The Victorious and the Relentless

Episode 23: “Funeral = Real Fun”

Coldplay’s “Trouble” opens this episode as Kyle stands solemnly outside the door of Tristan’s apartment, contemplating whether to knock on it, his hand suspended in the air. He had spoken briefly with Bralen to possibly get more information about Heath’s attack as Bralen was the one who had called him. What he learned from him—the cold, rank truth—had deeply unsettled Kyle. He had to speak to Heath, his only reservation that Tristan was inside. Damn it! This is about the wellbeing of the man I continue to love for better or worse! His hand at last came into contact with the door. Heath soon opened it.

Kyle: Good afternoon, Heath.

Heath (gesturing for him to come inside): Hi, Kyle. Are you here to get the rest of Vittoria’s stuff?

Kyle: So you were here when they came with the warrant? I think we got what we were looking for.

Heath: Yeah, I saw some of the stuff they took, mainly drugs and a weapon that may link her to Nathan and Brendon’s attack in the park. Tristan had to leave. He just couldn’t watch them going through her stuff like that.

Kyle: So he’s not here?

Heath: No, he had to make arrangements for Vittoria’s body to be returned to Italy.

Kyle: That sounds complicated. Anyway, I came to check on you.

Heath: Is this about the—

Kyle: Heath, we need to talk about it.

Heath (throwing up hands): No, I don’t want to talk. I hate that you were even dragged into this. Haven’t I caused you enough problems already?

Kyle: Would you rather I treat this case with the cold distance of a cop? Or as someone who genuinely cares for you?

Heath: I don’t deserve your concern, Kyle.

Kyle: And you didn’t deserve what happened to you, either.

Heath: Maybe I did. (sitting on the couch) Maybe this is just karma for all the bad things I’ve done.

Kyle (sitting down next to him): Don’t say that. You didn’t deserve what happened to you. You’re one of the kindest and most thoughful men I’ve ever known, and Lord knows this wouldn’t have happened to you if you were still with me.

Heath (angrily): What the—

Kyle: That didn’t come out right. (pauses to rethink) I meant that I only wish I-I was there for you more. (tears coming to his eyes as he reactively rises to turn away from Heath to wipe them away) I need you to come with me.

Heath (looking up into Kyle’s reddened eyes): To where?

Kyle: To a clinic.

Heath: I told you I’m not going to a doctor.

Kyle: But you need to! Heath, you were raped. You should be seen by a doctor. There may still be evidence.

Heath: I showered as soon as I got home. There’s no need for them to see me just to collect evidence. There is none.

Kyle (emotionally choking up): H-Heath, there’s another reason you should go. I don’t know how to say it or let alone ask it.

Heath: What’s wrong, Kyle? You’re taking this worse than me.

Kyle: I nearly lost you, Heath. How am I supposed to react?

Heath (coming to hug him): I-I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.

Kyle (separating himself and looking into Heath’s eyes and taking a deep breath): Bralen told how you looked when he found you. I need to know if—if they—

Heath: What?

Kyle: Did they use any pro—

Heath (not needing him to finish, turning away): What the fuck do you think! I can’t get that out of my mind… how they just—

Kyle: I-I had to ask. (taking another breath) You should go to the clinic. You need to be tested for any transmittable diseases. (noticing his hesitance) I promise it’ll be strictly confidential.

Heath: I don’t want to—

Kyle (coming over to hug him): I know but please do it… for me.

Heath: I-I’m so scared, Kyle.

Kyle (holding him tight): I know you are, but I’m here for you now.

ESTRELLA’S HOME, BEVERLY HILLS

Estrella had placed the depositions in her briefcase and looked at herself in the mirror. Even though she felt like crap, she looked like a million bucks. She was in presentable business attire that both captured her sensuality and complemented her sharp legal mind. It had been time for her to throw herself back into work, and the forthcoming interview was just what she needed. She applied a moderate layer of lipstick, grabbed her briefcase, and opened the front door to see Callum’s car pulling alongside the curb. He presently got out his vehicle and accosted her just as she was attempting to get into hers.

Callum: Going somewhere, are we?

Estrella (pressing the control button for car to unlock): Callum, I haven’t any time right now. I have an important appointment to get to.

Callum: This won’t take long. I just needed to ask you something about Vittoria.

Estrella (reluctantly closing the car door and sighing): What is it? I-I’m still shakened over her death.

Callum: Yeah, at the bottom of my staircase.

Estrella: I have some contacts at the district attorney’s office who told me she attempted to kill you.

Callum: She shot me, (pulling back shirt to show superficial wound) but it’ll take more than a bullet to bring me down. Many people will soon learn that, especially Brendon Roberts.

Estrella (her hand quivering, losing grasp of the briefcase): Br-Brendon Roberts? What does he have to do with this?

Callum: Well, you should know that Vittoria attempted to kill him as well. She’s the reason he was in that coma. And I’ll be the reason he goes into a permanent one.

Estrella: Excuse me?

Callum: I just had a run-in with him. The man thought he had ridden himself of me. He will pay for trying to deceive me with Vittoria.

Estrella: I-I should be going now.

Callum: Oh no, I haven’t questioned you yet. I want to know why you were talking with Vittoria the night Edward was returned.

Estrella: Pardon me?

Callum: I have Vittoria’s mobile, and I was checking her call log. You rang her several times that night and the following day. What was so important you had to reach her?

Estrella: I don’t remember. It was probably something regarding the case. (thinking quickly) Oh, yes, she was worried about some new detective harassing her.

Callum: I see. (sighing)

Estrella: I wouldn’t worry about Vittoria anymore. She’s gone.

Callum: It’s not Vittoria that concerns me. It’s her contacts. Brendon got his claws back into her while she was supposedly loyal to me. It just makes me wonder who I can trust.

Estrella (her mind working hard to get him off the subject of Brendon): This isn’t about Brendon or Vittoria. It’s about Chloe. You still think I had something to do with your son’s kidnapping. I keep telling you I had nothing—(taking a deep breath) I didn’t know that the baby she had was yours. She came to me for help.

Callum: Yada, yada, yada! I’ve heard it all. I have no way of linking you to this scheme other than your having Chloe as an evening snack. (turning to leave) Anyway, I’ll let you get to your appointment.

Vittoria (opening the door and getting inside the car): Have a nice day, Callum.

Callum (turning around): And, Estrella, I just wanted to warn you that I don’t respond that well to backstabbing. Brendon is going down for his involvement in my attempted murder… and so is anyone else connected with him. Let that be a warning to you as well, regarding the kidnapping, which is as much an offense against me as Brendon’s.

He got into his car and sped off. Estrella let out a long sigh of relief. She had avoided that disaster, but Callum was on a mission for blood. I should warn Brendon, but I’m already late for this interview. She started the car and drove away.

PEYTON’S HOME, BEVERLY HILLS

Drake and Bralen had been packing the DVDs for almost two hours. Bralen had soon realized that trash bags weren’t such a good idea as they began to tear with the weight of too many cases. Drake suggested boxes, and they worked another half hour repacking the cases into boxes until Drake’s stomach growled, embarrassing him as the sound echoed in the cellar. They took a brief break to raid Peyton’s refrigerator for food before heading back downstairs to finish the job, Drake not having anything else to do for the rest of the day. They were close to packing the last box when Drake heard foosteps upstairs.

Drake (putting finger to mouth): Shh! Do you hear that, Bralen? Someone’s upstairs.

Bralen: But the front door is locked.

Drake (seizing a broom as a weapon): Let’s check it out.

They crept up the stairs into Peyton’s room. Drake was in front and tiptoed to the source of the noise. There was definitely someone in the house, for he heard rumblnig. He immediately thought it was a burglar and firmly grasped onto the broom as he entered the livnig room.

Drake: Who’s there?

He heard a woman scream before a glass was thrown at him. It bounced off his chest, but the scotch inside it splashed all over him. The woman—elderly and well-dressed—continued screaming as she began throwing other objects at him, including silverware and a lamp that smashed into pieces when Drake ducked, and it consequently hit the floor.

Drake (shouting): Who the hell are you?

Priscilla: I think I might ask the same question of you, trying to rob my son’s home. I didn’t think these things happened in Beverly Hills.

Bralen (hiding behind Drake): Priscilla? Is that you?

Priscilla: Who’s that?

Bralen: It’s Bralen. Bralen Jones. This is my friend Drake.

Hearing Bralen’s voice, Priscilla ended her spree of throwing projectiles at Drake.

Priscilla (exhaling a deep sigh): Why the hell didn’t you say so? (pause) What the hell are you doing here? You two weren’t doing any hanky-panky in my son’s room?

Drake (defensively): No, ma’am. I’m a married man.

Priscilla (her eyes enlarged): What the hell?

Drake (realizing her confusion): No… no… I’m married as in to a man. I’m gay.

Bralen (still seeing puzzlement on her face): Priscilla, I can explain. Drake is from Massachusetts. He and his partner Austin recently moved here from Boston.

Priscilla: And where is his partner? In the room also? Were you having a threeway back there?

Drake: Oh, no ma’am. I’m completely committed to my man.

Bralen: Drake was just helping me clean the place for your arrival.

Priscilla (to Drake): I’m so sorry for overreacting. I went from thinking you were a burglar to thinking you were perhaps role-playing as one. You gays can be such freaky bastards.

Drake: I don’t know how to respond to that.

Bralen: Priscilla is quite the hoot. You’ll soon get used to her humor.

Priscilla (continuing her tirade): Well, it’s true. You were with Bralen, who arguably besides my son is into some freaky stuff. Do you still have that whipped cream fetish? (noticing Bralen blush) Anyway, where are my manners? I’m Priscilla Ashland, Peyton’s mother.

Drake (shaking hands with her): I’m Drake Michener. I’m really sorry to have frightened you.

Priscilla: Well, it’s a good thing you’re gay otherwise I’d be all over you since you’re quite hot. (noticing Drake’s surprised expression) Oh, calm down, Boy! As Bralen can tell you, I’m a harmless “cougar” as your generation would call me. (reaching out to touch Drake)

Drake (backing away from her): Uh—excuse me—

Priscilla (moving upon him): I was just going to get you out of your jacket. Don’t look at me that way. You don’t want to smell like a drunken fairy, do you? Here, let me put this jacket in the washer. (pinching his cheeks) You’ll be smelling baby fresh in no time.

Once she had gone down the hall to the washroom, Drake turned to Bralen, his face a concrete expression of shock that read what the hell have I got myself into? Bralen came over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Bralen: You’ve been bitten by the Priscilla bug. Don’t worry. The shock’ll wear off soon.

Drake (still shocked): Wh-Who was that? W-What?

Bralen: She’s more animated now than usual. It’s mostly a cover. Peyton was her only child. I’m sure she’s torn up inside. Anyway, we had better get back to work.

Drake (suddenly remembering his jacket): Holy shit! (rushing down the hall and into laundry room)

Priscilla: What’s all the commotion?

Drake: Uh—Mrs. Ashland, where’s my jacket?

Priscilla: It’s in the washer, Sweetheart. Why are you so alarmed?

Drake: I—uh—

Priscilla: Were you looking for this? (brandishing the DVD case)

Drake (going red in the face): I’m so embarrassed. Thanks for finding my—

Priscilla: This belongs to my Peyton, Sweet Cheeks. (noticing Drake’s face) You didn’t think I knew about his collection. I came across it a few years back when I had a dry spell and needed a quick fix of liquor. Imagine my surprise when I opened the wrong door.

Drake: Mrs. Ashland, there must be some mistake. (reaching for the case, she jerks it away from him) That’s mine.

Priscilla: You’re such a liar. Can’t you see the tag Peyton put on it to categorize it? He was always so precise.

Drake (trying to snatch it from her): Please.

Priscilla: Drake, you’re a married man. What use have you for dirty porn? Does your husband know you have such an addiction?

Drake: You don’t understand.

Priscilla (waving the DVD in front of him, her composure slowly weakening): No, it’s you who don’t understand. I won’t have anyone stealing anything from my son. (beginning to cry) and for the time being, I’m not parting with anyting of his. (putting the DVD case into her bosom) Now, how about you go and make me a nice drink? And while you’re at it, tell Bralen he can stop with the packing. (she grasps Drake’s cheeks and pinches them)

Defeated, he walked off in search of Bralen. Once he was gone, Priscilla broke out into sobs.

TRISTAN’S APARTMENT, WEST HOLLYWOOD

Callum was on his way home when he got a call from Tristan. He didn’t answer it but waited until it went to voicemail. It was one message laced with anger, Callum called everything bad in the book. Tristan was upset by the fact that the police had confiscated many of Vittoria’s belongings, many of which were obviously incriminating—the biggest one being the crowbar that magically appeared hidden in her closet. Tristan had immediately known Callum was behind this and launched into a vicious tirade, which culminated in his demand for money in exchange for his silence over Edward’s real paternity. Still on that train, eh? I’ll show you who’s in charge! When Callum got to Tristan’s home, he was met with Heath answering the door.

Callum (seeing his new hairstyle): Jesus! Heath, you look like you stuck your head in the LaBrea Tar Pits. You should know Allison doesn’t hibernate there until winter.

Heath (listlessly): Hi, Callum.

Callum: I was hoping to speak with Tristan.

Heath: He’s not here right now.

Callum (peeking into the apartment): Oh, but Kyle is. (entering the apartment) How’s the investigation going?

Kyle (coming forward): It looks like Vittoria was definitely responsible for the attacks on Chloe and Allison. Her prints were found on another gun in your house, and ballistics show this was the gun that was used to shoot Allison. Plus Justin confessed to her selling him drugs, which corroborates Chloe’s claim. Vittoria must have paid Vladimir Popov, that horserider, to incriminate Peyton. Unfortunately, we can’t locate him anywhere. He’s disappeared.

Callum: You said yesterday during the interrogation at the police station that you had shown Peyton Vittoria’s mug shot at the hospital.

Kyle: Yeah, I had foolishly told him that she was my prime suspect, and that the rest of the division thought he was, given how remarkably well Popov had described Peyton as “the shooter in the park.” My guess is Peyton did some investigating of his own, arrived at the same conclusion, and confronted Vittoria at one point or another. Maybe she followed him to your house and then—well, we know what happened next.

Callum: I just want to put all this behind me. It was such a tragedy and to have Peyton die in my arms.

Heath (putting his hand to his mouth): Oh my God!

Callum: So are you and Heath back together?

Kyle (looking at Heath): No, I—uh—was just here following up on the—

Callum: Well, it’s really none of my business.

Kyle (phone ringing and answering): Excuse me. (coming back a few seconds later) I should get going. (to Heath) Why don’t we make that “appointment for lunch” soon?

Heath: Okay, sure.

Callum (once Kyle had left): So he hasn’t been back since the police left?

Heath (staring into space): Who?

Callum: Tristano, the man with whom you’re obsessed. (pause) Heath, is there something wrong? You seem distant.

Heath: I’m just not feeling well. Peyton and Vittoria’s deaths and all, you know. (picking up the remote to distract himself, begins channel surfing)

Callum: Would you stop that? I’m talking to you, Heathcliff. It’s very important I find Tristano.

Heath (dismissively): Just call him. (his expression visibly changing as he looked at the screen)

Callum: Heath, what’s wrong? (his attention now drawn to the television, where Estrella is onscreen being interviewed) Do you know her?

Heath: I know that bitch very well. She’s hitting on Tristan, trying to steal him from me.

Callum (laughing): What have you been drinking?

Heath: I’m telling you the truth. I once walked in on them, having sex right here in this room.

Callum (flabbergasted): I don’t understand. Tristano’s gay.

Heath: Well, that cunt was blackmailing him with something. I don’t know what it’s about, but I walked in on her trying to have sex with him again… this time in the hospital the day after he was pulled from the river. Vittoria and I were so worried about him—she more so than usual.

Callum: What?

Heath: I got the impression they were supposed to meet up somewhere later. She kept calling his cell.

Callum: But you’re absolutely certain that (pointing to the television) was the woman you caught with Tristano?

Heath: I’m absolutely positive. I’d know that skank anywhere. She knows to stay away from my man. I gave her one big greeting in the hospital (turning around to see that Callum had left, the door wide open)

He had elected not to stay for further details of how Heath handled Estrella. He had just found the missing link between her and the scheme to kidnap Edward, and that was all Callum needed to add her to his growing list of betrayers.

THREE DAYS LATER… MORNING, DAY OF PEYTON’S FUNERAL

Talon had just finished his breakfast when Callum came into the kitchen. Talon put down the newspaper and Callum looked at the remnants on his plate.

Callum: Kidneys and toast for breakfast? Are we getting too nostalgic for the homeland?

Talon: I needed protein. (winking) Lord knows I’m not getting any.

Callum: Would you kiss your mum with that mouth?

Talon: No, but you’ll suffice for now (rising from the chair and kissing him). Are you sure you don’t want me to take the day off?

Callum: You just started this week. What impression would that give them?

Talon: Well, I just wanted to be there for you. I know how much you hate funerals.

Callum: I’ll be fine.

Talon: I’m sorry I haven’t had much time for you. This job has exhausted me like no other.

Callum (sotto voce): That would also be the sleeping pills I’ve put in your evening tea. (aloud) You should save some of your energy.

Talon: I love you.

At that moment, they both heard the doorbell ring. Godfrey soon came into the kitchen.

Callum: Who is it?

Godfrey (dramatically clearing his throat): It’s Mr. Moynihan.

Callum (dropping his teacup, crashes to the floor): Bloody hell!

Talon (managerially): Godfrey, would you clean this? I’ll see to this Mr. Moynihan.

Callum (grabbbing Talon’s arm): No, that won’t be necessary. (to Godfrey) Tell Nathan that I’ll be out shortly. Keep him in the sitting room.

Talon: What’s going on? You look ashen.

Callum (angrily): It’s nothing for you to worry yourself—oww—(having cut his finger)

Talon (doting): Here, let’s clean it. (taking him over to the kitchen sink to place his finger under the water)

It was at that moment Nathan could be heard coming toward them.

Nathan: Callum, are you okay?

Callum (looking like a doe caught in the headlights): Talon.

Talon: Yes?

Callum: I love you. (grasping his head and pulling him in for a kiss, his hands securely latched to keep Talon’s back to Nathan’s entrance)

Nathan (seeing the spectacle): Oh, I’m sorry.

Talon tried to break free for air, but Callum held his head firmly, his tongue working its magic inside Talon’s mouth. Callum’s eyes met those of Nathan’s, whose were filled with absolute surprise. Talon successfully extricated himself from Callum’s grasp, but before he could turn to view their spectator, Callum grabbed Talon’s neck and drew his mouth to it to suck on it. Fortunately, Godfrey arrived in time to escort Nathan away, who took his cue and soon the left the house.

Talon: My God, I love it when you get these unexpected fits of passion. Are you sure you want me to go to work?

Callum (recomposing himself): Yes, consider that a preview for tonight.

Talon (kissing him): Then I anxiously await closing time. (rushing back upstairs)

Godfrey (coming into the kitchen): That was very close.

Callum: Too close for comfort.

Godfrey: Somehow I’m sure Mr. Prescott didn’t mind.

Callum: Has Nathan left?

Godfrey: Yes, I believe he saw more than he expected. It’s just as well that he loses interest in you. It’ll make it easier for you remain focused.

Callum: But Talon still remains a problem.

Godfrey: You’re torn among three men. There’s your devotion to Lord Armitage, your lust for Mr. Prescott, and your growing love for Mr. Moynihan.

Callum: And Gavin would kill me if I ended up with either of them.

Godfrey: Anyway, you should prepare for the memorial service.

Talon soon came into the room, kissed Callum, and left for work.

WEST LOS ANGELES CEMETERY, MID MORNING

Natalie Merchant’s “Life Is Sweet” plays as the sunlight falls onto the graveyard as a small group of mourners have gathered outside. Marble headstones can be seen in the distance, sunbeams reflecting off their surface. Weeping is heard, and handkerchiefs are in full display. The majority of the people present are Outrunners, all wearing the customary color of black so that should one have an aerial view, it would appear as if an ink stain were in implanted in the green. The somber ambience was suddenly punctuated by mild laughter as Priscilla made a remark that the only man she and Peyton loved equally—besides his late father—was Jack Daniels.  She spoke of sensing from a young age that something was different about her boy, partially blaming his homosexuality on the numerous trips they would take to see Broadway musicals every year.

She had on a smoothly flowing black frock that billowed in the breeze that blew through, temporarily relieving everyone from the stifling heat of the August day. Allison next spoke of Peyton as a man who was of honorable stature in the medical field, admired by his colleagues, and was generous in volunteering his time and treasure to worthy causes. It was here that Priscilla interrupted Allison—in a rather gauche manner—to reference that she would be devoting a decent portion of Peyton’s bequest to Outrunners and many other LGBT organizations that were dear to Peyton’s heart.

Bralen next gave a eulogy about how he and Peyton were childhood buds who always got into trouble whether it was for stealing cookies or getting caught going through Mrs. Ashland’s lingerie. Everyone in the audience laughed at that, some indubitably imagining the boys trying on the garments. Drake was laughing so hard he didn’t see Priscilla slither beside him, her lips brushing against his ears.

Priscilla (whispering): I once caught them looking through my late husband’s dirty mags.

Drake (smelling the liquor on her breath): Mrs. Ashland?

Priscilla (looping her arm in his): Come with me. We don’t need to hear the rest of this. It’s all recycled from one person to the next.

Drake: I-I don’t think—

Priscilla: Let’s not make a scene, Sweet Cheeks! (her hand dipping into her purse to pull out the tip of the DVD)

Drake (shocked and moving with her a few yards away): You brought that here!

Priscilla: For the past few days, you’ve been all kind to this old broad, and I got to thinking it must be something you want—and it ain’t what’s between these legs. I know you had wanted this (gesturing to the purse) but I didn’t know why until last night.

Drake (his eyes bulging): You didn’t?

Priscilla (a Cheshire grin on her face): Does your hubby know you can get really nasty with a roomful of men?

Drake would have fainted had it not been a shocking distraction that drew everyone’s attention.

ONE HOUR EARLIER… CALLUM’S HOUSE, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES

Callum had been rather uneasy since the whole Talon/Nathan debacle. He calmed down, changed into designer clothing befitting the occasion, and was about to leave the house when Godfrey met him at the door, holding Edward in his arms. Callum automatically kissed the baby, tears coming to his eyes as he did so, and he then turned the knob of the door, sunlight coming into the house.

Godfrey: I took the liberty of dressing him.

Callum (turning around, sniffling): Pardon?

Godfrey (gesturing to Edward dressed in black): I thought you might want to take him. It is after all his father’s funeral.

Callum (giving a sigh of reluctance): Where’s Inga? I’m already running late.

Godfrey: She’s too distraught to go.

Callum: She didn’t really care for Peyton.

Godfrey: It was too much for her to see his dead body when she came to get Edward after Mr. Prescott had snatched him away from her last Sunday. (pause) I thought I might accompany you so that I could look after Edward and likewise pay my final respects.

Owing to this late development, they arrived at the service very late, catching the ending of the formal memorial within the church. When they filed out the church, Callum stopped Priscilla as she was coming down the steps.

Callum: Mrs. Ashland, my name is Callum Sutcliffe.

Priscilla: I know about you. I read that you were with my son when he died.

Callum: I am so sorry for your loss. Peyton was an exceptional man.

Priscilla: Thank you. Did you know my son well?

Callum: Pardon?

Priscilla (moving closer to his face): Mr. Sutcliffe, my son was a gay man in Los Angeles. I never know if every man I speak with is a former flame, a platonic friend, or his fuck buddy from last week. (her attention suddenly distracted by the baby in Godfrey’s arms, her finger lovingly brushing his little cheek) And who is this little angel?

Callum: That would be my son Edward Armitage.

Priscilla (sighing): I guess I won’t get the luxury of being a doting grandmother. Peyton was my only child. I figured that was the end when Peyton told me he was into men.

At that moment, Priscilla was pulled away to rejoin the procession on their way to the cemetery. Callum exchanged a brief look with Godfrey, reading his mind that Priscilla had just met her grandchild.

Callum (once Priscilla was out of earshot): She’s a charming woman, but now I know the origin of Peyton’s bibulous addictions.  Did you smell her? It was a like battle between Jack Daniels and Estee Lauder with the former clearly winning.

Callum and Godfrey followed the procession to the burial site and remained at the far end of the mourning throng away from everyone. Callum much preferred the distance, and he didn’t want to start anything since he had seen Chloe and Allison. Everybody began saying their graveside remarks about Peyton, getting different reactions that ranged from laughter to audible sobs. Callum watched and listened from afar, thinking of how his life had changed due to Peyton. When I first met him, he genuinely wanted to help me through my own grief. Losing Gavin had been so hard on me, and Peyton only desired for me to come out of therapy a stronger person. This is a funeral, not a wedding. I can’t hold my peace.

Callum motioned through the crowd to get to the speaker’s location. He saw several Outrunners gasping and reacting to his presence at the service. He saw Kyle’s hand tighten on Allison’s arm, her eyes suddenly burning red.

Callum: Many of you know me. My name is Callum. I was with Peyton when—(choking on a sob that escaped his mouth). Excuse me. I was going to remain silent about the man who was the epitome of charity. I knew him for just one year, and he only desired the best for me.

Allison (shouting): And you gave him the worst of you!

Callum (ignoring her as Kyle restrained her and whispered something into her ear): He saw me through the darkest time of my life when I lost my husband. If I had known that one year later—

Allison (breaking free of Kyle): That you would kill him!

Callum (crying): Allison, please! Let’s not do this here. I loved Peyton.

Allison: Is that why you were blackmailing him?

Callum (wiping away tears): Now is not the time for this.

Allison (shrugging off Kyle): How dare you come here! You have no right being here.

Callum: He died in my arms!

Allison: It should have been the other way around. You should be the one being put into the ground.

Kyle (amid the gasps of the crowd): Allison, come on. You’ve said enough.

Allison: He would still be with us if it weren’t for you, Callum. Everyone needs protection from you. (looking to the sky) I promise you, Peyton, wherever you are that I’ll make him pay.

Callum: That’s enough, Allison! I understand you’re grieving like the rest of us, but you shouldn’t use Peyton’s memorial service as a platform for revenge. And as for protection, the one who needed it most was my son Edward, who was kidnapped by your chemically unbalanced partner. (speaking to the crowd) Did you know that Peyton was there by my side, giving me support during that trying time? And just where were you, Allison? (aggressively approaching her) Oh yeah, that’s right, you were in Britain trying to dig up dirt on me.

Allison: And I found some.

Callum: Yeah, and whilst you were finding it—(under his breath just so that Allison can hear) Estrella was finding her way to Chloe’s clit.

Allison threw him a wild punch, knocking him back into the floral arrangements that consequently fell into the pit where Peyton was to be laid to rest. Callum regained his balance, looking at the startled crowd before him as he wiped his lip.

Callum: My word, Allison. You’re getting good with your right hand hook. Clearly you’ve been drinking some of Bralen’s juice. (moving closer to her) But you should take your jealousy up with Estrella. She was able to find something you had been in search of for many years.

Allison shoved him away with all the force in her body, and he fell into the pit, his lone scream echoing for the short distance before his body hit the bottom. She then saw a shovel nearby, seized it, and hit at Callum as he tried to climb from the hole. Kyle grabbed her, apprehending the shovel as Nathan rushed forward to help Callum out the hole.

Allison (pointing her finger at him, tears flowing down her face, screaming): You bastard! You’re responsible for this! Peyton’s dead because of you, and I swear to you on his soul that you will pay for this! You may consider it child’s play, but this is war!

TO BE CONTINUED…

Next Post

The Victorious and the Relentless

Episode 22: “Past Regrets”

Cast of New Characters (for this episode)

Priscilla Ashland: sassy and sophisticated, cheeky, average height, late 60’s, blue eyes, sable hair, sexually self-assured mother to Peyton Ashland

Ryan Cabrera’s “True” opens this episode as Talon moves onto the bed, placing his firm body atop Callum’s, their eyes locked in hungry, fevered passion for each other. Callum’s fingertips danced playfully upon the top of Talon’s muscular back, which tensed as he moved his mouth southward to connect with his lover, their tongues in contact as the heat of their touching skin eventually gave way to sweat. Callum’s hands then went to cradle Talon’s head as they continued kissing, Callum moving his mouth to caress Talon’s neck.

Talon: I’ve wanted you for so long now.

Callum (breathily): I know.

He felt the bristles of Talon’s facial hair brush against his soft skin as the man nibbled on his neck and then kissed and suckled briefly on the lobe of his ear, Callum releasing a brief moan. He felt Talon’s strong legs muscles working atop his lower body, and they would soon be fast at work trying to pry his own apart so that the conquest would be easier.

Talon: You’re not putting up much a fight, Sutcliffe.

Callum (breathily once more): Just shut up and kiss me.

Their mouths touched again, Callum loving the warmth of Talon’s lips, his teeth latching onto the lower one and tugging on it. Talon’s hands went to Callum’s shirt, grasping it at the collar and ripping it open, the buttons cascading over his body. Callum wanted to shout at him, alerting him to the fact that he had just damaged a Versace original, but was prevented when Talon’s mouth—pulling from Callum’s—went straight to his exposed nipples and bit at them in retaliation for the lip war which Callum had started.

The hotness of the saliva in tandem with Talon’s clever tongue sent Callum into a fierce fit of writhing passion as he felt Talon’s hands now succeeding in separating his legs. Talon next advanced his body further upon Callum, his weight pinning him to the mattress. Callum could feel Talon’s raging erection through his boxer briefs. Grinding his body into Callum, he soon witnessed the young man’s mouth beginning to curl open to release a loud moan of ecstasy.

Talon (clamping his hand over Callum’s mouth): Shh! You don’t want anyone to hear you.

Callum (lovingly biting Talon’s finger): I don’t care.

Talon: I love you.

Callum (breathily): I know. (raising his mouth to kiss Talon as his hands reach down to yank off Talon’s underwear, his hands spanking his exposed bottom)

Talon (looking lovingly into his eyes): Are you sure you want to do this?

A short pause took place as Callum aggressively rose from his position to push Talon over on his side, next putting himself atop Talon. Callum dramatically kissed the fingertips of his own hand before bringing them down to place upon Talon’s lips. Moments later Talon felt Callum’s mouth upon his cock, excitedly sucking it as if it held the elixir of life. He always loved how Callum could make this part seem so sexually primal yet so full of profound feeling as he at all times made sure they were holding at least one hand together, their fingers interlaced, as if the oral action were only supplementary to this more natural tactile connection.

Talon soon returned the favor, taking his precious time once again as his mouth moved over the sensitive areas of Callum’s body, which he had long missed with a burning fervor. It felt great to have this reconnection with him, his tongue journeying to numerous places that tickled and tantalized Callum, causing Talon to laugh to himself as he realized he hadn’t forgotten any of his lover’s pleasure spots. It was at the moment that his tongue hit the most prominent one in his memory that Callum unleashed a loud moan that complemented the quivering nature of his body’s reaction.

Talon (rushing up to Callum’s mouth): Shh!

Callum (immediately kissing him): As if you really care if anyone hears.

Talon: I want to be with you, Callum… have you! (lying his head upon Callum’s chest, hearing his heart beating rapidly)

Callum (whispering into his Talon’s nearest ear): You can have me now.

Talon (a lone tear coming into his eye): I want you always.

They kissed once more before Callum felt Talon enter him, closing his eyes at the slight hint of mild pain before his body warmly accepted him. He could feel his own breathing increase, his heartbeat race as he locked eyes with Talon, their sweaty bodies pressed tight against each other as Talon pressed forward, a fiery determination present in his eyes. Callum raised both his legs and wrapped them around Talon, effectively locking them both together, two living bodies as one, two chests compressed against each other, their hearts vibrating in unison.

In spite of an oncoming cramp, Callum held his legs in this position, not wanting to let Talon go, and Talon for his part became more rhythmic at his task, his pelvis embarking on a mission of its own. His powerful thrusts and their effects became too much for Callum, whose mouth once more unleashed another wail of carnal rapture, yet this time Talon’s hand fiercely clamped over it as he continued pumping forth with his mission. Callum didn’t resist this display of dominance, for he knew the precarious situation in which they were, his only recourse to look into Talon’s eyes, seeing the beautiful soul that dwelled behind them. Callum at last straightened his legs and tried to move to alleviate the pain of the cramp, but Talon held him down, his other hand immediately going to massage the area as if their minds were one, and he knew where the pain was.

Talon (removing his hand from Callum’s mouth): I love you.

Callum (breathily): And I—uh—ohhhh!

Talon: I love—uh—

Their bodies were momentarily gripped in this mutual state of climax, the orgasm having its domain initially over Callum as his body reacted accordingly. Talon, feeling the immediate effects of Callum’s reaction upon his already moist skin, likewise shared the same feeling of his own body being suspended in this moment of indescribable pleasure as he gave into his own orgasm, which was heightened by the beauty of looking into Callum’s eyes.

He tried to pry himself away from Callum, but he felt Callum’s hands upon his back, holding him down. Talon didn’t want to move, either, yearning to stay in that position eternally, feeling connected to his lover in the most beautiful way, conjoined simultaneously at the eyes and where their union felt right. They stayed in this position for another few minutes before Talon pulled away. He looked over and saw that Callum was crying.

Talon (urgently): I didn’t hurt you, did I?

Callum (teary-eyed): You could never hurt me, Talon.

He then silently rose from the bed and rushed into the bathroom, Talon looking at his retreating figure. Talon took in a deep breath and exhaled, wanting to be forever lost in the magic they had just shared, for it was indeed a special day for them both. For Talon, it had been the first time he had reconnected with Callum in a matter of years.

For Callum, the day held much meaning as it was his wedding day to Lord Gavin Armitage.

BRENDON AND NATHAN’S OLD HOME, SILVER LAKE, SUNDAY EVENING

Nathan was resting peacefully in the bedroom when Brendon left for the kitchen to prepare something to eat, their makeup sex having stimulated his appetite. As he came into hall, he saw a sliver of light issuing from Justin’s room. Brendon crept to it and peeked inside. Justin’s back was to him, but he could see clothing being stuffed into a carry-on suitcase. The sound of the door slamming shut startled the young man, interrupting his task. He turned around to face his father.

Brendon: And just where do you think you’re going?

Justin (grabbing the suitcase): The hell away from here!

Brendon (stopping him from moving forward): You’re not going anywhere!

Justin: Get out of my way!

Brendon: Or else what? You’ll try to drown me as well. Yeah, I saw you. I can’t believe—(pause) Why?

Justin: I hate him.

Brendon (coming face to face): Justin, you attempted to kill another person.

Justin: He made me do it.

Brendon: Stop lying to me. I saw the whole thing. You attacked him.

Justin: I’m telling the—

Brendon: Just shut up, Justin! I know what you’re doing. I wasn’t born yesterday.

Justin: And I was born nearly seventeen years ago, or did you forget that? You just couldn’t wait to forget about me so that you can live it up here in LA with your big Hollywood parties.

Brendon: Justin, it’s not like that. I have apologized for what I did, but that’s no excuse for what you did.

Justin: Sure it is. The facts don’t lie. Fatherless kids are more likely to do criminal activity.

Brendon: You’re not pinning this on me, young man. You know better. What did Nathan ever do to you?

Justin: He took you away from us… me and Mom.

Brendon: Justin, that’s not true, and it isn’t fair to him. I met him a few years after moving here.

Justin: I still hate him, and you can’t do anything about that.

Brendon: You’re going to tell the police you’re lying. I’ll be damned if Nathan goes to jail.

Justin: Why? You’re scared he’ll find someone else to fuck—uh, I mean love—him behind bars?

Brendon (aggressively grabbing the collar of Justin’s shirt, tugging on it): Listen, Boy, I’ve had enough of your trouble. You’re going to march your ass over to Kyle’s and confess everything.

Justin (his feet slightly coming off the ground): And if I don’t?

Brendon (yanks harder on collar, Justin’s face comes into contact his angrily contorted face): I know Vittoria supplies you with drugs. She works for me.

Justin’s eyes dilated at the reference to Vittoria. Brendon relaxed his grip, bringing Justin’s feet back to the ground. The young man tried to recompose himself, taking a deep breath, a pall of fear fell over him.

Justin (backing away): Okay, okay. I’ll tell the truth.

Brendon: Good, son. Consider it a late Father’s Day gift.

Brendon left the room, feeling happy with himself. He still couldn’t shake off the awkward feeling that his son would have committed murder had it not been for Allison’s fortuitous arrival. The thought of murder jolted his mind to Vittoria. He called her to get the status of their project. Now that I have Nathan back, I can’t risk losing him to Callum. Why the hell is she not answering? She had better not be chickening out on me. I’ll just leave her a friendly text message, reminding her of what is at stake if she doesn’t come through. It was after sending the message that he thought to check his own email and voicemail, whereupon he soon learned of her fate.

ALLISON AND CHLOE’S HOME, LOS FELIZ, SUNDAY EVENING

Allison took a sip of red wine and looked at Chloe sitting next to her on the couch, a perfect display of feminine pulchritude. She had her pink feet hidden under the couch cushions, and her hair was still stringy with wetness from her recent shower. She and Allison had a heart-to-heart talk after she had told her the bad news about Peyton. Allison had suggested she take a soothing bath to relax her nerves. Allison wanted to go to the police station to speak with Kyle, but she knew Chloe needed her attention.

Chloe: I can’t believe he’s gone. Have you heard anything else?

Allison: No, just the phone call from Kyle, and he didn’t give me any other details. He just said Peyton died in an accident.

Chloe: Nathan needs to send out an email out to the group.

Allison: Nathan?

Chloe: He’s club president. He should inform everyone of this tragedy.

Allison: I’m sure he knows by now. He had a near run-in with death himself earlier today.

Chloe: What?

Allison: When I went looking for him, he wasn’t at home. I went over to their old house in Silver Lake and found Nathan unconscious in the pool.

Chloe: Oh my God, Allison!

Allison: Don’t worry. I gave him mouth to mouth and revived him.

Chloe (reaching over to take her hand): You saved his life.

Allison: But I wasn’t able to save poor Peyton.

Chloe: You can’t save everyone, but I know he will always have a place in your heart.

Allison: Who? Nathan?

Chloe (yawning): No, silly, I was talking about Peyton.

Allison: Oh yeah, I don’t know where my mind was.

Chloe: I hope for your sake Nathan didn’t mistake the CPR for a kiss.

Chloe rose and went to bed. Allison soon followed suit, her mind ravaged by all the events of the day. Her body yearned for sleep, but as she laid her head on the pillow, she found herself thinking about Nathan before slumber overtook her.

RODRIGO’S APARTMENT, HOLLYWOOD, SUNDAY EVENING

Rodrigo had got back into town after having to leave on an emergency visit to Riverside to check on his mother, whose health had been declining. Upon getting to his apartment, he picked up the phone and called his friends, the band of thugs, who informed him that they did a real number on the guy he had pointed out to them. Mr. Sutcliffe should be really proud of me. I’ll pay him a visit tomorrow. It was at this point he placed the photo of Tristan and Nathan on the collage. I should celebrate. It was when he went to unwind at a bar on Santa Monica Boulevard in West Hollywood that he saw his goons had mucked up their plans or had blatantly lied to him. Tristan Bersani was sitting at the bar next to him, sorrowfully drowning himself in alcohol.

TRISTAN’S APARTMENT, WEST HOLLYWOOD, SUNDAY EVENING

After it had been declared safe for them to return to the apartment, Heath and Bralen went back inside. Bralen then broke the bad news of Peyton’s death to Heath, who had to sit down to digest the full impact of the shock. He held back his tears of grief just as he was holding back those of regret. Where is Tristan? I really need him. His body overwhelmed with all the day’s misfortunes, Heath laid his head on the couch pillow and closed his eyes. Bralen looked at him sleeping peacefully and had thought about leaving him but remembered his pledge to Heath that he would stay until Tristan arrived. Nearly two hours had passed before there was a knock at the door. Bralen went to it, thinking it was Tristan who may have lost his keys, but to his surprise it was Kyle.

Bralen: Kyle?

Kyle: Is he okay? (pushing inside)

It was so awkward for Bralen to see him so soon. Just that morning they had regretted kissing each other. There was another uncomfortable exchange of looks between them as Bralen gestured over to Heath’s sleeping figure on the couch. All Kyle could see was an orb of black snuggled against a pillow, prompting him to do a double take. Bralen quickly explained that Heath had dyed his hair.

Kyle: You said that he was attacked. Who did it? Where did it happen?

Bralen: You should ask him. (pause) I-I’m going to leave now. I-I still can’t believe that Peyton’s gone.

Kyle: And so is Tristan’s roommate.

Bralen: What?

Kyle: This is to be kept between us until it’s been released, but Vittoria shot Peyton. She fell down the stairs and broke her neck afterwards.

Bralen: Oh my God! Where was this?

Kyle: Look, I’ve told you more than I should right now.

Bralen (turning to leave): Okay, well, thanks.

Kyle: And Bralen (pause) thanks for looking out for him (gesturing to Heath).

Bralen: No problem. (he leaves)

Kyle (having walked over to the couch and sitting on the couch): Heath. (gently shaking him)

Heath (shouting): No! (opening his eyes) Oh, Kyle, it’s you.

His arms fly out and around Kyle as The Pretenders’ “I’ll Stand by You” starts playing softly in the background. Heath’s eyes gave way to a flood, his body softening in Kyle’s embrace as his tears wet the fabric of Kyle’s shirt. Kyle tried to pull himself from Heath to face him, but Heath’s grasp was too strong.

Heath: Just hold me.

Kyle: Okay.

They held each other in silence for a few minutes before Kyle successfully pulled himself away from Heath, whose eyes were all watery and red. He also saw the bruises and cuts on his skin.

Kyle: Now tell me what happened. Bralen said you were attacked.

Heath: Th-They just came at me.

Kyle: They? It was a group?

Heath: it was like four of them. They jumped me in the parking lot.

Kyle: Where?

Heath: At the Hawk Eye. (seeing Kyle pulling out his phone) What are you doing?

Kyle: I’m calling the Hawk Eye—

Heath: No! Don’t!

Kyle (dropping the phone): Oh my God, Heath! What’s wrong? You’re trembling.

Heath (throwing his arms around Kyle again): I-I’m so sorry for everything, Kyle. (breaking down into a fit of tears) I never—

Kyle: Never mind that. Right now I’m concerned about you. I don’t understand why you weren’t taken to the hospital. Your cuts are dressed, but I could swear I felt a lump on your back head.

Heath: I don’t want to go to the hospital.

Kyle: Heath, you need to be checked out. You could have suffered a concussion.

Heath: I suffered far worse than that.

Kyle (softly): What happened?

Heath (crying again): They held a knife to me and made me do stuff to them.

Kyle: Oh my God! I-I’m so sorry, Heath.

Heath (continuing): They forced themselves into me, pinning me to the ground, threatening to kill me if I screamed. One of them nearly broke my arm holding it behind my back. I had never been so scared in all my life.

Kyle (rising from couch): That’s it. We’re going down to the station. We have to report this.

Heath (pleadingly): No, Kyle, I can’t!

Kyle (sitting back down and taking Heath’s face into his hands): Look at me. I promise you I’m going to get the sick sons-of-bitches who did this to you, but I need your help.

Heath (shaking his head): Please don’t make me do this!

Kyle (urgently): We have to—

Heath (pushing him away and rising): I thought you would understand.

Kyle: Heath, you were sexually assaulted.

Heath: I was raped! (the sound of a key fumbling in the lock can be heard) That’s probably Tristan. Please don’t tell him.

Tristan at last succeeded in stumbling into the apartment. Just one glance at him told them both he was drunk, let alone he gave off the stench of alcohol. Despite his inebriated state, he had enough clarity of mind to remember his sworn war with Kyle.

Tristan: What the fuck are you doing here?

Kyle (looking down at Heath’s pleading face and eyes): I—uh—came to see how you were holding up. I guess I got my answer. You look—

Tristan: Hammered? So what? I just lost my best friend and had to call her mother in Italy to break the news to her. Can you imagine what that’s like?

Kyle: I’m really sorry.

Tristan: Then get off my fucking case.

Kyle: Just stay in for the rest of the night. You definitely shouldn’t be out or driving in your condition.

Tristan (stumbling over a pair of Vittoria’s shoes): Don’t worry about that, Kyle. (sitting next to Heath on the couch) I plan on staying home (ostensibly laying his hand on Heath’s inner leg) for some real comforting.

Kyle noticed the look of uneasiness on Heath’s face with Tristan touching him. Even though Tristan was drunk, Kyle still wanted to break his neck. The insensitive bastard can’t even see the bruises on Heath. It was just as Kyle was about to take action that Heath pushed away Tristan’s roaming hand as it reached his groin. Heath shot up from the couch and darted into the other room.

Tristan (to Kyle): What the fuck is his problem?

Kyle: You! (marching out the living room to find Heath in the bedroom) Do you want to come home with me? I-I know that sounds awkward but given what just happened.

Heath: I can handle Tristan.

Kyle: Are you sure you want to stay? (Heath nods) You call me if he tries anything funny. (turning to go)

Heath: Kyle?

Kyle: Yes?

Heath (long pause): I just—uh—want (sniffling) to thank you for not telling him.

Kyle (eyes watering): You know I would do anything for you. I-I had better leave.

The tension in the room was too much for Kyle. He wanted to go over to Heath, hold him, and cradle him to sleep, let him know that he was loved beyond measure… that no catastrophe would change the way he felt about him. I may not have been there for you these past months, but I’ll be damned if I leave you to handle this on your own. I still love you, Heathcliff Alcott.

Kyle: I’ll come round tomorrow. Please give some thought to what I said.

It was the hardest thing for Kyle to walk out the door, but at least some of his anxiety was calmed by the fact that Tristan had passed out on the couch. Heath waited until hearing the door close before lying on the bed and bringing his body into the fetal position to cry himself to sleep, praying that he didn’t draw the attention of a drunken, sexually aroused Tristan.

CALLUM’S HOME, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES, MONDAY

Monday morning came with the promise of a new work week and assuredly one of mourning for the members of the Los Angeles Outrunners. Callum felt rather listless as he rose to shower that morning. Godfrey had brought him breakfast in bed, and Talon had left him a rose on his pillow. They had had a mild argument when Talon had once more pushed the idea of them leaving America. Callum’s original plan still stood as he would steal Talon’s passport when they were away, ditch him, and come back to California to finish his mission. Oh Nathan! And just when things were going so well for us! That was such a magical kiss on the pier two days ago. But then it was nearly threatened by Talon. If you and Talon were to ever meet… banish the thought! Well, at least Talon is going to work today. The Getty should keep him fairly occupied as I handle my affairs with Brendon and Allison.

Talon (popping his head into the room): Wish me good luck on my first day. Are you sure you’ll be fine with me gone all day?

Callum: I don’t need a sitter, Talon.

Talon (coming over): But you do need one of these. (kisses him) I’ll be home this evening. Bye.

As soon as he left, Callum went downstairs, seeing the media camped outside the property. First, the kidnapping and now murder. I’ll soon have the most infamous address in Los Angeles and that can only spell trouble. I should get some sunshine, perhaps relax by the pool. I’ll have Godfrey bring some tea. What the bloody hell! He had come out onto the pool deck just in time to see Justin sneaking onto the property.

Callum (loudly): Planning on stealing more than just my car this time?

Justin (rushing up to him, panting): I can’t talk long. I think Brendon is having me followed.

Callum: Why would he do that? Did you run off with his priceless china?

Justin: Look, Callum, I need some money. I’m leaving town.

Callum: What’s wrong? Daddy Dearest caught you nicking sweets after your bedtime.

Justin: He’s trying to send me away to military camp or some shit like that.

Callum: So that he can make a real man out of you? Then perhaps Nathan will show real interest in you.

Justin: He knows the truth. I’m sure you had something to do with that.

Callum: My nana always said the truth shall set you free.

Justin: Except I’m not free! I just need some help getting out of town.

Callum: I was under the impression that your father wanted you in his life.

Justin: He called the police and told them I wanted to confess to lying about Nathan. That’s when I left. Please help me, Callum!

Callum: You never listened to me. Go back home, Justin. Admit you were wrong.

Justin: Didn’t you fucking hear me? He’s going to send me away!

Callum: I promise you it won’t come to that, especially if you’re “legally emancipated.”

Justin: What the hell does that mean?

Callum: Just trust me on this. Go home, confess, and I’ll handle the rest. Be sure to tell them that Vittoria was also trying to sell you drugs. I have big plans for your father, and by week’s end you won’t have to worry about him… (sotto voce) and neither will I.

STARBUCKS COFFEE, WEST HOLLYWOOD, MONDAY MORNING

Drake took his first sip of iced coffee when he looked up and saw that Bralen had just got his tea at the checkout counter and was looking for a place to sit. Drake loudly beckoned for him to come sit down at his table. The beautiful sunny mornings were just so breathtaking for Drake. He loved Los Angeles but missed Boston, although he was glad to have left the city after that political scandal that nearly tore apart his marriage to Austin.

Bralen (coming over): Drake, how are you this morning?

Drake: Please sit down. I could use some company.

Bralen (sitting down): You sure you want to be seen with me?

Drake: I’m not passing judgment on you. I hardly know you.

Bralen: Well, you’re kinder than most people are to me now. I can’t even go inside my own gym. Look what I got on my doorstep this morning.

He rumbled in his backpack and threw a cardboard box on the tabletop. Drake picked it up, turned it over, and tried his best to suppress a bout of laughter. It was a cereal box that had Bralen’s picture on it with the word CHEATIES superimposed over his image.

Drake: Don’t pay those jerks any mind. They don’t know you. (pause) So what brings you on this side of town? Monday morning traffic from Santa Monica to West Hollywood must be awful.

Bralen (solemnly, his eyes tearing up): I—uh—was on my way to Peyton’s home, but I couldn’t bring myself to go inside.

Drake: Austin and I were so sorry to hear what happened. It’s all so tragic. I take it you two were close.

Bralen: We were best friends and roommates for a few years.

Drake: If there’s anything I can do to help out—

Bralen: Actually, there is. Would you come with me into his place? I just don’t want to go in there alone.

Drake: If you don’t mind my asking, but why are you going there?

Bralen: Peyton and I were sworn porn pals.

Drake (nearly spitting out his coffee): What?

Bralen: Well, he unofficially willed me his porn collection should he go first, and I likewise pledged the same. I know it sounds crazy, but there’s another reason for getting it out his place. His mom is coming into town for the funeral and will be staying there.

Drake (whistling): Whoa!

Bralen: Yes, and she’s the—uh—snooping type. After she’s raided the obvious places where he keeps the alcohol, she goes looking for where he hides the rest.

Drake (laughing): Sounds like she’s fond of the drink? Like mother, like son, right?

Bralen: You haven’t met Priscilla. She’s Peyton to the 10^th degree. So will you come with me?

Drake agreed, and they drove over to Peyton’s home, the place giving off a jarringly isolated feeling once they entered. Drake saw that Peyton kept a very lovely home, the décor very simple but charming. He practiced feng-shui from the placement of the furniture. Bralen led him to Peyton’s bedroom closet, which had a hidden door behind all the clothing. Bralen pushed into it, and they descended down a short flight of stairs that led to the wine cellar. Bralen explained that Peyton had it designed this way for easy access to the alcohol when he got the desire in the middle of the night. When they got downstairs, Bralen pushed open another door in the northwest corner, explaining that it once served as a nice-sized pantry, but as Drake saw, it now housed a gigantic supply of porn to rival a small Internet company. Hundreds of titles were on the rows. Drake’s eyes bulged, his amazement in full display.

Drake: Who the hell alphabetizes and then categorizes their porn by genre?

Bralen: That was Peyton for you. As you can see, he even kept a small stock of lesbian porn (winking) for Allison and her friends. Oh, shit, I didn’t know he had started a collection of foot and armpit fetish porn.

Drake: What do you plan on doing with all this?

Bralen: Ebay! And if that doesn’t work, I’m sure the annual Outrunners holiday garage sale should do the trick (suddenly seeing Drake’s frozen expression). What is it?

Drake: This corner.

Bralen: Oh yeah, Peyton was open-minded. Even though he practiced safe sex, he did have pre-condom titles along with some newer bareback titles. You can close your mouth, Drake. I was shocked, too, when I first saw cocks that big, but I learned how to take them. (turning away) Anyway, let’s get to work putting these in trash bags.

Bralen had been seriously wrong about the reason for Drake’s sudden display of shock. He had definitely seen his fair share of gargantuan cocks. While Peyton’s back was to him, Drake surreptitiously stole one particular title from the bareback section and quickly hid it in his jacket, not once feeling any guilt for the action.

ALLISON AND CHLOE’S HOME, LOS FELIZ, MONDAY MID-AFTERNOON

Allison: Are you sure you want to stay at that house by yourself? There’s plenty room here, Priscilla.

Priscilla: Oh, heavens, no! I want to feel close to my son. Besides, I’m sure he’d want me to stay there and tidy the place.

Allison: How are you holding up?

Priscilla: Leave it to Peyton to decide to die on me when I was bathing with Pierre at the Savoy. I had to catch the next immediate flight out Paris.

Allison: Back up. Pierre? Who’s that?

Priscilla: Oh, he’s my masseur.

Allison: And you were bathing with him?

Priscilla: Oh, Allison, you wouldn’t understand (winking). A girl was feeling very generous with her euros.

Allison: Oh, Priscilla!

Priscilla: He was working very hard for both my gratuity… and my orgasm.

Allison: I see even death can’t dampen your sense of humor. (the doorbell rings, and Allison hops up)

Priscilla: I’ll get it. I’m closer to the door. (opening it)

Nathan: Priscilla, you made it. (hugging her) Is Allison in?

Priscilla (using her free hand to spank Nathan’s bottom and grasp his tight butt): She’s here. Come on in.

Nathan: What a greeting, Priscilla. You haven’t changed a bit.

Priscilla (closing the door): Speaking of changing, have you given any thoughts to converting?

Nathan: I’m fine with my religion.

Priscilla: I was—as usual—referring to your sexuality.

Nathan: Oh, Priscilla!

Priscilla: What can I say? I’m the original MILF and cougar rolled into one. And Nathan, you’re just one hot piece of ass! (winking at him) If I can’t be the one, I sure as hell hope Brendon’s enjoying your assets.

Nathan (putting his hands on her shoulders): How are you holding up?

Priscilla (finally breaking her façade): I’m going to fucking scream if someone asks me that damn question again. How the hell do you think I’m handling it? I just lost my only child. (tears flowing down her face as she falls into the nearest chair)

Allison and Nathan (rushing to her): Are you fine?

Priscilla (being given a handkerchief by Nathan): I’ll be fine. You know it’s just not fair! I’m supposed to go first. That’s how it should be. (balling her fists) I just want my precious baby boy back!

Allison prayed that Chloe, sleeping upstairs, wouldn’t hear Priscilla’s crying, and especially the exclamation she had just made.

Allison: I’ll get you some tea, Priscilla.

Priscilla: To hell with tea! Get me some scotch on the rocks. On second thought, damn the rocks! Give it to me straight up. (noticing Allison’s hesitance) And don’t give me any of that bull about there not being any alcohol in this house. You’re a lesbian for God’s sake!

Nathan (taking her hand as Allison leaves the room): Just let me know if there’s anything I can do.

Priscilla: Your mother’s so lucky to still have you in her life. I’m sure you were a good son.

Nathan: I’m sure she’d beg to differ. I was a handful as a kid.

Priscilla (weeping): So was my little Peyton. Sometimes I called him “little Satan.” I swear I spanked him several times a day. (noticing the look of astonishment on Nathan’s face) I keep forgetting that your generation believes in all that “time out” bullshit. No, not I! The Scriptures say “spare the rod, spoil the child.” (pause) Little did I know my baby would actually grow up to like the rod in more ways than one.

Nathan (laughing): I’m sure you were a great mother.

Priscilla: And you were a great son. Of course, had you been mine, I would have been arrested for incest. (looking up to see Nathan laugh as Allison returns) Oh, there, you are with my drink. What took you so long? You’re supposed to be a runner.

Nathan: Well, I’m going to leave now. I just wanted to touch base with Allison, but we can do that another time. (to Priscilla) Like I said, if you need anything—besides sex—don’t hesitate to call me.

Priscilla (as soon as the door closes): Too bad his mother didn’t send him to one of those religious “de-gaying” camps. Lord knows I could have been his Mrs. Robinson.

WEST LOS ANGELES CHURCH, MONDAY AFTERNOON

Brendon felt extremely conflicted, and while he was relieved to be back in Nathan’s life, he knew it was at Justin’s expense. Something had to be done about the boy. He consulted Kyle, who suggested military camp as a safe option as he needed a good dose of discipline, and sending him off to boarding school would most likely result in an endless stream of expulsions. It was during his talk to Kyle that he inquired about Peyton’s death only to learn he had been murdered by Vittoria Morelli, who herself had fallen to her death down the stairs at Callum’s home.

Rob Dougan’s “Furious Angels” begins playing softly in the background of this scene as Brendon nearly dropped the phone upon learning this. That’s why she hasn’t returned any of my calls. Oh my God! She killed an innocent person, and I gave her the means to take his life. But how did Peyton become the victim? It was supposed to be Callum! The remainder of the morning he tried to force himself to live as normally as possible, but Justin temporarily ran away when he called the police for him to make his confession to clear Nathan’s name. Fortunately, his absence had been less than two hours, and he came back mysteriously cooperative and telling the officer the whole sordid truth. It as toward midday that he left the house to go the church to clear his mind. He went to the prayer chapel, where he hoped to achieve peace of mind and unburden himself of the guilt that had been increasingly weighing on his conscience.

The chapel was empty, the little room dimly lit by the altar of candles. Brendon hoped to be swallowed by the quiet, desiring to be cleansed of his part in the tragedy that had shaken him to his core. He lit a candle for Peyton and knelt down before the altar, the silence soon punctuated by his weeping. He had never wanted it to end this way. A spasm of pain shot through his head. Damn migraines! They had not ceased and were a constant reminder of his own attack in the park by the woman who had taken Peyton’s life. This circle of violence must end, and it must start with me. I promise, you, God, that I will do everything within my power to set things right even though I can’t bring either of them back.

He rose from his knelt position, turned to leave when he was startled by Callum’s presence as if he were a specter suddenly appearing.

Brendon: C-Callum, what are you doing here?

Callum: I came to make a generous donation to this church. My son was returned to me on the steps outside, and I wanted to come here as I was thinking about Peyton, who loved my son.

Brendon (eerily taken aback by the civility Callum’s showing him): I lit a candle for him. He’s been on my mind a lot today.

Callum: As he should be since you’re the reason he’s dead, you bastard!

Brendon didn’t see the punch coming but certainly felt its impact as Callum’s fist sent his body backwards and crashing into the altar. The fabric of his shirt caught on fire, the flame greedily glowing brighter with Brendon’s shouts. He threw himself to the floor and rolled over to extinguish it, all the time Callum stood silently watching the spectacle, saddened when Brendon rose from the floor, physically unscarred by the action but emotionally shaken.

Brendon: What’s got into you?

Callum: That was just a taste of the real hell you’ll soon be experiencing, you bastard!

Brendon: We’re in a church for heaven’s sake!

Callum (nonchalantly): Did I not tell you I’m an atheist when it suits me?

Brendon: I understand you’re grieving, but this isn’t—

Callum: Cut the act, Brendon. I know you sent that whore to kill me. You even supplied her with the gun and bullets, and now Peyton is dead all because of you. (tears bursting from his eyes)

Brendon: Don’t you think I know that! (sitting down in a pew) I have been asking God for forgiveness this entire time. I-I never—(emotionally choking on his words and falling to the floor)

Callum: I hope He doesn’t grant you forgiveness because you’re going straight to hell if I have anything to do with it. As God is my witness, I will make you suffer for this. By the time I’m done, you will lose everything—Nathan, Justin—

Brendon (aggressively rising): You stay away from them! (wiping away his tears) This is between you and me. Leave them out of this. I never meant for this to happen.

Callum: What? For Peyton to die? Or for me to still be alive?

Brendon: Peyton didn’t deserve this. He was the most—

Callum: Blah! Blah! Blah! Save it for the eulogy. I would consider it ironic for you to be at his funeral since you’re the reason he’s dead. But I’ll grant you that moment of solace to pay your respects.

Brendon: Pardon?

Callum: You heard me. I’m basically offering you a truce until after the funeral at which point you should have finished writing your own obituary.

Brendon: How dare you!

Callum: Once his body is laid to rest, I will make you pay for this… you, Allison, and anyone else who has done me wrong. Not you, not LAPD, and not even God will keep me from seeing you all suffer so much that you’ll be dying to join Peyton. (pause) And yes, the pun was intended.

He turned and left the chapel as silently as he had come. A cold breeze blew into the room, putting out the candles and efficiently putting the room into blackness. It was at that moment that Brendon realized it was not the effect of the total occlusion of light but the real darkness of Callum’s prophecy descending upon him.

TO BE CONTINUED…

The Victorious and the Relentless

Episode 21: “Breaking News”

Nelly Furtado’s “All Good Things (Come to an End)” opens this episode over the following montages:

Two stretchers on which two dead bodies lie—covered with sheets—are being carried outside Callum’s mansion as the homicide division of LAPD is officially working the crime scene. Godfrey is seen in the background, talking with an officer, and upstairs Talon cradles a shock-ridden Callum, his face still subjected to erratic fits of crying. Talon’s body language assumes a protective bearing as he leads Callum into the bedroom to lie him down.

Heath opens his eyes, sunbeams directly hitting his skin and illuminating his damaged body, blood and fluids still flowing over the curves of his recumbent figure. Pain shoots through every fiber of his being as he raises his head from the ground. Seeing no sign of his attackers, he starts to crawl away, his fingertips reaching out, securing themselves to the ground as he uses his remaining upper body strength to move himself forward an inch before collapsing, his head falling back to the ground, his eyes closing.

SUNDAY AFTERNOON, BERNIE’S PATISSERIE, WEST HOLLYWOOD

Drake took the last sip of his mimosa before setting the glass on the table. Austin sat across from him, enjoying the last of their late Sunday brunch. Usually Drake would make brunch at home, but Austin felt rather chipper and wanted to go out to celebrate. A smug grin had been pasted on his face the entire morning as he fumbled with his Blackberry.

Drake: Okay, out with it. What’s got you on cloud nine?

Austin: Tonight, we’ll be on cloud sixty-nine. I just got like ten more emails from Outrunners saying they are going to vote for me.

Drake: Wow, that’s great.

Austin: And I owe it all to Allison.

Drake: How’s that?

Austin: Well, that stunt she pulled yesterday at the beach with Callum really damaged her popularity.

Drake: That was some knockdown drag-out catfight. But do you think you should be winning at her expense? It’s not like she—

Austin (testily cutting him off): Drake, this club is widely riddled with scandal. You’ve got Nathan accused of child molestation, Bralen pumping himself full of steroids, Chloe throwing a fit over a baby that’s not even hers, and now Allison and Callum acting like junior high school kids on the playground.

But you also contributed to it, Austin, with your talk of seeing Chloe kissing another woman. I even heard you taking Callum’s side in that argument. I’m not sure I can go along with your tactics to win this campaign, but you’re my husband, and I promised to support you. I just pray you never learn of my indiscretions, for I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of your resentment.

Drake (sighing): Well, then, I guess you should be preparing your speech.

Austin: Yeah, I’ll be President Monroe once again.

Drake: Yeah, but only the intellectuals back in Boston and on the East Coast would understand the connection with your last name. How many Angelinos do you think know of any U.S. president prior to Reagan? Hell, most Californians wouldn’t even know their own governor’s name if he hadn’t been a big time movie star.

Austin: How many people can claim tracing their family lineage back to the fifth U.S. president? (his phone ringing): Excuse me, babe.

Drake: Don’t answer it. Damn it, Austin, we’re having brunch. (suddenly noticing Austin’s face expression dramatically change) What’s wrong?

Austin (putting phone down): There’s been an accident. Peyton’s dead.

CALLUM’S HOME, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES

Talon entered Callum’s bedroom, watching him quickly lie back on the bed. Even amid all the chaos, Callum’s mind had gone straight to the task of making the most of the situation. The police would definitely get both guns, and of more importance was the fact that Vittoria had touched the first gun after he had wiped off Peyton’s prints. She would rightfully get pinned with the crime once ballistics proved that it was the gun used to shoot Allison and Chloe. Prior to Talon’s entrance, Callum had been on the phone, arranging for Vittoria’s drugs and further incriminating evidence to be placed back into her apartment. Now either Chloe or Justin’s testimony of her dealing drugs would seal the case.

Talon: You really should be in hospital.

Callum (dexterously putting his cell phone under the pillow): I-I’m fine. It appears to be only a flesh wound in my arm. Besides, I don’t want to go to Hollywood Hospital. Have the police arrived?

Talon: Yes, they’re downstairs. I lied and told them you were sleeping. This whole ordeal has me shaken. I’m not used to these lenient gun laws. Did you know that nutter had two guns? Why on earth would she wish to harm you?

Callum: I don’t know. I-I just can’t believe he’s gone. (begins crying and Talon lies down on the bed to hold him)

Talon (kissing Callum’s forehead): I know what you mean. It seems like it was just minutes ago he was changing nappies on the beach. (pause) I guess Inga got a nice break from that chore. (sighing) Anyway, I need to finish my statement. Godfrey’s giving his right now. I’m sure they’ll be questioning you soon. (rising to leave but Callum grabs his arm) Don’t worry, Love. I’ll be back.

Callum: Thank you, Talon… for all you’ve done.

Talon: Just as soon as this mess is behind us, we’re going home to London. That baby nearly lost his father today, and I’m personally seeing to it that this doesn’t happen again. From henceforth, I’m your shadow. (starting to leave but turns around at the door) By the way, here’s your mobile. I picked it up before any of the coppers took it as evidence. (placing the phone on the stand by the bed) I also rang your mum and sis.

Callum: You what?

Talon: I calmed them down, although it was the second time in a year in which you nearly lost your life. I doubt your family’s fully recovered from almost losing you at sea.

Callum (softly spoken): Gavin. I need him. (breaking into tears)

Talon: Well, you have me now. (bending to kiss him) I’ll be back.

As soon as Talon leaves, Callum reaches for the cell underneath the pillow and calls Nathan’s number. Once he gets wind of what happened, he’ll want to come by and check on me. I can’t risk him running into Talon. That has to be prevented at all costs.

BRENDON AND NATHAN’S FIRST HOME, SILVER LAKE

Brendon grabbed the chair and smashed it against the windowpane, the glass fragments falling to the floor as he shouted at the top of his lungs, alerting his murderous son that he was being watched. Upon hearing Brendon’s protests amidst the shattering glass, Justin released Nathan’s head, assured that he was dead. There’s no way that Brendon can get to him in time. Now he’ll know what it feels like to… Suddenly, Justin heard someone calling both Nathan and Brendon’s names. He picked up the shovel and immediately bolted from the scene mere seconds before Allison entered the background. She had come to the front door, found it locked, and saw the note telling Nathan to come round back. She heard shouting, her eyes roving the area in search of its origin. She soon recognized the voice as Brendon’s.

Brendon: Rescue Nathan! He’s in the pool!

Allison (still searching for voice origin): What?

Then she saw Nathan’s body floating in the water. She screamed his name before diving into the pool, her arms and hands taking hold of him and pulling him to the surface, laying him on the concrete. She could tell he was unconscious and fearing the worst from the look of his skin quickly began administering CPR to him, her mouth firmly sealed upon his as she urgently sought to restore life to him, alternately breathing air into him and compressing his chest. After what seemed like an eternity, he coughed up water, a spout of it ejecting through his lips like a geyser. He turned onto his side, coughing erratically as more water spilled from his mouth.

Allison: My God, Nathan! Are you okay? (he raises his upper body and she instinctively hugs him and finds herself kissing his cheeks)

Nathan (still coughing): I-I’m okay. I don’t know what happened. (trying to rise from the ground)

Allison: Take it easy.

As she was looking intensely into his eyes, Brendon had managed to squeeze through the cellar transom, rushing over to them and falling on the ground beside Nathan. He took Nathan’s face into his hands and began kissing him. Allison moved back to allow for their reunion.

Brendon: Oh, Nathan, I thought I had lost you. I love you so much!

Nathan (being squeezed tightly by Brendon): Some reception I’m getting.

Brendon: You don’t know what that would have done to me had I lost you.

Allison: Where were you, Brendon? How did this happen? There’s a gash on the back of his head.

Brendon: I was locked in the cellar. I-I saw him trip, hit his head on the concrete edge, and fall into the water. Thank God you made it in time. (resumes kissing Nathan)

Allison: I think he should be taken to the hospital.

Nathan (pulling himself from Brendon): I’m fine. Really!

Brendon: I’ll take care of him, Allison. Thanks.

Allison awkwardly felt miffed by Brendon’s tone as if he didn’t want her there anymore in spite of the fact that she had just saved Nathan’s life. She was delighted to see the two of them seemingly back together. I guess sometimes it does take a near-disaster to make people see the error of their ways. She took it as her cue to leave, particularly when she saw Brendon cradling Nathan’s head, telling him how he was loved and how he had been wrong to ever doubt him.

Lifehouse’s “Take Me Away” begins playing in the background once Allison had left the backyard. Brendon grasped the bottom of Nathan’s wet shirt and drew it over his head, the water drops cascading over his well-defined torso now in plain view of the sunshine.

Brendon: I am so wrong I ever doubted you, Nathan. I love you and just want to be with you.

Nathan (still a bit disoriented): Thanks for finally seeing the light.

Oh, I’ve finally seen it. I know that Justin is behind everything. You were totally right about him. I never imagined he would try to get rid of you this way. Oh God, what have I done? He’s my son! Brendon’s thoughts were halted when Nathan’s wet hands grasped around his waist to uproot the shirt off him. They were both now bare-chested, hot having seen each other even this partially nude in several weeks. Their eyes locked in a moment of mutual longing. Brendon’s mouth went straight for Nathan’s neck like a vampire in thirst for the blood of a virgin maiden. Feeling the suction on him, Nathan finally surrendered to this burning desire and pushed Brendon onto the grass and crawled on top of him. It was then that each felt the other’s hardness, and their hands sought to liberate their lower bodies of any clothing, total nudity their ultimate goal. The sunlight fell beautifully onto their well-sculpted bodies as if they were posing for a photo shoot. Their kissing continued at a rapid pace before they realized it best to carry it inside the house.

It felt good to be back together, this long overdue reunion. Nathan filled Brendon’s void with loving affection, generated from weeks of absence. Brendon filled Nathan’s need for carnal gratification, nibbling and sucking on his neck before performing the same action on his nipples and lastly his throbbing erection. Nathan reacted hungrily to Brendon’s attention to each of these areas, capriciously pulling his mouth from whichever body part he was sucking to grant him a passionate kiss, his mouth seemingly yearning for a taste of the lips that were pleasuring every inch of him. Brendon enjoyed granting him this bliss and soon found himself pleased when Nathan reciprocated the gesture, the bristles of Nathan’s closely shaved beard managing to tickle his skin wherever his mouth was at work. Moans soon escaped Brendon’s lips, and his body shook wildly when he came. He immediately apologized to Nathan as the orgasm happened so soon, but they knew that it had been Brendon’s first since the accident several weeks ago so his body was in a highly sensitive state.

This did little to stop Nathan from eventually penetrating Brendon, who eagerly accepted him with much anticipation. Their physical connection at last felt complete, the missionary position allowing them to look into each other’s eyes with a flaming passion, their kissing complementing the heated drives Nathan made with his restored strength. Brendon’s second orgasm rendered him totally powerless to engage in a flip-flop .Their joyful union continued until they were exhausted, evidenced by the sheen of sweat that covered both their bodies. Both were so tired that neither bothered to answer their phones when a devastating message was delivered to all Outrunners.

HAWK EYE LEATHER BAR, WEST HOLLYWOOD

Bralen was going through his email inbox on his Blackberry when he came across the invitation for Tristan’s homecoming celebration at the Hawk Eye. Skanky choice, he thought, but it is coming from Heath, who most likely thought of this at the last minute. I should go and see if I can help with the setup, even though I can’t really bear to see the sight of Tristan. Kyle was right about one thing. Staying shut inside won’t make a difference as I’m eventually going to have to face everyone. It might as well be today. It’s just going to feel strange seeing Heath with Tristan, especially that I drunkenly kissed Kyle last night.

Bralen had just walked to the back of the building, coming across what he had thought to be some nameless vagrant, lying face down on the ground. The clothes on him were ripped to shreds, his buttocks in full view, his shirt entirely missing, and a rank stench emanated from him. Bralen nearly puked when he saw blood and what appeared to be runny pus or mucus. He stepped around the fallen figure and knocked on the backdoor entrance of the club, but when the man managed to turn himself on its back, Bralen stole a quick glance and let a small cry when he recognized who it was underneath the mop of black-dyed hair on the guy’s head. It was Heath!

Bralen (coming closer): Heath, is that you?

Heath: Br-Br—

Bralen: Oh my God!

He looked at him. Blood was pasted on his face, his lip badly cut, his cheeks dark red from what appeared beating. Bruises were all down his extremities, and specks of semen dotted his skin, slowly drying in the summer heat. In that full second of looking at Heath, Bralen knew what had happened. Pulling off his shirt, he covered Heath, and tried to help him up from the ground, but then thought better of it.

Bralen: I’m calling the police.

Heath (putting out his hand to stop him): No, don’t!

Bralen: Why? Heath, you’ve been attacked, and it looks like you’ve been—

Heath (imploringly): Don’t say it.

Bralen: Then I’m calling Kyle. The police need to be notified of this.

Heath (vehemently): I said no!

Bralen: Then what do you want me to do?

Heath: Just take me home before anyone gets here.

Bralen (hesitantly): I-I’ll bring my car around here.

After he left for his car, Heath sat there on the ground, his open sores aching and pulsating with pain. I can’t let this get out. What would Tristan think? He’d never want to be with me let alone ever make love to me. It seemed like an eternity before Bralen’s car pulled into the back parking lot, and he hopped out to help Heath inside. He’s so kind to me, especially after all the mess I’ve put him through. He doesn’t deserve it. But then Bralen asked a rather stupid question that irritated him.

Bralen: Where to?

Heath: I said home.

Bralen: Would that be to Kyle’s or Tristan’s?

He does make a good point. I should tell him Tristan’s since it’s nearby. The short ride over, Heath prayed no one would be home, and luckily his prayers were answered. Tristan had given him a key so they were able to easily get inside the apartment, Heath heading straight for the bathroom, his mission cut short once again by Bralen.

Bralen: Heath, what are you going to do?

Heath: I’m going to take a shower.

Bralen: No, you can’t do that. You need to be seen by a doctor! What about the evidence (hesitantly) on—on you right now.

Heath: I don’t care. I don’t want any reminder of what those creeps did to me. I just want it off me!

Bralen (urgently rushing to him): Please, let’s just call Kyle. He’ll know what to do.

Heath: For the last fucking time, Bralen, I said no. I’m not going to have my name in the news, especially with many homophobes thinking I probably deserved it.

Bralen: Don’t say that. No one deserves what you went through. I’m not going to push the issue any further, but what about the party? You want me to tell everyone it’s canceled?

Heath (nodding): Thanks. You don’t know how much that means—(suddenly breaking down, crying)

Bralen (moving to hold him): Oh, Heath…

Heath (harshly): Don’t touch me.

Bralen (backing away): I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—

Heath: I’m sorry. I’m just a little on edge.

Bralen: D-Do you want me to stay with you at least until Tristan or Vittoria comes back?

Heath nodded before rushing into the bathroom. Bralen heard the water being turned on full force. Heath lost himself in the steam generated by the hot water that mildly scalded his skin. He didn’t really care about the pain but was steadfastly driven to wash their taint off his body. Grasping the bottle of body wash, he nearly broke the cap off in his attempt to pour the gel all over him before wrenching the shower brush from the caddy and harshly grazing every crevice of his body with the bristles. The scent of the gel did nothing to erase their rank smell from his consciousness. He fell to the shower floor, pulling his legs to his chest, oblivious to the water beating down upon the crown of his head. He finally released a loud wail that escaped through the bathroom door, reaching Bralen’s ears in the living room. Bralen couldn’t take it anymore. He rang up Kyle to tell him what had happened. The call went straight to his voicemail. Bralen gave a heavy sigh and sat down on the couch, dismayed and unsure of what to do. Suddenly, a loud blaring sound filled the apartment. Bralen rushed to the bathroom door in time to meet Heath as he came out, still looking awful in spite of his freshly cleansed body.

Bralen: What’s that sound?

Heath (nonchalantly): The fire alarm.

Bralen (urgently): Put something on. We should leave now.

Heath ambled into the bedroom, pulled a few articles of clothing from the wardrobe and scrambled his body into some of Tristan’s tight clothing. They both rushed outside the apartment. Not a minute had passed before two unidentified men came into the apartment to place drugs and a bloodied crowbar among the many cluttered items in Vittoria’s closet. It would be another ten minutes before all the tenants of the apartment complex would learn it had been a false alarm. It would then be another ten minutes before Bralen would get the breaking news that the Outrunners athletic club had just lost one of its own members.

KYLE’S HOME, WEST HOLLYWOOD, SUNDAY AFTERNOON

Kyle had finished daubing the tip of his bloodied toe with the cotton ball drenched in hydrogen peroxide. Had it been another inch or so, he would have lost it. The pain was manageable. Fortunately, it was only a grazed wound. He looked over to the corner, seeing Tristan huddled in it. He had given him one big punch to knock him out. The nerve of that bastard to attack me in my own home! I have the right to beat the shit out of him, but that would be police brutality. It was then that Kyle’s phone rang, the caller being the homicide division informing him to come to the crime site in the Hollywood Hills, as it partly involved one of his former suspects Vittoria Morelli. He couldn’t believe what he was told. When the call ended, he nudged Tristan back to consciousness to break the awful news to him that he had just lost two of his friends.

ESTRELLA’S HOME, BEVERLY HILLS, SUNDAY LATE AFTERNOON

Estrella put down her cup of tea when there was a knock at her door. Upon opening it, she was greeted by the stern face of Allison Trudeau. She instinctively shut the door, but Allison’s foot prevented the door from completely closing.

Estrella: Go away!

Allison: We need to talk.

Estrella: I’ve got nothing to say to you.

Allison (pushing herself into the house): Too bad. I’ve got a lot to say to you.

Estrella: Is this about Chloe?

Allison: You’re damn right it is!

Estrella (defensively putting up her hands): Look, it’s over between us.

Allison: How could you take advantage of her like that?

Estrella: She came to me.

Allison: And then you came onto her!

Estrella: That’s not how it went down.

Allison (gritting her teeth): Don’t lie to me, you bitch!

Estrella: How dare you talk to me that way in my own home!

Allison: How dare you come into mine, seducing Chloe like you did!

Estrella: Hey, I’m not a dyke!

Allison: You sure as hell fooled me.

Estrella: Look, I like men. (pause) No, I LOVE men, but you wouldn’t know anything about that.

Allison: You don’t know a damn thing about me.

Estrella: I know you can give a hard punch.

Allison: I barely touched you.

Estrella: I was referring to Callum Sutcliffe who you also attacked.

Allison: Ugh! You know him? Now wonder I don’t like you.

Estrella: I’m his attorney.

Allison: Well, that puts you between a rock and a hard place. His own lawyer is getting it on with his son’s kidnapper. (suddenly seeing a look of fright on Estrella’s face) I’d hate to be you if this comes to trial.

Estrella: W-What do you know?

Allison: I know everything, Estrella. (coming up to her) Chloe told me how you were “helping” her with the baby.

Estrella: I want you to leave now.

Allison (getting in her face): And I want you to stay the hell away from Chloe!

At that moment, almost eerily on a cosmic scale, both their cell phones rang. Estrella saw from the I.D. feature that it was Tristan. Allison saw on hers that it was Kyle. Both were essentially receiving the same devastating news with the slight difference being that Estrella’s message was about the fate of her client and Allison’s about that of her longstanding colleague.

CALLUM’S HOME, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES, LATE SUNDAY AFTERNOON

Detective Jack Milton had arrived at Callum’s home several minutes after receiving the call about a homicide. Earlier that day, he had a gut feeling that something was definitely not right about the case. After having eaten crow about Dr. Trudeau, he revisited some of Detective Kyle Walgrove’s theories about Vittoria Morelli, and that coupled with her odd behavior when he had paid her that visit only solidified his suspicions about her. Yet the one notion that had puzzled him was her reference to Estrella Tartaro as her attorney—and she just happened to be Callum Sutcliffe’s attorney as well. All these thoughts had wandered through his mind, and he could never have imagined that one of the two dead bodies at Callum’s home was Vittoria Morelli. Callum was upstairs—presumably asleep—but there was an eyewitness who was more than willing to share his side of the story.

Milton: Now, Mr. Prescott, you said you and Dr. Ashland tried to wrench the gun away from her.

Talon: That’s right. I had heard loud voices, arguing, and I was coming onto the landing when I saw her shoot Callum. That was when Dr. Ashland and I attempted to get the gun from her.

Milton: And then it went off?

Talon: No, she bit at me (showing him the teeth marks in his skin) and pushed me away. Dr. Ashland continued to struggle for control of the gun. She lost her balance, and the gun went off.

Milton: So she fell down the stairs and Dr. Ashland was shot?

Talon: It’s as simple as that, Detective.

Milton (curtly): I’ll be the judge of this case’s simplicity, Mr. Prescott. Now since you seem to have all the answers, would you explain to me why Ms. Morelli came here with two guns?

Talon (puzzled): I haven’t any clue why she had two guns. She was apparently off her rocker.

Kyle (entering the scene): Well, it wouldn’t be the first time Vittoria allegedly attempted murder.

Milton (turning around): Oh, Detective Walgrove, you made it. Too bad you’re late.

Kyle: Traffic was awful, even with the sirens blaring. So what happened?

Milton: You can read the report when it’s done.

Kyle (angrily): Look, I just lost a good friend because you failed to follow up on my leads. I told you this woman was dangerous. I can bet my life she was the one who shot Allison.

Milton: Well, we’ll know more once ballistics works with the guns.

Talon: I hate to interrupt this little power play you two are having, but is that all you’ll be needing of—

Milton: Actually, Mr. Prescott, we need you to come down to the station for further questioning.

Kyle (intrusively): Where’s Callum?

Milton (looking at Kyle): I’m the one doing the interrogating, Detective Walgrove.

Talon: He’s upstairs, resting.

Kyle: We need to get a statement from him.

Talon: Couldn’t he do that another time?

Callum appears at the top of the stairs and then lethargically descends them, his arm wrapped in gauze. Talon rushes up the steps to wrap his arms around him.

Talon: What are you doing out of bed?

Callum: You heard the detectives. They need my statement.

Talon (whispering): Do you think that a good idea right now? They’ve been asking me some serious questions about this woman.

Callum (aloud): I have nothing to hide.

Milton: Ah, Mr. Sutcliffe, just the man I wanted to see.

Talon (interjecting): Detective, there’s nothing more he can tell you that I haven’t already.

Milton: I would appreciate it, Mr. Prescott, if you would let me do my job. Mr. Sutcliffe is involved in a homicide and needs to be questioned.

Talon (turning to Callum): Should I call—

Callum: I’ve already contacted my attorney, who’ll be at the station when we arrive.

Talon: I’m coming with you.

They all had gone outside the house, Kyle having done so earlier to place his call to Allison. It was when he was about to get into the car when he saw Tristan come onto the property and accost Callum.

Tristan (aggressively approaching him): You’re responsible for this, you bastard!

Callum (visibly shaken): Tristan, I swear I had nothing to do with this.

Tristan: That’s bullshit!

Callum: She came after me with the gun. (crying) She shot Peyton!

Tristan (balling his fists): You did this, you son-of-a-bitch!

Talon (stepping in): He’s telling the truth.

Kyle (coming up to them): Tristan, I think you should go. Besides, we need you to contact Vittoria’s next of kin.

Callum: I’m so sorry for this, Tristan. (voice cracking) I-I know how close you two were.

Tristan: She shouldn’t have been the one to die. You should’ve!

Talon (grabbing Tristan and starting to push him off the property): That’s it. I’ve heard enough from you.

Tristan: Take your hands off me! Who the fuck do you think you are?

Callum (grabbing Talon to pull him into the car): Come on. It’s only natural for him to react this way.

Talon got into the car with Callum, and they were driven off the estate, Callum staring out the window as Tristan continued to emotionally break down, hurling invectives at the car. Even though Callum couldn’t hear them, he could only imagine how hurtful they were.

ALLISON AND CHLOE’S HOME, LOS FELIZ

The Guillemots’ “Get Over it” plays over the final scenes of this episode.

Allison comes home to find Chloe packing her clothing. She walks over to her to tell her the bad news that Peyton is dead. Chloe immediately halts her packing and breaks down in Allison’s arms, her body quivering as tears fall from her eyes and loud cries escape her lips.

Brendon and Nathan lay side by side in the bed, Brendon’s chin resting comfortably on Nathan’s chest. They had just finished round three, and this moment of relaxation provided Brendon with a brief moment of reflection. He had reunited with Nathan and had yet to tell him the full truth of his innocence in Justin’s lie. They had got so caught up in the moment that nothing else mattered. Neither had answered their phones and were still in the dark about the tragedy to hit the club. Brendon had to deal with his internal struggle that not only did he know his son hated Nathan, but that he attempted to kill him. Brendon looked up at Nathan’s face to see that he had fallen asleep. I nearly lost you today, and I’ll be damned if I ever let it get to that point again. I just can’t believe my own son is an attempted murderer. I have to stop him before he goes too far. Brendon only needed to look up and out the window to see the pained face of Justin as he stared into the bedroom, looking at the joy on his father’s face in Nathan’s presence. Disappointed with his mission to get rid of Nathan, there came a malicious spark in Justin’s eyes. He’d rather be with that fag! I hate you, Nathan, and I hate you, too, Brendon.

Rodrigo posts a picture of Tristan onto a wall collage that had pictures of all the people that had been antagonistic to Callum. Tristan’s photo had a huge X drawn over it. There were images of Allison, Drake, and Austin among others. Mr. Sutcliffe will be so proud of me now that I took care of one of these guys. I’ll start to get more attention from him once that Nathan guy is handled. He then tacks a photo of Nathan onto his wall.

Talon escorts Callum into the bedroom, flipping on the light switch. It’s in the evening, and they have just returned from the police station.

Talon: Why didn’t you tell me you had retained Stuart Varady as your solicitor? I hadn’t known he was licensed here in California. Last I heard he left Oxford for Harvard Law.

Callum: It pays to have connections.

Talon (coming behind him to massage Callum’s shoulders): You should rest.

Callum (sitting on the bed): I feel so responsible for this. I-I just can’t believe that—

Talon: Look, you are not responsible for this. (pause) Why don’t I get us some tea? You lie down.

Callum (grabbing Talon’s hand): Talon, thank you so much for everything.

Talon: You know I would move heaven and earth to put you at ease. (hearing the phone suddenly ring on the bed stand) You should get that. I’ll be right back.

Callum: That’s not my—(coming over to the bed stand and picking up the phone)

By that point, Talon had left the room and didn’t hear the announcement that it wasn’t Callum’s phone. He had brought this to me earlier today, thinking it was mine. The model does look similar to mine. What the bloody hell!

Callum had picked up the phone and opened it, his breath cut short by the wallpaper image of Vittoria and Tristan together, smiling in front of the Colosseum in Rome. It was Vittoria’s phone! He sat down on the bed and cried, his grief overtaking him. The poor girl would never have happy times like that anymore… would never see her family and friends again. Tristan was right. I am to blame for this tragedy. I set all this into motion. I—

He was about to shut the phone when it received a text message. Callum drew in his breath as he read the identity of the sender. Brendon Roberts! He clicked to read the message, and then clicked to look at the full inbox, and then looked at the call log, and listened to the voicemail. In those few minutes, his grieving period came to an end. He had been provided with all the information he needed to know that Brendon and Vittoria were colluding against him. He could no longer feel sorry for Vittoria’s fate and the need to atone for it. The only thing he felt in that moment was the burning desire for revenge.

TO BE CONTINUED…

The Victorious and the Relentless

Episode 20: “Killing Two Birds With One Stone”

LOS ANGELES POLICE DEPARTMENT

Detective Jack Milton had just finished eating crow. The officer he had placed on duty to watch Dr. Trudeau’s home had already informed him that she had returned home. So she’s not dead and didn’t entirely ditch town. But I’m not wrong about her. She knows something! At any rate, I’ll lay off her for a while and eventually catch her off guard. I’m sure Dr. Peyton Ashland will likewise do something foolish soon. I’m more interested in his relationship with Callum Sutcliffe. And what’s this with Sutcliffe having the same attorney as Vittoria Morelli. Something’s not right about that. I smell a rat. I should follow my gut instinct and find the link between Sutcliffe and Morelli. My guess is it might solve this case.

TRISTAN AND VITTORIA’S APARTMENT, WEST HOLLYWOOD

Charlotte Sometimes’ “How I Could Just Kill a Man” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wo6wXgiehtY) plays in the background of the scene as Vittoria contemplatively sits in the armchair in her living room. The only man she had ever really killed was Rudy Giordano. She had knifed a few of her rivals whenever they’d get into fights, but the cuts weren’t too deep and merely served as a warning not to mess with her again. However, in Rudy’s case, it had been self-defense as he was trying to harm both her and Tristan in Las Vegas. They had racked up thousands of dollars in debt and had no means of immediately paying it back. But that’s all water under the bridge or so we thought. We had shot him in the alley and thought no one was around. We hadn’t seen Brendon, but in all honesty, he knew it was self-defense, for he had seen Rudy knock out Tristan and then begin to strangle me. Tristan managed to headlock him before I had been completely asphyxiated, but he had begun to knife Tristan when I saw the gun in his pocket, grabbed it, aimed, and pulled the trigger. No more Rudy, but as in most Italian families, there was an older brother who wanted vengeance.

Brendon’s blackmail aside, Vittoria had enjoyed the thrill of the kill, feeling that slick piece of metal in her hands. Something so small that could take down someone as large as Rudy. It had been an invigorating sensation to take his life, reasserting her power, and now she felt that same feeling as she held a pistol in her hands, loaded with the bullets Brendon had given her. She had gone through the internal battle with herself for a few days now, arriving at the conclusion that while Callum’s murder would not be right, there was a modicum of justification for the action. He still held evidence and incriminating information over her head, and even though he was at present kind to her, he could turn on her at any moment. With this logic, Vittoria willed herself with the planned killing of Callum. It was also the exact logic that decided for her that Brendon would be next in line. I’m going to be free of those two if it kills me.

WILL ROGERS BEACH, SANTA MONICA, SATURDAY LATE AFTERNOON

After not finding Callum in the crowd, Talon rushed back to the party site and awaited his return. He found the Outrunners having a good time—undoubtedly linked to Callum’s absence—the evidence of Callum and Allison’s fight only found in the disrupted sand. The tent had been restored, and it appeared some food had been salvaged. He went for a quick splash in the water, his first time in the Pacific outside that one time in Australia. Upon coming out the water, he found that there was a message on his cell phone. Callum desired for him to go back to the mansion. The car was waiting to take him. Both Peyton and Inga were inside, the man joyously playing with the baby. They rode in silence back to the mansion, the child having fallen asleep in Peyton’s arms. Once inside the house, Inga took the baby from him, Talon instantly noting the look of disappointment on Peyton’s face.

Talon: I see you’ve become quite attached to Callum’s son.

Peyton: Yes, he’s adorable. He reminds me of my relatives.

Talon: Well, he does favor you a bit. In the car, I noticed you two have the same nose.

Peyton: We get that from my aunt Greta.

Talon: So are you still treating Callum?

Peyton (taken aback): Pardon me?

Talon: Oh, where are my manners? I’m Talon Prescott (extending hand for a shake). I’m a good friend of Callum’s. I remember you from that one time when I took Callum to your office on Harley Street.

Peyton: I’m sorry I don’t recall you, but that was over a year ago.

Talon: You were treating him just after Gavin’s death. Callum was an absolute wreck then. He didn’t even want to see me at all.

Peyton: Grief can do that to a person… make them antisocial.

Talon: I gave him all the space he needed from me, but it’s been too long now. I think it’s high time we get back together.

Peyton: Excuse me?

Talon (understanding his error): Oh, no, not you and I. I hardly know you. I was talking about Callum and me. I hope you don’t mind my saying this to you. I mean, you’re a head doctor.

Peyton: No, I don’t mind at all. I’ve noticed the way you behave around him.

Talon (matter-of-factly): I love him, and I know he loves me. We were meant to be together.

Peyton: Oh really?

Talon: We have a long history together. Even though I came to America for a job, I was thinking of whisking him off for an unexpected holiday to Greece. I already bought the tickets.

Peyton: When were you planning on going?

Talon: Tomorrow.

Peyton (whistling): That’s very last minute.

Talon: I know… which is why I was hoping to enlist your aid in persuading him to come with me.

Peyton (hesitantly): I-I’m not so sure if I should get involved in this.

Talon: Well, I figured it would give you more time with the baby. You seem very fond of him, and this would give you more time to bond with him. (pause) So what do you say? Do we have a deal?

They soon shook hands over the proposition.

SANTA MONICA PIER, SATURDAY LATE AFTERNOON

Nathan (throwing hands around Callum): Thank you.

Callum: For what?

Nathan: Making me feel alive after all this time!

Callum: It was just a kiss, Nathan.

Nathan: And I’ll have you know that I don’t feel guilty about it.

Callum: Nor should you. We’re consenting adults. Speaking of which, how about I come round yours later tonight?

Nathan (exhaling a deep sigh): I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Brendon’s supposed to come over for some of his stuff.

Callum: He’s been released from hospital?

Nathan: Yes, he and Justin are now staying at our old home in Silver Lake. I just want this whole mess with Justin to go away.

Callum (putting a reassuring hand on Nathan’s shoulder): Let me know if there’s anything I can do.

Nathan: Thanks for never doubting me. (looking around at the crowd on the pier) I’m going back home now. I think some these people here recognize me from the news. It doesn’t help you’re visibly younger than me.

Callum: You shouldn’t care what they think. You’re innocent in all this.

Nathan then rushed to the bathroom on the beach, leaving Callum to ponder his situation. He had to get to rid of Talon. He pulled out his cell phone, which miraculously was still in his shorts pockets, and called Peyton and Talon to tell them to leave and meet him at the mansion. By the time Nathan came back from the bathroom, Callum was snapping the phone shut, and they walked the distance to Nathan’s car parked near the Outrunners site. By that point, Talon and Peyton were gone. Rodrigo rushed up to him.

Rodrigo: Is everything okay, Mr. Sutcliffe?

Callum: You’ve no doubt seen that Tristano Bersani is still alive. That was somewhat of a surprise.

Rodrigo: He’s still pretty cut up.

Callum: He’s threatening me and needs to be taught a lesson.

Rodrigo: I promise to take care of him for you.

Callum: And you can expect to be well-rewarded for that.

Rodrigo: What about that dyke Alice, is it? You need me to handle her also?

Callum: Don’t worry about her. I’ll deal with her personally. Right now, I’m going to pay a visit to a quasi-lesbian.

ESTRELLA’S HOME, BEVERLY HILLS, SATURDAY LATE AFTERNOON

After Brendon had left, Estrella had to deal with Chloe. It had to be short and sweet out of fear that Brendon would return back for his phone and find them there. Chloe had profusely apologized for everything, tears flowing freely from her eyes. Estrella knew the woman to be emotionally unhinged and thus had to be easy with her.

Estrella: I’m really sorry if I caused problems for you and Allison.

Chloe: Don’t worry about that. We had our fair share of problems before you came into the picture. I-I just wanted you to know that I’ve been thinking about you ever since—

Estrella (cutting her off): Look, Chloe, I think we should end it where we left it. I’m not looking for anything serious, and I really don’t want problems. It’s best you go now.

Chloe (holding back tears): I understand. (turning to go) Thanks for all you did.

Once she closed the door, Estrella gave a heavy sigh of relief and went to make herself some tea to relax her nerves. While she had wished for a better way of handling Chloe, she knew deep down she, too, had been thinking of her and the explosive incident—both sexually and combatively—that had parted them. While it had been a way for her to take Chloe’s mind off her involvement in the child abduction, the nature of the carnal act had given Estrella a genuine sense of power as she had been able to grant pleasure to one of her own sex. She had greatly enjoyed it, especially the moment when Chloe had reached orgasm, feeling the warmth of her body, the sexual heat having engulfed her entirely, rendering her entirely powerless and exhausted. Estrella loved that type of power, but she couldn’t quite give up her love of men. She had always grappled with her bisexuality, chiefly during her time in university but then it was a given period in her life for experiment. Though she loved how the brawn of a man could work beautifully in tandem with his cock, she did like the delicate frame of a woman. She had liked how Chloe’s porcelain skin was in sharp contrast to her olive complexion. She had willfully given herself over to Estrella. It’s so sad that I must let her go. Nothing can come of this. What’s important is that she doesn’t say anything incriminating me with the kidnapping.

There came a knock at the door, and she opened it to Callum standing in the doorway. She stood there silent.

Callum: Either you invite me in or you “come out,” but it appears you did that already.

Estrella: Look, Callum, I know what it must have looked like, but—

Callum: I know damn well what you were doing. I’m not blind! I honestly don’t care what you do or who you do it with… except that I know you’re somehow involved in my son’s kidnapping.

Estrella (gesturing for him to come inside): What gives you that impression?

Callum: You’re fooling around with the nutter who thinks my child is hers.

Estrella: I think you’re way off.

Callum (sitting down): Oh, am I? I come over to your house to discuss this overbearing new detective who’s badgering me, and what do I find? You and Chloe arguing outside! You then drive her back home where thirty minutes later, I find your face nestled between her legs. Have I missed anything so far?

Estrella: You don’t understand.

Callum: No, it’s you, Estrella, who doesn’t understand. Need I remind you that you’re representing Vittoria, whose main accuser is Chloe. You could lose your license over this.

Estrella: Whatever happened between Chloe and me is over.

Callum: Then move onto Allison. Lord knows you’d be doing me an immense favor.

Estrella: It’s all just a misunderstanding.

Callum: I wasn’t born yesterday, Estrella. I am after all Oxbridge-educated. You, Chloe, and Tristano are somehow all involved in Edward’s abduction. For your sake, I hope you all covered your tracks. (rising and proceeding to leave) Your deception has been noted, and if I ever learn of anything else duplicitous about you, I promise you’ll live to regret it.

Estrella saw his car speed down the street. One minute later Brendon came to get his cell phone—apparently angered over something that happened at the beach. His stay had been extremely brief but all that time Estrella had been sweating bullets that Callum would make another unexpected visit and find her in cahoots with his enemy.

WEST HOLLYWOOD, OUTSIDE TRISTAN’S APARTMENT, LATE SATURDAY NIGHT

Rodrigo and four rough-looking goons are sitting in a car parked across the street from Tristan’s apartment complex, watching as Heath and Tristan return from a late night of partying along Santa Monica Boulevard.

Goon #1: So which one are we roughing up? Or is it both of them?

Goon #2: (brandishing a knife and opening the door): Let’s get this shit done!

Rodrigo (pulling him back): No. It’s going down tomorrow. I don’t want any witnesses. Anyway, it’s the guy on the right.

Goon #2: The blond one?

Rodrigo: No, the dark-haired one wearing the jacket.

Goon #3: I can’t really see him that well. It’s dark, you know.

Rodrigo: Stupid, one’s blond and the other one’s not. Just go after the dark-haired one.

SUNDAY MORNING, WEST HOLLYWOOD

U2’s “Sunday Bloody Sunday”  plays in the background, the chorus/refrain repeating itself as the sunshine pours down on a new day. A plump lady stands on the doorstep of Brendon’s Silver Lake home, ringing the doorbell. He experiences déjà vu when he recognizes the woman as Nurse Jackson, fearing there had been a mistake and that he was to be sent back to the hospital.

Brendon: Is everything okay?

Nurse Jackson: Yes, I think so. I’m just getting off my night shift and thought I’d bring this to you. (withdrawing a voice recorder)

Brendon: That’s not mine.

Nurse Jackson: It belongs to your—(pause) the other Mr. Roberts. He left it in his room when he was discharged.

Brendon (taking it): Well, thanks, Nurse Jackson. I’ll see to it that he gets it.

Nurse Jackson: Mr. Roberts, I’m not one to gossip, but the young nurse who found it was planning on keeping it for herself. It was only when she accidentally played what was on it that I confiscated it from her. (pause) Though it’s none of my business, I think you had better tell the boy the truth.

Brendon: Excuse me?

Nurse Jackson (saucily): But I think he already knows. (gesturing to the voice recorder). You have a good day now.

With that cryptic deliverance, she turned to leave. She went to her car, got inside, and called Callum to let him know the job had been done. Closing the door, Brendon looked at the little voice recorder in his hands. He quickly fought with his conscience, his curiosity getting the best of him before he played what had been recorded on the device. He heard his intimate argument with Nathan in the hospital. A few seconds later saw him bursting into Justin’s room, startling the boy who had his mp3 player earphones on loud blast.

Brendon (shouting): When were you going to tell me?

Justin (pulling the earphones out): What’s wrong now?

Brendon (throwing the voice recorder on the bed): You recognize that!

Justin (taking a look at it, scooting off the bed to face Brendon): So what if I do?

Brendon: Why didn’t you come to me with this?

Justin: Why didn’t you? You’ve known this all my life.

Brendon: Justin, it’s really complicated.

Justin: That’s bullshit and you know it. You’re out here living it large while Mom—that’s if she’s even my mother—was slumming it as a single parent in Minnesota. You never wanted me.

Brendon: That’s not true.

Justin: Then why did you do it? Why did you leave me?

Brendon: Would you really have wanted a gay father?

Justin: It would have been better than not having one at all!

Brendon: I never meant for this to—

Justin: To what? Come out? You’re nothing but a liar. You and Nathan both!

Brendon (noticing the venomous way Justin included Nathan in his argument): He has nothing to do with this.

Justin: He knew about it, too, and kept quiet. That makes him just as guilty as you!

Brendon: Just leave him out of this! You’ve already done enough damage to him.

Justin: And I’m not through yet!

Brendon (confronting him): Did you lie about him assaulting you? (dead silence which prompts him to grab Justin’s shoulders and erratically shake the boy) Well, did you?

Justin (breaking free): Get off me! That’s exactly how it started with him that night.

Brendon: Stop lying, Justin.

Justin: Why are you standing up for him?

Brendon: Because I love him.

Justin: He’s such a dick… but then again that’s what you like.

Brendon (reactively making a gesture to strike the boy but stops himself): You will tell the truth.

Justin: Or else what? You’ll ground me for a week? (starting to leave) I think you’ve missed out on that chance, Old Man.

Brendon (grabbing Justin’s arm): Don’t you care at all that you’re destroying his life with your lies?

Justin (jerking away): It’s funny you’re defending him against a lie, but you can’t give me one good reason for the one you’ve kept all this time.

Justin tore through the door and rushed outside. Brendon stood silently in the room, thinking to himself. How had this gone so far? I need to reach Nathan, let him know a terrible mistake has been made by both Justin and me. I should never have doubted him. I knew that he could never do what Justin was accusing him of… just hope I can reach him in time before Callum lays full claim to him, but even he’ll be out of our lives soon once Vittoria does her job. Brendon reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and dialed Nathan’s number.

KYLE WALGROVE’S HOME, WEST HOLLYWOOD, SUNDAY NOONTIME

Kyle opened his eyes to the sleeping figure of Bralen lying next to him in bed. He reactively looked underneath the covers to ensure they both had their clothing on, Kyle immediately giving a sigh of relief as they both had their jeans on from last night. Nothing had happened between them except an innocent, misguided kiss.

After Kyle had seen Heath and Tristan together at the beach, he felt sick to his stomach and left, his thirst for hard liquor almost magically returning with their presence. He drove back to West Hollywood and went to the nearest dive bar for the over-40 crowd. It was there that he saw Bralen, sitting on a bar stool, embarking on a journey to drink himself into a stupor. He had fruitlessly tired to dress incognito, wearing sunglasses and a hoodie, but Kyle recognized him from his youth—which stuck out like a sore thumb in that particular bar—and from his voice when had placed an order.

Kyle: Bralen? Is that you?

Bralen: I’m guessing you want to take your potshot at me as well. The media’s done it, and even a few Outrunners have.

Kyle: It’s none of my business. I just want to know how you’re holding up.

Bralen: I’m just peachy.

Kyle (moving away): Well, that was all.

Bralen: Hey, Kyle, let me buy you a drink. It’s the least I can do. I might as well waste my money on a ticket to drunkenness rather than a useless trip to Beijing. I officially withdrew from the competition.

And so began their night together, commiserating with each over the wrecks their lives had become. They had quickly glossed over the two people they shared in common: Heath and Tristan. Bralen had practically given up on Tristan, realizing that he had been played for a fool, whereas Kyle’s feelings still bordered on dangerous anger. Despite their woes, alcohol seemed to mollify their frustrations, and they enjoyed each other’s company, laughing over silly memories as their inebriation took effect. When closing time neared, Bralen slid off the stool, crashing to the floor. He promptly rose, patting his sore, robust bottom before stumbling for the exit.

Kyle: You’re not driving, are you?

Bralen: I-I’m fine. (tripping on the cracked concrete sidewalk pavement outside)

Kyle (taking hold of him): You can stay the night with me. I live about three blocks from here.

They arrived at Kyle’s ten minutes later. Bralen went straight to the couch, seized the remote, and flipped through the television channels. Kyle presently sat down next to him.

Bralen: I’m bored. You got any porn?

Kyle (laughing): Is that the alcohol talking?

Bralen: That’s me talking. (his head falling into Kyle’s lap)

Kyle (moving Bralen’s head from his lap): I think Heath may have left some of his. (rising to go, but Bralen grabs his arm and yanks him back down to the couch)

Bralen: I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we make a porno of our own?

Kyle: Bralen, I think you’ve had too much to drink. (Bralen’s head falls into Kyle’s lap again) Heath used to do that also when he got tired. Lay his head in my lap while we’re watching something on TV. Seconds later, he would be sucking me off.

Now Bralen is trying to do the same. It’s too soon for this. He pushed Bralen away, but he came back with a passionate kiss. Bralen tried to ram his tongue down Kyle’s throat, but it was Kyle who responded gently. It had been the first moment of intimacy he had since his breakup with Heath. Bralen, however, grew more aggressive, attempting to straddle Kyle whose conscience finally got the best of him. He pulled himself away and went into the other room, closing the door behind him. Content with averting that disaster, he fell onto the bed, slumber at last stealing over him.

It was thus a shock when he had awakened to find Bralen in bed with him. Thank God nothing happened. He rose and went to make a cup of coffee. Bralen soon came into the kitchen and had a cup as well. They sat in silence before Bralen broke the calm.

Bralen: About last night, I’m really sorry.

Kyle: Don’t worry about it. Nothing happened.

Bralen (rising from table): But something did happen. I kissed you. I don’t want to cross the line.

Kyle (coming over to him): I promise you that I won’t let that happen.

Bralen: Well, I should get going. It’s practically noontime.

Bralen then quickly left the house only to be seen by Tristan who was outside.

ALLISON AND CHLOE’S HOME, LOS FELIZ

Allison arrived home to find Chloe on the couch, her feet positioned under her bottom. She appeared as if she had been crying and looked very distraught. Chloe likewise took notice of Allison’s appearance, particularly her disheveled hair and the superficial scars where Callum had scratched her.

Chloe: What happened to you?

Allison: Callum and I had a little disagreement on the beach.

Chloe: What? (concern morphing into anger) What is it between you and him?

Allison: Pardon?

Chloe: You’ve absolutely changed ever since he’s come into our lives… all this name calling, being confrontational and violent.

Allison: At least I haven’t been unfaithful. I’ve been here for you.

Chloe (laughing): That’s rich coming from you. You weren’t here last weekend. Where were you?

Allison: I left town on an important assignment.

Chloe: You were gone nearly four days without me hearing so much as a word from you. What the hell was so damn important you had to leave without letting me know?

Allison: I couldn’t tell you. It had to be kept secret. I left to protect you and everyone else from him.

Chloe (confused): What?

Allison: I went to England to get some information on Chloe. While what I found was sparse at best, I did get an ally to help me get rid of him.

Chloe (angrily rising from the couch): You put me through hell just so you could dig up dirt on Callum?

Allison: He’s to blame for everything that’s gone wrong.

Chloe: And you take no responsibility for what’s happened?

Allison: I did this for you, but I never imagined I’d come home to such a blatant display of ingratitude.

Chloe: Estrella was helping me during the hardest part of last week.

Allison: Oh, yeah, she helped herself… to you!

Chloe: That’s not how it started.

Allison: Was she the woman you were kissing in the bar during Pride Weekend?

Chloe: How do you know—

Allison: Oh my God, Chloe, what else are you hiding? How long have you been with this woman?

Chloe: It’s not like that. She was helping me get back Jacob.

Allison: Who?

Chloe: My baby!

It was with those two words that Allison soon realized that Chloe’s condition had worsened, and that perhaps the actions she had done were not entirely her fault. I did leave her without a word. The last time we saw each other before I had left had ended in an argument. She had just thought that Callum’s son was hers. Oh no! Callum had said that his son had been kidnapped and suspected Chloe. Could that be possible?

Allison: Chloe, did you take Callum’s son last week?

Chloe: He’s not Callum’s. I keep telling you that. He’s our son, Jacob.

Allison: Did you take him during the Pride Run?

Chloe: It was too loud a place for a baby. I brought him back here, but there was a neighborhood blackout. I then heard on the radio that the police wanted him. I didn’t understand why they would want to take him away from his mother. I figured it was because I was gay so I went to Estrella since her law firm advocates LGBT rights.

Allison (putting her hand to her mouth): Oh my God, Chloe! It’s true. You kidnapped Callum’s son.

Chloe (testily): He’s not Callum’s son!

Allison: But you took him? Don’t you realize what you’ve done?

Chloe: You never wanted him. You wouldn’t have found time for a family. Estrella promised me her help.

Allison: She’s using you! Can’t you see that?

Chloe: She’s going to help me get him back.

Allison: Stop it! Just stop it! He’s not your baby. You kidnapped him!

Chloe: I don’t understand how the law can claim I’m kidnapping my own son. (pause) So what are you going to do, Allison? Turn me into the cops?

Allison (eyes watering): No, honey, I couldn’t do that to you. It’s just that you need help (noticing Chloe prepare her rebuttal) and I don’t mean that legally. Have you been keeping your appointments with Peyton?

Chloe: Either I cancel the appointments or he does.

Allison (running her hand through her hair): I’m calling him right now.

Chloe: Why?

Allison (urgently): Because you need to see him. This has really gotten out of control. (picking up phone) I can’t believe all this happened while I was away.

Chloe: The person I really need is Estrella.

Allison (slamming the phone back into its dock): What did you say?

Chloe: She understands me. She comforts me. She—

Allison: That’s it. I’ve heard enough (moving to the door)

Chloe: Where are you going?

Allison: I need to clear my head. I’m going to see Nathan. He’s going through a rough patch, and I haven’t been answering his calls lately.

Chloe: I can’t believe this. You’d rather go over to Nathan’s than sort out this mess. How many times are our problems going to take backseat to his?

Allison: Chloe, he’s being attacked on all fronts by the media and Justin, and then there’s this whole mess with Austin Monroe. He needs someone in his corner.

Chloe: And I need you in mine! I’m tired of coming in second place to your obsessive protection of Nathan. Must you fight all his battles for him?

Allison: We’re not arguing over this.

Chloe: And you have nerve to crucify me for my mistake with Estrella, yet you strike me down for calling you out on your lifelong fixation on Nathan Moynihan.

Allison (leaving): We’ll talk about this later.

The door shutting put a definite end to their argument, but it merely signaled the beginning of insurmountable problems for them. Chloe cried herself to sleep on the couch.

TRISTAN AND VITTORIA’S APPOINTMENT, WEST HOLLYWOOD, SUNDAY LATE MORNING/NOONTIME

Having risen early that morning, Heath had wanted to surprise Tristan, who had survived his gruesome attack earlier that week. Heath felt it was time for new beginnings and sought out Vittoria’s help, mainly in the form of her cosmetic expertise. Two hours later he looked at himself in the mirror, his signature blond locks now shorn, his hair dyed darker black, giving him an edgier look that closely matched Tristan’s style.

Vittoria: What do you think?

Heath: I really like it. I hope Tristan likes it.

Vittoria: Guess I can’t call you Goldilocks anymore. Why don’t you go show him?

Heath: No, he’s knocked out. You know he doesn’t get up before one on Sundays. Besides, I wanted this to be a surprise for him.

Vittoria: So when is he going to see you?

Heath: At the Hawk Eye. We’re going to the beer bust later in the afternoon, but I reserved their patio for an hour before they open. I wanted to have a homecoming celebration for Tristan. I already told you about it. You are coming, right?

Vittoria: Yeah, I just have some business to take care of before I make it there.

Heath: Anyway, I have to get over there to make sure everything is ready. Tristan knows to be there around two. Just make sure to remind him (moves toward her to kiss her).

Vittoria: Yuck! You’re such a fucking fruit.

Heath: Thanks again, Vittoria. You’re the best.

Vittoria: Well, your ass is making me those blueberry pancakes all this week and the next.

Heath laughed and then left the house to walk the four blocks to the Hawk Eye, one of West Hollywood’s most notorious leather bars. He was so excited at the prospect of cheering up Tristan that he hadn’t noticed the four thugs across the street when they began to follow him. They had foolishly mistaken him for Tristan, based on Rodrigo’s sparse description from last night. They hadn’t been able to see him clearly in the dark but had been told that Tristan was the only dark-haired man that would be coming out that particular apartment.

When Heath reached the bar, he found the front door locked and walked around to the back, finding not even the manager’s car there. I specifically told that idiot that I needed the place open early. He angrily withdrew his cell phone from his pocket, but it slipped and fell to the ground. He bent down to pick it up, and when he rose he was met with four thugs who pounced on him. Their blows came too quickly for him to react, the harsh jabs sending him to the ground. They each began kicking his fallen figure, and he managed to get a good look at them, two of them looked Hispanic, one African American, and the last looked Eastern European, although Heath thought he recognized the accent with which that particular individual mumbled as Russian.

Thug #1: We got a message for you, Britney Queers, from Rodrigo.

Thug #2: Yo, Stupid, no names!

Heath tried to get up and fight back, but they collectively proved stronger, one of them punching him in his stomach as his arms were held behind his back. One of them immediately cupped his hand over Heath’s mouth to prevent any sound from escaping and possibly alerting anyone in the vicinity of the criminal activity taking place.

Thug #1: Oh, ain’t she cute? Why don’t we teach her a lesson? Who wants to go first?

That was the last thing Heath heard before he was struck in the back of the head, knocking him temporarily unconscious. When he came to a few minutes later, he felt his hands bound behind his back and saw that his shirt had been ripped from his chest. His pupils dilated at the sight of a knife blade that was slowly positioned under his chin.

Thug #2: Don’t you say a fucking word or else I’ll rip your goddamn throat!

His only reaction was to cry, for he knew that they meant business. They looked to be gang members, although there hardly was any notorious gang activity in West Hollywood, though Heath soon found they were not the typical LA street gang once he saw one guy pull down his pants, take out his cock, and shove it in his face.

Thug #3: Suck it!

Heath: P-Please don’t—

Thug #2 (kicking Heath in the back while the other puts the sharp blade against his Adam’s apple): Do it!

Heath obediently opened his mouth, soon feeling it shoved full of the guy’s cock. At the same time, he felt the others slapping the back of his head, pushing it down onto it. He nearly gagged on it and tried to scream but nothing came through his mouth, the threat of the knife a reminder of his situation. He continued to be subjected to this degradation as they each successively forced him to fellate them, his throat becoming sore from their aggression, his mouth producing an excessive amount of saliva upon which he nearly choked. All this time tears were present in his eyes as he silently prayed to be saved from this vicious attack.

He knew the horror was not over when he felt someone’s grimy hand clamp over his mouth with such force that it nearly snapped his neck. They yanked his shorts down, the air at once flowing into his nether regions. It was a few seconds before he felt the hardness of what was unmistakably a cock enter his ass, his first reaction to move and attempt to flee, but once again the force of four against one proved too overpowering for him. He was held down as this brute mercilessly thrust into him, Heath’s tears flowing over his cheeks.

Heath: Please!

Thug #1: Shut the fuck up!

Thug #3: Here, suck on this!

The fourth thug furiously slapped the back of Heath’s head and slashed the side of his right cheek with the knife. Heath felt the warm blood as trickled down his skin and let out a loud whimper.

Thug #2: He said suck!

Thug #3: And don’t get any blood on my dick!

Heath’s first impulse was to bite it, but he knew that could prove a fatal mistake. He continued praying that someone would come around to the desolate parking lot, find him, and rescue him. His mouth once more took cock, which appeared both uncircumcised and grimy.

Thug #3: Is Britney Queers crying?

Thug #4: I think she likes it. She gives good head.

When he withdrew from Heath’s mouth, it was at that moment Heath felt another sharp blow against his head that sent him level to the ground. The team of goons now assaulted his prostrate figure, each of them placing their weight upon him as he felt them enter him again. One of them even had his foot positioned on Heath’s neck, threatening to apply pressure should he scream. The pain in his lower body was intolerable, partially as there was no lubricant to ease the manner in which they brutishly fucked. Heath’s open wounds were stinging with pain that matched that of his bare ass as one thug continued to violently spank it as he drove himself farther into Heath.

Thug #1: I think it’s time we Kevin Fertilize, Ms. Queers!

Heath tried to push them off him, but it was the kick to his mouth, his stomach, and back that rendered him powerless as they began the climax of their defiling. One of them chose to ejaculate on him, Heath cringing as the hot fluid speckled his body. The others chose to leave theirs in various places, the most obvious one leaving Heath feeling even sicker to his stomach at this powerlessness to stop them. The thugs having finished their play thus began the task of beating him to a bloody pulp, but their mission was soon cut short by the sounds of sirens that they mistook for the police (when in actuality it was an ambulance venturing down Santa Monica Boulevard). Nevertheless, they all fled the scene, leaving behind in their wake a deathly catastrophe.

KYLE’S APARTMENT, WEST HOLLYWOOD, SUNDAY NOONTIME

Kyle had sat down on the couch to watch TV when someone knocked at the door. Thinking it was Bralen, he quickly opened it only to be met with the muscled frame of Tristan Bersani standing in the doorway.

Kyle: Shouldn’t you be at home, recuperating?

Tristan: You’re the reason I’m in this state. You beat me and threw me in the river, you bastard!

Kyle (Tristan having barged inside): Oh, you’re not pinning that on me. Besides, I’m an environmentalist and don’t believe in water pollution.

Tristan: Ha! Ha! You still assaulted me that night. I’m going to the police chief about this.

Kyle: He won’t believe you.

Tristan: He will once he knows the whole story.

Kyle: Is that so?

Tristan: Yeah, once he hears how you’re mad at me for stealing Heath from you.

Kyle: Shut up, Tristan!

Tristan: Did you know we fucked right there on that couch?

Kyle: Get out!

Tristan: Was that Bralen I saw leaving just now? Have you moved onto him? Guess I’ll have to ask him who’s better in bed. We both already know Heath’s answer to that question.

Kyle couldn’t resist the impulse to punch Tristan, sending his body to flip over the couch and land on the floor. Upon rising, Tristan’s eyes sparkled with the thrill of the fight, and he soon sprang for Kyle, throwing him an equally powerful knockout punch that forced Kyle’s body onto the wooden coffee table, effectively rendering it into large splinters as it gave way to his weight. Pain shot through his body, but his pugilistic determination overtook him.

Kyle ran right into Tristan, slamming him into the far wall, knocking ornaments and frames from their pegs as both men groaned in pain. Kyle’s fist banged into Tristan’s face as Tristan’s hand defensively clutched around Kyle’s neck. Tristan was then thrown to the side, knocking over a table on which had been Kyle’s gun, which had slid to the floor with a thud. Both men had seen the weapon and lunged for it like a hawk swooping down for a rodent. It was Tristan’s hand that caught it first, but that didn’t stop Kyle from attempting to pry it from him. Each struggled for full possession of the firearm, which during their scuffle found itself between their bodies when it suddenly went off.

BRENDON AND NATHAN’S FIRST HOME, SILVER LAKE, SUNDAY NOONTIME

Justin had finished trashing his bedroom, his reaction to Brendon’s turning against him. The mirror was shattered, the mattress turned over, the pillows ripped, a flurry of feathers and cotton strewn over the floor. He still loves that fag Nathan more than me, his own son. He never loved me. Well, I’ll see to it that none of them have any joy. I’m surprised that Brendon didn’t hear me trashing this place. Where is he? Justin stepped out his room and walked throughout the house. He heard some rumbling downstairs in the basement or “wine cellar” as Brendon had called it during his brief tour of the house. Justin surreptitiously crept to the door and closed it, making sure to lock it. He then dragged a heavy chair in front of it.

Meanwhile, Brendon had decided on a bottle and climbed to leave the stairs when he was met with the obstacle of the door refusing to open. He pushed on it, turned it, and banged into it. What the hell? Justin! Is this some kind of joke?

Brendon: Justin! Justin! Open this door now!

At least Nathan is on his way here. If only I had my cell phone on me, I could leave him a text message to let him know I’m locked in the wine cellar. After waiting for ten minutes, Brendon grew impatient. There was no other way out the cellar than through the transom near the ceiling that led to the backyard. He put a chair on the table next to the wall and was going to attempt to climb through the small window when his eyes took in the horrendous sight of his lover being sent to his death.

Nathan had arrived at their old home in Silver Lake, which brought back such fond memories of their life together. It was the first place they had called home together. When he got to the front door, he found it locked, but there was a note posted on it, telling him to meet him in the backyard. He went through the side fence and found that the backyard still looked lovely despite neither of them living there anymore. Brendon had kept the gardener on the payroll for this property. All the flowers were in bloom, and the pool glimmered in the noontime sunshine. There was no one around. He went to the back door, oddly finding it also locked. Where is Brendon? His car is parked outside. Shit! I don’t have the keys to this house on my keyring. I’ll just call him. Why the hell is it going straight to voicemail? Where is he?

Nathan walked back toward the pool and stood at the water’s edge, breathing in the air. The water looked so inviting. He remembered all the parties they would host around the pool. He bent down and put his hand in the water. It was definitely warm. He then heard a muffled sound but couldn’t make out what it was. Had he turned around at that precise moment, he would have seen the top half of Brendon shouting through the windowpane of the wine cellar. As it was, Nathan rose straight up and thus didn’t see the flat metallic face of the garden shovel as it collided with the back of his head, knocking him unconscious and sending him face-first into the water. The blood from his fresh wound had begun slightly coloring the water as his nostrils began filling with water. The shadow that fell onto his body then diminished in size as Justin crouched down to push Nathan’s head farther below the surface.

CALLUM’S HOME, HIS PRIVATE STUDY, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES, SUNDAY NOONTIME

Peyton whirled the baby around, making a sound as if the little boy were some aircraft landing in a hangar. Edward smiled gaily, his eyes shining, his little mouth open, his toothless gums in full display. Peyton lifted him back up again before dipping him down to plant a sweet kiss on his soft cheeks.

Callum (coming into the room): How many times must I tell you to stop doing that? I don’t want him suffering from vertigo.

Peyton: He likes it. Just look at him, smiling. I think he needs a portrait taken.

Callum: Hand him over to Inga, Peyton. I need to speak with you privately.

Peyton (reluctantly giving him over to Inga): About what?

Callum: I’m going on holiday to Greece with Talon this evening. I gave serious thought to your suggestion about my needing to take some time away.

Callum had spoken with Peyton last night and had decided it best to give into Talon’s wish rather than risk Talon having an encounter with Nathan such as the one that nearly happened on the beach yesterday. That had been such a close call that Callum knew it was imperative he had to get rid of Talon. Deciding to go with him to Greece was the only option, and while Callum was there in Athens, he reasoned he would steal and destroy Talon’s passport, abandon him at the hotel, and secretly fly back to America. That would at least afford him a few days to finish his mission with Nathan before Talon possibly reappeared in Los Angeles.

Peyton: Really? You told me you had reservations about leaving town… that you and Nathan—

Callum (cutting him off): it’s not what you’re thinking. But listen, I know how close you’ve become with Edward, and so I thought this trip would allow you more time with him while we’re away.

Peyton (joyously throwing his arms around Callum): Oh, wow! That’s great! I can’t believe how soft you’ve become.

Callum: It won’t last. Enjoy it while you can.

Peyton: Well, I did—uh—want to ask a huge favor of you.

Callum: What more could you want?

Peyton: To have my name cleared. You don’t want Edward to have a father wrongly accused of criminal behavior. I need you to get rid of that gun that has my fingerprints on it.

Callum (pause): Okay, I’ll do it. But it’s for Edward. (journeying over to the safe to enter combination)

Peyton: Hold on. It’s been here all along. You said it wasn’t on the property.

Callum (withdrawing the gun, secured in a Ziploc bag): Well, I lied. Now, watch me as I wipe the prints off with this cloth. You are hereby a free man, Dr. Ashland. (lying the gun on the desk)Without this piece of evidence, the police haven’t anything to really link you to shooting Allison and Chloe.

Peyton: But we both know who did.

Meanwhile, Vittoria was outside the house, trying to open the front door. She found it locked and not budging even with her weight gently thrown against it. She consequently rang the doorbell, Godfrey answering it.

Godfrey: Good afternoon, Ms. Morelli. Is His Lordship expecting you?

Vittoria (coming into the house): Yes, he is.

Godfrey: He’s upstairs. (starting to ascend): I’ll let him know you’ve arrived.

Vittoria: Oh, no, Godfrey! Before you do that, would you get me a cosmopolitan? (noticing his hesitance) You remember how I like mine?

Godfrey: How could I forget? You had them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner your entire stay here. (turning on this heel to leave the room)

The firearm was weighing heavily in her purse. She had loaded it with the bullets Brendon had given her. She waited a few minutes after Godfrey left before she darted after him.

Vittoria (shouting): Never mind the drink. I just got an important call on my cell. It’s an emergency. I’ll see myself out.

She rushed to the front door, opened it, and slammed it shut loud enough for the sound to reverberate through the front of the house. That should make him think I’m gone. I’ll be quick and get this job done! With feline agility she tiptoed up the stairs toward Callum’s study. As she drew closer to the room, she heard voices, and upon eavesdropping her heart nearly leapt from her body.

Peyton: It was Tristan’s roommate who shot at them, didn’t she? Kyle had shown me her mug shot and told me he suspected her. It was then I remembered seeing her here at the mansion the night Allison was shot. You’re blackmailing her, too.

Callum: Well, let’s just keep that between us.

Peyton: Nearly losing Edward has definitely made you a changed man from what I can see. You really should turn her into the cops. It would be the right thing to do.

Vittoria (coming into the room): What the fuck! He knows about me?

Callum (testily): Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?

Vittoria: I can’t believe this. (pushing toward Callum) You promised me that nothing would happen.

Callum: And nothing will. Peyton doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

Vittoria: I trusted you, Callum.

Callum: Vittoria, I haven’t time for this. I’m leaving the country in another hour.

Vittoria: Oh, I get it now. You were planning on going to the cops and then leaving the country for me to take full blame for everything. (suddenly seizing the gun lying on the desk) Well, it’s not going down like that!

Peyton (scared): Callum!

Callum (pushing Peyton to the door): Pay her no mind.

Vittoria aimed the gun at Callum, pulling the trigger several times with nothing happening.

Callum (shouting): What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing? There aren’t any bullets in there, you incompetent cow. I’ll remember this moment when I get back. (successfully pushing Peyton out the door and into the hallway near the staircase landing) Now if you’ll excuse me.

Vittoria (throwing the useless gun at him): You’re not going anywhere!

Callum (turning around in the doorway): Oh, yeah, is that so? Well try and stop me.

Vittoria pulled the gun from her purse, rushed to the doorway, and aimed it at Callum’s retreating figure, pulling the trigger. A shot rang out that was quickly followed by the screaming sound of pain issued from Callum’s mouth. Peyton instantly rushed over to him as he fell to the floor, Callum’s left hand clutching his right arm as hot, red blood gushed forth, staining his shirt crimson.

Peyton looked up and saw the barrel of the gun aimed directly at him. It was at that moment that Talon came down the hall and immediately pounced upon her in an attempt to wrest the weapon from her. Peyton jumped up and hopped into the struggle, which carried the trio to the staircase banister, where Talon tried banging Vittoria’s hand against its wooden surface in hopes she would relinquish the gun. She defiantly bit at them, kneed Talon’s groin, and succeeded in pushing them both away.

The haunting tone of Natalie Merchant’s “My Skin” begins playing in the scene’s background as Peyton took the opportunity to throw himself at her, knocking her off balance as the gun went off a second time, and Vittoria’s body began tumbling down the stairs. Peyton fell back to the ground next to Callum as Talon got up to see Vittoria’s body land at the base of the stairs.

It had all happened in a split second. She had been in control of the gun, winning the fight against the two men when she found herself falling down the stairs. The bumps stabbed into her back, and she thought everything would be fine, yet it was the third from the last step that fatally broke her neck before her body came into contact with the solid, flat ground floor. Up above, Talon saw as Godfrey walked to her fallen corpse, reached his fingers down to her neck, found no pulse, and nonverbally communicated as much to Talon, who duly informed Callum.

Callum (painfully inching over to Peyton): You hear that, Peyton? She’s dead. You saved my life.

Talon: You’re a hero, mate.

Callum: Peyton? (getting no sound) Peyton! Oh my God, I think he’s been shot! It’s not my blood on him. (lightly slapping him) Peyton, wake up!

Peyton (slowly opening his eyes): C-Callum?

Callum: I’m here. Whew! You scared me for a moment.

Peyton: Where’s Edward?

Callum: He’s in the other room.

Peyton: C-Can I see him?

Callum (turning to Talon): Would you get him from Inga? And call an ambulance if Godfrey hasn’t.

Once Talon rushed away, Peyton grabbed Callum’s wrist and drew the young man’s hand to his heart. Callum could feel the warmth of Peyton’s blood seeping through the cloth of his shirt and running between his fingers.

Peyton: I don’t have much time left.

Callum: Quit talking such nonsense, you ninny. You’re going to be just fine.

Peyton: I need you to swear to me on my heart that you’ll tell my son about me. (Callum tries to move his hand away from Peyton’s bloodied chest, but Peyton firmly holds it there) Promise me you’ll tell him I was a good man and that contrary to what others may say, I wasn’t some sex-crazed drunk. Promise me, goddammit!

Callum (tears filling his eyes): I-I promise.

Peyton (suddenly coughing up blood): One more thing. Promise me you’ll play “airplane” with him everyday. He really loves it. (coughing up more blood, making it harder for him to talk) Please tell him that of all the men in my life, he was the one I loved the most.

Callum (talking through choked sobs): I’m not going to have to do that because you’ll pull through this for him. (looking up to see Talon coming down the hall with Edward) Oh, look, here he comes!

But by that point, Callum looked down to see Peyton take a shallow breath and close his eyes for the last time. Feeling the body grow lifeless in his arms, Callum let out a truly emotional cry that blended poetically with that released from Edward’s lips as if the child, too, knew that he would never see his father again.

TO BE CONTINUED…

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Dear Reader,

I feel like cuing up Matchbox 20’s “How Far We’ve Come” as it’s hard to imagine we’re already at V&R’s 20^th episode, and as you’ve witnessed, the dynamics of the series have definitely changed. The subject matter has become darker in tone, and no one is safe—well, actually that’s a lie as there are three major characters safe from death’s clutches for at least the next few months—but I genuinely hope you’re enjoying the series as much as I am writing it. Each day I awaken and think of these characters as an integral part of my life, and much like one’s family, I find myself simultaneously loving and hating some of them. The primary reason I’m leaving this note is to encourage you to please consider leaving a comment as I really would like to have an understanding of this website’s readership. I know it may take a while to register in order to leave a comment, but I beseech you to either do that or recommend the series to your friends.

Besides the issue of numbers, it would be exciting to know which characters you like (and conversely hate with a passion), which storylines you like, and your opinions about the musical selections. When I initially envisioned V&R, it was to be a hybrid of Queer as Folk (the original English version) and Dynasty (which arguably became better with the introduction of a certain English diva—and to a certain extent her cousin towards the end of that series), and now I think V&R is in a world of its own. As I look forward to gaining greater exposure for the series (and likewise getting feedback from enthusiastic readers), I’ll share with you some exciting news of what to expect this spring from the series (keeping in mind that like an actual soap opera, I have an additional six to eight week’s worth of episodes written at the time of publishing any current one).

You can look forward to the introduction of some colorful new characters that will make you laugh hysterically and hopefully shed a tear or two in light of the series’ current tragic storyline, and as always expect some explosive confrontations (and if you love the “Callison” storyline, prepare for one hell of a funeral gathering) as secrets are revealed to deadly consequences. I’m sure the series will get mixed responses when V&R takes on the issue of California’s Proposition 8 (recall that the story’s action thus far takes place in summer 2008) in the only way it knows how: via scandal and the biggest catfight courtesy of a particular V&R couple J. And lastly, might Callum’s world come crashing down upon him once his secrets are uncovered by those whom he has wronged and blackmailed? You’ll have to keep reading to find out!

Don’t forget to leave your comments! Thank you for reading. You have no idea how appreciative I am.

Respectfully,

Kedric (and Callum)

callum.sutcliffe@yahoo.com

The Victorious and the Relentless

Episode 19: “Beach Bashing”

BRALEN JONES’ HOME, SANTA MONICA

Bralen lay in bed, drowned in his sorrows, his mind overwhelmed with unanswered questions, a crippling fever having seized his body. The last forty-eight hours had permanently altered the course of his life, and it all began with the results of a test he had taken. It was both impossible and illogical. The test came back positive for doping. Traces of a potent performance enhancing drug had been found in his bloodstream. Someone had mysteriously tipped his coach to this mystery. Bralen vehemently denied everything—knowing full well of his own innocence—but gave into his coach’s exhortations, if only to calm his anxieties.

I can’t believe this! It doesn’t make any sense. I’ve never taken any drugs in my life—not even weed, and that’s saying something for living in southern California. How could the test come back positive? It thus began with the media storm, camera crew and reporters chasing him. He couldn’t face the public, the threatening pall of infamy thrown over him. How could he face his fellow Outrunners? He felt awful and avoided answering any calls, opting to screen them. One was from his coach, who had insinuated that he might wish to come clean with the truth. It would mean he’d have to release a statement. It would be best of him to bite the bullet and pull out of the competition, especially before the IOC really got wind of this news.

There goes my hopes and dreams. But what else can I do? Get another opinion? The doubt has already been cast. Oh, what should I do? His parents had called to check on him. How the hell did they find out about this all the way in Iowa! He quickly made an excuse to get off the phone. He imagined the shame his mother would be feeling, especially as she was member of several women’s group in Des Moines. They just retired there. Mom always spoke so highly of me around those stuffy old biddies with their ultraconservative Midwestern values. Now they’ll take her out to lunch and talk about her behind her back. Not to mention what this mess will do to my little brother Linden, who’s on the triathlon team at Northwestern University. There’s no telling what his teammates will say behind his back.

In spite of these reservations, Bralen indeed wanted to reach out to one of his relatives or simply anyone who could offer him some reassurance. As if matters could not get any worse for his already frayed nerves, he soon learned of what happened to Tristan and frantically went in search of him for answers, yet he would not be pleased with what he would eventually find.

HOLLYWOOD HOSPITAL

Tristan Bersani opened his eyes to the fluorescent lights of his room in Hollywood Hospital. He felt mild pain but knew there was an IV hooked to his body, probably filling him with morphine. In that brief moment since regaining consciousness, he was most thankful for his life and not having it ripped away from him. He saw white sheets that covered his body. He hadn’t turned his head since his neck was in an awkward position. It was then that he heard an odd, feminine voice, effectuated to sound foreign, almost Gallic in its delivery. He had to turn his head to see who was in the room with him.

Estrella: Would you like me to fluff your pillow?

He disbelievingly stared at the spectacle before him. There stood Estrella, tailored in a nurse’s uniform that was all white—its symbolic purity in definite contrast to her slattern ways. She had on white gloves and wore matching white stockings and a white nurse’s cap.

Tristan: What the hell are you doing here?

Estrella: I’m Nurse Tartaro, and I came here to tend to you. If you don’t need me to fluff your pillow, perhaps I can “fluff” something else.

Tristan (trying to turn on his side—away from her—in spite of the pain): Just go away.

Estrella (dropping the act): Where the hell is my share of the money?

Tristan: I don’t have the money. In case you didn’t notice, I’m in a hospital bed, badly bruised up.

Estrella: Yeah, I saw you on the news being pulled from the river and immediately came here. You’ve been out for a while. Must be some powerful drugs they have you on. What happened to you?

Tristan: I was attacked.

Estrella: By whom? The last I heard, you had got the ransom otherwise Vittoria wouldn’t have dropped off the baby. So who got in the way?

I know who, but I’m not saying. That bastard Kyle thinks he can throw his weight around just because he’s a cop. Well, I’ll handle him my way.

Tristan: I don’t know. He came up behind me so quickly and—

Estrella: Never mind the details. Where’s the money?

Tristan: I told you. I don’t know. I must have lost it in the river.

Estrella: You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You wouldn’t believe the shit this kidnapping has put me through. You owe me big time, Tristan!

Tristan: What do you expect me to do? I was attacked. I don’t have the money.

Estrella: And I could care less about your incident. It’s time to either pay up or put out.

Tristan: What?

Estrella’s gloved hand went under the sheets and rushed straight for Tristan’s crotch, grasping the bulb that was his cock. The downy softness of the gloves felt good to him, and he couldn’t help releasing a brief moan of pleasure.

Estrella: Well, at least the crown jewels weren’t damaged.

She continued jerking it, feeling it magnify in both length and girth as the organ began naturally swelling with blood. Tristan reached his hand out to stop her, but her other hand cornered his, momentarily defeating him.

Estrella: This is my time now. Let Nurse Tartaro take good care of you.

She pulled back Tristan’s hospital gown to reveal his well-cut pecs and ran her gloved hand over them, all the time jerking him with her other hand. She could see his eyes roll back pleasurably in their sockets. She was just a few minutes short of his reaching climax when Heath burst through the door, a vase of roses in his hands. He stopped dead in his tracks, looking at the scene before him, Estrella’s hand positioned under the covers near Tristan’s groin while the other one massaged his chest. Tristan himself looked to be in a drowsed state.

Heath: What the hell is going on here? (suddenly recognizing Estrella from the last time he had likewise caught them engaged in sexual activity) You!

Estrella (withdrawing her gloved hand from the covers): I-I’m so sorry. I was—

Heath (angrily rushing to her): Oh, you’ll be sorry, bitch!

He yanked the flowers from the vase and beat at Estrella with them, the petals scattering all over the floor as she shrieked loudly, defensively putting out her hands. Once the stems had broken, she stepped back, looking fearfully at Heath now as he wielded the glass vase.

Heath: Get the hell out of here!

Having had her fair share of angered blows from both the gays and lesbians and not desiring an encore, Estrella made a speedy exit, running across the flower petals as if she were a bride.

Heath (setting the vase down and coming to Tristan): Are you okay? (kissing him)

Tristan (whispering): I’m fine. I didn’t have much strength to fight her off.

Heath: I overheard the nurses in the hall, gossiping about who would get to give you a sponge bath, but I never expected to walk in on that. (suddenly becoming serious) Tristan, what happened? I was worried all night. You didn’t come home. Even Vittoria was worried about you, and then we recognized you on the news. How did you get into the river?

Tristan: I was attacked.

Heath: Who did this to you?

Tristan: Don’t you worry about that. I’m just glad to be alive, and I’m glad to see you.

Heath (bending over to hug and kiss him): I love you, Tristan.

It was at that angle that Tristan could look through the glass portal in the door to see Bralen’s face staring at him. The embrace and then the kiss from Heath must have been too much for Bralen to bear, for he immediately turned away and fled. Right before Tristan went back under the influence of the drugs, he heard Heath promising to cook him a delicious meal of his favorite foods when he got out the hospital.

MEANWHILE IN BRENDON’S ROOM, HOLLYWOOD HOSPITAL

Brendon sat in his room, silently contemplating the mess of his life. The arguments with Callum and Austin had made him deeply reconsider his stance with Nathan. They were right in both their own twisted ways. I’m partly to blame for this mess. I’m supposed to be his lifetime partner, and I turned my back on him. How could I have been so blind to my feelings for him?

Enrique Iglesias’ “Be with You”  begins playing over the nostalgic montage as Brendon fondly recalls the time spent with Nathan when they were genuinely in love with each other and their time spent together was so precious. The trips up Pacific Coast Highway in the convertible with the top down and the wind whipping through their hair, holding hands, and mesmerized by the breathtaking natural beauty that spread out for them on the winding street. The memories of the ocean, the cliffs, and the spectacular vistas continued to flourish in Brendon’s mind with their special weekend trips to the beach in Capistrano, sunbathing, picnicking, and enjoying each other’s company. They would have trips to Napa Valley, visiting vineyards and tasting the wine together, and being a bit tipsy afterwards. I remember relaxing at the bed and breakfast overlooking the ocean. Those were the days, so full of magic and promise and endless possibility. We were so in love. No, damn it, we are in love! I can’t lose him like this, but the damage has been done. Or has it? Maybe I can get through to Justin, make him realize that it was an error… maybe it was his imagination. But could he really have lied about this? But why would he? All I know is that I can’t lose Nathan to this. I want to be with him. And in spite of my many shortcomings—and Lord knows I have an endless supply of them—I deserve to be happy with the man I love.

It was then that he called Nathan, unfortunately catching him in his drowsed state. Brendon had told him that he wanted to make things right with him. Upon ending the phone conversation, he went to Justin’s room, finding him playing a portable video game.

Brendon: You look well. What’s that you’re playing?

Justin: Just some game.

Brendon: The nurses tell me you’ll be ready to leave in a day or so. They’re discharging me around the same time so we can go home together.

Justin: We’re not going back to that house, are we?

Brendon: Look, Justin, I love Nathan. (pause) I can’t help it. You can’t just turn off your feelings for someone after twelve years. I know what you said happened, but—

Justin: You think I’m lying.

Brendon: I honestly don’t know what to think anymore. Why did you steal Callum’s car? (noticing a sudden look of anxiety on Justin’s face) Did he put you up to this? Is he conning you?

Justin: You’re willing to take Nathan’s word over mine, Uncle Brendon?

Brendon (bluntly): Are you telling the truth, Justin? I get the distinct impression you’re holding something back from me, and I think it has something to do with Callum.

Justin: I’m pressing charges, Uncle Brendon, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Believe what you want but the fact remains you weren’t there when I needed you the most in my life. I have no family left. Mom’s gone, my dad ditched us. You’re the closest thing to a father, and I wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for you.

Brendon: What do you mean?

Justin: I confronted Nathan about Callum, and that’s when he forced himself on me. I did it to protect your honor. I couldn’t stand watching him make a fool out of you while you were in the coma.

Brendon: Justin, if I choose to believe you, that’d be putting me in an impossible situation. I love Nathan.

Justin: Do you love me, Uncle Brendon?

Brendon: Yes.

Justin: Then prove it. Stop defending Nathan!

Brendon soon left the room, feeling more torn apart than ever.

NATHAN’S HOME, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES

Kyle knocked on the door three times before Nathan opened it, wearing only his boxers.

Kyle (entering): Jesus, Nate, you look worse than I do!

Nathan: At least not as bad as the house. All the windows have been egged.

Kyle: And so has your car. Those damn kids!

Nathan: It’s not just them! I’ve received hate mail, electronically and in the post. I just can’t believe it.

Kyle: Well, you know I’ll do all I can to help. Should I make us some coffee? I think we both could use some.

They sat down on the couch and relieved themselves of their present worries and anxieties, telling each other of the current state of their lives. It was after Kyle had told of his breaking with Heath that Nathan gave a deep sigh.

Nathan: I’m so sorry to hear that. I would never have thought Tristan—

Kyle: I could kill the bastard for what he’s done, and I damn near did the other night. (balling his fists)

Nathan: Hey, calm down. Don’t do anything rash. (taking a sip of coffee) You don’t want them labeling you a rogue cop, which is still several notches above being called a child molester.

Kyle: Look, Nate, no jury of your peers would ever believe Justin over you.

Nathan: I’m sure Justin’s praying for a homophobic jury. Just my luck that’s what I would get.

Kyle: Not if we damage Justin’s credibility. Believe me, there’s no way any lawyer can make him out to be a model kid. We just need more details about where he’s been all this time, who he was with, and I know just the person to go to.

Nathan: Oh yeah, who’s that?

Kyle: Don’t worry about that. You should take care of yourself. You need to be out and seen. This seclusion isn’t really good for you or your case. You’ve got nothing to hide. You can’t stay shut in here like some vampire.

Nathan: Well, I sure as hell haven’t been invited to any dinner parties lately.

Kyle: All I’m saying is you should get some sun. Hey, that gives me an idea. Why don’t you come to the beach party on Saturday?

Nathan: Kyle, I-I don’t know about that.

Kyle: Don’t make me get rogue cop on you.

With that said, Nathan reluctantly agreed to go to the beach party in three days’ time.

CALLUM’S HOME, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES

Peyton lay on the floor on his back, raising the baby as high as his hands would allow, and then he dipped the baby far down to where Edward’s cherubic face and nose touched Peyton’s.

Peyton: You love being the airplane, don’t you, Big Guy?

Callum (entering the room): Did you ever leave the house last night?

Peyton: I slept in one of the guest rooms. Lord knows you have plenty of them.

Callum: Would you mind not doing that to him? I don’t want him to get dizzy.

The doorbell rang, Godfrey entered to announce that Rodrigo had arrived. Callum instantly noticed the look on Peyton’s face, and had Peyton take Edward out the room. Rodrigo entered, dressed in blue jeans ripped at the knees and a shirt that hugged his muscular frame.

Callum: What brings you here, Rodrigo?

Rodrigo: There’s something I need to tell you.

Callum: What? Did I not sign all your books? I may have forgotten to do so with a few of them.

Rodrigo: No, it’s not that. (pause) I think I know who took your son.

Callum (his face looking as if it suffered an avalanche): You what? (urgently) Who?

Rodrigo: The other day I was in West Hollywood when I saw this guy—well, he’s really a gigolo—who was at a payphone with a voice disguiser, and I overheard him say your name.

Having heard the word “gigolo,” Callum had hastily risen and grabbed the most recent copy of the Outrunners Express. He shoved the newsletter at Rodrigo, his index finger jammed against a photo of Tristan.

Callum: Is that who you saw?

Rodrigo (nodding): Yes, Mr. Sutcliffe. But no worries. I took care of him for you. He had an encounter with the Los Angeles River. I don’t think he’ll be bothering you again.

Callum felt a weird chill run down his spine, hearing Rodrigo practically confess to murder—or attempted murder at least. I sensed the boy was off his rocker but in all fairness, he’s looking out for my interests. Besides, Tristan was a definite liability with what he knew about me. Good riddance to bad rubbish!

Callum (awkwardly): Th-Thank you for handling the matter, Rodrigo.

Rodrigo: It was my pleasure. I got your back. If you ever need anything else, just let me know. (looking at his watch) Oh, shit, I’ve got to be on the other side of town in twenty minutes. See you later!

Upon his leaving, Callum fell onto the couch, his mind still processing what he had been told. I thought Chloe and Estrella were behind the kidnapping, but this does reek of Tristan’s doing. Where the hell is my damn money? Before going to the morgue to visit Tristan, I should pay Ms. Tartaro a quick visit. She’s got lots of explaining to do!

ALLISON AND CHLOE’S HOME, LOS FELIZ

Allison had a restless night. After quickly getting a bath robe with which to wrap Chloe, she had taken her upstairs to the bedroom. She laid her down to rest, came back downstairs, and pondered the chaos into which her life had fallen. Who was that woman? It definitely appeared to me that she was taking advantage of Chloe. She would never willingly do that with another woman. Or was she really mad at me for leaving her alone for several days? Our last time seeing each other we had argued. Oh, God, what went wrong? I had to leave the country to protect her.

It was at this moment that Allison called Talon Prescott to ensure that he had made contact with Callum. I need this guy to come through with his promise. Why he loves that bastard is beyond my understanding, but I can’t allow him to keep hurting my loved ones. I wonder if Callum had anything to do with what happened tonight. And what was all that talk of kidnapping? Allison picked up Chloe’s blouse and out fell a pacifier from one of the pockets. It was then her suspicions began to steal over her. Rachael Yamagata’s “Worn Me Down”  begins playing in the background of the scene, the song’s chorus resounding in Allison’s mind, underscoring her crushing suspicions.

She only got a few hours of sleep, her mind beset with overwhelming feelings of doubt, triggered by the recurring image of that woman violating Chloe’s innocence. Allison had chosen to sleep in the guest room. When she rose the next morning, she went downstairs to get the morning newspaper. Putting on some coffee, she went back into the other room, by chance taking a different route and stumbling over a pair of expensive shoes. She knew instantly whose they were, her anger swelling within her. She took them outside to her garbage bin where she lit them afire. She went upstairs to get some clean clothing, finding Chloe in the bedroom, looking out the window as sunlight fell onto her heavenly body. She was weeping and turned around to face Allison, full of doe-eyed pity, reaching out for her hands to touch her. At that moment, Allison felt a sudden spurt of venom rise within her. I can’t look at you now. How could you do this to what he had? She turned away and went downstairs.

The next few days were all the same with her burgeoning paranoia creeping into her consciousness. Chloe mysteriously remained in that languorous state as if the orgasm she experienced had gripped her in its weakening aftermath, rendering her helpless to its dominance. Allison would often see Chloe smiling and wonder if she were thinking of that other woman. Whenever she saw Chloe squeezing on a pillow, she would wonder if she was imagining the softness of the other woman’s touch. Allison would try to will herself to talk to Chloe, but they would end up with idle talk about the weather or what was for breakfast.

Chloe, for her part, felt miserable. She loved Allison with all her heart and certainly did not wish this upon her. Where were you, Allison, when I needed you? At least Estrella was there. Chloe couldn’t bring herself to admit that the carnal pleasure which she had enjoyed had far exceeded what Allison had been able to grant her within the past few years. A fire had been sparked within her, this roaring internal hearth that yearned for more, and as there was no one to aid in its satisfaction, she had to rely on that memory, replaying it over and over in her mind. She would often smile and pull her knees to her chest, hugging her arms as if they were the woman coming back to treasure her.

It was on the third day—almost biblically—that both Allison and Chloe rose from their downtrodden worlds to reenter the real world. Each would regret this action.

WEST HOLLYWOOD, CHATEAU MARMONT HOTEL

On his way to see Estrella, Callum received an urgent call from Talon, telling him to meet him at his hotel, which fortunately was on the way to Estrella’s home. Upon getting to Talon’s room, he opened the door, his torso wrapped in a towel that failed to cover musculature of his body, the ripped lines of his muscles prominent against the pallor of his skin.

Callum (pushing into the room): What was so urgent you had to see me?

Talon: Have you given any thought to my proposition last night about us going together to Greece?

Callum: There is no us to it. You’re going by yourself.

Talon: (seductively moving closer to him): And I told you I’m not leaving without you. Besides, why are you trying to get rid of me?

Callum: I’m not trying to get rid of you, merely sparing you a headache. There isn’t much intellectual life here in Los Angeles. The public libraries are filled more with the homeless seeking temporary shelter than those genuinely in search of knowledge.

Talon (advancing upon him): Speaking of libraries, do you remember that time in the stacks at Oxford when you nearly snogged me to death? I wouldn’t mind an encore of that.

Callum (deftly turning away): Well, you won’t get one. What part of my choosing Gavin don’t you understand?

Talon (shouting): He’s dead, damn it! What part of that don’t you understand!

Callum: You would know how I felt if you had lost someone you deeply loved. (now crying) There’s not a day that goes by when I don’t think of him.

Talon (rushing to hug Callum): There! There! I shouldn’t have been so caustic, but you’re definitely wrong about my not feeling the way you do. (affectionately using his thumbs to wipe Callum’s tears away) I have thought about you everyday since I lost you to him. Whenever I’m depressed, I dream of our special moments together.

Callum (sitting down on the bed and blowing his nose into handkerchief): Really?

Talon (sitting down next to him): Yes, my fondest memory was our holiday in Wales. Remember our time in Cardigan Bay and that visit to Portmeirion?

Callum (cracking a smile): Yes, it was such a lovely village. You hadn’t known at the time how much of a fan I was of The Prisoner, and I always wanted to visit where it was filmed.

Talon: Well, I enjoyed seeing the rest of the country that gave birth to Dylan Thomas. Do you remember that special evening in Cardiff?

Callum (mildly laughing): You mean your deafening karaoke at the pub? (seeing Talon affirmatively nod) Well, you fared much better in Aberystwyth.

Talon (coldly): We never went to Aberystwyth.

Callum: Yes, we did. You dragged me to Devil’s Bridge, and I—

Talon: Callum, we never went there! You must have it confused with your time there with Gavin.

Callum: I’m sorry. I guess I did. (rising from the bed) I really should go.

Talon: Hold on! (grasping Callum’s arm) Let’s go for a drink together. (seeing his hesitance) I’m not taking no for an answer! (picking up remote to turn on tv) Let me check the weather.

Callum: It’s southern California. It’s always sunny.

It was then that Callum nearly died on the spot when the television news did a brief update on the allegations against Nathan, showing both his home and his face picture onscreen. As his back was to the screen, Talon didn’t see it, granting Callum the opportunity to impulsively grant him an unexpected kiss of noted distraction. He waited until the report had finished before separating his mouth from Talon’s, feeling the heat still burning upon his lips.

Talon (breathless): Gee, what was that about? That’s more of the snog I wanted.

Callum: I-I—

Talon: Hell, it even left you speechless, and you started it. (his towel falls from his body to the floor) Do you want to continue with it?

I can’t risk him finding out anything. I have to prevent that from happening at all costs. Must keep a close eye over him! It was then that Callum unthinkingly made the grand mistake that he would reget.

Callum (looking at Talon’s naked body): Why don’t we talk this over a glass of wine back at the mansion? I would like to interest you in possibly staying there with me… indefinitely.

Talon: I haven’t any idea what’s got into you, but I’m not contesting it. (hugging and kissing him) You’ve just made my day.

Callum (feeling Talon’s erection against his leg): I can see. Anyway, don’t get any fancy ideas. I just don’t want you needlessly wasting money staying here.

Talon: When I could be staying in your bed?

Callum: Don’t get ahead of yourself. (Talon gives him a quick peck on the cheeks) You might as well get your luggage ready.

Talon (cockily): Your resolve is waning, Sutcliffe! You’ll be mine in no time.

Callum: Remember what I used to tell you.

Talon: No, I can’t say. What?

Callum: “One swallow does not make a summer.” (noting the twinkle in Talon’s eyes at the suggestive nature of the quote) Hurry up. I’ll be waiting in the lobby.

When Talon went to gather his clothing and toiletries, Callum yanked the power cord from the television. I can’t believe I’m letting him back into my life. Oh, Gavin, please forgive me. Callum, in his heart, was more concerned about carnal temptation than with the devastating chance that Talon would learn the real reason for his being in America.

THREE DAYS LATER, ESTRELLA’S HOME, BEVERLY HILLS, SATURDAY NOONTIME

Estrella: I’m glad to see you up and walking.

Brendon: Physical therapy has done me well. Have you been keeping yourself busy with our project?

Estrella: For a moment, I thought you were the one responsible for Tristan’s attack.

Brendon: I can’t take credit for it. I was in the hospital. I’m sure whoever did it had a good reason.

Estrella: I paid him a visit, but had to deal with his current fuck bud. Man can you fairies pack some serious punches! What did you wish for me to do about Vittoria?

Brendon: Never mind her. I’ve got her on a special assignment. You just keep Tristan on a tight leash. Anyway, I have to go check on Justin and then stop by the beach. I’ll be in touch.

He left, and Estrella gave a deep sigh of relief. She noticed that he had left his cell phone. There came a knock at the door. It’s probably him coming back for to get his phone.

She was wrong. It was not Brendon. It was Chloe.

WILL ROGERS BEACH, SANTA MONICA, SATURDAY MORNING

All Saints’ “Pure Shores”  plays over the scene as several volunteers work to put the tent in the sand. They stretched out the Los Angeles Outrunners banner across the tent while others set up the tables on which several foods were placed, ranging from the healthy to the sinfully delicious variety. Attractive, muscled men and buxom women soon arrived to lie out on the beach, sunbathe, play Frisbee, or simply rush into the water. Peyton arrived early, having gotten clearance from Callum to bring Edward with him with the strict stipulation that Inga was to be his shadow everywhere they went. Many Outrunners members thought that Peyton was only using the baby as a means to score points with some of the more sensitive gay men on the beach, but he eventually proved them wrong. He selflessly went through the trouble of changing and feeding Edward, and even started the laborious task of building a sand castle for him. In between constructing the towers, he would play a game of “airplane” with Edward, loving to see the baby’s face light up with a smile as he raised him high in the air and dipped him low.

Kyle (coming forth): Peyton, I never would have you pegged as a baby lover.

Peyton (smiling): Well, this little guy is worth it. (talking in a funny tone as one does to children) Aren’t you… wooka wooka!

Kyle: Whose kid is he?

Peyton: He’s my—(catching his error) He’s my responsibility for a little bit until Callum gets here. Oh, I think I see him in the distance parking his car.

Kyle (incredulously): You‘re telling me Callum let you look after his son, who was kidnapped days ago.

Peyton: Well, we had an agreement. See that androgynous Swede over there. She’s the baby guard.

It was at that moment Allison came over to the area. It was the first time any of them had seen her in a week, and Peyton was really surprised to see her. Austin and Drake were nearby.

Allison: Peyton, whose kid is that?

Kyle: He’s Callum’s.

With the speaking of his name, Callum materialized, coming forth and already in spitfire mode.

Callum (to Allison): Get away from my baby! It’s bad enough your deranged partner thinks he’s hers.

Allison (angrily): Just shut up!

Callum: Why are you here anyway?

Allison: Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m here to show my support against this outlandish recall (turning to face Austin) you’re attempting to do. Shame on you!

Callum: I would imagine you’d want to stay at home and teach your girl a lesson about monogamy.

Allison: Leave her out of this!

Austin: Well, she’s already a part of the moral problems of this club. Callum does have a point. I was a witness to her display of infidelity. I saw her sucking face with another woman over Pride Weekend.

Allison: What?

Austin: And as for your “freeze campaign” you started in hopes of stifling my campaign, it was a waste of time. I’ve got all the signatures I need. Rodrigo Caldozar (gesturing toward him in the distance) was the last signature I needed.

Allison: Who the hell is he? I know everyone who’s part of this club.

Callum: Rodrigo is my new bodyguard who joined the club at the Pride Run.

Allison: Excuse me? Bodyguard?

Callum: Oh, that’s right. You did miss a lot last weekend when you were on your fruitless trip abroad. No wonder Chloe went on a feasting spree. You know that old lesbian saying: when the bitch is away, the pussies will play… and play they did!

Without thinking, Allison slapped Callum very hard, the force knocking him off balance and sending him headfirst into the sand castle Peyton had built for Edward. The castle crumbled to pieces upon impact, and the baby started crying. Callum’s face and hair were covered in the sand as he rose to shake it off.

Callum: That’s the last time I’m civil with you.

He charged for Allison, throwing all his weight into her and knocking her into the food table. The force proved too much for the table, its legs giving way, sending all the food to fall to the ground, fruit and drinks rolling into the sand. Allison fell onto her back and Callum on top of her. His hands gripped and yanked tightly on the strands of her hair as she naturally screamed in pain. Her hands reactively shot forth, defensively attempting to grab his neck, ears, or any part of his face, her nails driving into his flesh, his screams now complementing hers.

Allison: Get off me!

Her knee jammed into his groin, sending him to the ground, and she took the quick opportunity to give him a dose of his own medicine, placing her weight upon him. He grabbed a banana lying in the sand and tried to stuff it into her mouth. She grabbed a slice of cake in the sand and smashed it on his face, the frosting getting into his eyes.

Callum (trying to claw her): You bitch! (managing to get a quick slap to her cheeks)

It was then that Rodrigo separated the two of them, nearly hurling Allison several feet away as her body made a hard contact with the sand. Kyle helped Allison up, holding her back as she was ready to continue the fight.

Rodrigo: Are you okay, Mr. Sutcliffe?

Callum (trying to force through Rodrigo to get back to fighting Allison): I will be once I rip her to pieces.

Rodrigo: She’s not worth it.

Callum: Oh my God! Will you look at me? I’m a wreck. My hair and clothing are full of cake and sand.

Rodrigo: Don’t worry about it.

Callum: But I’m always so conscientious of my appearance and grooming. That does remind me, Allison, I can refer Chloe to this salon that would give her an excellent Brazilian wax. After what I saw of her earlier this week, she could do with some extensive trimming.

Allison (breaking free of Kyle): You bastard! (charging into Callum)

The entire Outrunners tent was the victim of their quarrel for this second round, the supporting poles falling to the ground with the impact of Callum and Allison’s bodies flying into them. Callum fell headfirst onto the ground, and Allison seized upon the chance to straddle his back and drive his head further into the sand, hoping to suffocate him, his mouth filling with the taste of the sand. It took two guys to pry her away from him, but it was Talon Prescott who chivalrously picked Callum from the ground, throwing him over his strong shoulders.

Callum: Put me down!

Talon: Not until you behave yourself.

Talon (eventually putting him down several yards away): What the hell has got into you? You’re not the man I fell in love with. (cutting off his rebuttal) Don’t say anything. You’re better than this. Now stay here. I’ll get some first aid. Your cheek and ears are bleeding.

Callum: Believe me when I say she’s done far worse.

Talon: I’ll be back in a few. Don’t go anywhere.

He had been gone no more than two minutes when Callum saw in the distance the Adonis-like figure of Tristan Bersani approaching the Outrunners party site. What the hell is he doing walking this earth? Granted, I hadn’t given much thought to him, having to keep my own wits about me around Talon these past few days. I had just assumed he was dead, given the way Rodrigo described handling him.

Callum (catching Tristan and Heath before they reached the congregation): You bastard!

Tristan turned around to see who was hurling invectives at him. He still looked very attractive, his hotness ruggedly accentuated even more by the slim white bandages that covered the cuts in his flesh. He looked like a boxer coming from the defeat but still taking home the lustful adoration of his fans.

Tristan: Hey, Callum, that’s some way to greet someone just out of the hospital.

Callum: And I could put you right back there for what you did to me! Yes, I know about your scheme to pull the wool over my eyes.

Heath: What’s he talking about, Tristan?

Tristan: It’s nothing. He’s just on one of his foolish rants again. Listen, why don’t you go and help them finish setting up that tent—although I don’t know why they’re doing it this late in the afternoon. Usually, it’s done first thing in the morning.

Heath (kissing him): All right, but hurry over!

Callum (once Heath is gone): Does he know his current fling of a boyfriend is also a kidnapper?

Tristan: Keep your voice down!

Callum: The hell I will! I want you punished to the full extent of the law.

Tristan: I wouldn’t go there if I were you.

Callum (laughing): So you’re going to deny the whole thing? I have it on good authority you were the one demanding ransom. (shouting) Where the hell is my money?

Tristan: You had better tone down that voice.

Callum: Or what? You can’t harm me. Or have you forgotten about the evidence I have over your head, the evidence that links you and Vittoria to the attempted murders of Nathan and Brendon?

Tristan (dramatically yawning): That’s old news. Besides, what I know about you trumps that.

Callum: Oh yeah, what would that be?

Tristan: That you’re not the little tot’s real father nor was your rich dead husband. (noticing a drastic change in Callum’s facial expression) Yeah, I know about Peyton being the real daddy, but I’m also guessing that neither the British press nor your in-laws are privy to this information.

Callum (defensively): You haven’t any proof! It would be just the word of some two-bit gigolo!

Tristan: Ouch! That hurts. (pause) But you didn’t expect this two-bit gigolo to have swabbed the baby’s mouth. But I did just that. I have several samples that I’m willing to send to—

Callum: You bastard!

Tristan: You’ve got to come up with a better nickname for me, but instead of all the namecalling, I’m thinking the next logical move would be for us to civilly discuss arrangements for a grand sum of money to be wired into my account.

Heath (suddenly coming forth): Come on, Tristan. Everyone’s been asking about you.

Tristan: Was that Kyle I just saw leaving?

Heath: Yeah, he left once he saw us arrive.

Tristan: Okay, Heath. I’ll be right there. Callum and I were just finishing up some business. (to Callum) I’ll be in touch with you. (winking) Ciao bello!

As soon as Tristan was several yards away, Callum angrily kicked his foot in the sand. The nerve of that wretch to blackmail me! Even in his angered state, Callum was startled when Nathan came behind him.

Nathan: That looked pretty intense from far away. Is everything okay between you and Tristan?

Callum: Uh-yeah—I was just—uh—

Nathan: I know. I guessed you were giving him a piece of your mind once you found out that he broke up Kyle and Heath’s relationship.

Callum: Oh, yes, he’s a downright scoundrel.

It was then that Callum saw Talon in the distance, coming straight in their direction. Callum’s heart nearly leapt from his chest. I can’t let him see me with Nathan. He’ll ruin everything! He grabbed Nathan and persuaded him in a quick run to the Santa Monica Pier.

Nathan (running alongside Callum): I think there’s some guy back there yelling for you.

Callum: It’s just some nagging reporter who’s been trying to interview me all day about the kidnapping. Let’s just keep running.

Nathan: I don’t think we’re going to lose him. He’s following us and appears to be a good runner.

They continued running for the next ten minutes, remaining a considerable distance ahead of Talon, who never once gave up in his quest to reach them. Callum and Nathan finally reached the Santa Monica Pier, which was crowded with tourists in the early July sunshine. Thank goodness! We should lose Talon in this throng of people. But then Nathan alerted him to the fact Talon had followed them onto the pier, still shouting his name. Callum saw an immediate way out his predicament, pulling Nathan along with him to the Ferris wheel , dexterously jamming two $100 notes into the conductor’s hand with the express demand that the machine suddenly stop when their car reaches the top. Nathan, for his part, was mostly taken aback by the hurriedness of Callum’s action, feeling as if his arm would be torn from his body. Safe in the confines of their car on the Ferris wheel, Nathan met the unexpected “situation” of the machine stopping surprisingly well.

Nathan: I’m not sure if I told you I was acrophobic.

Callum (looking alarmed): Nathan, I’m sorry.

Nathan: Don’t worry. It’s not like this is your fault. Besides, I was just joking with you.

Callum (playfully hitting him): How dare you! I was about to phone in a rescue helicopter.

Nathan (laughing): I love your accent… how you say “helicopter.” (releasing a deep sigh) That felt good to laugh after all these days of despair.

Callum (placing his hand on Nathan’s knee): I’m really sorry I haven’t been much of a friend lately. I’ve had company and then there’s been Edward to tend to…

Nathan (placing his own hand over Callum’s hand that’s on his knee): I understand. (pause) Why are you crying? Don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights.

Callum: I’ve been through so much emotionally this past week. It just feels great to—(interlacing his fingers with Nathan) to have a special friend like you.

Nathan: Look, Callum, I just want you to know I really—really value what we have, but I don’t want you to get the wrong impression of me. It seems everytime I’ve kissed you that you were in a very vulnerable state—and coupled with the current charges against me—I don’t desire to be seen in your eyes as predatory.

Callum: You’re far from it. You’re a proper gentleman who I respect.

Nathan (leaning toward him): May this “proper gentleman” kiss you?

Callum: I thought you would never ask.

The minutes their mouths touched, the machine kicked back into gear, their car beginning its journey to the ground, all the time their faces passionately connected. In all its magic, the moment had succeeded in foolishly relieving Callum of his present anxieties about Talon, who was nowhere to be found once they both alighted from the car, holding hands as if they been a couple for many years. Callum’s eyes did meet those of one particular spectator in the crowd, and while this individual posed no threat to the occasion as Talon would have, Callum could not resist the impulse to test the waters once more.

Callum: Kiss me again, Nathan.

Nathan: Are you sure?

Callum: I’ve never been surer of anything.

This time Callum made sure that Brendon, positioned a few yards behind Nathan’s back, could see the full spectacle of his triumph, that Nathan delivered him a soothing embrace. Besieged by the sight, Brendon angrily turned away after beholding the gloating image of Callum victoriously winking at him. As his back was to Brendon, Nathan hadn’t seen anything but Callum’s smiling face. Brendon had seen enough! Callum regrettably had never seen his antagonist’s dark side, and that would ultimately prove a fatal mistake.

TWO HOURS LATER, VITTORIA AND TRISTAN’S APARTMENT, WEST HOLLYWOOD

Vittoria had chosen not to go the beach, having argued with Tristan since he had arrived back from the hospital. For the past three days, Heath had been an emotional wreck, worried daily about Tristan and spending the majority of his time at the hospital with him—which meant he didn’t have time to prepare his famous blueberry pancakes to which Vittoria had become quite addicted. The reason she had mainly argued with Tristan was over the issue of the ransom money.

Tristan said that he lost it, possibly in the river. Where the hell is it? Her train of thought was interrupted by a banging at the door. When she opened it, Brendon barged right into the apartment. She was terrified to see him outside the hospital and walking on his two legs.

Brendon: Did you get the package I had delivered here earlier this week?

Vittoria: Why the hell did you send me a gun?

Brendon: It’s just a reminder of our little deal. I’m giving you less than 36 hours to come through with it or else I’m calling Mickey Giordano. You know I have his number programmed in my cell.

Vittoria: You really expect me to kill Callum?

Brendon: And I expect you to do something else. (ceremoniously withdrawing a small palm-sized velvet box that traditionally holds either rings or small articles of jewelry)

Vittoria: I’m not marrying you.

Brendon (gravely): This is no laughing matter. Open it. (upon seeing her awkward expression) Yes, those are the bullets I want you to use.

Vittoria: What’s so special about them that you had to go all fancy on them?

Brendon: These have hollow casings.

Vittoria (clueless): Is that so? And they’re special because…?

Brendon: They do real permanent damage. They explode within the body, ripping everything inside. By the close of this weekend, these bullets will find their way into Callum.

TO BE CONTINUED…

The Victorious and the Relentless

Episode 18: “Homecoming”

Cast of New Characters (for this episode)

Talon Prescott: arresting appearance, tall, early 30’s, fit, five o’clock shadow, bespectacled, blue eyes, strawberry blond, seductively confident

Jet’s “Look What You’ve Done”  opens this episode, playing over the following significant three montages:

Nathan lies in his bed, his body spread over the sheets, his hands reaching for the pills and liquor sitting on the bed stand. His hand fumbles for these items and inadvertently knocks over a photo of him and Brendon together. The frame hits the floor and the glass shatters. His splitting headache illogically leads him into a brief shouting rage with no spectators to hear the wounded frustration in his voice.

Chloe stands near a sunlit window, bawling her eyes out as she contemplates the disaster she has made of both her life and that of Allison, who stands behind her several feet away. She turns around to see Allison, who stares at her with a pained expression of sorrow resting in her eyes. Chloe stands frozen, desirous to go to her partner and launch into an explanation but also terrified of the consequences of her actions. As she reaches out for her, Allison coldly turns away and leaves the room.

Rodrigo sits at the table in his apartment room, surveying the pile of autographed novels before him. These were his greatest possessions besides the briefcase that lay on the floor. He thought fondly of Callum Sutcliffe and all that he had done for him. He then flips on the television screen, hoping to see the news that he had anticipated seeing all day. At last the coverage began, and the broadcasters showed images of Tristan Bersani’s beaten and bloodied body being pulled from the Los Angeles River…

FORTY-EIGHT HOURS EARLIER…

The safe return of kidnapped little Edward did not come without its fair share of turmoil for its inept orchestrators. The plan should have gone off without a hitch, but as other people became unwittingly embroiled in its play-out, their lives would be irrevocably changed, starting with Vittoria Morelli.

It had been fifteen minutes since she had ended her unplanned rendezvous with Brendon, the outcome of which had been her foolishly agreeing to his last demand. Her internal battle thus began. I couldn’t tell Brendon that Callum is also blackmailing me with the crowbar and the gun, besides Brendon doesn’t know about my involvement in the second attack in the park, and if he did, he’d use that as further blackmail. But Callum has held his end of the deal. He’s got me legal representation and pays for all my living expenses. How could I repay him with murder? But Brendon knows how to reach Mickey Giordano, and he’ll go after all my family. I can’t let that happen! I have to get rid of Callum for Brendon. I know Brendon will keep his word just like Justin said he would keep his word.

During this inner monologue, Vittoria’s cell phone rang. It was Tristan’s number showing on the caller ID feature. What does he want? He finally came clean to her about his involvement in the kidnapping—despite her already knowing about it through Estrella—and needed her to deliver the baby to a designated location upon acceptance of the ransom. Oh, great, not only am I contemplating murder again but now I’m also involved in conspiratorial kidnapping! She foolishly agreed to it after Tristan promised her a cut of the money.

Her stomach growled. I’ll go home and have something to eat before doing this job. I wonder what that fairy Heath has prepared for dinner. He really is a dynamic cook. Why Kyle let him go is beyond me.

KYLE’S HOME, WEST HOLLYWOOD

Kyle looked and felt awful. I can’t believe Heath would do this to me. What did I do to deserve this? There was no more booze left in the house, and he was tempted to go to the nearest liquor store to replenish his supply. He got up and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. His beard seemed to be growing at a rate of its own. Maybe my appearance turned him away. Perhaps some nice fresh air would help me to clear my head. He decided he wanted to run near Griffith Park. What he didn’t expect was to run into the last person he would ever want to see.

CALLUM’S HOME, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES

Callum had received the call that set his heart calm. While the voice was spooky—he knew it was an engineered sound—the message it told was one of relief and cause for joy. The kidnapper had received the ransom, and Edward would be returned within the hour at a church in West Los Angeles. He immediately had a car brought around; Inga hopped into it, and was on her way to the location to retrieve Edward. That had been nearly half an hour ago. Presently, Godfrey walked into the room.

Godfrey (holding the ransom note): I’m convinced this was an “inside job” done by someone who knew about Edward’s paternity?

Callum: Yes, they knew I was rich and asked for a hefty ransom.

Godfrey: No, they knew of his biological paternity. In your weakened state of mind, you indubitably overlooked the nuances of the threats issued in this note. Look at the allusions he makes: “a real father’s duty… the nature of flesh and blood.” These phrases—however poetic they may be—don’t show up in normal ransom notes.

Callum: Why are we having this conversation? We should be celebrating. Edward will be home soon.

Godfrey: I’m afraid it may be a short-lived celebration if my suspicions are correct.

Callum paid the matter no further attention, for at that moment he received a call from Inga. Edward was safe and back on his way home. By week’s end, Callum would have wished he had paid more attention to Godfrey’s warning.

ATWATER VILLAGE, LOS ANGELES RIVERWALK/BICYCLE PATH, DUSK

Tristan had arrived at the location an hour before the drop-off was to happen. He looked out for any signs of cops. He had purposely chosen this location because of its openness, and the interesting fact that the Los Angeles River flows through a concrete channel. He was wearing all black, blending in with his dark surroundings. After an hour’s time, Tristan began to grow antsy. Both Estrella and Vittoria had been given their orders. It was then that he saw someone run down the riverwalk and casually drop what appeared to be a briefcase onto the concrete fixture.

Tristan waited another half hour before running over, darting onto the concrete bank, and scooping up the briefcase. He took a quick moment to look inside, seeing the welcoming face of Benjamin Franklin. There were stacks of notes inside, and he figured it would easily amount to the requested one million. Surveying his surroundings for the umpteenth time and seeing no one, he rushed back onto the bicycle path and pulled out the temporary-use cell phone he had just purchased at a nearby electronics store. He also pulled out the voice disguiser, dialed Callum’s number, and spoke the words he knew Callum would want to hear.

He next called Vittoria and told her where to drop the baby. Upon doing all this, Tristan felt free yet pleasantly weighted down by the million dollars. And best of all, there was no one around! He started to rush back to his car, crossing a popular running trail when he slammed into a runner. The briefcase hit the ground in tune with the runner’s angered tone.

Kyle: Watch where you’re going!

Tristan: You, too, buddy!

Kyle (recognizing the voice): Tristan, is that you?

Tristan: Kyle?

Kyle (instantly punching him and knocking him to the ground): You son-of-a-bitch!

Tristan (picking himself up and wiping blood from his mouth): I’m not looking for trouble, Kyle, and as far as I’m concerned, this is police brutality.

Kyle (aggressively nearing him): I’ll show you police brutality.

Tristan (defensively sticking out hands): Look, I-I know that you’re upset, but this isn’t the way to cope with it.

Kyle: So you’re a fucking shrink now?

Tristan: Well, I know you shouldn’t react with violence like you did with Heath. I saw where you hit him. He’ll swear to me that you didn’t, but I know he’s covering for you. I wanted to rip you limb from limb.

Kyle: How chivalrous of you, but that doesn’t change the fact you’re a complete disgrace for a human being. What he saw in you I’ll never—

Tristan: What he saw in me was someone who would give him the time of day.

Kyle: Don’t you dare defend your actions to me. You took advantage of a poor soul.

Tristan: So now he’s a poor soul?

Kyle: Well, he finally got you so he should be happy now. By the way, where is he? (looking around) Does he know you’re here? What are you doing here anyway? You’re certainly not running in those dark pants. Are you fucking around with someone?

Tristan: It’s none of your damn business!

Kyle: It is if it involves Heath. I’m not going to idly stand by and watch you emotionally fuck up his life.

Tristan: Seems like you did a bang-up job of that already…otherwise he wouldn’t have turned to me.

Kyle (throwing Tristan another hard punch, sending him to the ground again): I could kill you, Tristan, but that would only hurt Heath. Besides, it would be a waste of a bullet. (kicking him hard in the side, Tristan reactively clutching his ribs) If you do anything that hurts him, I give you my God-honest word I will kill you, Tristan.

Kyle then started to walk off, and Tristan, still clutching his sore torso, rose from the ground and grabbed the suitcase. At least he didn’t take the money. I’ll go home and ice myself. Little did he know he would not make it home that night.

CALLUM’S HOME, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES, THE NEXT MORNING

Callum rose at the break of dawn, newly energized with the safe return of his son. With that dilemma out the way, he would focus his attention on the matters which he had neglected—Allison, Brendon, Vittoria, and the list went on and on from there. As he was about to leave the house at seven, he was met with Peyton greeting him at the door.

Peyton: Good morning, Callum. I heard that Edward is safely home. I was wondering if I could—uh—well, possibly see him.

Callum: Sure, come inside. I was just on my way out, but allow me to get Inga for you. I heard Edward crying this morning, and then I heard her speak to him in Swedish, which apparently calms him. (he calls for Inga)

Peyton: Guess I should check if they teach Swedish at UCLA. By the way, do you know who took him?

Callum: No, I haven’t the faintest clue. I’m out a cool million, but he’s now home safe and sound.

Peyton: I’m sure you’ll have much explaining to do to the police and the media.

Callum: Yeah, I know, but what matters most is that he’s here where he belongs. Where the hell is Inga? Hold on a minute. Owww! (tripping over the mini carriage on the floor) One would think with the salary I pay her, she’d pick up after herself.

Peyton (bending down to pick up the carriage): I’m sure everyone’s too relieved to be thinking of cleanliness (his speech halted, his eyes bulging at their sockets) W-Was this what he was returned in?

Callum: Yes, it was.

Peyton (holding up a scarf): And was this found with him?

Callum: Why, yes, whoever had him had gone through the trouble of wrapping him in a Hermès scarf.

Peyton (suddenly stiff and dropping the scarf on the floor): Ar-Are you sure?

Callum: I would imagine with you being a connoisseur of high-end fashion, you would recognize the Hermès brand. Apparently, it was a kidnapper with good tastes.

All it had taken was for Callum to say that French name in connection with the scarf for him to realize that Chloe had been the one who had taken the baby. She always wore these scarves. I even think she was wearing it on Friday evening when she had that scene at Fancy’s where she thought that Edward was her baby. Oh my God! She’s completely lost it.

Callum: What’s wrong, Peyton? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost. Oh, here’s Inga with Edward. I trust you all will behave yourselves in my absence. I’ll be back in a few hours.

He quickly left the house and drove over to Hollywood Hospital, heading straight for Justin Roberts’ room once he got there. He pushed right into the room, not caring if Justin were asleep or not.

Callum (loudly): We need to talk about Nathan.

Justin: What about him?

Callum: For starters, the fact that your lies have nearly cost him everything.

Justin: Well, it’s the truth!

Callum: That’s bollocks and you know it! I must admit, though, that your little exaggeration has caused quite the rift between Brendon and Nathan. I couldn’t have done it better myself, but you’ve really gone too far.

Justin: Look, Callum, this is between me, my father, and Nathan, who’s just as guilty as Brendon. He knew all along that Brendon was my father.

Callum: So you plan on punishing them both?

Justin: You’re damn right I am!

Callum: Allow me to make a suggestion. Just murder your father and be done with it.

Justin: You’re not calling the shots anymore, Callum. I am.

Callum: Pardon me?

Justin: You heard me. I’m not taking any shit from anyone, most of all you.

Callum: I never lied to you, unlike your entire family. It’s best that you come to recognize me as a friend. I guarantee you don’t want me as your enemy.

Justin: You can either leave now, or I’ll call security.

Callum (coming up to him): You do realize that your own father doesn’t really believe this cockamamie story you’re telling. Its only value is being sensationalist drivel that sells tabloids.

Justin: Do you think I care? After I’m finished with Nathan, I’m going after Brendon.

Callum (turning to leave): Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

In the hallway, Callum appeared somewhat crestfallen at his inability to budge Justin’s resolve. I only wanted the little bastard to do away with his father Oedipus-style, not drag Nathan into this. I’ve got bigger issues to deal with, but as I’m already here perhaps the Father of the Year could help me.

MEANWHILE IN BRENDON ROBERTS’ HOSPITAL ROOM, HOLLYWOOD HOSPITAL

Brendon: What the hell were you thinking?

Austin: No matter how much you disagree with me, I’m doing what I feel is right.

Brendon: By trying to divide this club?

Austin: I don’t expect you to fully understand, especially as you’re going through a family crisis.

Brendon: Don’t bring Nathan into this!

Austin: He’s already a part of it. In case you forgot, he’s the president of Outrunners, and well, this scandal only looks bad for the club. However, it has fueled my campaign since no one wants an alleged pedophile as a leader.

Brendon: Do not go through with this, Austin.

Austin: Look, Brendon, all the time you were incapacitated, Nate was named acting president… and that’s still his title as you’re still in that wheelchair so you technically have no say in the matter until you are reinstated as president. But I would imagine that Nathan would do the sensible thing right now and step down. In fact, I’m sure a hefty percentage of the club is expecting him to do so.

Brendon: Allison is vice-president. She can assume presidential duties until—

Austin (cutting him off): No one has seen or heard from her in days. Flakiness seems to be yet another virtue of this club’s leadership.

Brendon (urgently): I’ll find her. (pause) This is absolutely bogus! I admit that I don’t know you well, Austin, but once I read your email, I knew who I was dealing with.

Austin: is that an indirect jab at my political standing with the GOP?

Brendon: I heard what you did back in Boston with the Outrunners chapter there. Your ultraconservative tyranny nearly crippled them.

Austin: Tyranny? That’s rich coming from your mouth! I may have been here only a few months, but what I’ve witnessed in the past few days of your club’s leadership and morality makes me question everything about—

Brendon: What the hell are you implying? I’ve told you to leave Nathan out of this! He’s a good man, and he doesn’t deserve your slandering.

Austin: Oh, wow, Brendon, that’s the very first real remark you’ve made about Nathan regarding these outlandish allegations. You pretty much threw him to the wolves.

Brendon: How dare you—

Austin: You allowed him to get lambasted in the press. I’m sure the media wanted your opinion, but you kept quiet. You know Drake and I are a real couple. We don’t keep secrets from each other. We stand by each other unlike—

Brendon: Look, I don’t need to hear any more of your garbage. I love Nathan, and I don’t need to prove that to you or anyone else.

Austin (laughing): Love him? Is that so? Well, you have a funny way of showing it. But now that I think of it, the majority of this club doesn’t know the real meaning of the word… what with all the lies, infidelity. etc.

Brendon: Go away! We’ll settle this matter with the election. I’m confident that I’ll defeat you.

Austin: Fine by me! As long as you don’t have the results rigged, but then again cheating is what you guys do best, whether it be using illegal substances or flat-out cheating with another person in plain view.

Brendon: I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but this little planned coup of yours won’t happen.

Austin: It already has! I’m just a few signatures short of the amount needed to call a special election. I’ll get the rest, especially once the news hits about yet another one of your unscrupulous members.

Brendon: I may not be able to take you on in this wheelchair, but Allison’s no spring chicken. She’ll have you for breakfast.

Austin: Well, Allison already has enough baggage to deal with, and from the looks of it, her “gal” is only going to cause her more anguish.

Brendon: That’s cold of you, taking a potshot at Chloe like that. The woman just lost her child. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were related to Callum.

Callum (entering the room): Did someone just say my name?

Brendon: Austin was just about to take his leave—along with you. (to Austin) I will not have you slandering any of my members, especially Chloe.

Austin (leaving the room): Well, take my word, she’s not as innocent as she seems.

Brendon (to Callum): You can go as well. I have nothing to say to you.

Callum: It’s no surprise. I wish not to indulge in conversation with you.

Brendon: Then why are you here?

Callum: To celebrate my triumph. I’m sure you heard the good news that my son was safely returned.

Brendon: Well, good for you. Now leave!

Callum: And I wanted to thank you for handing Nathan over to me on a silver platter. Siding with Justin only drove him closer into my arms… and now I think all three of us—Nathan, Edward, and me—can all become the family that Nathan wanted to have with you. He’s quite fond of my son, Edward. (pause) Oh, I see I’ve overstayed my welcome. (seeing the fuming face of Brendon) Ciao!

With those parting words, Callum took his leave of both Brendon’s room and the hospital. He went to the nearest Starbucks to have some tea before heading back home, surprised to find Peyton’s car still in the driveway. He found him inside still visiting Edward, Callum instantly noticing how Inga had a sour expression on her face. He would later learn it had been the direct result of Peyton monopolizing all the time with the baby.

Callum (silently sending Inga away from the room): Shouldn’t you be at work, Peyton?

Peyton: I called my secretary and told her to cancel all my appointments. I wanted to spend some time with my son.

Callum: I beg your pardon.

Peyton (holding the baby up to his face): Doesn’t he look like me? Actually, he looks more like my dad.

Callum: Peyton, he’s not your son in the legal sense.

Peyton: I-I know. It’s just that ever since I found out about him, I’ve been thinking about my life and its purpose, and—

Callum (coming to him, gesturing for the baby to be given to him): Look, Peyton, I really appreciate all the support you gave during his abduction, but you promised me that—

Peyton: Yes, I know I did. I’m not going to tell anyone that I’m his real father. All I ask is that you give me some time with him. We had a very good morning of fun—(touching the baby’s finger) Didn’t we, Big Guy?

Callum (awkwardly looking at Peyton’s nickname for Edward): You haven’t looked at his penis, have you?

Peyton: I changed him an hour ago. (winking) He’s definitely an Ashland.

Callum: I shan’t dignify that with a response.

At that moment, Godfrey entered the room to announce that Detective Jack Milton was outside and wanted to speak with the both of them.

Callum: Both of us?

Godfrey: I’m assuming that he recognized Dr. Ashland’s car outside. Should I let him know you’re not seeing any visitors?

Callum: Lying for me won’t be necessary. (noticing the panic on Peyton’s face) I’ll handle him. Would you have Inga come for Edward?

Minutes later, Milton came into the room, amused to see them.

Milton: Just the two men I wanted to see.

Callum: Please take a seat, Detective Milton. What brings you here today?

Milton (gesturing to Peyton): Well, I already paid the good doctor a visit. I was both surprised and expecting to find him here, given your relationship.

Callum: I don’t quite follow.

Milton: I’m referring to the sex DVD you and Dr. Ashland made… the one that Dr. Allison Trudeau had in her office this past weekend.

Callum: Detective, this is southern California. We’re just a few miles from Porn Valley. Surely you’ve seen sex tapes before, and they’re hardly illegal.

Milton: You are aware that such evidence as a sex DVD could be used against Dr. Ashland.

Callum (histrionically putting a finger to his mouth and tilting his head): Come to think of it, I believe Allison said such to me… that you were accusing her of blackmailing Dr. Ashland.

Milton: That brings forth a crucial question. When was the last time either of you saw Dr. Trudeau?

Peyton: I-I haven’t seen her in several days.

Callum: I suppose it was Saturday when I last saw her. Why do you ask?

Milton: I suspect she’s gone missing. Her partner Ms. Dalton was unaware of her whereabouts this past Sunday, and none of the staff and hospital doctors have seen her.

Callum: Maybe she’s crawled back under the rock from which she came.

Milton (turning to Peyton): Dr. Ashland, I’m fairly certain she’s threatened you with this DVD. Have you attempted to silence her for the second time?

Peyton (taken aback): What the hell?

Milton: It strikes me more than a coincidence that Dr. Trudeau shows up missing shortly after I confront her about blackmailing you. At first, I thought maybe she had left town, trying to evade the law, but then I saw your reaction when I had told you that I had seen a DVD at her office.

Callum: What the bloody hell are you hinting at?

Milton: I suspect foul play of the both of you.

Callum: I beg your pardon. How dare you drag my name into this!

Milton: I’ve been informed of your own personal vendetta with Dr. Trudeau. She did attack you, and we have it on record that you had threatened her life. Add to that the possibility you and Dr. Ashland here are romantically linked. You both have motives for wanting to get rid of her.

Callum (rising): I think you should leave, Detective. I shall not accept this treatment in my own home. You can expect to hear from my attorney, Estrella Tartaro.

Milton: Funny! You’re the second suspect to reference her as their attorney. Ms. Vittoria Morelli has retained her services as well. Ms. Tartaro must make a “killing” off all her legal fees.

Callum: I’ll see you to the door, Detective. (coming back into the room after a few minutes) The gall of that man, accusing me of such rubbish! (grasping the scarf) Why, if I could get away with it, I’d strangle him—

Peyton: Careful, I don’t think Chloe would want you using her scarf to kill someone.

Callum (stunned): Excuse me?

Peyton (realizing his error): I-I just don’t want you to say or do anything crazy.

Callum: You just said this was Chloe’s scarf? (coming up to him) What are you not telling me?

It was then that Callum’s mind rushed back to his last encounter with Brendon earlier that day. He had run into Austin Monroe, who had said something along the lines of Chloe not being as she seemed. What did he mean by that? And what does Peyton know about this? Could Chloe have taken Edward?

Peyton: Look, Callum, I just saw the scarf, and it looks like the ones that Chloe wears. That’s all I meant.

Callum: You had better not be lying to me, Peyton. Listen, there’s no need to worry about Milton. I’ll handle him. You just keep quiet about everything! I’ve got to run an errand. I’ll be back soon.

He left the house, got into his car, and drove all the way over to Estrella’s home where he was met with the most shocking surprise since Edward’s abduction. He saw Chloe come out the house, followed by Estrella, before they got in Chloe’s car together. What the hell was Chloe doing there with Estrella? How do they know each other? She’s definitely up to something. Godfrey had insinuated Chloe as the possible suspect in the kidnapping, but I had rebuffed him, saying that Chloe wouldn’t easily return the baby, and in her fragile mental state, there’s no way she could have carried out this scheme. Yet she’s now colluding with Estrella of all people. This doesn’t smell right. And where are they going? Chloe looks to be an absolute wreck. I’ll just follow them and get to the bottom of this!

RODRIGO’S HOME, HOLLYWOOD

Rodrigo looked at the briefcase before him. He had sifted through its contents three times already, and each time he got the same mythical figure: $1 million. That bastard was definitely the kidnapper. They should be dragging his body from the river any time or day now. It was fortunate that I had followed him all day after I spied him with that voice disguiser and calling Mr. Sutcliffe. It was even more fortuitous that the guy was body-slammed by someone else just minutes before I had my own go at him. The nerve of that bastard to steal Mr. Sutcliffe’s baby and try to capitalize on his pain! Well, I took care of him all right. He didn’t see those blows coming. I bet he didn’t feel a thing when I threw his body into the water. It serves him right for what he did. I’m sure Mr. Sutcliffe will be very proud of me.

ESTRELLA’S HOME, BEVERLY HILLS

Last night had completely drained Estrella of most her energy. In preparation for the return of the baby, she had to calm Chloe down. After putting the baby down for his evening rest, she and Tristan had spiked Chloe’s drink so that she would be asleep by the time they took the baby to the drop-off location. The drugs had done their job fairly well, keeping her knocked out throughout much of the following morning. When she had awakened, Estrella had to work her magic to make Chloe think everything had been just a figment of her imagination.

Chloe (stretching and yawning): What time is it?

Estrella: It’s getting near noontime.

Chloe (jumping up): Oh my! It’s way past time for Jacob’s lunch.

Estrella: Who?

Chloe: The baby.

Estrella: What baby? What are you talking about?

Chloe: Don’t be silly. (going into the other room, finding no sign of the baby) Where is he? (growing more frantic) Where’s my baby?

Estrella (coming to her): Honey, I think you may have had another nightmare.

Chloe: What are you talking about? Where is my baby? (violently grabbing Estrella’s arm) Where is he?

Estrella (having shrieked from Chloe’s firm grasp): I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t seen any baby.

Chloe: Liar! (going through the house, looking for the baby or any evidence of his having been there. Not finding any, she comes back into the room) He’s not here.

Estrella: That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. There is no baby.

Chloe (angrily): I’m going home now. He must be there. (dashing to the door, rushing outside, and heading for her car)

Estrella (throwing herself in front of Chloe’s car): You can’t go driving anywhere in your condition. I’ll drive you there so you can see for yourself that there’s no baby.

They drove from Beverly Hills to Los Feliz, which was a rather considerable drive, given the always unpredictable traffic of Los Angeles. This afforded Estrella time to think. She couldn’t gauge how well the plan was going, but Tristan had said Chloe had thrown a similar fit last Friday when she thought the same baby was hers. She then thought of how she hadn’t heard from Tristan since last night and neither had Vittoria. Has that bastard skipped town with the loot, leaving us to either clean up his mess or take the blame? But right now it’s time to take care of Chloe.

When they got to Chloe’s home, she ransacked the entire place, looking for the baby. It was after twenty minutes of this futile search that she finally broke down.

Chloe (tears streaming down her face): Where is he? Where is my baby? (to Estrella) What have you done with him?

Estrella: What?

Chloe: I went to your house with him, looking for help.

It was then that a chill ran down Estrella’s spine. While Chloe was definitely in a frantic state of mind, if she told anyone that she had brought the baby over to her house, it might arouse suspicion. I’ve got to get that thought out her head. But how? There’s only one way, and that’s what landed me in this mess.

Robyn’s “Who’s That Girl?”  begins playing in the scene’s background.

Estrella (seductively approaching her): Honey, you came to my place all by yourself. You didn’t come for help. You came to see just me.

Estrella reached out for Chloe, gently taking both her arms and moving her closer in for a sweet, tender kiss that seemed to calm the hysterical woman. Chloe at first resisted this scheme, trying to break free from Estrella’s grip, but it was the eventual warmth of the embrace and the kiss that pacified her. This was only the second time that Chloe could recall experiencing this intimacy with Estrella, and her body longed for an encore. Her hands traveled to Estrella’s face, cradling it as their lips and mouths continued with their energized play.

Chloe felt herself fall back onto the soft cushioning of the front room couch as Estrella moved further upon her, an excited gloss in her eyes. Feeling Estrella’s mouth progress upon other parts of her, Chloe surrendered to the heat emanating from her body as it fused with that given off from Estrella, whose red lipstick was already leaving imprints upon Chloe’s porcelain skin. She then felt Estrella’s lively fingers unbutton her blouse and adroitly free her breasts from the brassiere, her pert nipples an instant target for Estrella’s seemingly hungry mouth. It was with her breast being suckled that Chloe’s lips curled to release a moan that even frightened herself as it was a sound semi-foreign to her—not having made it herself in a long time.

Estrella continued with her mission, raising Chloe’s lithe body so that she could free her lower body of her jeans to expose the silken panties that lie under them. Her legs were then caressed with Estrella’s lips and hands, sending tingling sensations throughout Chloe’s body as she laid her head against the couch pillows. She had fully forgotten her present qualms, giving herself entirely over to this moment of forbidden pleasure as she sensed this woman’s mouth journeying downward to her most sensitive area. Chloe already felt the increasing moisture of her inner thighs, but it was Estrella’s clever tongue, hands, and fingers that threatened to drive her over the brink of sensual stimulation. It was when her mouth latched firmly onto Chloe’s erogenous zone that her eyes rolled back in their sockets as the woman’s tongue at last stirred the hypersensitive nerves of her clitoris, sending a jolt of electricity throughout her body that resulted in her unleashing a thunderous moan of orgasmic delivery. It was when her body finished its last writhing display of pleasurable release that Chloe turned her head on the pillow and opened her eyes to the astonished expressions of two unforeseen spectators.

Allison and Callum had just interrupted their illicit escapade.

NATHAN’S HOME, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES

Nathan looked at himself in the mirror. He hadn’t gotten much sleep. He wanted to reach out to Brendon but knew he would get the cold shoulder from him. How could he just throw what we had away? His mind raced over to Callum. He wanted to likewise see him. That kiss last night was so wrong. I completely understand Callum’s reaction. He needed to focus on his son. I shouldn’t have done it. Oh, I hope he doesn’t take me for an inappropriate cad, taking advantage of him during his ordeal. I just need to be with someone.

He opened the medicine cabinet and debated about which painkiller to take—not that he had any physical pain but he desired to feel numb—at least then the tumult of his life wouldn’t feel so overwhelming. How did it come to this? My reputation is slandered, my partner doubts my morals, and members of my own athletic club are trying to bring me down. I don’t know what to do anymore. Allison is nowhere to be found. I’m all alone in this!

He got the call an hour later. By that point, the drugs had started to take effect so his consciousness wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. It had definitely been Brendon’s voice, and he sounded as if he were in deep emotion. He had said something about wanting to set things straight between them. Or had that been Nathan’s imagination?

MEANWHILE IN LOS FELIZ, ALLISON’S HOME

Callum had waited outside in his car for half an hour. What the hell was Estrella doing with Chloe? Having grown tired of waiting, he got out the car and was crossing the street when a cab pulled up outside the house. Callum had reached the midway point to the front door, when he heard the voice he so desperately didn’t want to hear.

Allison: What the hell are you doing here?

Callum (spinning around): Welcome back, Allison. Was Britain to your liking? Our livestock had pretty much recovered from the last bout of mad cow disease you spawned.

Allison: So you knew I was there?

Callum: Yes, I know about your little covert trip.

Allison: I bet you’re shaking in your boots over what I’ve discovered.

Callum: What exactly do you think you know?

Allison (laughing): I know I finally have the means to get rid of you.

Callum: Good luck with that endeavor. One need only look at your track record to inspire fear in me. You haven’t anything against me, Allison.

Allison: I got plenty of ammunition from your homeland.

Callum: T’is pity you didn’t get fatal food poisoning along with it.

Allison: Would you mind leaving this property? Why the hell are you here anyway? It sure as hell wasn’t to give me homecoming greetings.

Callum: No, I believe that’s your crazed partner’s task when she’s not stealing other people’s babies.

Allison: You’re still upset over that incident at Fancy’s last week? Get over it!

Callum: No wonder Chloe moved onto full-blown kidnapping. You obviously cut her from the leash. You haven’t heard that my son was kidnapped, and ransom was demanded. (seeing the worried look in Allison’s face) No worries! Edward was returned to me, but I have begun to seriously think your girl and her partner-in-crime—

Allison: What the hell are you talking about? (inserting the key into the lock)

Callum: I know they’re both behind this! (Allison pushes into the door, entering the house)

Allison: Behind what… the hell… Chloe?

Both Allison and Callum stood transfixed in the wide doorway, staring in disbelief at the tableau before their eyes, Chloe languorously spread out on the couch with Estrella’s head positioned between her legs. It was Chloe who first took notice of their presence after coming off some intoxicated high that had gripped her body.

Chloe: Allison?

With Chloe’s utterance of her partner’s name, Estrella straight away composed herself, rising from the couch and adjusting her clothing. She bent down to retrieve Chloe’s garments from the floor, Chloe’s nudity a biblical allusion to their guilt.

Allison (shouting): What the hell is going on here?

Callum (directed at Chloe and Estrella): It appears we arrived in the “lick of time.”

Allison: Get the hell out my house!

Callum: Allison, I would never have pegged your partner for adultery. It appears she needs to be “licked into shape.”

Fury seething through her body, Allison sprang for Callum, her hands grabbing his neck and slamming him into the wall. It was at this precise moment that Estrella took the opportunity to dash for the door, but her speed was no match for Allison’s wrathful determination. By the time she had reached the doorway, Estrella’s face was met with the stinging blow of Allison’s hand that sent the woman flying to the floor. Callum pried himself from Allison’s grip seconds before she rushed over to Chloe, whose naked body appeared to be in a lethargic and drugged state.

Allison: Chloe! Wake up! What happened?

Estrella swiftly rose from the floor and scrambled for the door, anxious to avoid any more displays of Allison’s anger. She brushed past Callum in her bare feet, leaving behind her expensive Prada shoes that lay at the base of the couch. Callum took one more moment to look at the scene before him, Allison standing over a comatose-like Chloe, trying to awaken her from the torpor that had stole over her.

Turning away, Callum left that wreck to go home to another one. He entered his own home to be confronted by Godfrey, who duly informed him that he had a visitor, and judging from Godfrey’s reaction, this one was far worse than Rodrigo.

Godfrey: I can’t believe you invited him here.

Callum: Who?

Godfrey: Mr. Prescott.

A surname was all that was needed to stab fear into Callum. His entire demeanor visibly changed.

Callum: I-I didn’t invite him. I haven’t seen him in ages.

Godfrey: Well, he claims he’s been in contact with you.

Callum (looking Godfrey directly in the eyes): There’s a modicum of truth to what he’s saying. He did leave me some messages.

Godfrey: Was he the one who’s been calling you? (sighing heavily) I can’t believe this. He’s too close to the truth. You must “handle” him.

Callum (flushed): I know. Is he in the sitting room?

Upon Godfrey’s nod, Callum entered the sitting room to find a gentleman standing with his back to him. He was wearing a three-piece suit and sported a glass of scotch in his left hand. His voice spoke without having seen Callum, and within that moment, Callum felt weakness in his knees. It was the first time he had heard that voice coming from the flesh—and not just some disembodied message from his answering machine.

Lenny Kravitz’s “Again”  begins playing with the background of the scene:

Talon (turning around to face Callum): It’s so good to see you after all this time. It feels like home being this near you.

Callum (brusquely): What the hell are you doing here?

Talon: Well, it’s been nearly a year since Gavin died, and I felt it an appropriate time to—

Callum: To what? Come back into my life?

Talon: And hopefully your heart.

Callum: Talon, that ship has sailed. You know I chose Gavin.

Talon: But you loved me.

Callum (dismissively): Again, I ask what are you doing here? How did you find me?

Talon: I recently accepted a curatorial position here in America.

Callum: What? Where? I thought you were working at The British Museum.

Talon: They put me on loan to the Getty.

Callum: Oh no!

Talon: What? Is something wrong? Or were you really expecting me to have stolen the Warren Cup for your own personal collection?

Callum (cracking a smile): You remembered?

Talon (sitting down): How could I forget? We used to spend all our time together in museums.

Callum: Talon, I can’t do this.

Talon: Do what? We’re just talking. My word, you look alarmed. I thought you ‘d be thrilled to see me.

Callum: Thrilled? Why should I be thrilled? You very nearly cost me my marriage to Gavin.

Talon: You never really loved him like you loved me. We were the ones who were supposed to be together. Everything was fine until he came along.

Callum: We both benefited from my relationship with Gavin.

Talon: Yeah, he published both our works. Yours sells millions of copies, whereas I’d be lucky if I could sell one thousand copies. No one cares for archaeological literature.

Callum: Is it Eleanor? Has she threatened to cease publication of your new book? I can override her. You know I have majority stock in the company.

Talon: Yeah, and they’re doing everything they can to stop you. Eleanor has a legion of solicitors contesting Gavin’s will.

Callum: I’m well aware of that. I may live thousands of miles away, but I still have my “eyes and ears” over there.

Talon: Yeah, and I bet Eleanor has hers over here as well. You did get my messages about that American woman trying to gather information on you at both Somerset House and Armitage & Burnham headquarters?

Callum: How do you know about her?

Talon: She was asking questions about you, and I happened to overhear them. It sounds like she really has a chip on her shoulder, regarding you. What exactly have you been up to?

Callum: Look, I think it best that you return to London. I’ll make some calls to get you a higher position at The Museum or better yet, I can get you on that exclusive archaeological dig in the Mediterranean. You always loved working in that part of the world.

Talon: You’re not getting rid of me that easy, Callum Sutcliffe. (coming closer to him) I’ll only go if you’re coming with me.

Talon’s deep blue eyes enthralled Callum, spurring his desire to run his hands through Talon’s strawberry blonde hair just as he had done several years ago during his first year at Oxford well over a decade ago. All of Talon’s appearance had burned into his memory, his pasty skin that was smooth to the touch, his scruffy beard that added a degree of starkness to his overall stately persona, and his well-built body skillfully concealed underneath his clothing. However, it had always been Talon’s insightful mind that ultimately intrigued Callum.

Talon’s bespectacled countenance inched enticingly closer to Callum’s face, his perfect mouth aiming to seal itself upon his old flame. Callum felt paralyzed in his place, his body unwilling to move as Talon’s saccharine lips made contact with his own, and then he tasted of the sweetness that had long been forsaken. Talon’s hands traveled the length of Callum’s body, the tactile sensation seeming to further melt Callum’s doggedness. It was at the point when Talon’s hands sifted between their bodies, his fingers beginning the task of unbuttoning Callum’s shirt, that Callum pulled himself away in sharp contrast to the protests of his own lips.

Callum: No, I can’t do this. Please go!

Talon: Why? What’s wrong? Is it because the last kiss I gave you was on your wedding day? (pause) And to think you still had the gall to go through with the ceremony. I had flown all the way to Brussels to stop you.

Callum (shouting): I said go!

Talon: You can’t hide your true feelings from me. There’s no one who can keep us apart now. (leaving the room) I’ll be in touch.

That’s what you think! There is someone standing between us, and that happens to be Nathan. Oh why did he have to come back now? He could ruin everything. I have to get him back to Britain. He can’t stay here in Los Angeles!

MEANWHILE… OUTSIDE CALLUM’S HOME

Talon had not made it several yards outside Callum’s front door when his cell phone rang. He answered it promptly. The voice on the other end had begun with a barrage of questions which he attempted to answer sequentially.

Talon: Yes, I’ve made contact with him. (pause) Don’t worry. I can read him like a book. He’s always been vulnerable around me. He still loves me. I’ll take care of him for you, just like I promised.

Hearing these words, Allison terminated the phone call. Despite the overwhelming problems that lay before her with Chloe, she felt reassured that Callum would soon be nothing more than a distant memory.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Next Post

The Victorious and the Relentless

Episode 17: “Vittoria’s Secret”

TRISTAN AND VITTORIA’S APARTMENT, WEST HOLLYWOOD, MONDAY MORNING

Vittoria could usually tell the ultimate nature of her day by the way her mornings went. She had gone to bed Sunday night still chuckling over the near catfight between Heath and Bralen. She did, however, take a moment of silence when she learned of Callum’s personal ordeal. Family was a precious thing to her. La mia famiglia! She had cried herself to sleep, praying for the safety of Callum’s child as well as that of all her loved ones.

When she had awakened on Monday, she found that Tristan hadn’t come home. Heath had fallen asleep on the living room couch, most likely waiting for him when slumber overtook him. There was a knock at the door, and upon opening it, she wished she hadn’t. The tall man standing in the doorway gave off a vibe Vittoria knew all too well. He was a cop! What now? She thought.

Milton: Good morning, Ms. Morelli. I’m Detective Milton, and I was hoping to have a word with you.

Vittoria: About what, Detective?

Milton: About your ties to Ms. Chloe Dalton.

Vittoria (panicking): Look, I’ve been exonerated of those charges.

Milton (laughing): Exonerated, eh? Ms. Morelli, you haven’t even—

Vittoria (cutting him off): Look, my attorney told me that you guys had spoken to an eyewitness who said it was a man that shot at her.

Milton: That’s true, and we’re following up on that lead.

Vittoria: So why the hell are you here?

Milton: Look, Ms. Morelli, I’m not here because of Ms. Dalton’s attack. I’m here because of Ms. Dalton’s claim that you sold drugs to Justin Roberts. The investigation into his “disappearance” is still ongoing.

Vittoria (anxiety sweeping over her as she turns away from him): Look, it’s her word against mine. Besides, Kyle already interrogated me.

Milton: Well, I’ve replaced Detective Walgrove on this case, and unlike him, I’m leaving no stone unturned.

Vittoria: What’s that supposed to mean?

Milton: For starters, Kyle—for some odd reason—thought you were the real culprit in spite of lack of evidence, but you do have a compelling motive for wanting to harm Ms. Dalton if these claims are proven correct. Nevertheless, you have been busted in the past for selling illegal drugs.

Vittoria: Well, I’m not doing that anymore.

Milton: I met with Ms. Dalton last night (reading the sudden jolt of guilt writhing through Vittoria’s body), but she wasn’t able to confirm anything, but I will be following up.

Vittoria: That’s it, Detective! I’m sock of this badgering. I’m calling my attorney Estrella Tartaro.

Milton (backing off): Okay… Okay. I just want you to know I’ll be watching you.

Vittoria (slamming the door in his face): Bye, Detective!

Whew! What the hell was that about? This new guy means business. What did that dyke really tell him? She’s starting to get on my nerves again. I need to speak with Estrella. Damn it! She’s not answering her phone. I’ve got to find her. I thought I had dodged this bullet. There are only two people alive that can testify against me: Chloe and Justin. If Estrella can’t get me out of this mess, I’ll have to take care of them both!

CALLUM’S HOME, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES, MONDAY AFTERNOON

Peyton had arrived at Callum’s home early mid-afternoon. The press had still been congregated outside as he made his way onto the property. Godfrey led him into the reception area. He uncharacteristically declined a drink. Callum came into the room, looking absolutely awful.

Peyton: Any updates?

Callum: No, the police are doing all they can.

Peyton: Any word of a ransom?

Callum (lying): No, nothing of the sort.

Peyton: I’m really sorry about running out on you like I did yesterday. You just can’t tell someone news like that and expect them to take it calmly.

Callum: Just so you know, I’m not expecting you to do anything for him once he’s returned. You’re in the clear as far as that’s concerned—

Peyton: You’re passing him off as your late husband’s and you don’t want your in-laws to know.

Callum (hesitantly): Should I dignify that with an answer? (pause) What the hell, it may be too late for that. I was on the local news, making a plea for his return. Lord knows if it’s managed to cross the pond yet and alert them.

Peyton: I-I really don’t understand all this, but how is he mine? I know this isn’t the right time to discuss it, but—

Callum: You know how delirious I was. All the time we had sex, I thought you were Gavin.

Peyton: You called out his name a few times.

Callum: And you kept right on shagging me. As unethically as it was, I took your semen anywhere you left it, whether it was on my body… inside the condom… you didn’t even take note of the times when I spat out your fluids. At any rate, I had the surrogate readily available for the insemination, thinking it was Gavin’s sperm. I had wanted “his child” so badly as a reminder of him. (pause) And now an innocent baby’s life is at stake. This is all my fault (breaking down emotionally)

Peyton (taking Callum’s hand): As strange as it sounds, I want you to know I’m here for you.

Callum: Thanks, Peyton. I need I all the support I can get right now. Nathan has already been such a tower of strength for me.

Peyton: You obviously haven’t heard the news, but I just got it on my Blackberry. The Hollycove Tribune’s online news site just reported that Nathan has been accused of child molestation.

Callum (incredulously): What! By whom?

Peyton: By none other than our resident thief Justin Roberts.

Callum: Bloody hell!

Peyton (his cell phone suddenly ringing): I have to take this. Hold on sec, Callum. (pause) I’m really sorry, but I have to go. It’s very urgent. One of my suicidal patients is attempting—

Callum (raising his hand): Say no more. I’ll let you know if anything happens. Thank you again for your concern.

Immediately after Peyton left, Godfrey entered from the side door, a look of anxiety upon his face.

Godfrey: I must confess I overheard the majority of your talk with Dr. Ashland. Did you tell him about the child’s paternity?

Callum: I told him yesterday. I know you had wanted me to tell him much earlier… perhaps it would have prevented this catastrophe.

Godfrey: He does have a right to know. (pause) I was hoping to have another look at that ransom note.

Callum: Why? Everything is almost in place for the trade. I’ll have the money soon. You’re not talking me out of this. I need this to run smoothly, Godfrey.

Godfrey (being given the note): There just seems something odd about this letter, the way it’s written and worded.

At that moment Callum received a phone call and upon answering and listening to it, his face blanched with the startling news. Godfrey noticed, and when the call was terminated, he naturally did his inquiry.

Godfrey: What has you so shaken?

Callum: That was the second disturbing call I’ve received from London in two days, although this one is more clarifying. It appears some woman went into Armitage & Burnham, demanding to speak with a member of the family, regarding me!

Godfrey: Oh, my God! Did she–?

Callum: Security turned her away, but I can give you three guesses who it was. The one and only crucial hint is that she’s American. (pause) I can’t be bothered with her right now. After Edward is returned, I’ll handle Allison and her meddling ways.

Godfrey: You indicated this as the second disturbing call you’ve received? What about the other one?

I’ve already told him about half of it or rather the details of it, but I can’t tell him who left that message.

Callum: Never mind that, Godfrey. I’ll handle it myself.

Godfrey: And what about this Rodrigo? I’m not sure what to make of him. You said it was he who found the ransom note.

Callum: I know what you’re thinking, but I’m positive that he has nothing to do with Edward’s abduction. I specifically saw him running in the race, and Edward was still with me. He only went missing a few minutes later, and Rodrigo would not have had time to kidnap him.

Godfrey: Okay, but I don’t trust him, Your Lordship. Anyway, I’m going to review this note. Summon me if you need anything.

Callum: Thank you.

Once Godfrey stepped out the room, Callum received another phone call—only this time he knew it had to be the kidnapper making contact with him. The creepy, distorted voice only proved it.

ESTRELLA’S HOME, BEVERLY HILLS

Estrella felt sick to her stomach. Tristan had left on an important errand, leaving her with Chloe and the baby, both of whom were in the other room. She didn’t like this scam. It was very unnerving. She knew kidnapping was a felony, and she could be tried as an accessory if they were caught. Paranoia slowly stole over her. What if they somehow trace the kidnapping back to me? What if Tristan wants to get back at me for making him fuck me the other day? He could call the cops at any time and send them right over here!

There then came a knock at the door at precisely that junction in her thoughts. Estrella silently jumped—nearly out of her own flesh. What if that’s the cops? I need to quickly get rid of them or whoever it is. She gingerly opened the door to a very flustered Vittoria, who barged right inside.

Vittoria: Why the hell haven’t you been answering your phone?

Estrella: Vittoria, what’s wrong?

Vittoria: You fucking said I was out of the woods. A new cop came by a while ago, asking me questions about that bitch.

Estrella: Calm down. Now who was this?

Vittoria (shouting): His name was Milton. He’s worse than Kyle. He’s out to get me!

The baby began crying in the other room, and Estrella prayed that Vittoria didn’t hear him over her own loud voice. Unfortunately for her, Chloe came into the room, holding the baby.

Chloe: Estrella, what’s wrong? I heard shouting. I think it’s upset Jacob.

Vittoria: What the fuck is she doing here?

Chloe (cradling the head of the baby): Estrella, who is this?

Vittoria (to Estrella): You know her personally? You’re not trying anything funny, are you? Like getting her to testify against me!

Chloe: I’m going to the other room. I think he needs changing again.

Estrella (rushing up to Vittoria): I know what this looks like, but I can explain. I had nothing to do with her taking that baby.

Vittoria (suddenly dawning on her): Dio Mio! That’s Callum’s kidnapped son. What the hell is she doing with him? And what is she doing here?

Estrella: Ask your roommate.

Vittoria: Tristan? What’s he got to do with this?

Estrella: He thinks he can pull the wool over Callum’s eyes. He’s asking for a ransom.

Vittoria: What the hell is he thinking?

Estrella: She arrived at my doorstep this past evening, asking for help.

Vittoria: Well, I need your help now! We have to take care of both her and Justin.

Estrella: Look, I have enough on my plate right now. Besides, do you really think anyone’s going to believe anything that comes out of Chloe’s mouth? She’s two tits short of a breast augmentation.

She does have a point. Chloe’s credibility is very weak right now, given her emotional state. I have a good basis to challenge her on those grounds. That’s one down and one more to go. That only leaves Justin, and I can easily take care of him. Vittoria turned on her heels and headed for the door, not even hearing Estrella’s admonishment to “pretend” she hadn’t seen anything in the last five minutes.

STREETS OF WEST HOLLYWOOD

Local online news was afire with the allegations against Nathan, but it was also the email from Austin announcing his intent to depose the current Exec Board that set club gossip ablaze. Bralen had just finished working out at the gym when he came across Drake, immediately asking him about what was with his partner’s incendiary email.

Bralen: I can’t believe he’s going through with this. I mean there are some club members who are dismayed with the current leadership, but I thought they were in the minority.

Drake: Please understand it’s not a direct attack on anyone. Order just needs to be reestablished.

Bralen (taken aback): Order? It’s not like the club has descended into chaos.

Drake: Well, Austin feels it has, and he claims he has proof. And he’s already received some encouraging feedback that he should move forward with the recall.

Bralen: Do you think he’ll get enough signatures?

Drake: What’s the worst that could happen if he does?

Bralen: Mutiny! I don’t want the club to be divided. I—excuse me, Drake. I see Tristan across the street, and I really need to speak with him.

Drake: Well, it was nice talking with you. I guess I know where you stand so I’ll refrain from requesting your signature on the petition.

By that point, Bralen had jaywalked across the street, nearly getting hit by a car in his haste to catch Tristan. Oh, well, thought Drake, I’m sure there are many others who’ll gladly sign the petition. Oh shit! There goes Callum’s weird bodyguard going into that shop across the street. But where is Callum? Maybe the guy’s just on his lunch break. Even though I can’t stand Callum, my heart goes out to him. I had better scout more member signatures.

Bralen (to Tristan): Where have you been?

Tristan (caught offguard): I’ve been busy.

Bralen: I came by your place last night and found Heath there. He claims that you’re with him now. Is there something you’re not telling me?

Tristan (feeling cornered): Uh, no. I don’t know what he’s talking about.

Bralen (pulling him in for a kiss): Why is he there?

Tristan: He and Kyle had a tiff, and he needed someplace to stay the night. I’m sure they’ll get back together.

Bralen: We need to get together now. I don’t know what’s come over me, but I’m feeling so horny.

Tristan (eyes suddenly alit): Oh really? Friday night wasn’t enough for you? Between Peyton and me, we didn’t think you’d be able to walk or talk for a few days—much less rush across a busy street to see me.

Nine Inch Nails’“Head like a Hole”  begins playing when Bralen grabs Tristan’s arms and leads him around the corner of the building and into the secluded alley. Once they felt safe, Bralen dropped to his knees.

His hands automatically went for the zipper on Tristan’s pants, pulling it down and yanking out his cock before eagerly latching his mouth upon it. Even in its non-erect state, it was a thing of both infinite beauty and bounty, and Bralen began worshiping it with a ravenous hunger, spurred on by the sexual fire that had seeped through his body. Though he knew not where it had come, he gave himself over to this overwhelming horniness that drove him to deep-throat Tristan’s hardness right there in broad daylight. The tip of his nose brushed against Tristan’s pubes as the top of his tongue feverishly swept the underside of Tristan’s manhood.

Tristan: Oh yeah, that’s a good boy.

Tristan’s hand gently caressed the side of Bralen’s face, feeling the lump of his cock as it poked into Bralen’s cheek. He hardly came off it for breath, instead choosing to savor the taste of Tristan’s hardness as if it were essential nourishment. Man, he really is horny! I can’t complain, but this is a bit risky in this alley. WeHo has cracked down on public sex in recent years…ohh, damn! Bralen slurped at excess saliva spilling from his mouth before his left hand grasped the shaft and jerked it enthusiastically. Tristan could see that the head of his cock glistened in the sunshine from Bralen’s oral skills. Another ten minutes passed before Tristan finally released his masculine warmth. Bralen then looked seductively up into Tristan’s eyes, communicating with him for a sign of possible reciprocity. He was instantly shot down as Tristan quickly told him that he had somewhere else to be within the next fifteen minutes and wouldn’t have time to fully give his oral attention to Bralen, who upon hearing this news felt saddened with the prospect of masturbation for sexual relief.

Rodrigo had watched the whole scene unfold, having followed Tristan because he had recognized him from his “street days” last year. He had hoped to pay for Tristan’s services once again, but Bralen beat him to the punch. Hey, I don’t see any exchange of money taking place. What gives? He saw Bralen wipe the sides of his mouth, rise from his knees, and leave. Rodrigo then casually walked over and followed Tristan farther down the alley, and then saw him turn up a street to stop at a payphone. He entered the coinage, dialed the numbers, and then withdrew some device which he put to his mouth and began speaking through it. Rodrigo recognized it as a voice disguiser. What is he up to?

His curiosity getting the best of him, Rodrigo darted as close to him as possible without betraying his eavesdropping, and it was then that he heard Tristan say “Callum.” That’s definitely not a common name in America. Why was he placing a call from a payphone to Callum? And if so, why is he using a voice disguiser? Having asked himself those questions and giving it a split second of thought, he naturally figured out the answer.

KYLE WALGROVE’S HOME, WEST HOLLYWOOD

Heath stood outside his old home, hesitant to enter as Kyle’s car was parked outside. He had come to get the rest of his clothing, tired of wearing Tristan’s skintight garments. He put the key into the lock, turned the knob, and entered the house, his heart nearly leaping from his chest when he saw Kyle sitting in the chair in the exact same position as when he had last come into the house prior to their explosive breakup.

Heath: I-I just came for the rest of my stuff.

Kyle: You left it out on the lawn and didn’t come back for it so I donated it all to Goodwill and the Salvation Army.

Heath (angrily): You what? (calming down, not wanting to start anything) Never mind. I knew this was a bad idea.

Kyle: What was? Your affair with Tristan or coming here?

Heath (grasping the door knob): Just fuck off, Kyle!

Kyle (having risen in a split second and thrown himself between Heath and the door): Don’t go.

Heath (seeing him for the first time as he’s now out the darkness): Jesus, Kyle! You look awful.

Kyle: I feel awful, Heath… about everything. I just can’t believe that-that—

Heath (finishing for him): It’s over between us.

Kyle: Is it?

Butterfly Boucher’s “I Can’t Make Me Love You”  begins playing over the rest of the scene as Kyle’s question lingers in the air. Heath moves away from Kyle, seeing the dreaded photo album on the table, opened to moments of bliss between them. Heath couldn’t resist cracking a smile.

Kyle (sniffling): You know I’ve given it some thought, and I was the one in the wrong. I really should have been there more for you.

Heath: So what are you saying? That you’ve forgiven me?

Kyle (closing the distance between them): I still love you, Heath. Not having you in this house these last few days has left a void in my life.

Heath: Really? (pause) Well, now you know how I felt.

Kyle: Please say it’s not too late for us. (leaning into Heath, attempting a kiss but Heath steps back)

Heath: You didn’t answer my question. Have you forgiven me? (long deadly silence) Well, that settles it for me. I’m happy right now, Kyle, just where I’m at.

Kyle: With him?

Heath: Don’t bring Tristan into this.

Kyle: You brought him into our house!

Heath: I’m not going through this again. I’ll be back for the rest of my stuff—the TV, stereo, DVD player—when you’re not here.

Kyle (emotional crack in his voice): Don’t go! I still love you.

Heath: But I don’t love you… anymore. Goodbye, Kyle.

The door slamming shut shook Kyle’s heart. He went back to the reclining chair and attempted to rest. He was soon pissed off to discover that he had gone through all the alcohol in the house.

NATHAN MOYNIHAN’S HOME, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES

Nathan tried to reach Brendon, but he was not taking any calls. Aside from the fiasco with Justin, he needed to confer with him about the disastrous email that was quickly pervading the inboxes of all Outrunners members. What the hell is Austin thinking? It’s bad enough I have both Justin and Brendon attacking me, but to have this time of dissension only adds to the constant worry. Damn it! He had come home for lunch and was met with the media outside which he had foolishly thought was just spill over from Callum’s property. He had brushed past them on the way into his own home. New surely does travel fast in this technological age! None of the print newspapers would have the story until tomorrow. Damn you, Justin! I’ve got to stop this before it gets really out of control.

It was then that he got the dreaded phone call from the Trustees of Hollycove Prep, asking for an explanation which he could not honestly give at that moment. The consequent message had been both simple and sincere. Owing to the wealthy clientele of the academy, such news would naturally be seen as detrimental to the long term reputation of the institution. Therefore, it had been deemed best for Nathan to be on “paid leave” and the official press release would declare he would be taking an extended holiday until further notice. What the hell is wrong with my life? Brendon’s giving me the cold shoulder. Justin has it in for me. Austin wishes to remove him. There’s no one in my court. I can’t even reach Allison, who’s not returning my damn phone calls. Where is she?

Damien Rice’s “9 Crimes”  begins playing softly in the background. As alienation swept over him, the stifling sensation made him think of the one person to whom he may be able to turn. I should go check on him. He’ll need me. Opening the door and stepping out, he attempted to dart over to Callum’s place, knowing it was futile. The swarms of media had seemingly increased outside his door, ready to pounce on him with numerous questions. He had cameras and microphones shoved at him as he held his head low, and his hands brushed away these nagging pests.

Once he reached the street, he broke into a sprint, clearly outrunning them, but he was met with a different crowd of media as he neared Callum’s home. He managed to successfully make it into the house, Godfrey his temporary savior.

Nathan: Thank you, Godfrey.

Callum (coming into the room as Godfrey exits): Nathan, what brings you here? I figured you had your own slate of problems to deal with.

Nathan: So you’ve heard?

Callum: Peyton told me.

Nathan (throwing his hands up): I don’t know what to do. Brendon’s not talking to me.

Callum: Surely he doesn’t believe such rubbish.

Nathan: You would think that after being with someone for over twelve years, you’d know when a lie is being told about him.

Callum: For what it’s worth, you know I could never—

Nathan: I know. The irony is that you didn’t give it a moment’s thought—unlike Brendon. You don’t know how much I appreciate that. (pause) In the short time I’ve come to know you, you’ve always put me at ease. I had no one else to turn to.

Callum (suppressing the urge to grin): So you came here of all places?

Nathan (moving closer to him): I don’t know why, but I needed to be here for you.

Callum (looking deeply into his eyes): Nathan, now’s not the time for—

Nathan suddenly pulled Callum towards him for an unexpected passionate kiss. Callum gave into the warmth of it, and Nathan pressed his mouth more ardently upon Callum’s, the heat of the moment astounding his beleaguered conscience. I should be making Edward my main concern right now. Callum tried to pull away, but Nathan held onto him, the strength of his hands holding their bodies firmly together. When their lips finally separated, it was Callum this time that fled the scene. He had known that his heart had been recently inflamed not by Nathan but by that of a former love returned to his life.

HOLLYWOOD HOSPITAL

Vittoria managed to reach Hollywood Hospital at an opportune time since security had successfully warded off the media from Justin’s room. Vittoria knew his story would be one of great sensationalism and prompt many outrageous news headlines. She peeked into Justin’s room and saw that he was in the bed, seemingly fast asleep. It would be easy to finish him off just like she had intended with Brendon that one night when she had attempted to smother him—had it not been for that other dyke stopping her and engaging in a confrontation. What’s with these damn lesbians getting in my way?

She crept into the room and carefully walked up to the bed, her hand fishing insider her purse for the knife when Justin’s eyes opened, his mouth following suit as he released a yawn. A pall of fear then fell over his face as his pupils dilated at the ominous sight of Vittoria.

Vittoria: Wake up, Sleepyhead. (brandishing the knife) You missed me?

Justin: What the fuck are you doing here?

Vittoria: I was bringing you a get-well-soon gift. (moving the blade toward him)

Justin: Look, I promise I won’t say a word about you.

Vittoria (withdrawing the knife): You know better. Besides, it might damage your credibility to be associated with me. That’s some lie you’re telling.

Justin: It’s the truth!

Vittoria: Yeah, right, and the tooth fairy is real. I know enough about Nathan to know he’s not capable of that. Hell, I’ll be a character witness for him in court if you—

Justin: My beef isn’t with you so don’t worry. It’s with Nate and Brendon. So you can leave. (pause) But I may need a fix from when you I get out of here. (winking) This pain is killing me.

Vittoria: As long as it’s on the sly. The cops are all on my case. Anyway, I better get the hell out of here before I’m seen.

Rushing to the door, elated with her victory, she hadn’t exited the room more than three yards when she stopped dead in her tracks, hearing the voice that scared her.

Brendon: Vittoria, what the hell were you doing in there?

Vittoria (to some extent mollified by the sight of Brendon in a wheelchair): Brendon, I-I was coming to see you, but—

Brendon: Cut the bullshit, Vittoria. Word has it that you’re selling drugs to my nephew.

Vittoria: Well, you both look as if you could use some painkillers.

Brendon: Yeah, you did a pretty bang up job on me and Nate.

Vittoria (courageously rushing to him, bending down into his face): Trust me, I didn’t mean to hurt Nathan. He was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Brendon (cryptically): Sort of like how you were. (long pause) I see that shut your trap. Let’s take this somewhere else.

Vittoria reluctantly went with him into an empty hospital room. All she wanted to do was grasp the handles of his wheelchair and push it through one of the glass windows. They were on the higher floors. That would take care of him once and for all.

Vittoria (cowardice washing over her): Look, Brendon, I-I-

Brendon: After all I’ve done for you, Vittoria, this is how you repay me (gesturing to his bandaged head) by beating my brains out and attempting to burn me alive.

Vittoria (in amazement): After all you’ve done for me? (growing angry) You’re not only pimping me and Tristan out, but you’re also blackmailing us, you heartless bastard!

Brendon: Well, this heartless bastard holds the key to your freedom. With one word from me, Mickey Giordano will track you and Tristan down for offing his brother, Rudy.

Vittoria: It was self-defense! Rudy attacked us first.

Brendon: Somehow I don’t think Mickey the mobster will accept self-defense as a plausible excuse. You know how you dagos are about family ties. You and Tristan owed his brother big time for all those gambling debts you racked up in Vegas.

Vittoria: Speaking of family, haven’t you got enough to worry about with your would-be hubby feeling all over your nephew?

Brendon: Shut up about that!

Vittoria (continuing): But then again Justin’s also a conniving liar like you. I guess bad blood runs in your family.

Brendon: I said shut up! As long as I know what I know about you and Tristan, you both will do as I say. Not only have I got you two on killing a mobster’s brother, but one call to Immigration, and you’re both back on a boat to Italy, where Mickey can easily find you. I’m sure Italy’s version of witness protection hardly fares any better than America’s.

Vittoria: Why are you doing this to us? We’ve done everything you’ve asked of us. We appear in your movies—both mainstream independent and your seedy softcore porn—and we’ve escorted for you. What more do you want?

Brendon: I thought you liked sex, Sugar Tits. Tristan surely does. That boy was made for it, and he never complains when he gets paid for it. Now as for you, I see it’s done a number on your sanity. After all, I’m in this damn wheelchair because of you.

Vittoria (bitterly): And I’d do it all over again! I hate you. (pause) I just want to be free of you.

Brendon: Look, I’m a forgiving man. I’m willing to put all this behind us. I have one more assignment for you, and I’ll let you off the hook for good.

Vittoria: Who do you need me to fuck or blow this time? Some producer you’re trying to impress?

Brendon: Oh, no, it’s not that kind of assignment. This one is more up your alley.

Vittoria: What are you talking about?

Brendon (gravely): I want you to permanently “take care” of Callum Sutcliffe for me.

TO BE CONTINUED…