Previously...

Stormy and Kelly announced their engagement to a surprised audience.  James overheard Brooke admitting to Ethan that she still loved him.  Kenny arranged for the bank in New York to grant James an extension on his loan.  Later, a mysterious woman made plans to collect on the loan and take over Sunset Studios, exacting revenge on James.  Jordan had been hiding an ax and a locket of Suzanne's beneath a floorboard in his attic.  Frank Dunning sent Jordan a cryptic note indicating he knew that he'd killed Suzanne.  That night, Jordan brutally attacked Frank causing him to become hospitalized.  Sheldon Novak, a rival of Benji's, videotaped him performing sexual acts on Scott Kelly.  When Benji found out, he threatened to shoot Sheldon, accidentally hitting Blake instead.  A specialist suggested that Brett and Heather send Violet to an institution to receive the proper care.

Episode 85

"For the Good of the Child"

Alex and Jordan sat in silence while the driver took them home to Beverly Hills.  The engagement party had ended abruptly for them, namely because Alex couldn’t stand another minute in the same room with Kelly.  Jordan knew she was being irrational when it came to her son’s announcement, so he simply chose to ignore the situation as best he could.

“Why didn’t Benji come home with us?” Alex asked after finally breaking the silence.

“He’s going to a concert with Blake.”

Alex rolled her eyes.  “He isn’t grounded?”

Jordan was in no mood to argue.  “Not anymore.”

“How do you expect him to take you seriously if you always let him off the hook no matter what he does?”

“He’s learned his lesson, Alex.”

She laughed out loud and pulled a compact from her purse, proceeding to reapply her jammy red lipstick.  “You are such a pushover.”

Finally he’d had enough.  “Are you trying to pick a fight?” he asked.  “You can’t control your own son so you take shots at mine?  Tell you what.  You let me handle Benji and I’ll let you handle Stormy.”

“It doesn’t seem like you can handle Benji at all,” she said.  “He’s out of control.  Running around shooting people, getting in car accidents, sleeping until noon and then carousing around L.A until all hours.“

“What is this really about?” Jordan cut her off irately.  “Are you covering because you’re nervous about shooting your last scenes tomorrow?”

“Nervous?  You’ve got to be kidding.  Need I remind you that I’m a professional?”

“It’s perfectly normal if you feel unsettled about going back on set.  James did hack your part beyond recognition.  Stop being so proud, Alex.”

“Oh shut up,” she said with an irritated sigh and turned out the window of the limo.

Once they’d arrived home, Alex quickly jumped out and started up to the front door.  Jordan took his time getting out of the car, hoping maybe by the time he made it inside she would have calmed down.  All in all, it was a typical night with his wife.

Meandering to the door, he was suddenly cut off when a dark figure stepped in front of him and stopped him in his tracks.  Jordan’s eyes flickered past his and maintained his footing. 

“Hello Jordan,” Frank Dunning said, partially hidden in the shadows. 

Jordan waited a beat before reacting.  “Frank, what are you doing here?”

“I came to let you know that I’m feeling much better,” he replied ominously.  “It’s amazing what a little stay in the hospital does for three cracked ribs, a fractured wrist, a broken nose, and a concussion.”

“That’s terrible.  How did you manage to do all that?” Jordan deadpanned.

Frank smiled and let out a small chuckle.  “I was wondering how you were going to play it,” he began.  “You did this to me.  You left me for dead in a parking garage.  And make no mistake, I will see you in prison for the rest of your life.”

“I didn’t do this to you, Frank,” Jordan said defiantly.  “It must be that concussion messing with your head.”

“Not for what you did to me,” Frank replied.  “For killing Suzanne.”

Jordan dug his hands deep into his pockets and took a few steps closer.  He grabbed Frank by the shirt collar and pulled him toward him.  The floodlights from the house now illuminated his face, still cut and bruised from their last run-in.

“Get something straight, Dunning,” he began, choosing his words carefully and speaking very slowly.  “I did not kill Suzanne.”

 Frank pulled Jordan’s hands off of him.  “Well if you didn’t kill her, then where is she?”

Jordan didn’t reply.  He turned and walked to the front door, pausing briefly before going inside.  “About your accident, maybe you should be more careful walking through parking garages late at night.”

Frank offered one final look of warning before he turned and made his way up the drive to his car parked a block away. 

The concert was in an old rundown garage in West Hollywood.  There was no bright neon sign hanging above the door, no valet parking, and no comfortable lounge areas to gather in.  Instead, there was a crude sound system that was entirely too powerful for the small space, a simple white strobe that provided repeated bursts of harsh light in the pitch black room, and a young metal band called Skin the Cat. 

Blake followed Benji into the crowd of mostly skinheads, skaters, and a few emo types.  They shared a flask of vodka as there was no bar.  Walking through the masses of mosh pits and drugged out band groupies proved difficult as there was never a clear path in any direction. 

A few acquaintances passed by and Benji acknowledged them with handshakes, pats on the back, and sometimes barely a nod of the head.  Van Edgewater was there, politely asking amidst a drug-induced haze if Blake’s arm had healed.  They didn’t bother to tell him his handiwork nearly caused gangrenous affects.  Sheldon Novak was also there, which instilled immediate anger in Benji after the incident at the Viper Room that landed him in so much hot water with his father's gun.

Blake immediately saw the look in Benji’s eyes.  “Just calm down!” he shouted into his ear over the thunderous wail of the electric guitar.  “We don’t want anyone getting shot this time!  Namely me!”

Benji rolled his eyes and found a spot where they could stand and see the band who was thrashing about the makeshift stage.  A vibration in his pocket alerted him to a text message.  He withdrew his cell phone and quickly read the message. 

Where R U?

Benji didn’t recognize the phone number.  He frowned and typed a quick reply.

Who is this?

Scott

Benji raised an eyebrow.  He hadn’t seen or heard from Scott Kelly in weeks.  He wondered if he was looking for oral gratification like last time.  He wasn’t opposed, so he quickly responded with the address of the garage. 

Be right there.

By the time he made his way back through the mob of drunken teens, Benji found Scott Kelly waiting outside in his black Corvette.  He pushed his way through a group of skaters smoking on the sidewalk and slid inconspicuously into the passenger’s seat.

“Thanks for meeting me,” said Scott, his tanned face hidden behind a baseball cap pulled down tightly to conceal his identity.

“I take it you’re in need of some relief,” Benji said with a smirk.  “Do you want to go somewhere for a little while and-“

“That’s not why I wanted to see you,” Scott cut him off and looked down at the steering wheel.  “My wife found out about my… extra-curricular activities with men.”

“Ouch,” Benji said, wincing.  “What happened?”

“She walked in on me with the guy who comes to the house to service the treadmill.”

“Oh crap,” Benji murmured.  “What is she gonna do?”

”She’s already talking divorce,” Scott explained.  “That I could handle, but what if the media gets wind of this?”

“She wouldn’t tell anyone would she?”

“I doubt it.  But if she goes to a divorce attorney and lets this slip, it could be the end of me.  I can’t have the public knowing that I’m gay.  I’m an action movie star.  I’ve spent years marketing myself as a sex symbol to women, and a hero to men.  This would destroy my career.  That’s why I needed to talk to you.  What ever happened to that video Sheldon Novak had of you and me at Vanguard?”

Benji shrugged.  “Nothing.  He emailed it to me once because he was trying to be a prick.  But you don’t have anything to worry about.  It was so dark in that VIP room that it’s impossible to tell who’s on camera.”

“Good,” he said with relief.

“What are you so worried about?” Benji asked.   “If you want something to go away all you have to do is come up with something better to replace it.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged.  “Start a juicier rumor and leak it to the media first.  Invent an affair with a gorgeous actress.  The more high-profile the better.”

“Do you think that would work?” Scott asked.

Benji rolled his eyes.  It was a good thing Scott Kelly was attractive because he was lacking in the brains department.  “Don’t you have PR people?” he asked.  “I mean, isn’t that how you got this macho action hero reputation in the first place?  You’re paying them a fortune, I’m sure.  Make them earn it.” 

With that, he pushed the door open and started off back toward the garage. 

The next morning, James and Kenny met for breakfast at Hotel Terranova where they discussed details of what had been going on over the past week.  There was plenty to catch up on.

“I’m sorry things didn’t go as you’d planned with Brooke,” Kenny was saying.  “It seems every time you try to make things work with her, she turns to Ethan.  I know this is probably not what you want to hear, but have you ever considered maybe they were meant to be together?”

James sighed and rubbed his face with his hands.  “Only every day for the last three and a half years,” he said with a chortle.  “I don’t know why my head keeps going back to her, Kenny.  Hoping she will change her mind and give us another chance.  It’s asinine.  After everything that’s happened, why would I think it would work this time?”

“Maybe you’re lonely,” Kenny suggested.  “It’s been months since Leigh died, and she was the last woman you were serious about.  Maybe it’s time to start dating again.  Someone who isn’t the mother of your nephew’s son.”

James offered a wry smile and leaned back in his chair.  “No, I think I need to concentrate on other things for the time being.  Namely trying to save my studio from foreclosure.  My three month extension on that loan is nearly up.  We’re still behind schedule on Angel Assassin 2 and the money’s drying up fast.”

“You have enough funds to finish the movie, don’t you?”

Shaking his head dismissively, James leaned forward and whispered quietly to him.  “There’s not even enough to cover the crew’s payroll this month.  I know, it’s a mess.  Those people have families who are depending on me, and I can’t event find the nerve to tell them to their faces that they may not be getting paid.”

“What about your personal accounts?” Kenny asked.

“We’re floating by as it is,” James grudgingly admitted.  “I’m afraid that the bank is going to foreclose, Kenny.  Everything I’ve worked for for the past twenty-four years is going to disappear.”

“James, I’m sorry,” Kenny said.  “But don’t count yourself out just yet.  There’s got to be something we can do.”

“I hope so.”   He leaned against the back of the chair and racked his brain for anything that could help him fix the mess he was in.   His eyes skimmed over the morning paper that was folded neatly on the table.  Frowning, he lifted it and read the headline that covered the front page of the society section.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he murmured aloud. 

The limousine passed the gates at Sunset Studios and proceeded toward sound stage 4 where Alex’s last scenes were being filmed for Angel Assassin 2.  A larger that average number of reporters were gathered by the gates, and they appeared to be waiting for someone in particular. 

Through the heavily tinted windows she could see them peering inside her limousine.  Luckily she was shielded, hidden inside as the driver steered their way up to the sound stage.  Whoever the paparazzi was waiting for was certainly the topic of the day.

With a sigh, she gathered her things from the seat.  She dreaded going on set at all, as she’d probably have to endure the looks of pity from the cast and crew, everyone feeling sorry for the diva who got canned from her big comeback.

Luckily the scenes were being filmed with her alone in front of a green screen.  Something to do with her ghost appearing as an apparition to another character or something.  She didn’t really know or care at this point.  It was as obligation, and she, unlike others, fulfilled her obligations.   The only saving grace was that she was able to complete her work on Kelly’s day off.

When she arrived on set, it was as if someone had placed a kick-me sign dead center on her forehead.  All activity came to an abrupt halt.  Silence permeated the room, save for the hiss of a few hushed whispers between crew members.

“What the hell are you all staring at?” she asked and glanced around the set.

Frank Dunning approached her warily.  “Alex, it’s good to see you.”

She looked him up at down.  “Thank you.  You look like hell.  You’d think two weeks in the hospital would have changed that.”

“I guess you haven’t seen this morning’s society column,” Stormy said with a wince and handed his mother the newspaper. 

Alex snatched the paper from him, irritated and just wanting to get on with her last day on the set of this ridiculous movie.  She unfolded the page and skimmed over the headline. 

Superhero Scott Kelly Beds Co-Star Reynolds

Eyes widening, she quickly read through the scathing article, complete with a photo of her and Scott locking lips in what appeared to be an intimate moment together.

“I don’t believe this,” she gasped.  “This isn’t true.  I never slept with Scott Kelly.”

“According to that article, you did,” Stormy said, disapproval evident in his voice.  “Look at the picture.”

“This picture was taken during a rehearsal months ago!” Alex exclaimed and threw the newspaper at Frank.  “This proves nothing!  Who on earth would start a vicious rumor like this?  Don’t they have to print actual facts in this country anymore, or is hearsay suddenly all-“

“They have corroboration from Scott himself,” Stormy interrupted.  “The article says he confirmed it was true.  His wife even left him.”

“Oh, I don’t believe this,” Alex said and gnashed her teeth so hard that it made her head hurt.  She stormed across the set and burst into Scott’s dressing room.   When she found it empty, she turned and screamed in a rage. 

“Well, well, well,” Victor Distefano said with a devilish grin as he approached.  “I have to say I’m hurt, Alex dear.  I always hoped that if you’d decided to step out on poor Jordan that it would be with me.  You can’t deny it would have been amazing.  Just like that time on my yacht years ago…”

“Oh shut up, Victor!” she exclaimed and turned to walk away.  Just as she did, Stormy appeared before her.

“How could you do this, Mother?” he asked.  “How could you stand there and criticize Kelly at our engagement party, all the while cheating on Jordan with a tool like Scott Kelly?”

“I did not cheat on Jordan, and I most certainly did not sleep with Scott Kelly!” Alex lamented.  “Stormy, you have to believe me.  You know I wouldn’t do something like that.”

“I also didn’t think you’d try to buy off my fiancée, but you did,” he said with contempt before turning and marching back onto the set.

Alex stood behind, feeling ambushed by what the day’s events had brought.  It was only now clear to her that the welcome committee at the studio gates had been in her honor.

Damage Control was nearing the end of production.  The film had been sent to print and was now in the hands of the editors at Rydell Productions.  Jordan, eager to start pre-production on his next film entitled The Amazon Bride, wasted no time in lining up a crew.

At eight-thirty that morning he and Brett met in his office to get the ball rolling.  After half an hour and no progression, Brett stood up and walked to the window.

“What’s wrong?” asked Jordan.  “We need to get as much done today as possible.  I have a second mortgage on my house to pay thanks to my enterprising wife.”

“I’m sorry,” Brett replied solemnly.  “I'm no good to you today, Jordan.  I can’t stop thinking about Heather and Violet.”

Jordan nodded warily.  “I understand.”

Brett lowered his head and squeezed his eyes shut in despair.  “She’s not handling this well,” he said.  “I actually called Miranda this morning and asked if she’d go check on her.  I’m worried, Jordan.”

“I know you are.”  He turned toward him, sunlight filtering into the room.  “That’s why I think sending Violet to a home is the best thing for all of you.”

“I know that’s what Dr. Katzman said,” Brett remarked and stood up from the conference table.  “But are you sure you agree with him?  I thought I did but now I don’t know.  Heather is committed to nurturing and raising our child.  There's no reason why she can't."

Jordan took a deep breath and leaned against his desk with his arms crossed.  “I don’t know that she’s capable of raising Violet.”

Brett regarded him carefully.  An unsettled feeling developed in the pit of his stomach.  “Violet, or any child?”

“If it was any child, yes, maybe,” Jordan answered.  “But Violet will have special needs.  I don’t know that my daughter can handle it.”

“Why?”

Jordan ran his fingers through his hair and began pacing the room.  “Her history,” he began.  “She’s fragile.  And then there are the blackouts and the erratic behavior.  You know as well as I do it’s gotten worse in the past few months.  Sometimes I wonder if that Dr. Anderson she’s been seeing isn’t hurting her more than helping her.”

“How can you be saying this about your own daughter?” Brett asked. 

Jordan held his hand up in protest.  “I know, but just listen to me for a minute, Brett.”

He shook his head.  “No,” he said, turned, and then slowly began to realize what lengths his father-in-law had gone to.  “You told Dr. Katzman to recommend sending Violet to a home, didn’t you?”

“I did what I thought was best for my daughter and for Violet,” Jordan maintained.

“What about for me?” Brett demanded.  “Don’t I have a say in this?  I’m the girl’s father.  Heather isn’t alone in this.”

“What if she shuts down again?” Jordan asked.

Brett threw his hands up in resignation and tried to wrap his head around what Jordan was saying to him.  “I don’t see what her blackouts have to do with any of this,” he said.  “She hasn’t had one for nearly two years.  And as far as her erratic behavior goes, can you blame her?  Look at the pressure she’s been under.  The doctor telling her that she contracted toxoplasmosis and that her baby could be mentally challenged as a result is enough to make anyone act a little nuts.”

“How much has Heather told you about her mother?” Jordan suddenly asked.  “Have you ever asked her about Suzanne?”

Brett shrugged indifferently.  “No, she doesn’t really talk about her.  Why?”

Jordan turned to look out the window, grappling with painful memories that forced their way into the front of his mind.  “There was an accident,” he began, his eyes glazing over. 

Rage subsiding, Brett looked at him blankly.  His heart suddenly began thudding inside his chest.  “What accident?”

Jordan went to the bar across the room and poured two tumblers of bourbon.  He handed one to Brett and swallowed the other in one gulp. 

“This doesn't leave this room,” Jordan began. 

“She’s got a lot of hair already,” Miranda said as she sat on the sofa and watched Heather feed Violet.  “She’s got a lot of you in her.  Blonde and pretty.”

“She’s a mama’s girl,” Heather said proudly.

“How is Brett with her?”

Heather shrugged and gazed down at her daughter.  “Fine I suppose.  He’s nervous about holding her because she’s so fragile.  I keep telling him that she won’t break.”

Miranda watched her step-sister carefully.  Something in her eyes told her she wasn’t fully connecting with the conversation.  “Well what exactly did Dr. Katzman say when you went to see him?”

“He tried to tell me that we have to send her away to a special institution,” she replied quickly and felt her eyes stinging with tears at the thought.

“That doesn’t seem logical to me.  Why did he say that?”

“Because she’ll have learning disabilities.  The toxoplasmosis restricts the blood vessels and the oxygen doesn’t travel to the baby’s brain during pregnancy.  Her brain didn’t develop normally.”

“But that doesn’t mean you and Brett can’t take care of her,” Miranda insisted.  “I can’t believe Jordan would go along with something like this.  Or Brett for that matter.  It’s his baby.  What does he say about this?”

“He hasn’t said much about it,” replied Heather.  “He knows how I feel.  There’s no reason why we can’t take care of Violet ourselves."

Miranda went to the counter in the kitchen and poured them each a glass of iced tea.  “Heather, have you seen Dr. Anderson lately?” she asked.  “I’m just thinking it wouldn’t be a bad idea if you talked through some of this with him.”

“I saw him once after Violet was born,” she replied as the baby finished her feeding.  She tucked her into her bassinette and took the glass of tea from Miranda.

“I think you should go again.  Why don’t you call and make an appointment?”

Heather shrugged.  “I don’t feel like I need to,” she said.  “I’m really fine, Miranda.  I mean, especially now that I know what’s happening with my daughter.  Before, the not knowing was the worst part.”

Miranda decided not to push the issue, but she still felt like Heather wasn’t thinking clearly.  Her therapy seemed to have helped her overcome some of her issues, but now that she wasn’t going she feared that her progress would be lost.

Benji slept until eleven and then took a swim in the pool to refresh his body after his late night out on the town.  Drying off on the pool deck, he sunk into a lounge chair and slid on a pair of sunglasses while trying to catch a few rays. 

His cell phone rang and it was Blake telling him to turn on the E! news. 

“You’re not going to believe this,” Blake said.   “Your step-mother’s a slut!”

Frowning, he picked up the remote and clicked on the television that rested on the small table beside him.  He turned to channel 56 and saw a report involving Alex and an affair with Scott Kelly.  Immediately, his jaw dropped and he shot forward in his chair.

“He didn’t!’ Benji exclaimed.

“Who didn’t what?” Blake asked.  “Dude, this is unbelievable.  Your step-mother and Scott Kelly doing the deed.  Your dad is going to freak!”

James ordered in an early lunch from a local deli when Renee stopped by the studio for a visit.  His secretary set everything out on the conference table and politely excused herself as they settled into their seats.

“I’m sorry that you’re having such troubles, James,” Renee said, elegant as ever in a simple black suit and white scarf knotted around her neck.  “I guess I got off easily.  I was able to sell off some of Merteuil Industries’ holdings to cover my share of the fines to the government.  I know it wasn’t as easy for you.”

“That’s okay, Renee,” James replied with a faint smile.  “I’ll think of something.  I always do.”

“You always do,” she said with a good-natured wink.

“How is Sierra doing?”

“She’s well.  I just talked to her this morning.  Apparently she and this Malcolm character are getting quite close.”

“The guy who was helping her with her singing?” James asked for clarification.  He remembered Renee mentioning it to him during Sierra’s last trip home. 

“That’s right.  I still don’t know much about him, but he’s certainly all she talks about.”

“Young love,” James said with a glint in his eye. 

Their conversation was cut short when the door opened and Alex rushed inside in bated breath.  She removed her large Chanel sunglasses and glared at James with her hands positioned firmly on her hips.

“I would like an explanation,” she said, never one for making an entrance that wasn’t overflowing with drama.

“Hello to you too, Alex,” James said with a frown and exchanged knowing glances with Renee.  “I hear you stormed off set this morning.”

“You’re damn right I did.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Because of this!” she exclaimed and dropped the newspaper on the conference table.  “Tell me that you aren’t responsible for printing this trash.”

He looked at the article and shrugged.  “Okay, I’m not responsible.”

“Although I wish I could take credit,” Renee interjected.  “This is priceless, Alex.”

“Nobody asked you, Renee,” she said with a scowl.  “Seriously, James, was this just a publicity stunt to get people talking about the movie?”

“Of course not,” he said and stood up while skimming through the story.  “You know I wouldn’t resort to something this low. “  He suddenly remembered that he had resorted to something that low.  Or at least came very close to it the other day when he leaked the story about Brooke and David to the Times.  This, however, he could not own as his handiwork.

“Then who would do something like this?” Alex asked with exhaustion.

“Have you talked to Scott?” James asked.  “They quote him in this story saying it’s true.  According to him, the two of you slept together.”

“Don’t you think I would if I could find him?” she asked.  “He’s ignoring my phone calls.  When is he due back on set?”

“This afternoon,” James replied.  “Now if you’ll excuse us, Renee and I were just in the middle of lunch.”

She rolled her eyes and started for the door.  Before she left, she paused and turned back.  “Aren’t either one of you going to ask me if it’s true?” she asked, curious as to why neither had bothered.

“No,” they both said in unison.

Alex glared and left the room with as much dramatic flair as she’d came.  After she’d gone, Renee turned to James and looked at him with a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

“Maybe this is the publicity you’re looking for,” she said.  “It might just get people talking about Angel Assassin 2.”

James considered that she may just have a point.  Maybe Alex’s latest fiasco would prove to be beneficial to them in some way.

When Brett left the studio, he didn’t go home.  He took a detour and drove to a large office building in Beverly Hills.  He sat in his car for a few minutes before going inside.  His mind raced in a thousand directions.  Morbid thoughts and a general feeling of numbness overwhelmed his body.  His conversation with Jordan played over and over in his mind as he started up to the building.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?” Brett had asked as he sat in a state of bewilderment in Jordan’s office.

“I haven’t told anybody,” was Jordan’s response.

“Stormy never knew?”

He shook his head.  “Nobody.”

Brett held his head in his hands for a moment before looking back up in confusion.  “So if what you’re telling me is true, the night at Will Thomerson’s house isn’t the first time she’d had a blackout.”

Again Jordan shook his head.  “This can’t change anything, Brett.  You’re the best thing to happen to my daughter in a long time.  She needs you right now.  Don’t turn your back on her.”

He stood up and walked across the room while considering what Jordan was saying.   “I’m not going to turn my back on her,” he said.  “I love her."

“Then convince her to take Violet to the home,” Jordan remarked.

“I can’t do that.  I can’t take Violet away from her.  Do you know what that would do to her?”

“I’m only thinking of the baby.  It isn’t as if you won’t see her again.  She just won’t live with you.”  Jordan’s eyes were pleading.

Brett shook his head adamantly.  “If you take Violet away from her, she will lose it.  I guarantee it.  Besides, you don’t know that Heather can’t handle this,” he insisted.  “I’ve seen her with Violet.  She’s committed to her.”

“I’m afraid of what might happen.  You’re facing a difficult road ahead with a baby with needs like Violet’s.  What if it gets too much for her and she shuts down again? Then what happens to the baby?” 

“I’ll be there to help her through it,” Brett resolved.  “Don’t put the cart before the horse here.  Heather is fine.”

Jordan had reluctantly agreed, admitting that maybe he was overreacting.  But he reminded Brett of the changes in Heather’s behavior already.  The inability to focus, the paranoia, the dazed stares. 

“I’m going to go see Dr. Anderson,” Brett had announced. 

“He doesn’t know what happened,” Jordan cautioned him.  “And he can’t know.”

“But what if he does know?  What if the memories came back in one of her sessions?”

“If it had, we’d know about it.”

“I still need to talk to him.”

When Brett approached the building, he took the elevator to the third floor where Dr. Anderson’s office was located.  He entered the musty outer office and found an empty reception desk with only a phone, notepad, and a wilted fern on its dusty surface.

“Hello?” he called out and peered around a couple of corners.  “Dr. Anderson?”

When he didn’t get an answer, he proceeded into the back office and ran directly into someone hiding behind the door.   The woman screamed and jumped with a start.

“Jesus!” Miranda exclaimed when she saw that it was Brett.   “You just about scared the crap out of me.  Brett, what are you doing here?”

He answered her question with a question.  “What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk to Dr. Anderson.”

“Looks like we had the same idea,” he said and looked around the office.  “Is he here?”

“I just got here and the place was empty.”

“They left the door unlocked?”

“Weird, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he said with a smirk.  “So did you see Heather?”

She nodded.  “Yes, and she was very resistant to my suggestion of making an appointment.  I thought I could talk to the doctor and see if he could talk to her.”

“That’s more or less what I had in mind,” Brett confirmed and walked over to the desk and began rifling through the few papers that were strewn over the surface. Moreso, he wanted to find out if any of their sessions had anything to do with Suzanne.

“What are you doing?” Miranda asked, nervously looking out the door for Dr. Anderson or his receptionist to return.  

“Just looking around,” he replied.  “I thought maybe Heather’s file would be sitting out somewhere.”

“It isn’t.  I already looked.”  She ran her finger along a bookshelf and turned her nose up at the dust that came off.  “This place is filthy.  Doesn’t he have a cleaning service?”

Brett picked up a few playbills and turned through them.  “Obviously a fan of the theatre,” he said.

“Local theatre,” she stressed and looked over his shoulder.  “This is running at the Black Dahlia.  That place seats like thirty max.”

Brett continued rifling through drawers but found nothing of importance.  He hoped to at least find a business card with another phone number to reach him.  Instead, all he found was a comb, a couple of neckties, a small glass bottle of clear liquid, and a box of tissue.  He picked up the bottle and examined it for a second before placing it back in the drawer and closing it.

“Well, he’s obviously not here much,” he finally said and looked at Miranda.  “Maybe he has another office somewhere else in town. “

Miranda followed him to the door.   “You really are worried about Heather, aren’t you?” she asked.

He dug his hands in his pockets and nodded solemnly.  “I think she needs help getting through this,” he revealed.  “I’m glad you feel the same way.  Maybe the two of us together can convince her to continue her therapy.”

“I’m trying,” Miranda said and walked outside.   A warm breeze blew through her hair and she quickly pushed it from her eyes.  “You aren’t really going to send Violet to a home, are you?”

He sighed and shook his head.  “No, I’m not.  Violet is fine where she is.  We’ll do whatever it takes to give her a full, happy life.”

The prospect put a smile on Miranda’s face.  She shook her head and looked at him as if he was a different person.  “What happened to you?” she asked with a good natured laugh.  “You’re not the Brett Armstrong I was married to.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, kicking his foot against the ground as she turned and walked back to her car.

Benji couldn’t tell the security guard his name or he would have never been allowed admittance to Sunset Studios.   A competitor’s son wasn’t exactly welcome to roam the sound stages while production was going on.  So instead, he had them phone Stormy and tell him it was a family emergency.  After being escorted to the set, he ducked behind a wardrobe rack and followed it to Scott Kelly’s dressing room.

When he entered, he found him shirtless doing push-ups on the floor.  “Ahem,” he said while clearing his throat. 

Scott rose to his feet and looked at Benji with surprise.  “Hey, what are you doing here?” he asked, rushing forward and closing the door to the dressing room.  “Did anybody see you?”

“No, relax,” Benji said and rooted through the makeup at the dressing table.  “Wow, you really are a homo.  Look at all this coverup.”

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Scott said.  “I don’t need anyone getting suspicious.”

“I think you remedied that when you told everyone you were having an affair with Alex,” Benji said.  “What were you thinking?  I told you to start a rumor about you and a gorgeous actress.  Not your co-star who happens to be my step mother.  What is my dad going to say?  Aren’t you worried about him kicking your ass?”

Scott placed a hand on his forehead and paced around the room.  “I panicked,” he said.  “My PR guy and I were up all night and couldn’t come up with a single name that would be believable.  I was looking through some stills from the set and came across Alex and I in rehearsal.  We were running out of time and the paper had a deadline.”

“Brilliant,” Benji said.

“What are you so upset about?” Scott asked.  “I thought you didn’t give a crap about your dad anyway.”

“I’m upset because I’m trying to play things cool,” Benji replied and took a step forward.  “I have a plan where my father is concerned, but timing is everything.  If I get connected to your little stunt, all that goes out the window.”

“The last thing I want to do is drag you into this,” Scott said.  “As far as I’m concerned, we can’t hang out anymore.  It’s too risky, especially if my wife sees us together.  Her lawyers will be keeping me under a microscope."

Benji looked him up and down, admiring his bulging arms and chest as a smile grew across his face.  “Well I guess if this is the last time we'll see each other then we better make it count.”

As he approached, the door swung open and Alex barreled inside.  “You have some explaining to do, Scott-“  She stopped, curious when she found Benji in the dressing room.  “Benji, what are you doing here?”

He looked at her and then back at Scott.  Think quickly, Benji, he thought to himself, and make it believable.

“What does it look like?” he finally answered.  “I saw that trash in the paper today and came straight here to punch this guys lights out.”

Scott’s eyes widened.  Before he could react, Benji’s fist was slamming into his face and jarring his head backward.  He recoiled from the startling blow, his hands instinctively going to his nose.  No blood, he realized thankfully.  He prayed that it wasn’t broken. 

“Nicely done,” Alex said with a pleased expression on her face.

“If you ever think of dragging my family into your twisted marital problems again, the next time I’ll knock those pretty white teeth out of your mouth," Benji said and walked to the door.  He stopped and gave Alex a quick squeeze for good measure.  He smiled from ear to ear while leaving the room. 

After he’d gone, Alex stomped toward Scott, drew her hand back and slapped him hard across the face.  He placed his hand on his cheek, ignoring the stinging sensation.  Strangely enough, it hurt more than Benji punching him. 

“Look, Alex, I’m sorry,” he began defensively.  The truth was he had no defense.  None that he could share with her, that is.  He’d have to play stupid, which always seemed to work.  “I don’t know how this whole thing got so blown out of proportion.  That newspaper misquoted me.”

She slapped him again.  “They damn well better have.  I don’t even want to tell you what my husband will do to you if he finds out you’re spreading rumors about us at his expense.”

Benji crept back out of the dressing room and sidled along the hallway, hoping to leave undetected.  Just as he neared the sound stage, he was spotted by Frank Dunning.

“Benji Rydell?” he asked and drew closer.  “What are you doing here?”

His hand throbbing from his impromptu attack on Scott, Benji turned toward him..  “I just came to see Alex,” he said.  “Who are you?”

“Frank Dunning,” he replied.  “I’m the director.  I’m an old friend of your fathers.”

Benji nodded and put his hands in his pockets.  “Cool.  You do any movies together?”

“Actually,” he began in a thoroughly calculating manner.  “I directed your mother in a film many years ago.  The Resurrectionist.”

Benji smirked.  “That was an ef’ed up movie, dude.  I mean really nuts.”

Frank laughed in turn for good measure.  “Well I can’t take credit for the script, but I did enjoy working with Suzanne.  She was such a talented actress.”

The topic of his mother sent waves of discomfort through Benji’s body.  It had been six months since he’d moved home and he’d gotten sidetracked.  He was on a mission to prove that his father killed her.  Frank mentioning her only drove the point home. 

“I was actually going to direct her in another film,” Frank continued.   “Sadly the day before photography was to begin she left town and I never heard from her again.  Did you father ever tell you that?”

“Not exactly,” he mused.  “He hasn’t said much.”

The corners of Frank’s mouth drew into a smile and he began thinking that Benji could very well assist him in his crusade against Jordan, and to expose his deeds.

“We had dinner that night,” Frank went on.  “Your mother and I.  There was an earthquake if I remember correctly.  Just a small one, but she was very nervous.  Scared I would say.  I couldn’t tell if it was because of the earthquake, or something else.”

“You were with my mother that night?”

Frank nodded, his eyes turning ominously dark.  He watched Benji’s expression, knowing full well he had been raised to believe a set of self contained lies about his mother.  He was determined to change that. 

“We should talk,” he said and scribbled an address on a piece of paper from his clipboard.  “Meet me tomorrow night at my house on Laurel Canyon.  Ten o’clock.”

Benji took the piece of paper and watched as the man turned and disappeared amidst the crew.  He wondered what information this director had on his mother.  If he was with her the night she died, he may have something on his father. 

That night, Heather and Brett finished a late dinner and put Violet down for the night.  After she was fast asleep, Heather drew herself a steaming hot bath. 

“I’ll just be a little while,” she said and kissed him softly before starting into the bathroom. 

Brett forced a smile on his face even though smiling was the last thing he felt like doing.  After what Jordan told him that day, he had been left with a nagging feeling of emptiness inside.   And after leaving Dr. Anderson’s office, he’d called his service and made an appointment for Heather.  She was going to see the man if he had to force her to go.  It was for her own good.

Listening first at the bathroom door to ensure she was in the tub, Brett sat down on the sofa and opened his laptop computer.  In the search engine bar he typed a simple query.  Suzanne Rogers. 

The results were numerous.  He scrolled through biographies, filmographies, her entry on Starlog, and a few random archived articles that had been published around the time she’d left.   Most were similar, boasting headlines such as “Actress Mysteriously Disappears Prior to Production on Monaco’, or ‘Rogers No-Shows for New Role’.   A few went on to speculate that she and Jordan had been having marital problems and were in counseling.  They claimed Suzanne had left him and Heather and Benji due to that reason alone.  That was the story he’d always been told and until now had no reason to disbelieve it. 

The entries went on and on.  There was ample material about Suzanne Rogers but most of it repeated the same information over and over again.  He felt like there were still unanswered questions.  Something that he could use to help his wife.  If her blackouts and her occasional erratic behavior stemmed from what happened years ago, then he had to do all he could to fix it. 

Blackness enveloped him on all sides.  The crunch of leaves beneath his feet seemed to get louder the deeper into the trees he got.  It had been years since he'd been down the ravine behind his house in Beverly Hills.  Acres of land that went virtually untouched for years.  For a minute he thought he'd taken a wrong turn, but a strangely shaped tree struck a familiar chord in his mind.  

Finally, Jordan reached the hidden spot.  He crouched down, pushing leaves off of the stones he'd placed atop the dirt to mark the makeshift grave.  He buried his face in his hands, resisting the urge to cry.  He'd cried too much already.   

Next time....

James attempts to utilize Alex's misforutune to his benefit.  Heather sees Dr. Anderson.  Brooke and David discuss their past.  Miranda enlists Eddie's help.  Stormy and Kelly make wedding plans.

Read Episode 86

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