Previously…
Brett and Jordan stopped a delusional Heather from driving over a cliff with Violet in the car. Later, they learned that Heather hadn’t been under Victor’s control during the episode. After witnessing Heather’s behavior, Stephanie authorized an investigation into Victor, subsequently releasing Suzanne of all charges. James slept with Jackie and then told her it was a mistake. Angrily, she lashed out at him, vowing vengeance against everything the Blackthornes had taken from her father, Jonas Lamont. Miranda spotted Eddie with another woman, and when she asked him he said she was a client. Insecure over her scars, Miranda believed he was two-timing her. Stormy located Kelly working at a seedy modeling agency in New York City. She told him she couldn’t come back because of his family’s hatred for her. Benji and Malcolm sparred over Sierra. Later, Benji went to Malcolm’s hotel room and waited for him, eager to settle the score. When he witnessed Malcolm and Angela kissing and going into his room together, he placed a call to Sierra.
It had been three years, almost to the day, since Kyle Fenwick received his prison sentence. Three years that he sat behind the cold steel bars of the Arthur Kill Correctional Facility on Staten Island in New York. Three years that he bided his time, stayed out of trouble, and acted as a model prisoner. He obeyed the guards, didn’t get out of line, and avoided the temptations of the occasional brawl on the prison yard.
His good behavior had paid off because today he was being released. After a parole hearing, it was decided that he had fulfilled the rehabilitation schedule set forth by the judge. He was now free to return to society. At thirty-two years old, he had the rest of his life to contribute positively in some manner. Those had been the judge’s words.
After his paperwork was processed, the guard led him to the counter where he collected his personal effects. A tarnished monogrammed money clip containing three crisp hundred-dollar bills, a silver Rolex watch, and a pair of black size 12 Prada loafers. He collected his things and followed the guard down a long hallway to the thick steel doors. Keys clanged against metal and moments later they were outside.
“It’s been fun,” Kyle said with a cocky grin. “Don’t miss me too much.”
The guard watched him make his way through the gate. “Stay out of trouble, Fenwick,” he said. “It would serve you well to settle down, get a job, and forget all about your past.”
Moving purposefully, Kyle didn’t look back, his face taut and expressionless.
“You hear me, Fenwick?” the guard called again, but by that time he was out of earshot.
He stalked across the street, loafers tucked under his bulging arm muscles. While slipping his watch onto his wrist and adjusting the clasp, he found a line of taxis waiting by the corner. He went to the first one and got in back.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
“LaGuardia,” Kyle replied.
“Which terminal?”
“Whichever has the next flight to Los Angeles.”
“Got somebody waiting for you there?”
He shook his head. “No, they don’t know I’m coming.”
He turned his face to the window, watching the prison disappear in the distance. Three years was a long time to pay for a crime you didn’t commit.
Three years was a long time to sit and plan your revenge.
Back in Los Angeles, Benji hovered in the hallway outside the door to Malcolm’s room at Moonshadows. He glanced at his watch every few seconds, wondering what was keeping Sierra. Finally, he heard the elevator arrive. He did his best to appear forlorn as Sierra began approaching.
“Are you okay?” she asked with genuine concern. “You sounded just awful on the phone.”
“I just really need someone to talk to,” Benji said and went to intercept her.
“I’m afraid I’m not much comfort tonight,” Sierra said with a sigh. “I just got in a huge fight with Malcolm.”
“That sucks. Maybe you should go find him. We can talk later. It’s fine.”
Sierra thought to herself before nodding in reply. “Are you sure? I promise we’ll talk as long as you need to when I’m done. I just really want to settle this first.”
“No problem,” he replied with a calculated smile.
Sierra knocked firmly on Malcolm’s door. “I’ll just see if he came back first,” she said. When there was no answer, she knocked again.
“Maybe you should go in and leave a note?” Benji suggested, digging his hands in his pockets while he waited anxiously.
“I do have a key to his room,” she said, digging through her purse and removing a plastic key card. She slid it into the door and waited for the green light to blink. Once it had unlocked, she pushed the door open and started inside. Benji hovered a few steps behind.
On the bed across the room, they saw Angela on all fours, Malcolm penetrating her from behind. When he heard the door open, he quickly pulled away and covered himself with the bed sheet.
“What the—” he began, flustered by their unexpected interruption. Once he saw who it was, his jaw dropped in disbelief. “Sierra…”
Frozen, Sierra immediately burst into tears. “How could you?” she cried and raced out of the room.
Benji stood behind, relishing the look on Malcolm’s face. He’d successfully put him in his place, and as an added bonus, destroyed any chance of continuing his relationship with Sierra.
“You son of a bitch,” Malcolm said, pulling on a pair of underwear. “You set this up.”
“I’m not the one who dipped my stick in the neighbor’s pool,” Benji said. “Too bad for you. I guess she’s all mine now.”
Before Malcolm could react, Benji turned and left the room. He intercepted Sierra by the elevators, quickly altering his demeanor so as not to alert her to the fact he’d arranged for her to find them together.
“Sierra, I’m so sorry,” he said, reaching a hand out to her. “Are you okay?”
“How do you think I am?” she asked in tears, pacing back and forth while she waited for the elevator to arrive. She screamed through gritted teeth, pushing the down button several more times. “I have to get out of here!”
Just then, Malcolm emerged from his room, fully dressed but still flustered by the chain of events. He saw them standing by the elevator bank and quickly darted toward them.
“Sierra!” he called. “Let me explain!”
She closed her eyes and turned away. “I can’t do this,” she whispered to Benji.
Taking her hand, he led her across the hall to the stairwell. As they ran, Malcolm followed.
“Please, Sierra!” he said while starting down the steps.
“Leave me alone!” she screamed, a few paces ahead.
But Malcolm caught up to them, grabbing her hand and stopping her from proceeding. “Don’t let this guy fool you, Sierra! He set it up so you’d walk in on us!”
“How could you do it?” she screamed and pulled away violently.
Benji, stepping between them, drew back his fist and delivered a shattering blow into Malcolm’s nose. He stumbled back, stunned, while they continued racing down the stairs, taking them two at a time.
When Brett heard the office door close, he shuddered. Closed door meetings to him were all about bad news. He had a feeling this one was no exception. Dr. Madison had gathered him, Jordan and Suzanne in his office at Cedars-Sinai, an act which in and of itself told him everything he needed to know.
“What is it, Dr. Madison?” Suzanne asked, long chestnut hair falling listlessly around her shoulders. “Has something happened with Heather?”
He sat down before them and shook his head. “Not exactly,” he said. “But I’ve spent a lot of time with her since she was brought in. She’s growing increasingly despondent. She has no recollection of what happened on the cliff. “
“She has a history of blackouts,” Jordan said. “Ever since the accident and the operation.”
“But she’s never been a danger,” Brett insisted. “She was under Victor’s control when she tied up Jordan and shot me.”
“She wasn’t under his control when she tried driving off that cliff with your daughter in the car,” Dr. Madison reminded him. “Nor was she when she shot Will Thomerson or when she began having hallucinations.”
“Are you saying my daughter is crazy?” Jordan asked belligerently, shooting up from his chair.
“I believe everything that’s happened has finally caught up to her,” the doctor explained. “The accident, the operation, witnessing her mother killing Troy Beauchamp…”
Suzanne lowered her eyes to the floor, fully aware of what her actions had cost her children.
“Yesterday could have been much more tragic than it wound up being,” Madison continued. “And I’m afraid of what she may do to herself or to someone else if she remains in this condition.”
“What do you suggest?” Jordan asked, pacing the room.
Dr. Madison stood up and turned to him. “Mr. Rydell, please. Sit down.”
Jordan waived his hand through the air. “I don’t want to sit down. Tell me what you are suggesting. What do we need to do to get her normal again?”
“A minimum of twelve months in a mental health facility,” he said. “Maybe eighteen.”
“Eighteen months?” Brett exclaimed, running his fingers through his thick blond hair. “That’s a bit over the top, don’t you think? She’s not crazy. She’s just tired. She needs to rest and to…to…”
“She doesn’t have to go to an institution,” Jordan said, then glared at the doctor. “You can’t tell me that we have to institutionalize my daughter. I’ll fight you all the way to court if I have to.”
Dr. Madison shook his head. “I’m not saying you have to do anything, Mr. Rydell. I’m telling you what I suggest based on my observations and on Heather’s history. In any event, it’s not up to you. It’s up to her husband.”
They both turned and looked at Brett. He rubbed his face with his hands. How was he supposed to make a decision like this? They had a daughter together. A life. Now they were talking about the possibility of her going away and leaving him to raise her on his own.
“I’m sorry,” Suzanne spoke up and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know this is a terrible thing to put on you. But don’t we have to do this? Don’t we have to do whatever it takes so that she gets the help she needs?”
Jordan placed his hands on his hips, shaking his head in protest.
“There’s a very nice facility just outside of San Francisco,” Dr. Madison said. “It’s limited in space for new patients, but I’d be happy to put a call in. It really is the best facility in the state.”
Brett clenched his teeth, looking at Jordan and then at Suzanne. It was a difficult decision, but not an impossible one. He knew what he had to do. He had to think of his daughter and what was best for her too.
“All right,” he said. “Make the call.”
James came out of his study and called out for Leilani. Moments later she came dutifully scurrying from the parlor, feather duster in hand, and approached him by the staircase.
“Yes, Mr. Blackthorne?”
He took her hand and led her to the bottom step where he sat her down. “Leilani, I just talked to Stormy in New York. He found Kelly.”
Her eyes lit up and she attempted to stand. “My Kelly?” she asked in her broken English. “Where is she? Is she all right?”
He nodded and sat her back down again. “She’s fine. She’s just fine. She’s working as a model in the city.”
“A model? What kind of model? When is she coming home?”
James didn’t want to divulge the sordid details of the low rent modeling agency Stormy had found her in, so he avoided the question. “She isn’t coming home,” she said. “She’s staying in New York.”
Just as she was about to burst into tears, the doorbell rang and James went to answer it. It was Kenny.
“James, I hope I didn’t come at a bad time,” Kenny said as he entered the foyer. When he spotted Leilani sobbing on the bottom step of the staircase, he regarded his friend curiously. “Everything okay?”
He nodded. “She’ll be fine. What’s up?”
Kenny handed him a large manila envelope. “I thought you might want to see this for yourself. Before anyone else told you.”
James frowned and pulled a stack of papers from the envelope. “What is it?” he asked while he reviewed the documents. “Wait, this can’t be right. Did you know about this?”
“I drew up the papers.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” James demanded, his eyes like daggers as they shot back up to Kenny. “Kenny, you’re my attorney. Not to mention my best friend. How could you keep something like this from me?”
Jackie Lamont took the elevator from her suite at Moonshadows and proceeded across the grounds to the stand-alone administrative building where her son, David’s office was located. He’d always said he wanted to be in the center of the action of the sprawling thirty-acre resort, not tucked away by the lobby of the high-rise hotel.
She followed the path that wove between the individual bungalows, then entered the reception area of the office building. His secretary, Marsha, was on the phone behind her desk when she arrived and flew toward David’s office.
“Miss Lamont,” Marsha called, her hand over the receiver. “Your son is in a meeting.”
“I don’t care,” Jackie retorted, bursting into the office. “David, we need to ta—”
Her sentence was cut short when she saw that her son wasn’t alone. Her eyes settled on the sight of Brooke Taylor, sipping champagne while perched on the edge of David’s desk.
“Mother,” David began. “What are you doing here?”
She placed her hands on her hips and scowled at Brooke. “I came to talk to you, but apparently you’re otherwise occupied. Brooke, if you’ll excuse us. My son and I have things to discuss.”
“It’ll have to wait,” David said. “Brooke and I are celebrating.”
“I can see that. What is so monumental that it calls for champagne? I never knew you had a taste for it, David. You were always a bourbon drinker like your father.”
Brooke looked at David with a smirk. “We should tell her. She’s going to find out eventually.”
“Find out what?” Jackie demanded, angry that they were toying with her. The day Brooke Taylor had anything on her would be a cold day in hell.
“Your son and my ex-wife have been playing corporate raiders,” said a voice from across the room.
They all turned in time to see James enter the office.
“James, what are you doing here?” Jackie asked. Her harsh tone suddenly softened.
“I just found out that I have a new partner at Sunset Studios,” James explained.
“What?” exclaimed Jackie. “What are you talking about?”
“David sold Brooke his forty percent of the company,” James went on. “We’re now co-owners and business partners.”
“No!” Jackie shrieked, eyes wide with alarm. She turned to her son. “David, tell me you didn’t betray me like this.”
David rolled his eyes. “This isn’t about you, mother.”
“The hell it isn’t! You know how much I wanted that company! It was your grandfather’s! It wasn’t bad enough that you stopped me from getting it the first time, but now you’ve turned it over to the woman who destroyed my marriage to your father?”
“Royce did that,” David said with a sigh. “You can’t blame Brooke for his and Roz’s mistake.”
James held his hand up, intent on getting the conversation back on track. “What I don’t understand is why you would want to own part of Sunset Studios, Brooke. The only association you’ve had with the industry is when you did make-up for a few films.”
“I did it for Ethan,” Brooke said. “The studio is every bit his as it is yours. He slaved over it since he was eighteen years old. He favored it over his own father’s studio.”
“Ethan was perfectly happy with the way things were. He didn’t want to own part of the company.”
“But one day his son will,” Brooke continued. “James, we all know that Michael turned out to be Ethan’s, and one day I want to pass on to him something that was important to his father.”
“That is such a load of crap,” Jackie scoffed. “You didn’t do this for your son. You did it to make sure that I never got my hands on it.”
“What dream world are you living in?” Brooke asked with a frown. “I don’t know what you think, but I don’t spend my days plotting against you.”
“Bottom line, I only bought James’s loan so that the studio would stay in the Blackthorne family,” David said. “By selling my shares to Brooke, I’m ensuring that will happen. James, you can’t say that you disapprove.”
He shrugged. “No, of course not,” he said. “But I thought the agreement was that I would eventually buy your shares back from you. It’s only been a few months. It takes time to come up with that kind of money.”
“Well, when Brooke came to me with this idea, I agreed that it was in everyone’s best interest.”
“So, you’re going to be a silent partner?” Jackie asked. “I can’t imagine you having a voice in the day-to-day operations, Brooke. There’s no one who knows less about the business than you do.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Brooke said. “I was married to James for the better part of two years, remember? I picked up on quite a bit during that time. I don’t plan on being a silent partner at all. I think I’ll have a lot to contribute.”
Despite the disappointment over losing control of part of company, James was still pleased that Brooke had taken an interest in something for herself. He extended his hand to her and offered a warm smile.
“Congratulations then,” he said. “I look forward to working with you.”
Jackie glared. “I know what this is,” she said. “This is another attempt at Brooke trying to get back into your bed. What better way to do that than to take up residency in the office next to yours?”
“I don’t have to resort to schemes to get what I want,” Brooke said with a snarl. “If I wanted James back, I would have him. As it turns out, we make better friends, and with any luck, better business associates.”
Jackie refused to lie down and die. She wasn’t going to let the daughter of the woman who ruined her marriage do this to her. “Well, James, you now have equal shares with Brooke. What happens when there’s a disagreement? Who’s going to settle it?”
“Actually, with Nathan’s ten percent proxy, I own fifty percent compared to Brooke’s forty. I’ll still have the final say.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Brooke said with a smile. She handed James a glass of champagne.
“There’s also other news,” David chimed in. “Brooke is also taking an office here at Moonshadows. Royce was her father too. I figure it’s only fair that she shares in part of his legacy.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” Jackie said angrily. “You handed over part of your father’s company to her? He would roll over in his grave, David.”
“He would want it this way,” David corrected her. “The only reason he stopped seeing Brooke was because you insisted. If it hadn’t been for you, Brooke would have known her father.”
Jackie brushed off the crude remark. “You can’t do both,” she said, glowering at Brooke. “Run Sunset Studios and Moonshadows.”
“Who says I can’t?” Brooke asked defiantly.
Finally having had enough, Jackie grabbed her purse and stormed toward the door. Before she left, she turned back and regarded them angrily. “You’ll all regret this,” she said. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you desecrate the memory of my father and my late husband. This isn’t over.”
After she stormed out, Brooke, David, and James exchanged glances. She was making idle threats. What could Jackie possibly do?
Benji took a hysterical Sierra to a secluded stretch of beach called Paradise Cove. They couldn’t go to her hotel room because it was right next to Malcolm’s. When they got to a private clearing beneath the stars, he stretched out a blanket and built a fire with a few sticks and leaves.
“Drink this,” he said, handing her a bottle of water he retrieved from his backpack.
Sierra sipped it slowly, one hand wrapped around herself. “How could he do that to me?” she asked. “I trusted him. He said he was going to make me a star. He said he loved me.”
“I’m sorry.” He truly was. Part of him regretted setting it up so that she would walk in on Malcolm and Angela. It was a selfish act on his part. Now that he saw how it affected her, he wished he could take it back.
“I should go see my mother,” Sierra said, drying her eyes.
“Wait till you’ve gotten over the shock of this,” he said and moved closer to her on the blanket. “Your mother will be the first person he goes to to look for you.”
She smiled up at him and rested her head on his shoulder. “You’re sweet to take care of me,” she said. “I feel just awful. You were the one who needed to talk and here I am making this whole night about me.”
“I don’t mind,” he said, butterflies tripping through his stomach with the feel of her body against his. He had never felt this way about anyone. From the fist moment he saw her almost a year ago at the polo match, he had felt it.
Before he knew it, Sierra was moving her face toward his. Their lips touched briefly. For a moment they hesitated, gauging one another’s reaction. Benji, who had dreamed of their first kiss on many occasions, wasn’t sure how to react.
“Is it okay that I kissed you?” she asked over the sound of crashing waves.
No, it wasn’t okay, Benji thought to himself. It wasn’t okay because she was hurt and she was doing it to get back at Malcolm. He should have stopped it then, assuring her that the pain would go away in time. But instead, he kissed her again, positioning his hands on her waist.
Within minutes they were undressing. Sierra led them in frantic movements on the blanket beside the fire, pulling him on top of her and covering his face in kisses.
“Are you sure?” he asked her, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. “I don’t want you to do something if you—”
“Shhh,” she said, placing a hand over his mouth. “I want to be with you.”
He grinned happily, searching about his things until he produced a condom wrapped in a shiny silver package. After he unsheathed it, he put his arms tenderly around her, holding her tightly while making love to her. For a minute or so she appeared to be in pain, so he would stop and ask her if she was okay, and each time she would reassure him that she was.
Her tiny squeals and moans were music to his ears. How long had he dreamed of this moment, never believing it would actually happen. And while he knew she was doing it out of revenge, he thought that maybe somehow it would mean more to her than it really did, especially since he could tell without a doubt that she was a virgin.
When they finished, an explosion like nothing Benji had ever experienced followed. He held her in his arms for a long time, and then the inevitable happened.
“I have to go,” Sierra said, her former look of despair returning.
“No, you don’t,” he said.
But she shook her head, slipping on her dress and jumping to her feet.
“Are you okay?”
“I just really have to go.”
Benji ran his fingers through his hair, following her across the sand. “I’ll drive you.”
She shook her head, a tear forming in the corner of her eye. “No, I’ll get a cab. Really, I’m fine. I just need to go see my mother.”
He raced down the beach after her. The glimmering shadows of ripples from the ocean danced against his skin.
Destroyed, Benji turned his face toward the full moon. Had he made a mistake by letting her go through with it? He knew she was acting out in hurt, but something inside made him wish she felt about him the way that he felt about her.
Later, Sierra appeared at the Blackthorne mansion. Seeing how distraught she was, Renee led her into the parlor where she closed the doors behind them and sat her daughter down on the cognac leather sofa.
“Tell me what’s happened,” she said, kneeling before her sobbing daughter. “Sierra, talk to me.”
“It’s Malcolm,” she cried. “I saw him with Angela. They were together in his room.”
“Oh my lord,” Renee gasped, pulling her close. “Baby, I’m so sorry. Malcolm and Angela?”
She sobbed into her shoulder, temporarily forgetting about Benji and the fact that she’d turned to him out of anger. Thanks to Malcolm, she’d given her virginity away to someone else, something she’d been adamant about saving for when she was in love. Malcolm was to have been the one she gave it to.
“I hate them so much,” she cried. “Mom, how could he have done this to me?”
Renee shook her head in despair. She was mortified by the fact that her daughter was going through this kind of pain. Since Nathan, she’d tried so hard to protect her, treading carefully so as not to push too hard. Now it seemed she had looked the other way for too long. Once again, Sierra was destroyed.
The next morning, Alex felt that things were looking up. She’d moved out of Moonshadows and rented a condo in a downtown high-rise building. Excited about the prospect of a new outlook on life, she went by the mansion to see her children. The reception was not what she had expected.
“The swelling is almost gone,” she said happily as she followed Miranda around the family room. “Did Dr. Gutman say when you’ll have your first laser treatment?”
“In a couple of weeks I guess,” was Miranda’s vague reply, busying herself with picking up magazines and collecting them into a neat pile on the coffee table.
“Well, don’t you worry, darling, those scars will be gone in no time. Meanwhile, maybe you can cover them with makeup. Or maybe a new hairstyle will make them not as noticeable.”
“To whom? You or everybody else?”
Alex took pause at her remark. “Darling, I’m only trying to look on the positive side. I don’t care about the scars.”
“Oh really?” Miranda asked irately. She was in a bad mood. For once not because of her scars, but instead because of how strangely Eddie was acting. He still hadn’t confessed to being with another woman the other day when she and Sierra spotted them together. She battled a million different scenarios in her mind every minute of the day.
“Yes, really.”
“Is that why my face is the only thing you’ve been talking about since the minute you walked in here?” Miranda asked, dropping her hands to her sides. “I do have other things going on in my life, Mother.”
“Well, I know that,” Alex said and started toward her. “I just thought you needed some positive reinforcement, that’s all.”
“News flash. My scars are old news. I’ve moved on to more important things.”
“Like what, for instance?”
Miranda sighed with irritation. “Maybe if you came by or called just to talk once and a while you’d know these things. But instead you show up here telling me what I need to do to hide my face. Honestly, Mother, you are so superficial.”
Now it was Alex’s turn to get angry. “I also came by to tell you about my new apartment,” she said. “And to see if you and your brother wanted to come have dinner there with me tonight. Veronique is back working for me and she’s picked up a slew of new recipes.”
“Stormy isn’t here.”
“Where is he?”
“New York. He found Kelly and he went to go bring her back.”
The news was unsettling. Alex tried to hide her panic but failed miserably. “Oh? Do you know has he talked to her yet? What did she say?”
“Yes, he’s talked to her,” Miranda replied. “She told him about you threatening to leave her to die in the fire at the hotel. Nice work, Mother.”
“Did she also tell him that she left me there after I tripped and lost consciousness?” she demanded angrily. “At least I saw the error of my ways. She left me there to perish, Miranda. Did she tell him that?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Miranda said. “Look, congratulations on your new apartment. I’m sure it’ll serve your needs well until you manipulate Jordan into marrying you a third time.”
With that, she brushed past her and stormed down the hallway. Alex resisted the urge to burst into tears. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why her family was all against her. What had she done that was that horrible?
“What did you do this time?” James asked as he entered the room. “I just saw Miranda racing out of here like she’d just spotted a basket of scorpions. Now I see it’s much worse than that.”
“Funny,” Alex said. She attempted to skirt past him but he stopped her. “Let go of me.”
“Not until you swear to me that you’ll stop meddling in our children’s lives,” James said through clenched teeth. “What was it this time? You told Miranda that Eddie Distefano wasn’t good enough for her?”
“Eddie?” Alex asked. “Since when are she and Eddie together?”
He laughed and poured himself a drink. “You really have no idea what goes on around here, do you? Unless of course it has to do with you.”
“That’s not fair,” she said. “I don’t live here, remember? You threw me out when you decided to marry that bimbo Brooke Taylor.”
“Water under the bridge,” James said with a roll of his eyes. “Get this through your head, Alex. The next time you decide to pay us a visit here, call first”
Setting her jaw angrily, Alex stormed out of the room and down the hall to the front door. She paused momentarily, fishing through her purse for her bottle of muscle relaxers. She swallowed one quickly, then took a deep breath before leaving through the front door.
The slap came fast and without warning. The entire dining room grew silent as they stopped to witness the spectacle. T.T. placed a hand instinctively on his stinging cheek and narrowed his eyes onto Renee.
“What the hell was that for?” he demanded, seated alone at a table in the dining room at Moonshadows. “What have I done this time?”
“You brought that tramp to Los Angeles, that’s what you did,” Renee seethed, hands planted firmly on her hips. “I knew that Angela was bad news, but I had no idea she’d go to these lengths to stick it to me.”
“What are you talking about? What has Angela done?”
Renee smiled and offered a you’ve got to be kidding me expression on her perfectly made-up face. “You haven’t heard yet, have you?” she asked. “Oh my god.”
“Heard what? Would you please just tell me what’s going on?”
Renee was only too happy to oblige. It served T.T. right to have this level of betrayal to endure. “My daughter walked in on your son and Angela in bed together last night,” she announced. “Sierra was devastated. She spent the night crying in my arms.”
“Malcolm and Angela?” he asked in disbelief.
Renee nodded. The hurt in his eyes was evident. Suddenly she didn’t feel as happy to have been the bearer of bad news.
“Renee, would you excuse me,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin and rising to his feet.
“Not so fast,” she said and placed a hand between them. “My daughter is very fragile. She’s been through a lot. More than you’ll ever know. I also love her more than anything in the world.”
“I believe you. I’m going to talk to Malcolm.”
“I know my daughter,” Renee continued. “After a few days, she’ll get over the shock of this and she’ll forgive Malcolm—if she hasn’t already. She’ll probably even go back to him. I will not let that happen, T.T. I will not let him hurt my daughter again.”
“So what are you suggesting?” T.T. asked.
“Impress upon your son the importance of ending this right now,” answered Renee. “I want him out of her life for good.”
He shrugged and threw his hands up in resignation. “I can’t stop them from seeing each other if that’s what they want, Renee.”
“You will if it’s for me,” Renee said, fully aware that she was blackmailing him emotionally. She knew how much he wanted her. The truth was she wanted him too, but not with Angela in the picture. Still, she had no problem closing the door on T.T. forever if she had to.
“What are you saying?” T.T. asked.
“Get Malcolm out of Sierra’s life for good, or you and I will never happen.”
“You both make me sick,” T.T. said after summoning Malcolm and Angela to his suite upstairs. “I can barely stand the sight of either one of you.”
“T.T., it was a mistake,” Angela exclaimed, rushing toward him. “It didn’t mean anything. I was just so angry and hurt and I—”
“Don’t, Angela,” Malcolm interrupted with a disgusted tone to his voice. “We don’t owe him any explanation.”
“You’re partly right about that,” T.T. said. “Because I don’t care what your explanation is. You’ve both showed me how much respect you have for me, for Sierra, and for her mother. Tell me, how long has this affair been going on? Since New York?”
“No!” Angela cried. “T.T., no. I’ve never even looked at another man since we’ve been together.”
“Until last night when you decided it was a good idea to sleep with my own son,” he said, then motioned to the suitcases by the front door. “I’ve packed your things. I want you out of here immediately.”
“Please, don’t do this,” Angela cried, grabbing for his hands. “T.T., we can work it out. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
“I told you weeks ago that it was over. I let you manipulate me and insinuate yourself into my life anyway, but now I’m telling you it’s really over. I never want to see you again. Go back to New York, get your things from your office at Titan, and find another sucker to play. I’m done.”
Realizing there was no talking her way out of it, Angela slowly turned and went to the door. She picked up her suitcases, glanced back one final time, and left the room in a fit of tears.
After she’d gone, T.T. poured himself a bourbon and soda and leveled a look of disappointment on his son.
“Enough with the guilt trip, Dad,” Malcolm said. “You heard Angela. It was a mistake. A one time thing that we both regretted as soon as it was over.”
“You mean after Sierra found you together?” he asked. “Do you know how destroyed that girl is right now? Do you know that her mother is mad enough to kill because of what you did to her?”
“I’ll make it up to Sierra,” Malcolm said. “Look, you have no right to be angry with me. You’ve been trying to leave Angela for weeks. What do you care who she sleeps with?”
Gritting his teeth in anger, T.T. grabbed Malcolm by the collar and threw him across the room. “Because you’ve destroyed a young woman with your selfishness, that’s why.”
“Don’t lecture me on the sanctity of monogamy,” he said, straightening his shirt as he recovered from their scuffle. “You were carrying on with Renee DeWitt while engaged to my mother. If I have a problem with commitment, it’s because I’m a chip off the old block.”
“You can sleep with as many women as you want, just not Sierra Merteuil,” T.T. insisted. “You are to never see her again.”
A vibrating in his pocket alerted Malcolm to a text message. He withdrew his phone from his pocket and read the incoming message. It was from Sierra. I need to see you, it read.
“Is that her?” T.T. asked.
Malcolm didn’t reply.
“Is that Sierra?” T.T. asked again, louder this time.
“Yes,” Malcolm finally replied. “She wants to see me, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”
“Don’t count on that. Unless you want your little struggling record company to take a dive before it ever gets off the ground.”
Malcolm frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the only two acts you have signed to your label,” T.T. explained. “I made them an offer today if they came to Titan Records instead. All they have to do is sign a contract with me and you’ll have zero talent to pimp. Of course you’ll always have Sierra’s demo. If it ever gets airplay, that is.”
Malcolm looked at him with contempt. “You would do that just to keep me from seeing Sierra?”
“I promised Renee DeWitt that I would keep you apart. She doesn’t want her daughter to be hurt anymore. Now you have two choices, Malcolm. You can go see Sierra, work things out, and lose whatever progress you’ve made in your career, or you can let her go, return to New York, and continue to flourish. It’s up to you.”
Malcolm weighed the options carefully. He had worked hard for a long time to make it in the business, to show everyone that he was as good as his legendary father was. Was Sierra enough to give that all up?
“Well?” T.T. asked.
“I’ll go pack my bags,” Malcolm said.
Miranda decided to surprise Eddie with takeout from Café Pinot for lunch. After loading everything up in her car, she proceeded to his office in Beverly Hills where she parked and started to gather the various bags of goodies. As she did, she spotted a familiar looking woman enter the office from the parking lot. At first glance, she appeared to be the same brunette that she’d seen him with on Rodeo Drive the day before.
Immediately, she grew angry. Who was this woman? What did Eddie see in her other than a perfect face, perfect legs, and mane of thick lustrous hair? From what she could tell, she was no better than Aerial Woodser—all looks and no brains.
Deciding to get a closer look, she got out of the car and scurried up to the building. Eddie’s office was on the basement level, and there was a window that looked in flush with the ground. That was as good a place as any to snoop, she decided.
She crept along the side of the building, watching for cars and anyone who would happen by and wonder what she was up to. Sneaking about a private investigator’s office did look peculiar, after all.
Once she was beside the window, she crouched down and peered inside. She could see the woman sitting in a chair, her legs crossed seductively. Eddie was pouring them each a glass of wine, handing one to her and sipping his slowly. They were talking but she couldn’t hear a word of what they were saying. If only she could read lips. Squinting, she tried to anyway. She did manage to make out one phrase that they both uttered several times. High school.
After a few minutes, the woman began crying. Eddie knelt down beside her and comforted her. This was when Miranda had finally had enough. She stood up and walked a few feet away, dialing her brother on his cell phone.
“Hey sis,” Stormy answered from his hotel room in New York City. “What’s up?”
“Eddie’s cheating on me already,” she blurted out. “I think she’s someone you went to high school with.”
“Eddie would never cheat on you,” Stormy said with a frown. “You’re crazy.”
“I’m looking right at them,” Miranda said, gesturing with her left hand. “Who do you know from high school that Eddie would have the hots for?”
“A better questions would be who didn’t he have the hots for,” Stormy said wryly.
“I’m being serious.”
He laughed. “Sorry. What does she look like?”
Miranda shrugged, peering through the window again. “I don’t know. She’s cute, I guess. About five foot two, straight brown hair, brown eyes…”
“Kind of looks like Rachel Bilson?” Stormy asked.
“Yeah, kind of. Ewww.”
“Quinn Rainer,” Stormy announced. “It’s got to be her. They dated senior year. She’s not the type to sleep around, though. I think you’ve got this one wrong.”
“Yeah, well Quinn Rainer is sitting in Eddie’s office, crying into a glass of merlot while he has his arm around her and flashing her puppy dog eyes. What do you think is going on?”
“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Stormy said.
She sighed. “Okay. So when are you coming home? Is Kelly coming with you?”
“She’s determined to stay in New York.”
“Sorry.”
“I think I’ll stick around here for a few more days. She might change her mind. In any case, I needed a break. I don’t think I can handle life at chez Blackthorne right now.”
Miranda smiled. “Call me tomorrow,” she said and clicked off her phone.
After giving her sufficient time to reflect on their night together at Paradise Cove, Benji made his way to Sierra’s hotel room at Moonshadows. His hope was that she had had enough time to realize they were meant to be together and that Malcolm was just a tool who didn’t deserve her. When she answered the door and he saw her suitcases in the entryway, he was quickly faced with another reality.
“Hi,” she said somberly.
“Hi. Are you going somewhere?”
She moved away from the doorway and resumed her task of folding things into a suitcase. “I’m going back to New York, Benji,” she said simply. “You knew that. I told you a few days ago.”
He grew panicked, glancing between her and the suitcase. “Yeah, but I thought that after last night…”
“Last night was….a mistake,” Sierra said.
“You don’t mean that. Sierra, we made love. I was your first. Don’t tell me that didn’t mean anything to you.”
She looked at him and smiled meekly. “You were very sweet and tender last night,” she said. “But I was only with you because I wanted to get back at Malcolm.”
“And now you’re going back to him?” he asked, his heart racing. “You’ve forgiven him and now you’re going back to New York together? Sierra, he cheated on you. He slept with another woman.”
“I’m not going back with Malcolm,” she said. “Malcolm already left. He checked out of his room a few hours ago and I assume he and Angela are on their way back to New York together.”
He approached her, taking her arm and turning her toward him. “Then why are you going back? You don’t have anything there, Sierra. Your life is here.”
“I have school,” Sierra said plainly. “I have classes to make up and I need to get back and resume some semblance of a normal life.”
“You can have a normal life here,” Benji insisted, unwilling to let her go without telling her how he felt. “Sierra, we have something together. I felt it last night. You felt it too. I know you did.”
She wiped a tear from her eye, trying her hardest to keep from looking at him. “I was in a bad place,” she said. “But don’t worry. I don’t think you took advantage of me. I know you didn’t. I was the one who started it.”
He stopped her by taking he hand and pulling her toward him. “That doesn’t matter,” he said. “It was more than that. You’re just denying it because you’re hurt because of what Malcolm did.”
She looked at him and shook her head. “I loved Malcolm. I don’t love you, Benji. I’m sorry.”
The words stung but he refused to show his disappointment. “So you’re just going to leave?” he asked.
She zipped up her last suitcase and placed it on the floor. “My mother’s taking me to the airport in an hour.”
Benji realized there was nothing he could do to change her mind. Without uttering another word, he turned and left the room. Sierra closed her eyes, hating the thought of hurting him but knowing that it was the only way. She couldn’t see herself with him. They were too different. She could deal with having given him her virginity, but she couldn’t deal with seeing him every day. It was the only reason she was going back to New York after what Malcolm did to her.
Jordan retrieved the mail from the curb, shuffling through a few envelopes, discarded some, and tearing a few others open with his index finger. He threw some assorted bills onto the table in the entryway, frowning when he came across one from Joe’s Auto Body in Sherman Oaks. He read through the statement, focusing on the itemized list of repair work done on Benji’s BMW exactly a week earlier.
“You okay?” Suzanne asked when she appeared from the drawing room.
Jordan shook his head, unaware that Benji’s car had been damaged. The bill was for replacements on his windshield, two side windows, the hood, and two side panels, a job totaling $15,000 in damages.
“I’m not sure,” he said.
Scott Kelly was awake. The doctors said he hadn’t suffered brain damage as a result of his attack, but his memory had been compromised temporarily. Apparently he had lost his ability to retrieve any information for longer than two minutes. There was no telling how long the condition would last. As a result, his agent had dumped him, the vultures that were his family were circling in anticipation of distribution of his assets, and Shailene Summers, his soon-to-be ex-wife, had held off on the divorce, presumably to take him for everything while he was incapacitated.
Jordan couldn’t help but feel for the man as he stood in his room at the hospital and watched him. Shailene was there, fluffing his pillows and stamping around the room in four inch stilettos.
“Where are they moving him to?” Jordan asked.
“A private facility in Pasadena,” Shailene replied. “He’ll have round the clock care.”
“Leaving you to spend his money here in L.A,” Jordan murmured under his breath.
“What’s that?” she asked from across the room.
Jordan shook his head dismissively. “Nothing. Can he answer any questions?”
She shrugged. “You can give it a shot. But if you’re thinking of asking him who put him in here, don’t bother. Every time he starts to say, he forgets what he was talking about.”
Jordan turned to Scott and sat down beside him. “How you doing, Scott? Do you remember me? Jordan Rydell.”
“Of course,” he said. His bruises were largely healed and the bandages from his head were gone. All that remained was a decidedly blank look in his eyes as he ate his hospital meal. “What’s up, man?”
“Scott, do you know my son, Benji?”
He nodded. “Yeah, he’s a cool kid.”
“How well do you know him?” Jordan asked. He wouldn’t even have bothered if it wasn’t for Stephanie suggesting something was odd about Benji’s behavior. His reasoning for fingering him in Scott’s beating was iffy, to say the least. He shuddered to think about it, but maybe he had something to do with it.
“Real well,” Scott said.
Jordan leaned closer so that Shailene couldn’t hear. “Scott, did Benji do this to you?” he asked. “Did he attack you that night at your house?”
“My house?” Scott asked, staring at his tray. He nodded his head. “My house, yeah…”
“Did Benji go to your house that night and attack you?” Jordan repeated.
Scott turned to him and looked into his eyes. “Jordan Rydell. What’s up man? How’s Alex doing?”
Closing his eyes, Jordan stood up again. It appeared that what they said was true. Getting answers from Scott was going to be impossible. If he was going to get to the bottom of Benji’s behavior, he’d have to go directly to the source.
“Callahan,” Stephanie answered when the phone rang in her office at police headquarters.
“Tell me that California sun has cooked your brain and you’re finally ready to come back east,” said a voice over the phone.
A smile spread across her face and she settled back in her seat. “Hey Boyd, good to hear from you.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Come on. Give your old captain a break and come back to the NYPD. We miss you around here.”
She sighed, twisting the phone cord around her finger. “I appreciate that, and tell the department I miss them too. But for now this is exactly what I need.”
Silence followed.
“Boyd?” Stephanie asked, laughing. “You still with me?”
Finally, he continued. “Listen, Stephanie, I’ve got some news, and I don’t want you to freak out.”
“What is it?” she asked nervously.
“Fenwick was paroled.”
Quickly, she shot forward, switching the phone receiver to her other ear. “What? When?”
“A few days ago.”
“Why didn’t someone tell me?” Stephanie said angrily. “I could have testified at the hearing. I had a right to testify, Boyd.”
“The D.A. didn’t see it that way,” said her former captain. “He said if you were still interested in the case you wouldn’t have run off to L.A. The hearing was uncontested. The judge said he—”
“The judge was probably on the take!” she exclaimed, reaching into her desk drawer and removing her gun. She opened the chamber and inspected the bullets, snapping it closed again. “Jesus, Boyd, when does he get out?”
“He got out yesterday.”
She closed her eyes, rubbing her face with her hand. “So you’re telling me that Kyle Fenwick is out of prison at this very minute?”
“You don’t know that he’s coming there,” the man said. “Just take a deep breath, Stephanie. I’ve put some feelers out on him. I’ll let you know when I find out his whereabouts. But he’s probably taken up residence in some apartment next to a Staten Island landfill. Trust me. He won’t bother you.”
“Yeah, sure,” she said and hung up abruptly. She stood up, pacing the room and glancing at her gun lying on the desk. She grabbed a file from the credenza, inspecting the label that read New York. She opened it and glanced through the contents. A minute later she closed it and threw it back onto the desk.
Benji walked inside the house and started up the stairs to his room when Jordan called to him from the drawing room.
“Benji, your mother and I have something we want to discuss with you,” Jordan said, hands dug deep in his pockets.
It was like something said every week on Full House. His father, never the disciplinarian, sounded almost cartoonish saying those words. It provided much needed humor in his day. At any rate, he walked into the room where his mother was pacing and his father was eying him suspiciously.
“What is it?” he asked. He was in no mood for their drama today. He’d just learned that Sierra was leaving town despite the fact that he’d professed his feelings for her. He wasn’t in the greatest of moods.
“We’re worried about you,” Suzanne said, her arms wrapped around herself.
“You mean you actually think about someone other than yourself?” he snarled.
Jordan shot him a look of warning. “Don’t talk to your mother that way.”
Rolling his eyes, he flopped down onto the sofa and folded his arm belligerently. “She hasn’t been around in thirteen years. Now all the sudden I’m supposed to do what she says just because she’s my mother? Get serious.”
“This is very serious,” Jordan said. “Did you attack Scott Kelly?”
“What?” he asked, shifting on the sofa. “Where’d you get a crazy idea like that? I thought you were their number one suspect. You do have a habit of beating the crap out of people. Frank Dunning ring a bell?”
“Detective Callahan told us about your little chat,” Jordan continued. “She said you told her I attacked him because of his affair with Alex. But you know as well as I do that that affair was staged. So why did you go to the trouble of telling her that unless it was to shift the blame from yourself?”
“Are you kidding me?” Benji asked and shot to his feet. “You actually think I beat that guy up? I barely even know him.”
“He says otherwise,” Jordan protested.
“He said that I attacked him?”
“Not in so many words, but—”
“I didn’t do it,” Benji maintained. “And you can’t prove that I did.”
“Benji, it happened the same night that you found out your mother was alive,” Jordan said. “You were angry. You ran off and left the marina and didn’t come home for two days. Today I got a bill in the mail for body work on your car from the next day. What happened?”
“I ran into a tree,” he said, turning his back. He hadn’t expected his father to add things up in his mind like this. He usually paid little attention to him at all. Now suddenly he was taking an unsolicited interest in him.
“Benji, if you did something to that man you can tell us,” Suzanne said and drew closer. “We’ll protect you. You’re our son. We love you no matter what.”
Angrily, he spun around and glared at her, tears forming in his eyes. “That is such a load of bull,” he said. “You love me when it’s convenient for you. You love me when you’re not running off to Switzerland, or sending me to Switzerland to get me out of your hair. You love me when Heather isn’t facing the crisis of the week!”
“That is not true,” Jordan snapped. “I visited you every chance I got when you were in Switzerland.”
He shook his head in anger, tears now streaming down his cheek. “But why did you send me away?” he asked. “You sent me away but you let Heather stay. Because I saw something the night Mom left? Because I did something that you didn’t like? What exactly was it?”
Jordan wasn’t fooled. He’d gotten to know his son too well. “You’re not going to turn this around on me this time to avoid facing your own mistakes. This time I won’t be held responsible. I’m through with it, Benji. Your phony tears aren’t going to work this time.”
His tears quickly dried and he returned to his former angry self. “You’re not too bright, are you?” he asked. “Do you think there’s one thing that can tie me to Scott Kelly’s attack? Do you think I was born yesterday? You’re the one who’s going to go down for this. You’re the one who ruined everything. You cheated on Mom and you drove her to try to kill you. You made an innocent man loose his mind and then you set him on fire and you—”
“Enough!” Suzanne screamed so loudly that it rattled the windows. “I am so tired of this spoiled attitude of yours. Your sister is being admitted to a mental health facility tomorrow and she’s not coming back for a very long time. All you’re doing is whining about yourself and about how you weren’t treated fairly. Ever since I came back all I’ve seen is you manipulating your father into feeling guilty over trying to protect you! Well, I’m not going to stand for this anymore. I refuse to let you do this to him.”
“Suzanne—” Jordan said, alarmed by how shrill her voice was. He’d never seen her like that before.
She shrugged him away, stepping toward Benji, her eyes flaring. “You are my son so I’m not going to turn you into the police for what you did to that man. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you continue acting this way. Things are going to change around here, starting with you acting like a human being for once in your life.”
Lips pursed, hands trembling, Benji stared at her for a moment or two while he registered her tirade. Humiliated, he turned and ran up the stairs to his room.
After he’d gone, Suzanne collapsed onto the sofa, burying her face in her hands. Jordan sat down beside her and placed his arm around her, wondering if she had gotten through to him.
“I see you made the paper today,” James said with a smile when Brooke opened the door of her townhouse in Glendale.
She took the newspaper from him and read through the front page of the business section. Jennings Sells Shares in Sunset Studios to Half Sister, the headline read, complete with two photos beneath it, one of David and one of Brooke.
“David said people were going to be angry by this,” she said, looking up at him with a wince. “Are you one of them? Be honest.”
He shook his head and grinned when Michael came running up to him with a stuffed pig clamped under his arm. “No, I’m not angry. Like I said yesterday, I’m happy for you. I understand why you did what you did. You want something for your son.”
Brooke was glad he understood. “I mean, obviously Stormy is the successor to the studio, but I just want Michael to have a part of it, you know?”
He nodded, ruffling the boy’s hair. “I know. And I don’t want you to worry about Jackie and her tantrum in David’s office. That was more directed at me than at you. She can’t hurt you, Brooke.”
The next morning, Dr. Madison accompanied them on Jordan’s private jet to San Francisco where he’d arranged for Heather to undergo treatment. She said nothing the entire flight, barely moving her eyes from the seatback in front of her. Brett, who had taken Violet along, studied her face carefully. Suzanne wept in the corner while Jordan tried his best to comfort her.
A car was waiting to take them to the facility from the airport. Walking across the tarmac, they followed in a single file line, Brett with his arm around her and Violet bobbing along happily in his other arm. When they got to the facility, the administrator took them on a brief tour while Heather got situated in her room. By the time they got back from a walk around the grounds, her demeanor had changed.
“I don’t want to stay here,” she said, looking at her husband and her mother and father through glassy eyes. “Please, Daddy, let me go back with you.”
“You have to stay here for a little while, Princess,” Jordan said. “Just until you start feeling better. It won’t be forever. I promise.”
“But I want to go home,” she cried, clinging to his side. “Please take me back.”
“We should make this a quick goodbye,” Dr. Madison said in a soft voice, garnering Jordan and Suzanne’s attention. “It’ll be easier for Heather that way.”
Jordan nodded meekly, pulling his daughter into an embrace and kissing the top of her head. “See you soon,” he said.
Heather didn’t let go of his hand, cringing when he finally pulled it away and started to the door. After he’d gone, Suzanne approached her daughter, so overwhelmed that she could barely speak.
“I love you,” she said and hugged her tightly. Unable to look her in the eyes, she turned and flew out of the room.
“Mr. Armstrong?” Dr. Madison said to Brett who still held Violet in his arms.
“Can you give me a minute please?” Brett asked without taking his eyes off of Heather.
The doctor nodded and left the room, closing the door behind.
Violet had begun to fuss, squirming in Brett’s arms as he approached his wife from behind.
“You’re going to make lots of friends here,” he said, taking her hand and turning her toward him. “Dr. Bouvier said they have game nights….and sundae parties. He said they have a real nice time here.”
Heather didn’t respond. She held her hair, inspecting the ends and counting each strand silently to herself.
“I’m going to come visit you all the time,” Brett continued. “Dr. Bouvier says sometimes I can bring Violet.”
She shook her head. “You’ll forget all about me,” she said softly. “Violet will too.”
“We won’t,” Brett assured her. “Don’t ever think that.”
“Can I hold her?” Heather asked.
The fact that he was scared to let her hold their daughter was upsetting. She was her mother for god’s sake. He shouldn’t be scared that she would hurt her.
Slowly, he handed Violet off to her. The baby stopped crying and fussing, tiny fingers grasping at her hair and eyes twinkling with a bright smile. Heather held her close, rocking her back and forth and humming a quiet lullaby.
“I love you,” she whispered into the baby’s ear. “Mommy’s sorry about everything.”
Tears stung Brett’s eyes. When Dr. Madison opened the door and called out to him, he grudgingly took Violet from Heather’s arms. Immediately the infant began crying again.
“Don’t cry,” Heather said, kissing her cheek. “Don’t cry, my baby girl.”
Brett used his free hand to pull her into a quick embrace, tears rolling down his cheek as he turned and hastily left the room.
He walked quickly down the corridor toward the exit, wondering what was next for him and his daughter now that they were alone. He kissed the top of her head, only the sound of his footsteps and his daughter’s cries echoing through the hallway.
That afternoon, T.T. made his way through the lounge at Moonshadows, flagging a waitress and ordering a cocktail before finding a seat at the bar. He sipped it slowly, reflecting on the past few days and the mind-blowing circumstances that left him sitting there alone. Malcolm, his own son, had betrayed him with the woman he at one time was deeply in love with. Renee, the woman he’d pined over for over two decades, wasn’t speaking to him—their future unknown. He refused to give up, however. He would stay put until he convinced her that they were meant to be together. Deep down she wanted him too, and it was only a matter of time before she realized that.
He spotted David enter the lounge and offered a brief wave. When David approached, he extended a firm handshake.
“Afternoon,” he said. “I hear you unloaded your Sunset Studios stock the other day. Is this a good thing?”
David grinned and leaned against the bar. “Yes, I think so. Although I was looking forward to working with you. Your reputation precedes you.”
“Likewise,” T.T. said. “Your father was a personal friend of mine. I don’t know if he ever mentioned me to you.”
“As a matter of fact, he did,” David replied with a good-natured smile. “He had some stories that would make a stripper blush.”
T.T. exploded into hearty laughter, shaking his head with fondness. “It was a real tragedy, Royce’s death. I can’t tell you how sorry I was to hear about the car accident, David.”
“I appreciate that.” A quick change of subjects to avoid any further sadness over the loss of his father. “How are your accommodations? Everything is to your liking, I presume?”
“First class,” he said and patted him on the back. “First class all the way.”
“Good.”
The sound of T.T.’s phone ringing inside his chest pocket acted as David’s cue to depart, so they shook hands and David disappeared into the crowd. After he’d gone, T.T. answered, still caught up on his trip down memory lane.
“Levitt,” he answered.
“We need to meet,” said a man’s voice. It was deep and penetrating, one that T.T. recognized all too well.
“Where are you?” His face was suddenly void of emotion.
“Closer than you think. Can you meet?”
“Where?” T.T. asked.
Kyle Fenwick had missed L.A. He had traveled to and from New York so often that he eventually came to prefer the west coast weather to New York’s harsh winters and wet, humid summers. Not that he’d seen much of it in the last three years. Prison had a tendency to take that kind of thing away from you.
He’d rented a car in order to get around. A Porsche 911 Carrera 4S. Money wasn’t a problem because he had it before he went to prison and he still had it now that he was out. His next step would be to find a place to call home. Some small mansion in Malibu, he decided.
The car was parked on a turnout at the bottom of Laurel Canyon Road. It was private and secluded, shrouded in trees and brush, hidden from the road and neighboring houses. Standing by the guardrail, he gazed out at the city from behind jet black shades. It hadn’t changed much in three years.
When a car approached from the road, steering onto the gravel surface, he turned and leaned against the railing. The car was a Rolls with tinted windows and an immaculate wax job. Patiently, he waited for the driver to emerge.
When he did, Kyle turned back to the city view.
“When did you get out?” T.T. asked, stepping beside him.
“A few days ago,” Kyle replied.
“How’d you manage that?”
“I got paroled. Good behavior.”
T.T. nearly choked on a guffaw. “I see. So what are you doing back here?”
Kyle continued staring out at the sprawling view of Los Angeles. “I’ve done my time, T.T. Can’t a guy start his life over?”
Shaking his head, T.T. removed his sunglasses and leveled a look of warning on him. “Sure. But this is not the place to do it, Kyle.”
“Why’s that?”
“Don’t be dumb,” T.T. continued, following him to the car. “Nothing good can come out of you being here. You’ll only get yourself in more trouble.”
Kyle opened the door to the Porsche, reaching inside and withdrawing a folded up copy of the newspaper. He thrust it at him and pulled his keys from his pocket.
“I’m not looking for trouble,” he said. “Just to settle a score or two. First with the bitch who put me in prison, and then with the guy who set me up.”
With that, he got into the car and sped off, leaving a trail of dust and exhaust in his wake. Standing on the lookout, T.T. turned the newspaper over and rested his eyes on the story about Sunset Studios, beneath it the picture of David Jennings.
Alex Reynolds believed that she had hit a low point in her life. She’d heard that actresses often did, usually when their careers faltered or when their marriages dissolved, or when their children learned what despicable human beings their parents were. Sadly, she’d encountered all three in the past few weeks. So this, she decided, was her low point. She’d alienated Stormy and Miranda, she’d attempted an unsuccessful comeback in a film that had more bad publicity than she could fathom, and Jordan had spitefully excised her from his life. Even James had renewed his detest for her.
Sitting alone in the dark on the floor in her half-furnished apartment in a Beverly Hills high rise, she hugged her knees to her chest, sipping from a glass of vodka. Beside her, her trusty bottle of muscle relaxers which was now empty. They were the only things that were getting her through the last few days. She’d lost track of how many she’d taken that day. When they ran out, she substituted with Vicodin, which seemed to do the trick, but only for a few fleeting hours. Once they wore off, she was back to feeling like the lowest person on earth.
Her hand reached to the floor where she’d laid a photograph of Stormy and Miranda as children. A tear fell from her eye. So many mistakes she’d made with them, she thought to herself. They were her father’s children. She was the constant outsider.
She picked up another picture, this one of a three-day old baby. Tears swelled and she dropped it quickly to the floor.
Her eyes felt droopy and her limbs felt like they weighed a thousand pounds each. She craved sleep. Slowly, she faded in and out of consciousness. Maybe she’d taken too many pills? Maybe the vodka wasn’t helping. What if she didn’t wake up? Who would find her in the morning? No one even knew where her new apartment was. Not Miranda, not Jordan. No one.
Unable to fight it any longer, she closed her eyes. Moments later, she slumped to the floor on her side. Beside her, the spilled glass of vodka seeped into the carpet.
After three rings, David got the same outgoing message he’d been getting all day. This time he left a message.
“Mother, where the hell are you?” he demanded, standing outside on the terrace that jutted out from the dining room at Moonshadows. “I haven’t heard from you since you stormed out of my office the other day. Look, I know you’re angry but I want to know that you’re okay. Please call me. We have things to discuss. Whatever you’re planning in retaliation isn’t going to work.”
He clicked off the phone and looked out at the water. This was the longest she’d gone without checking in with him. That, coupled with the fact that she was fit to be tied upon learning he’d sold his shares of Sunset Studios to Brooke, had him worried.
High above the Atlantic, Jackie sat luxuriously sipping champagne on her private jet. The captain’s voice came through over the loudspeaker, pulling her from a state of deep concentration.
“We’ll be landing in a few minutes, Miss Lamont,” he said. “Please be sure to buckle up.”
She leaned forward, setting her glass down, and tightening her seatbelt. Glancing out the window, she began to feel the exhilaration of her latest move. Finally she would be one step closer to her destiny.
Half an hour later, they landed at Le Bourget airport. An hour after that, the private car she’d arranged arrived at its destination.
“Welcome to Paris,” the guard said, then led her through a maze of hallways lined with doors and security cameras. Each door they passed through required several locks to be deactivated, some necessitating two keys to be turned simultaneously.
“Attendre ici,” the guard said after leading her into a small empty room and locking the door behind.
She looked around the sterile surroundings, not quite as moved by the moment as she’d thought she would be. She clasped her hands together, pacing the room in her Prada heels. Giddy with excitement, she threw her head back and took in a deep breath. Soon she would teach them all a lesson. They would never see her coming.
Moments later, the guard returned. Behind him, an official looking man in a suit and holding a bible.
“Are we ready?” he asked.
“Where is the groom?” Jackie asked with a frown.
“Here,” said a voice from behind the official.
Jackie stepped forward, smiling at the sight of Nathan Blackthorne standing before her. He was dressed in a grey prison uniform, shackled by the hands and feet.
“I was beginning to think you were standing me up,” she cackled.
“Unheard of,” Nathan said and allowed the guard to lead him toward her. “Jackie, you look ravishing. You haven’t aged a bit in forty years.”
“You look like hell,” she said, only half-joking. Prison obviously had taken its toll on him. Gone was the refined look of a dapper Hollywood icon. In its place was the weathered look of a man hardened by life in prison. Of course, she assumed prison could do that to anyone.
“I was shocked when I got your call yesterday,” Nathan said, admiring her up and down. “Is it true? David has betrayed you for Brooke Taylor?”
“We haven’t time for my grievances, Nathan,” she said seductively. “I have to stop her from taking my father’s company and running it into the ground. Jonas would never allow that to happen. You wouldn’t either, I presume.”
“You know how important Jonas was to me,” Nathan said. “Are you sure this is the only way?”
“I’m sure.”
“Well then let’s get started,” Nathan said and nodded to the official. “Who would have thought we’d be getting married again after all these years? My only wish is that I’d be able to make you happy this time.”
“You will,” she said.
They took their places beside one another. The official stood before them, beginning the ceremony as the guard acted as a witness.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to wed Nathan Blackthorne and Jacqueline Lamont in holy matrimony.”
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