tried to keep their relationship going, she only succeeded in driving him further away.
T.T. couldn’t get his mind off of Renee and the mess he’d created by repeating the same mistakes with her again. On top of that, he was angry with himself for letting Angela coax him back into her bed. He was aware that his willpower was nil.
“Did you sign the contract yet with Sunset Studios, Dad?” Malcolm finally asked in order to break the unbearable silence.
“Tomorrow,” he replied.
More silence followed. Next it was Sierra’s turn to break the ice.
“Are you signing that new hip hop artist to Titan Records?” she asked. “I heard Malcolm talking about them.”
“They’re undecided,” T.T. replied.
Finally, Angela decided to shake things up once and for all. “Malcolm, when are you and Sierra planning on going back to New York?”
“Day after tomorrow,” he replied, taking his napkin from his lap and wiping his mouth.
Angela smiled, playfully placing her hand on T.T.’s arm. “Maybe we should think about going back with them,” she said. “I mean, you’ll be done with your business with James Blackthorne by then. There’s no sense in sticking around here any longer than we need to. What do you say, T.T.?”
He threw his napkin onto the table and slid his chair out. “Could you be any more transparent, Angie?” he asked.
“What?” she asked, fully aware that her motivations were easily uncovered. “All I meant was that—”
“I know damn well what you meant,” T.T. cut her off. “Why don’t you go back to New York by yourself? I’ve been trying to tell you that for days. I’m not ready to go back, and that’s final.”
With that, he stood up, extended a brief apology to Sierra, and stalked through the dining room.
Once he’d gone, Angela began to cry. She buried her face in her hands and shook her head miserably.
Sierra looked at Malcolm, wondering if they should do or say something, but the whole situation was so awkward that she’d just as soon have let it go.
“He’s just tense, Angela,” Malcolm finally piped up. “Don’t let it get to you.”
She shook her head again. “No, he’s right. I should just go back to New York and leave him alone. He obviously doesn’t want to be with me.”
Before Malcolm could protest, she jumped up and fled out of the restaurant. He started to follow her when Sierra stopped him with a hand on his sleeve.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“To see if she’s okay,” he said. “You saw how upset she was.”
“So let T.T. worry about her,” Sierra said.
“I’ve seen my father do this to her before. She’s upset and she needs someone to talk to.”
“Oh, I see, but it’s not okay for me to want to lend my support to Benji Rydell?” Sierra asked angrily. “How is this any different?”
“It’s totally different!” Malcolm insisted. “Benji is all over you every time he’s around you. Angela is just a woman my father is seeing. There’s no romantic history there.”
“I see the way she looks at you, Malcolm,” Sierra said with a pout. “The way she puts her hands on you and the way she flirts with you. This is exactly the same thing.”
“You’re not being fair,” he said, dropping his hands to his sides.
Outraged, Sierra slid her chair out and rose to her feet. “You know what? Go after her. I really don’t care.”
“Where are you going?” he asked her as she moved away from the table.
“To the lounge,” she said in a huff. “And don’t bother following me. Why don’t you go see Angela? I know you want to anyway.”
He hid in the shadows of a small nook at the end of the hall. Biding his time, he waited for Malcolm to return, hoping to get him alone so that he could teach him a lesson once and for all. Humiliating him in front of Sierra was something he would never forget, and neither would Malcolm.
Reaching into his jacket pocket, Benji grabbed hold of an object and waited. After a brief time, a woman appeared. She was crying. She slid down the wall and hugged her legs against her chest as if waiting for someone. He made sure to stay hidden from view.
Minutes later, Malcolm arrived. The woman quickly stood up and threw her arms around him.
“God, he’s so horrible,” she cried. “Why does he have to act that way? Doesn’t he know I love him? But he keeps pushing me away.”
“He doesn’t know what a good thing he has in you,” Malcolm assured her. “I’ve always thought that. My father isn’t good enough for you, Angie.”
She wiped her eyes, beginning to feel a little better. “You’ve always been so wonderful to me, Malcolm. How is that you can be his son? You’re so different.”
“We’re not all that different.”
“No, you are. You’re kind and caring. I’ve always thought so.”
Malcolm reached out and grasped her hand in his. “You’re much too beautiful to be treated this way,” he said.
She looked into his eyes and felt him drawing closer. Before she knew what was happening, she was throwing her arms around him and pulling him into a deep, passionate kiss. Malcolm returned the gesture, clawing at her dress until one strap was falling down her shoulder, exposing one of her bare breasts.
“Malcolm,” she whispered, running her fingers through his closely cropped hair. “We shouldn’t do this.”
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, pinning her to the wall and pressing his body against hers. He brushed his lips against her neck, then worked his way down to her breasts.
“No,” she said, overcome with desire.
Malcolm fumbled with his key card, pushing open the door and ushering Angela inside.
When the door closed, Benji emerged from the shadows. He listened at the door for a few seconds before pulling his phone from his pocket and calling Sierra. He suddenly had a better, cleaner way of dealing with Malcolm.
“Benji?” she answered. “Look, now’s not a good time.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, expertly inflicting a sensitive quality to his voice. “It’s just that….I don’t know who else to turn to. I’m so upset about this whole thing with my mom. I really need someone to talk to. I’m close to Moonshadows. Can you meet me at your hotel room in five minutes?”
Next time….
Season four draws to a close. Several Hollywood residents say goodbye. Stephanie gets bad news. Brooke unveils her plans to a startled audience. Miranda learns the identity of Eddie’s mystery woman. A familiar face returns to save a woman in dire need of help.
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