Previously...

Miranda threatened to move out if James didn't accept Brett as her husband. Alex and Jordan spent the night together. Winter got her job back at the hopsital and she and Ethan grew closer.  Brett got nervous when Stormy mentiond an article about Bailey's death in Las Vegas.  Ethan questioned James about his father.  A reluctant James claimed that his father was a carnival worker who impregnated Georgie and then disappeared.  Brooke told a devastated Ethan that their kiss should never have happened.  Alex overheard James telling his lawyer that Will Thomerson is Ethan's father.

 Episode 7

"Philip"

Alex Reynolds paced the spacious living room of her house in Malibu, pausing to pour a shot of vodka into her morning glass of orange juice.   There was a warm spring breeze gently billowing the curtains inward, the salty ocean air touching her lips. 

She’d been up since dawn, unable to sleep, as had been the case every day for the past week since she’d learned the sordid secret James Blackthorne had been hiding for so many years.  That his nephew Ethan was Will Thomerson’s son.

After days of agonizing over what to do with the information, and how to use it against James to pay him back for the loathsome way he’d treated her, she was still filled with uncertainty.  Obviously James had gone to great lengths to keep the secret from both Ethan and Will.  He would be devastated to say the least if either of them found out.  His hatred for Will over what he did to his sister Georgie fueled a rage so deep that he refused to let Ethan be part of his father’s life.

Finally she decided to do nothing for the time being.   Will was already hard at work on hatching a plot to destroy James.   If he found out that he had a son, it might distract him from his efforts, and she couldn’t have that.   There would be a time and place for her to drop the ball on the estranged father and son.   It would be the final nail in James’s coffin.

Pausing and looking out the window at the choppy waves of the Pacific, she realized there was something else.   Maybe there was another nail yet…

She picked up the phone and dialed a number from her address book.   “I’d like to speak to Mr. Carlyle, please,” she began.  “Tell him it’s Alex Reynolds.”

Moments later, the private investigator Dennis Carlyle came onto the line.  “Yes, Miss Reynolds.  How nice to hear from you again.”

“I have a job for you, Mr. Carlyle,” she announced.  “I want you to dig up some dirt on Brooke Taylor.   I’ll pay whatever it takes.“

“Of course.  Send me whatever information you have on her and I’ll get started immediately.”

“Good, you’ll have it by lunchtime,” Alex said and hung up the phone with a smile.

The best way to stick it to James was to get him where it hurts.  His precious Brooke has to have some secrets lurking around somewhere.  Something she could use to drive a wedge between them and their happy home.

Just then, the maid, Veronique entered the room followed by Will Thomerson.  Alex turned and grinned from ear to ear.

“I was just thinking about you,” Alex said.  “Veronique, would you bring some coffee, please?”

“Yes, Miss Reynolds.”

After she’d left the room, Alex approached her handsome co-conspirator, admiring his handsome face, thick blond hair and cat-like green eyes.  “This is a nice surprise,” she said with a grin.  “Is this business or pleasure?”

“Business first,” Will replied slyly.

“Is there news on project X?”

Relishing her choice of words, Will sat down on the sofa and patted the cushion next to him.   Alex raised an eyebrow, surprised by his nerve.   The fact that he thought he could summon her in her own home was undeniably pompous.   But it was a turn on, nonetheless, so she followed him to the sofa and sat down.

“James should be getting word any time now on the rating the MPAA has given Angel Assassin,” Will explained, reached beneath her robe and tracing his finger up her thigh.  “I wonder if we’ll be able to hear the screams from here.”

Alex closed her eyes as Will leaned in and brushed his lips against her neck.  She felt absolutely sinful.  She’d been juggling Will Thomerson and Jordan Rydell for over a week.  She felt like she was a teenager again.   And she wasn’t about to spoil it.  She was having too much fun.

“What’s the next stage of your plan?” Alex asked, placing her hands along his face and teasing him with faint kisses on the lips. 

“It’s still in production,” he replied, lowering the straps on her nightgown.   “But rest assured, it’ll be enough to make your ex-husband beg for mercy.”

Alex wasn’t sure what Will was planning next, but she felt comfortable enough to leave it in his hands.  Together they would make James Blackthorne rue the day he messed with either of them.

“Why don’t we move into the bedroom?” she said, standing up and taking his hand.

Will grinned and followed her up the winding staircase.   The thought of bringing James to his knees with the help of his ex-wife was a huge turn on.   He just knew this was the beginning of a very satisfying relationship.

Winter Austen carried a box from her car up two flights of stairs to her new apartment on the beach.   She set it down in her bedroom and turned just as Ethan followed with two more boxes piled in his arms.

“This is the last two,” he said, setting them down on her bed and panting with exhaustion.  “Man, those stairs are a killer.”

Winter laughed and punched him playfully on the chest.  “You look like you can handle it,” she said.

“Oh yeah?” Ethan asked, pulling her in and kissing her sweetly.   “Oops, sorry, I’m all sweaty.”

“I don’t mind,” Winter replied, peeling his damp polo off and kissing him as she rubbed her hands over his smooth muscular chest.    She let her hands follow his torso down to his madras shorts, pausing seductively at his zipper.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Ethan asked with a grin, his dirty blond hair falling lazily into his eyes.

She nodded.  “I’m going to have to christen the place.”

They both laughed and Ethan pushed her down onto a pile of clothes and CD's on the bed.   He fumbled with the strap on her bikini top and untied it quickly, kissing her exposed stomach with his warm, moist lips.

He buried his face in her breasts, kissing them eagerly and feeling himself growing more aroused by the second.   Moments later, he was on top of her, reaching down in an attempt to slide off his shorts.

“Hey Winter, I saw your car outside and I-“ called a voice from the living room.

They both jumped up off of the bed in a frenzy.  Ethan quickly zipped up his shorts while Winter tied the strap on the bikini top.

“Ooops, sorry,” said Lauren Spencer as she stood in the doorway with a look of utter embarrassment on her face.  “I thought you were alone.”  She turned and started back out of the bedroom when Winter called after her.

“Wait, Lauren,” she began. “It’s okay.”

Lauren turned back and looked at Ethan, admiring his perfectly sculpted body and extremely handsome face.   “Hi, I’m Lauren,” she said, extending her hand.  “I’m Winter’s roommate.”

“Hi, Ethan Blackthorne.”

“I’m sorry, Lauren.  I promise I’ll shut the door next time,” Winter said apologetically.  The last thing she wanted was for her new roommate to think she was some kind of raving nymphomaniac.

Lauren laughed and shook her head, gulping down a glass of water.  “It’s okay,” she replied.  “We’ll have to come up with some kind of system.”

Lauren Spencer was a typical California beach girl with long, sun-streaked blond hair and beautiful bronzed skin.  At twenty-four, she was a long-legged buxom beauty.

“Really, it won’t happen again,” Winter insisted, following Lauren out into the living room.

“Don’t worry about it, “ Lauren said, eyeing Ethan again as she watched him pull his shirt back over his head.  “I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off him either.”

Winter shot her a menacing stare, then broke into a laugh.  “Hey, hands off.  He’s mine.”

“Oh I know, it’s cool,” she said.  “So did you get everything moved in?”

“I think so.  It’ll just take me a while to get unpacked.  I’m pulling double shifts all week at the hospital.  I have absolutely no free time.”

“What do you do, Lauren?” Ethan asked, taking a seat on the old floral-patterned sofa.

“I’m a waitress at a diner down the street,” replied Lauren, sitting on the arm of the sofa and taking off her tennis shoes.   “And I just started cocktail waitressing at a club in Van Nuys.  Actually I’m just working there because the owner says he’ll let me sing a couple nights a week.”

“You’re a singer?” Winter asked.  “I didn’t know that.”

 Lauren nodded.  “Just a hobby, I guess.  We’ll see what happens.”

“We’ll come and hear to sing sometime,” Winter suggested, looking at Ethan with a smile.

“Great,” Lauren exclaimed.  “Well listen, I’m all sweaty after my run so I’m going to go shower.   If I don’t see you, it was nice meeting you Ethan.”

“You too.”

 Lauren disappeared into her bedroom and Winter leaned in to Ethan for a kiss.

“She seems nice,” he said.

Winter took his hand and pulled him up.  “Why don’t we go pick up where we left off,” she said, leading him back to her bedroom.

Ethan grinned from ear to ear, staring at her from behind as he followed her into the room and shut the door.

Stormy Blackthorne was in a hurry, rushing from room to room in his house in the Valley as he tried to get ready for his day.   He stood at the sink in the bathroom, brushing his teeth when Heather came in and started in on him right away.

“I want to go with you,” she demanded, picking up a brush and running it through her long, silky brown hair.  “You’ve been putting me off for too long, Stormy.  All I’m asking for is a couple of hours in the studio to record that song.”

“Heather, I told you I don’t have time today!” he insisted.  A dribble of toothpaste ran down his chin and dripped onto his shirt and he rolled his eyes in irritation.  “Oh great, like I have time for this.”   He took a drink of water and rinsed his mouth before tearing off into the bedroom and peeling off his soiled shirt.

“You never have time for me,” Heather complained relentlessly, following fast on his heels as he grabbed a clean shirt and pulled it over his head.   “When are you going to realize that I’m just as important as-“

“Heather, that’s enough,” he cut her off, stopping long enough to give her a cold stare.  “I told you that I have a very busy day today.  I’ll try to get you in the studio as soon as I can.”

“Well when will that be?” she demanded, following him down the stairs to the front door.  “I don’t want to start my career when I’m in a walker and all pruned up!”

Tired of her constant badgering, he grabbed his keys and flew out the front door to his car parked in the driveway.  “I’ll see you tonight,” he said. 

“Stormy!” Heather yelled angrily from the doorway.  “You can’t keep running out on me every time I want to talk about this!”

He started the engine of his white Cobra and peeled out of the driveway, the stereo blasting as he sped off down the road.

Screaming in frustration, Heather slammed the door shut and spun around in a frenzy, her hair whipping through the air and falling into her eyes.   She picked up a vase from the table in the entryway and hurdled it across the room.   Shards of porcelain shattered everywhere and she broke into tears, sliding to the floor and pounding her fists angrily.

Alex was taking a leisurely bubble bath in her enormous tub, sipping a glass of champagne as Will Thomerson sat on the edge, rubbing her smooth, silky back with a sponge.

“So this is the glamorous life of Alex Reynolds,” he said, wearing only a towel around his waste.   “Bubble baths and champagne in the middle of the day.  A gentleman caller washing your back for you.”

“It’s a special occasion,” she purred.   “We’re celebrating.”

Suddenly, a shadow loomed over them.

“Celebrating what?” asked a voice from across the room.

They both spun around and found Jordan Rydell standing in the doorway of the bathroom.

“Jordan, what on earth are you doing here?” Alex asked with a start.

“I thought I’d come by to take you to lunch,” he said, glaring at Will.  “But from the looks of it you already have plans.” 

“She does, so if you don’t mind…” Will began as he stood up.

“And just who the hell are you?” Jordan asked, stepping forward.

Alex sighed, realizing that her fun was probably going to be over very soon.  No more juggling two men at once.   She’d be lucky if either one of them decided to stick around after learning she’d been seeing them both.

“Jordan, this is Will Thomerson.  Will, this is Jordan Rydell.”

“The producer?” they both asked in unison.

“Alex, what are you doing with this clown?” Will asked.

“He’s a….friend,” she replied awkwardly.

“A very close friend,” Jordan announced.  “And I’d watch your mouth if I were you, Thomerson.  I’ll send you right back to Broadway if you’re not careful.”

“Look, can we not do this now?” Alex asked.  “I’m a little indisposed here as you can see.”

“That’s right,” Will replied.  “So you can feel free to let yourself out the same way you got in, Rydell.   Next time call before you decide to show up.”

“Just who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” Jordan asked with a frown.  He didn’t realize that Alex had any other love interests at the moment.   Not that he cared that much since he wasn’t really after her heart.  But anyone else coming into the picture might interfere with his plan to use her in his plot to upstage James Blackthorne.

“Don’t start with me,” Will said, walking up to Jordan and shoving him against the wall.  “You’re interrupting and you’re being rude.  Show some class and leave.”

“Why don’t you leave,” Jordan said, shoving Will in return.

“All right, that’s enough!” Alex yelled.  She was starting to feel vulnerable lying in the bathtub while the two men in her life were about to beat each other to a pulp.

“That’s it.  I tried being nice,” Will said, pulling his fist back and punching Jordan directly in the nose, sending him flying back into the vanity.

“Will!  Stop it!” Alex screamed, standing up and quickly grabbing a towel to cover herself with.   “Would you just leave!   Both of you!”

Jordan staggered to his feet, rubbing his jaw while staring menacingly at Will.  “Yeah, I’ll leave,” he said.  “This isn’t worth it.”   He turned and made his way downstairs and out the front door.

Will turned to Alex and opened his mouth to speak when she stopped him with a wave of her hand.

“You too!” she screamed.  “Just get out! Get your clothes and get out!”

Will clenched his jaw in frustration and walked out into the bedroom where he got dressed and left.

Upset that her morning had been ruined, Alex picked up her glass of champagne and finished it off.   She tied the towel around her body, trying to decide what she was going to do to fix the mess she was in.  She wasn’t ready to give up on Jordan.   Or on Will, for that matter.

The next day Brooke drove down to Sunset Studios after James called and asked her to go to lunch with him.   The invitation was a welcome one, especially since he had been so preoccupied lately that she didn't even feel like she had a husband.  Since they got married it had been one thing after another.  Miranda hitting her with her car, Miranda getting married, his vendetta against Will Thomerson, and most recently some secret favor he was doing for Kenny DeWitt.   Not once in the past few weeks had he taken time out of his busy life for her.

Luckily she'd stopped herself from doing anything drastic.  The truth was she was lonely and felt neglected, but she was determined to stick by her husband.   That's what marriage was all about.  She even overlooked the way he occasionally insinuated that she should stay out of family matters that didn't concern her.   That had been a difficult pill to swallow, but she maintained her sense of reason.

Upon arriving at his office, she opened the door and found James pacing the office while screaming at someone on the phone.  Ethan was standing by with a helpless look on his face.  He turned and saw Brooke enter the office and immediately grew tense.   He offered a wary smile and she tried not to show her excitement over seeing him.   It had been over a week since their kiss at his house and the guilt still hadn't subsided.   She felt like an adulteress just for being happy to see him again.

"I don't care if they have the final say!" James was yelling into the phone.  "There's got to be a way around this!"

Brooke frowned, wondering what had gotten him so upset this time.  She was almost afraid to ask.  When he hung up the phone she started toward him, hoping to calm him down but he threw his arms up and began pacing the room.

"I don’t believe this!" he yelled.

"That was about the MPAA?" Ethan asked.

"They gave Angel Assassin an X rating!" James bellowed, stopping to pour himself a rocks glass of bourbon.   "X ratings are for porn flicks, not pictures produced by Sunset Studios.   What in hell are they thinking?"

"This doesn't make any sense," Ethan remarked.  "What warrants an X rating?"

"They said it's too violent," James explained.  "They said I have to trim over four minutes of footage before they'll consider an R rating.   Do you have any idea how long that's going to take?  The movie's set to premier in a week!  This is impossible!"

"So what happens if you don't make the cuts?" Brooke asked.  She didn't pretend to know the ins and outs of the movie business.  She did makeup for Angel Assassin but that was the extent of her knowledge in the industry.

"There's not a theater in America that will show it," James replied, slamming his glass onto the bar and pouring himself another drink.  He looked at Ethan.  "Where do we stand financially?"

Ethan sighed, afraid of what his uncle was going to do when he heard the next bit of bad news.  "If the film isn't released on schedule, there's a chance the investors could call in their loans immediately."

"Can they do that?" Brooke asked with concern.  She hated the thought of her husband having to go through this on top of everything else.

"Damn! Damn! Damn!" James shouted, throwing his glass across the room and sending it shattering into a picture hanging on the wall.  "This can't be happening!"

"Can't you make the cuts and resubmit it?" Brooke asked.

He stopped pacing long enough to shoot her a venomous stare.  "Brooke, you're not helping," he snapped.  "Why don’t you go home?"  It was more of an order than a question.  

Hurt and frustrated, she looked at Ethan briefly, then back at her husband.  "I thought we were going to lunch," she said.  "Maybe you just need an hour to cool off and think of a plan."

"Brooke, I told you to go home," James insisted, rubbing his aching head.

Her eyes filled with tears and she ran out of the office.   Ethan looked at his uncle and shook his head in anger.  He felt like punching James's lights out for the way he talked to his wife.   She was a kind, sweet woman who didn't deserve that kind of treatment.

"Don't you think you were a little hard on her?" he asked.  "She was only trying to help."

James rolled his eyes and continued pacing.  "I'll make it up to her later," he said, distracted.  "Ethan, we've got to come up with a way to get those investors their money."

"You'd have to liquidate an enormous amount of assets," Ethan declared.

James clenched his teeth angrily.  "Damnit, I wish I knew how this happened."

The doorbell of her Malibu beach house rang and Alex called for Veronique.