Previously...

Kenny informed James, Alex and Renee that the government agreed to drop criminal charges in their role in Stratotech in exchange for a hundred million dollar fine.  Blackthorne-Reynolds was liquidated.  Alex announced that she was planning on returning to her acting roots in order to help pay the fine.  Jordan and Alex got re-married.  Jordan's son Benji arrived and announced that he graduated early from boarding school in Switzerland.  Later, he revealed to a friend that he planned on making Jordan pay for what he did to his mother. In private, Jordan opened a hidden compartment in the attic where he'd hidden a locket of Suzanne's, and an axe. Miranda miscarried Brett's child in her first trimester, leaving him broken and devastated.  Heather was informed that she had contracted Congenital Toxoplasmosis, a parasite that is un-treatable in unborn babies, and that her child will likely be mentally retarded.  Heather chose not to tell Brett the news, instead pretending that the baby was in perfect health.  James invited Leilani's daughter in Hawaii, Kelly, to move in with them at the mansion.  David blew off a date with Miranda to spend time with Brooke. Brooke and David had a heart to heart talk about his father's passing. Brooke told Ethan that he's smothering her and he stormed off angrily. Later, Brooke's mother, Roz, showed up at her door under the pretense that she was there to help her through a difficult time.  James awoke from his coma and claimed that he wanted to set things right with everyone he'd wronged in his life.

Read the full season three recap here

Episode 75

"The Resurrectionist"

A single beam of light cut through the darkness, illuminating each step as he walked purposefully across the room.  Pausing at the window, he peered outside and surveyed the commotion on Sunset Boulevard.  The street was dark, cars were at a standstill, and the valet drivers were stopped, looking up to the sky in wonderment.

He moved away from the window and continued on his way, letting the flashlight guide him to the back of the restaurant where he found the circuit box and switched a breaker.  The lights flickered for a second or two before they came back on and the frightened crowd at the Polo Lounge breathed a collective sigh of relief.   The maitre d’ restarted the overhead music and within moments all was back to normal.  As normal as things could get after an earthquake.

“That was scary,” said the woman in the corner booth.  “I wonder if the lights are out all over town.”

Her companion, Frank Dunning, peered across the room to the window.  “Looks like they’re back on now.  Probably just a temporary interruption.  It was only a small tremor.  Doesn’t look like there was much damage.”

“Tell that to my martini,” she replied with a grin and motioned to her drink that had toppled to the floor during the violent shake.

He laughed.  Frank Dunning was the hottest director at the moment in Hollywood.  At thirty-two, he had already directed four blockbusters and had been commissioned for several others.  His newest project was to begin principal photography the following day, and his leading lady sat timidly across the table from him.

“Nervous about tomorrow?” he asked, flagging the waitress for another martini.

“Somewhat,” she replied.  “It’s been a while since I’ve worked.”

“You’ll be fine.  Is that all that’s bothering you?  You seem distant.  Are you still seeing Dr. Wainwright?”

“Yes.  I’m fine, really.  I appreciate the opportunity.   You and James have been very kind.  This film is exactly what I need right now.”

Frank smiled and offered a toast.  “I’m glad, Suzanne.  Monaco is going to be the biggest blockbuster of 1996.  Mark my words.” 

It was getting late, and Suzanne had an unsettling feeling of uneasiness after the earthquake, so following her meeting with Frank, she headed home.  She pulled her Range Rover up to the mailbox by the curb and removed a stack of envelopes.

Once inside the palatial Beverly Hills mansion, she found herself alone, Jordan and their children nowhere to be found.  She remembered they were at a birthday party for a friend of Benji's.

Aside from a few nick-knacks that had fallen, it didn’t look like there had been much damage from the tremor.  She wondered if it was a warning for something bigger coming.

She finished opening the mail and walked to the stereo.  Her hand trembled as she ejected the tray and placed the disc into the CD player.  She watched the digital display load, and then flash for a second or two before the pounding piano chords of Jackson Brown’s “Running on Empty” filled the room.  She was suddenly at ease, soothed by the feelings of nostalgia the song provided her.  She set the jewel case onto the desk next to a yellow padded envelope.  She closed her eyes, standing perfectly still while letting every note soak into her senses.  Everything else faded to black…

Barracuda!

Green, Green, Green, Green, Green, Yellow, Whammy Bar.

You’re gonna burn, burn, burn into the wick….

From his position in the center of the game room, Benji Rydell retained his standing as Guitar Hero III champion.  The final chords of the song played and he pumped his fist into the air in victory. 

“Beat that, dickhead,” he said and handed the guitar to his best friend Blake Distefano.  “One hundred percent.”

“Easy,” replied Blake and started his turn. “Hey, it’s like seven a.m.  Isn’t your dad gonna be wondering where you are?”

Benji rolled his eyes and sunk into the plush leather sofa.  It was the morning of his eighteenth birthday and he and Blake had been up for eight hours playing Wii at Blake’s father’s sprawling home in Bel Air.

Since returning home from boarding school three months ago, Benji’s skinny, rail of a body had been replaced with a toned, cut physique thanks to hours in the gym every week.  He had short dark hair and brooding dark eyes, six feet one inches tall, and towered over Blake, who was just a few months younger than him. 

“He’s out of town for work.  Besides, I doubt he'd even notice I wasn’t there.  His promises of all this family togetherness didn’t exactly hold true.  And why would it?  My sister’s pregnant and my step mom is in her sexual prime.  The last thing he needs is his other kid coming back and getting in the way of his life.”

“Poor Benji,” Blake sighed with a certain amount of sarcasm as he strummed his way through a Killers tune.  “Daddy doesn’t have time for you.  Get serious, Rydell, he’s throwing you a birthday party, isn’t he?  At least your dad is sober enough to manage something like that, which is a lot more than I can say for Victor Distefano.”

“Yeah, well your dad didn’t ship you off to boarding school for fifteen years,” Benji said, his dark eyes penetrating the television screen in a trance-like state.

“Have you talked to him about your mom yet?”

Benji shook his head briefly, offering no verbal reply.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Blake probed another touchy subject.  “You heard from Sheldon?”

“No, and he better stay clear of me if he knows what’s good for him.  I think he learned his lesson that night at the Viper Room.”

“Somebody sure did,” Blake murmured under his breath.   When he finished his turn, he set down the guitar and turned to his friend.  “Well I think you need to-“

His sentence was cut short when Eddie Distefano entered the room and pushed his younger brother five feet across the room onto a chair.  “What are you two losers doing?  Don’t tell me you’ve been up all night playing that game.”

“Eddie, what are you doing here?” Blake said with a groan, wincing in obvious pain as he placed a hand over his arm.  He exchanged harried glances with Benji before turning back to his brother.   “Why don’t you get back in the Mystery Machine and go home?”

“I came by to talk to dad.  He up yet?”  As if already knowing the answer, Eddie grabbed the guitar controller and strapped it over his shoulder. He was a self aware twenty-six year old goofball, tall and strapping, and had a shock of brown hair with too much product holding it into place.

“He never came home last night.”  Blake tried to catch his breath, his hand still clamped over his arm as it seared with pain.

Laughing, Eddie rocked his way through another round of Guitar Hero.  “No way?  Victor Distefano scores again.  I’m telling ya, if I’m half as a popular with the ladies when I’m his age I’ll be perfectly happy.”

“You’re not popular with them now, so what’s going to change in thirty years?” Blake said with a smirk.

“Hey,” Eddie said and pushed his weight against his brother on the chair.  “I can still kick your ass, you know, you little-“

“Owww, you son of a bitch!” Blake groaned, shooting pain going up his arm from the force of Eddie’s body on his. 

“Listen, I gotta get going,” Benji said, stood up and pulled on a t-shirt.  “See you tonight, Blake?”

“Yeah, okay,” Blake said, his voice muffled while Eddie had his face buried in the chair and his arm twisted behind his back. 

Benji grabbed his keys and walked out to the entryway where he waited for Blake.  Moments later, he emerged, his face twisted into a painful grimace.

“You okay?” Benji asked. 

Blake nodded unconvincingly.  “Yeah,” he said, then removed his hand from his arm.  He looked down, growing dizzy at the sight of blood smeared over his hand, soaking through his shirt from the wound in his arm just below the shoulder.  “These damn stitches didn’t hold.”

Benji pulled the sleeve up on Blake’s shirt, shuddering at the sight of the wound that had turned green with infection. He ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated and convinced their secret was about to be uncovered.

Alex Reynolds was in bed with a man who was not her husband.  She straddled him, holding the sheet over her chest while moving steadily up and down.  She licked her lips, leaning down and flicking her tongue inside his ear.

“Baby, you know exactly what I like, don’t you?” Victor Distefano groaned as he laid on his back, his thrusts aligning perfectly with hers.  Panting and out of breath, he placed his hands along her milky white shoulders and struggled to keep up with her.  She was younger than he was, and supposedly in her prime, and a man of fifty-eight wasn’t exactly in the best shape of his life, as much as he tried to be.  Hours on the treadmill and on the racquetball court didn’t seem to be enough. 

“I’d forgotten how amazing you are in bed,” she said, her voice wavering up and down with each thrust he made.  “I’m almost there.  You have to keep going.  Don’t stop.”

“I’m trying,” Victor said with a wince.  He bucked his hips up and down vigorously, blocking out the sounds of her howling so he could maintain his stamina.  One slip and he could….

“What?” Alex said and stopped, staring at him in bewilderment.  “You didn’t already, did you?”

Victor was eerily still, his wide eyes staring at the ceiling.  His breath came out in quick, short, exasperated bursts.  His face twisted into a painful grimace.  The last thing he did was reach up and touch his chest where his heart had stopped beating. 

“Don’t do this!” Alex screamed, shaking him vigorously.  “Don’t you dare do this to me!  Don’t you dare die!”

But he did.  Suddenly and without warning.  A victim of a heart attack brought on by physical exertion. 

Or possibly something else…

“I have to give him credit,” said a younger man as he entered the room.  “He held out for longer than I thought he would.”

Alex twisted off of the bed and pulled a silk robe over her naked body.  “You’re telling me.  My first husband couldn’t keep it up for as long as this guy.  Are you sure you gave him the dose?”

The man picked up an empty glass from the nightstand.  “He drank every drop.  He just must have been in better shape than we realized.”

Alex smiled and allowed him to pull her into an embrace.  “And now we can be together.”   She eyed the bed and pulled him towards it, laying down next to Victor’s dead body.

“You’re not serious?” said the young man.  “You want to do it next to a dead guy?”

“Why not?” she asked with a grin and pulled him on top of her.  “I think it’s kind of kinky.  I think he secretly got off on stuff like that.  This could be our last tribute to him.”

Not one to argue, the young stud peeled off his shirt and climbed on top of her.

“Hold on,” Alex said and sighed with irritation.  She pushed him off of her and climbed back out of bed.  “I’m confused.  How would anyone get turned on by having sex next to a corpse?  Who in the hell wrote this script, anyway?”

“Cut!” the director shouted and rose from his chair across the set. 

Groans and cries of frustration emanated from the crew.  Alex shrugged and tightened the belt around her robe.  “I’m sorry. I just think this is unrealistic.  Normal people don’t have sex on dead bodies.”

“Jesus, can we just get through this scene,” said the young hunk, a popular twenty-nine year old actor named Scott Kelly who was married but was rumored to swing both ways.  Alex believed the rumors.  No man that good looking could be completely straight. 

“I wouldn’t mind doing the scene again,” said Victor as he sat up on the bed and eyed Alex with a knowing grin. 

Rolling her eyes, Alex stormed across the set and plopped down in a chair with her name emblazoned on the back. She was a stunningly beautiful woman of forty-six with long auburn hair and porcelain skin.  Her assistant handed her a bottle of water and she eagerly welcomed it from her.

“Alex,” said the director, Frank Dunning, and sat down beside her.  He was a forty-four year old veteran in the business, dressed casually in jeans and a tartan shirt, and had hair that fell to just below his collar.  He had worked with many actresses just as difficult as Alex Reynolds, but in the ten days since they started filming Angel Assassin 2: Halo and Goodbye, she’d complained about nearly every scene.  “I know that you haven’t worked for a number of years, but I have to be honest-“

“I hope you’re not about to make some crack about my age, Frank,” she said and stared at him in shock.  “Because you know damn well I can out-perform any of these wannabe’s showing up in town every day with stars in their eyes and producers in their pants.”

“No, of course not,” Frank said gently.  “You’re a pro.  Every film you’ve done proves it, especially those for Sunset Studios.  James seems to have a lot of faith in your abilities…”

“If you’re about to suggest that I got this role because my ex-husband owns the studio, you can think again.”

“Well, I know it doesn’t hurt either.  Listen, you’re filling the shoes of the original Angel in the first movie.  We have to stay consistent with the character or the audience isn’t going to buy into it.”

“Aeriel Giddish would have screwed her lover next to her husband’s corpse?” Alex guffawed. 

“Yes, and she did.    Although in the first film the corpse was headless.  Based on the problems with the ratings board in the original, we decided to scale back the gore for this one.”

“Oh, well I guess I should thank the writer for allowing my husband in the film to have a head,” Alex ranted, stood up and walked back to the set.  “How is a sequel even possible?  Angel died in the first film."

Frank gave her a sheepish grin.  "I resurrected her."

Irritated, Alex threw her hands up in resignation.  "Fine.  Let’s get this over with.”

The crew returned to their positions, and Alex climbed back onto the bed next to Victor, swatting his hand away when he brushed it against her thigh.  Scott Kelly completed a set of two hundred pushups and walked back to his mark, flexing his bulging arm muscles and running his hand over his overly-pumped chest. 

“Angel Assassin 2, Scene 3, Take 7,” said the clapper loader as he set the marker for the scene. 

“Where’s your sister this morning?” James Blackthorne asked, the L.A. Times spread out in front of him while he sipped a cup of strong black coffee and nibbled on a piece of dry toast.

Before he could answer, Stormy Blackthorne flinched at the sound of doors slamming up on the second floor of the sprawling Hollywood Hills mansion.   “Does that answer your question?” he replied, stuffing a forkful of eggs into his mouth while he tapped at his iPhone.

James sighed and folded the paper, placing it neatly on the table.  “Do you know what’s wrong with her?”  He was a tall, noble looking man of forty-seven with dark hair and deep brown eyes.  A few distinguished wrinkles around the eyes lent him a great deal of sex appeal.

Stormy contemplated the question briefly before shrugging and muttering an off-handed, “who knows?  Does she need a reason to have a hissy fit these days?  I thought it was all part of her charming personality.” 

“I have a feeling it’s got something to do with David.”

“You think?” Stormy said with a great deal of sarcasm.  He was a twenty-six year old executive at Sunset Studios, working directly under his father.  Jet black hair and coal eyes along with an ever-growing number of tattoos, labeled him in the media as the Hollywood bad boy of the moment.

“I don’t think she’s dealt with it very well,” James said thoughtfully.  “As a matter of fact, she seems to be worse off than she was when it happened.”

Their conversation was halted when Ethan walked into the room, freshly showered and dressed in a perfectly cut Armani suit.   “Good morning,” he said and sat down while Leilani poured him a cup of coffee.

“Good morning Ethan,” James said.  “How did you sleep?”

“Fine, thank you,” he said.  “Just coffee this morning, Leilani.”

“You’re not having breakfast?” James asked.

Ethan Blackthorne shook his head.  He was a thirty-one year old man with light brown hair and deep blue eyes.  A solid, athletic body and chiseled face balanced his gentle demeanor.  After a long estrangement from his family, he’d recently been given a fresh start, and with it his old post as chief financial officer of Sunset Studios. 

“I have a meeting with Kenny,” he replied.  “The next payment on that loan you took out against the studio is coming due and the bank wants to make sure we don’t default.”

James frowned.  “Why would they think we’d default?”

Ethan shook his head dismissively.  “We’ll talk about it later.  Will you be in today?”

“Yes.  Speaking of which, Stormy, I thought you were going to be on set this morning,” James remarked.

“I’ve decided that it’s best to stay away when they’re shooting a scene with mom,” he replied.  “She’s still giving Frank Dunning a hell of a time.  Dad, isn’t there something you can do?  I’m afraid he’s going to walk if she keeps up this diva act of hers.”

James sighed.  He was happy to be back in charge of the studio, and having his son and his nephew working closely with him again was a dream come true.  But his ex-wife’s behavior so far left much to be desired.  She was causing problems all over the set. 

“I’ll talk to her again,” he said reluctantly.  “But I’m telling you, if she wasn’t your mother and she didn’t need this movie to pay for her fines to the government for that Stratotech business, she’d be out.”

Miranda stalked into the room and planted her hands firmly on her hips, glaring at the three men with squinty eyes. 

“Have any of you seen my necklace?” she demanded.

“What necklace, sweetheart?” James asked.

“The pendant mom gave me for my twenty-first birthday.  It was on my dresser the day before yesterday and I haven’t seen it since.  I wanted to wear it to the party tonight.”   She took her seat and swallowed a few sips of orange juice.

“Well it’s got to be around somewhere,” James remarked.  “Have you seen it, Leilani?”

She turned away from her duties at the buffet and shook her head apologetically.  “I’m sorry, no, Miss Miranda.  But I will keep a look out for it.”  She placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.  “It will turn up.”

Miranda sighed heavily and grimaced at the plate of eggs their faithful housekeeper placed in front of her.  She had long dark hair, big brown eyes, and full, pouty lips with frosty pink lip gloss.  At twenty-three, she was the manager of Hotel Terranova, one of James’s fashionable resort hotels in the Hollywood Hills.   “How are you feeling, Daddy?” she asked, deciding to drop the mystery of the missing necklace for the time being. 

“Good as new,” he said.  “I had a checkup with Dr. Farraday yesterday and he said I’m healthy as a horse.”

“Well just make sure you take it easy,” Miranda said.  ‘It’s only been three months since the shooting.  I don’t want you doing anything to put your recovery in jeopardy.”

James smiled, got up and kissed her forehead.  “I promise, Sweetheart.  Listen, I’ve got to go see your mother.  I’ll see you later.  Ethan, Stormy, see you at the studio.”

“Bye Daddy,” Miranda said.

“You okay this morning, Miranda?” Ethan asked after a moment of awkward silence. 

She shrugged indifferently and tapped at her blackberry.  “Fine, I guess,” she said.   “Ethan, when’s your house going to be ready?”

“Not for a couple of weeks,” he replied.  “The electrician said it was lucky the fire was contained to the upstairs.  The entire place is jinxed with faulty wiring.”

“Well, it’s been nice having you here.  And I’m glad you and Daddy are close again.  I’m telling you, Brooke Taylor is the supreme source of all of this family’s problems.  She just won’t leave well enough alone.  She takes and takes and takes until there’s nothing left for anyone else.  Ethan, you did yourself a favor by offloading that tramp from the Valley.”

Ethan finished his coffee and stood up quickly.  “Well, I’ve got to be going.  I’ll see you all tonight at the party.”

After he was safely out of earshot, Stormy threw a muffin across the table at his sister and hit her playfully on the arm.

“Hey!” she complained, tossing it back at him.

“Good going, Miranda.  You know how broken up he’s been about Brooke.  Don’t you have any feelings for anyone but yourself?  What’s eating you anyway?  You’ve been storming around in a pissy mood all morning, and I know it’s not because of your necklace.   I thought you were over getting dumped by David Jenner.  At least it seemed that way when you went home with the mystery man you picked up at the Viper Room a couple of weeks ago.  Who was he anyway? You never did tell me."

“None of your business.  And David didn’t dump me.  I dumped him,” she corrected him crossly and picked at her eggs.

“That’s not what I heard.  So what happened?  Did you catch him with another woman?  You had to expect that.  He’s a wealthy, attractive bachelor.”

“So why don’t you date him?” she spat hatefully.   “I told you that I’m over David and I meant it.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.  Why would I lie?” she asked with irritation.

“I don’t know.”

“I have no reason to lie.  You, on the other hand, have been hiding something for weeks.”

Stormy frowned.  “What do you mean?  What would I have to hide?”

Miranda’s eyes landed on him suspiciously.  “Mom told me that you haven’t been on the set but five minutes a day in the last month.  So what have you been doing that’s so important that you have to lie about where you’ve been?”

The phone rang in Brooke Taylor-Blackthorne’s Glendale townhome.  She walked down the stairs, thoughtfully admired a bouquet of roses on the landing while removing an earring from her right ear, and picked up the receiver in the living room.   From her vantage point, she could see the nanny, Rachel, giving Michael his breakfast in the kitchen.

“Hello,” she said.  She was twenty-nine, five-foot eight inches tall, and had silky golden hair and dramatic aquamarine eyes. 

“Did you like the roses I sent?” asked a voice on the other end of the phone.

Brooke smiled tentatively and glanced at the bouquet again.  “Yes, they’re very beautiful.  Thank you, David.  But I keep telling you-“

“Have dinner with me tonight,” David Jenner cut her off.

“David, I can’t. I-“

“Why not?  You’ve been putting me off for weeks.  I told you that I’d give you space until you got over Ethan.  You said you didn’t want to jump into anything right away.  Well today it’s been exactly three months.  It’s time that you got out of that townhome and lived a little.”

Running her fingers through a tangle of blond hair, Brooke looked at Michael and sighed dramatically.  “It’s too soon,” she insisted.  “Ethan and I had a lot of history.  I spent so long bouncing back and forth between him and James that I can’t remember what it’s like to be alone and to take care of myself.  It’s time that I do that.”

Silence on the other end of the line.  After a few awkward moments, David replied in a low voice.  “Is this because you’re afraid of what Miranda might think if she knew we were together?”

Brooke shook her head.  “Whatever reason you broke up with Miranda is your business, David,” she said.  “I never asked you to do that.  But to answer your question, yes, I would like to avoid any confrontations with her.  There’s too much bad blood between me and the Blackthornes as it is.”

“I’m not going to give up.  We have a connection, Brooke.  I know you felt it the same way I did.”

She cut him off by hanging up abruptly then wiping her sweaty palms on her slacks.  Moments later, the door opened and her mother entered the house with a slew of shopping bags dangling from her hands. 

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