Previously...

After being released from the hospital, Frank Dunning paid Jordan a visit, telling him that he knew he'd killed Suzanne. Jordan maintained his innocence.  Scott Kelly went to Benji after his wife found him in bed with another man.  Benji suggested he start a rumor about an affair with a woman to divert the media.  The next day, Alex was dumbounded by a story in the gossip columns about her and Scott sleeping together.  A media frenzy ensued.  Jordan admitted to Brett that he coerced Dr. Katzman into suggesting they place Violet in an institution because of Heather's history of mental instability.  He filled Brett in on horrific details of Suzanne's disappearance and revealed that there had been an accident that Heather blacked out.  Miranda and Brett went to Dr. Anderson's office in hopes of getting him to convince her to resume her therapy.  Brett looked through the doctor's desk but didn't find anything he thought would clue him in to details of their sessions.  Frank Dunning told Benji that he had been with Suzanne the night she disappeared, then asked him to come to his house to discuss it.  Jordan went to a secluded area behind his house where stones marked a makeshift grave.  

Episode 86

"Doctor, Doctor"

One minute Alex Reynolds was dreaming peacefully in the dark solace of her Beverly Hills mansion, and the next she was being jarred awake by harsh sunlight blasting against her face.  She stirred irritably, groaning and pulling the covers tightly over her face. 

“Go away,” she muttered.

“Don’t you think it’s time you got up?” Jordan asked from the bay window.

“What for?  It’s not like I have anything to do.  Why force myself to get up at the crack of dawn?”

Jordan rolled his eyes and pulled the covers off of her.  “It’s twelve-thirty in the afternoon,” he said.  “I came home to check on you and you were still in bed.  For a minute I was worried you weren’t breathing but then I heard your trademark snore.”

“I don’t snore,” she said and pulled off her satin eye mask.  “Is it really twelve-thirty?”

He nodded.  “Yes.  Are you okay?  It’s not like you to sleep this late.”

“No, I’m not okay,” Alex said, still groggy.  “My good name has been drug through the mud.  That over-pumped, walking steroid advertisement made damn sure I couldn’t show my face in public.  Aren’t you going to do anything about this?”

“About what?” Jordan asked and sat down beside her.

“About what?” she repeated with irritation.  “About Scott Kelly.  He did tell everyone that we slept together.  Don’t tell me that doesn’t bruise your ego even a little bit.”

“It’s worthless gossip,” he said as the butler, Gordon entered and placed a tray of coffee on the dresser.   “This kind of trash gets tossed around this city every day.  I’ve learned not to take any of it personally, and I’d think you should have too.”

“You?” Alex asked with a scoff as he handed her a steaming hot cup of black coffee.  “Are you telling me that when Suzanne left and the media started printing every ridiculous scenario they could think of, that you didn’t take it personally?  I seem to remember a few reporters with broken noses around that time.”

“Like I said, I’ve learned to ignore it,” Jordan said dismissively.

Alex watched as he busied himself by picking up articles of clothing from the floor and laying them over the bench at the foot of the bed.   She set her coffee down and finally climbed out of bed.

“Why is nobody asking me if it’s true?”

Jordan frowned.  “If what’s true?  That you and Scott slept together?  Because it’s ridiculous.  I know you wouldn’t do something like that.  I trust you.”

She spied him conspicuously, slipping into a robe and positioning herself directly in front of him.  “You’re too trusting,” she said.

“You want me to believe the gossip about you and Scott?” he asked with a chuckle.  “That’s interesting.”

“No, of course not.  But the fact that you wouldn’t even ask me if it was true is kind of concerning.  Don’t you care?”

“Of course I care,” Jordan replied with frustration.

“If Suzanne had been accused of sleeping around, would you have just brushed it off so easily?” Alex went on.

He shot her a course stare and a look of warning.  “Drop it, Alex.  This argument is pointless.”

“No it isn’t,” she said.  “Are you telling me that you wouldn’t have batted an eyelash if you thought Suzanne was cheating on you?  You wouldn’t have wanted to kill them with your bare hands?  You had children together for God’s sake.”

“That’s enough,” Jordan commanded.  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Alex realized that she’d hit a nerve.  She figured it was the mention of Suzanne.  It seemed anytime she brought her up he got defensive.  Again she was faced with the reality that he had been deeply in love with her and had been crushed when she left. 

“I’m sorry,” she began.  “I didn’t mean to-“

He held his hand up and shook his head.  “It’s okay.  I’m just irritable.  I have to go see my mother this afternoon.”

Alex cringed at the prospect.  It was no secret she had no love lost for Lola Lamont.  “What on earth for?” she asked in a shrill voice.  Personally, she was amazed the woman was still alive.  Yet still, she clung to life, quite possibly to drive her clinically insane.

“It’s got to do with Benji’s trust,” Jordan explained.  “I’d like to move it to some offshore accounts.  At the rate the market is going these days it’ll be a matter of months before there’s nothing left of it.   Anyway, I just need her to sign off on some papers.”

“What does she have to do with it?” Alex asked meekly.

Jordan shrugged.  “She was the one who put the money into it in the first place.”

Alex turned and sipped her coffee.  “Say hello for me,” she said without really meaning it.  Her sarcasm was thinly veiled at best.

“I will,” Jordan said and kissed her from behind.  “See you tonight.”

Alex nodded, sighing as she picked up the morning paper and saw yet another story about her and Scott’s alleged affair.  It seemed this was one story that refused to die.

Victor Distefano had a habit of taking unnecessarily long lunches while on the Angel Assassin 2 set.  Sometimes he’d come back hours later drunk or high, and Stormy would have to postpone his scenes and pick them up again the following day.  With the budget woes and time constraints they were under to get the film completed in less than three weeks, Stormy decided to crack down on the leisurely lunch hours, or afternoons as it were.  He commissioned Eddie’s assistance in keeping his father in line, and the three left for lunch at the commissary.  By the time Victor had manipulated the situation to his benefit, they were instead knee-deep in a five course meal on the terrace at The Ivy.

“So the stage director says to me, he says ‘Victor, I’d like it if you would do that scene a different way’,” Victor explained, sipping a vodka gimlet and popping a small black pill into his mouth.  “And I said ‘the scene speaks for itself, my good man, I can only play it one way, and that’s as if my life depended on it because this script is an abomination’.”  With that, he burst into laughter and took another drink.

Stormy flashed Eddie a look of urgency from across the table, motioning to his watch and mouthing for him to reel his father in. 

“Uh, that’s a great story, Dad,” Eddie began.  “Almost as good as the last three.  But I think you and Stormy should probably get back to the set now.”

“I know there’s a lot you have to put up with when doing theatre,” Victor went on as if he hadn’t heard him.  “The low budgets, the slipshod lighting, the cantankerous critics.  But I love it.  I do.  I love it and I would never turn my back on it.  Films are wonderful for paying the mortgage, but theatre is where it’s at.”

“I didn’t know you did much theatre,” Stormy found himself saying, and immediately regretting it. 

“Oh I have always had a love for the theatre.  I am a trained stage actor, after all,” Victor said, mustering a dramatic Elizabethan accent for maximum effect.  “It’s how I got my start in this town.  Character acting is my passion, Stormy.  Makeup, costumes, it’s all part of the illusion.  None of that CG trickery that they make films with now.  Theatre is raw, visceral.  It’s acting!”

Eddie rolled his eyes and motioned for the waiter to deliver their check.  “Dad is in a performance at the Black Dahlia this month.”

“Yes,” Victor said with a smile and managed to garner the server’s attention for another drink.  “It’s a small production.  The playwright is a young, modern Shakespeare.  You should really come watch, Stormy.  Eddie and his brother are going to be there opening night.”  He reached into his jacket pocket and slid a playbill across the table at him. 

“I’ll be sure to make it,” Stormy said, then shoved a credit card at the waiter when he returned with the check and Victor’s drink.  “Now we really should get going.  We still have to shoot another scene today if we’re going to stay on schedule.”

“Eddie’s mother never approved of my stage acting,” Victor went on.   He stirred his drink with his straw and took a hearty gulp.  “She didn’t understand why I continued doing it after I became successful on film.  I told it her was an outlet.  A creative outlet.  Can you understand that?  Syl didn’t understand.  I think that’s why she left.  As a matter of fact, I’m positive that’s why she left.”

“Dad, let’s not get into this again.  Mom’s in Fresno.  She left because of your drinking and your pills.”  Eddie slammed his hand on the table and stood up when the waiter brought their receipt. 

Victor climbed to his feet while sipping his drink, stumbling and grabbing Eddie’s arm to balance himself.  “I know that’s what you were told, Edward, but things aren’t always so cut and dry.”

Stormy’s cell phone rang and it he fished it from his pocket.  It was James asking him where they were.

“Slight problem again with Victor,” he said with a roll of his eyes while watching Eddie supporting his father on his feet.  “We’re on our way back to the set but I don’t know how much work we’re going to get out of him today.”

He could tell by the sound in his father’s voice that he was disappointed in him.  Stormy was the producer of Angel Assassin 2 and if they didn’t stay on schedule then it was on his head.  It was crunch time, and he had a feeling that a lot was hinging on this film.  Possibly a lot more than his father was letting on.

Brooke Taylor was slowly feeling better about things.  Her mother was out of her life, she was back in her own townhouse, and Ethan was back in her life.  They’d admitted their love on the terrace at the mansion three days ago, had made love for hours on end, and spent an equal amount of time discussing where they’d went wrong in their relationship.  She took most of the blame, deservedly. 

Now it felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.  No longer was she worried about what people thought.  Before, she’d only just separated from James when Ethan wanted to dive head first into a relationship.  She hadn’t been able to commit, then David came along and complicated matters.  In no time at all, she’d driven Ethan away.  The true love of her life.  She almost lost him then, and she wasn’t about to do it again.

That afternoon, she made her way to Hotel Terranova for a meeting with Jordan, presumably to discuss her staying on as makeup artist for his new film, The Amazon Bride.  She parked her car in the lot and gathered her things from the seat before starting up to the porte-cochere.  Before she entered the lobby, she ran directly into David. 

“Brooke,” he said with surprise. 

She froze, her eyes immediately darting away from him.  “Hi,” she said softly.

“How are you?” David asked.

“Fine,” was her brief reply.

A few moments of awkward silence followed, and when Brooke tried to skirt past him toward the door, he pulled her back. 

“Please talk to me,” he said solemnly.  “It’s been a week since we left Phoenix.  I’ve been worried about you.  I went to the mansion to see you the other day but-“

“I wasn’t ready,” she cut him off.  “I’m still not ready.”

“Don’t you think this is as hard on me as it is on you?” David insisted.  “It’s not just you they lied to.  I’m just as much a victim as you are.”

She knew he was right, but it didn’t matter.  Just the sight of him made her skin crawl and made her feel dirty and tainted all over again.

“I went to New York to see my mother,” David announced.  “She tried to deny knowing anything about you, but eventually I got her to admit that she lied.”

Brooke finally looked him in the eyes, for the first time seeing what their parent’s lies had done to him.  He appeared every bit as destroyed as she was.   “What did she say?”

David shrugged.  “What could she say?  It was her idea to lie for all those years.  She couldn’t let anyone find out that her husband had fathered someone else’s child.  It would have destroyed her.”

“Instead it destroyed us,” Brooke said with a laugh.  “Jackie seems like quite a woman, David.  You’ll forgive me if I never want to meet her face to face.”

“She isn’t a bad person,” David explained.  “She has a good heart.  She’s just been hurt a lot.  She never asked for our father to cheat on her.”

Again, he was right.  It seemed the only bad guys in the whole mess were Royce and Roz.  And unfortunately Royce was gone, so Roz had taken the brunt of the blame.

A few more moments of awkward silence followed.  David dug his hands in his pockets and looked out at the hazy afternoon sun.   “So you and Ethan?  You’re back together?”

She replied with a simple nod.

“I’m glad,” David said.  “You deserve to be happy.”

Shaking her head, she brought her hand up and took a step back.  “Okay, I can’t do this,” she said.

“Do what?”

“Have the ‘you deserve to be happy’ conversation with my own brother,” she lamented, placing a hand on her forehead.   “I just can’t.”

“Look, I’m not saying we’ll ever be close as brother and sister, but we can at least be friends.  We’re family.”

“No, we’re not,” Brooke said adamantly and tugged her purse tightly over her shoulder.  “We nothing, David, and we never will be.  Please don’t force a relationship on us just because we share the same father.  It’s not going to happen.”

With that, she turned and raced into the hotel lobby, littered with construction materials.  She bumped directly into Jordan and dropped her purse onto the floor, its contents spilling out in every direction.

“I’m sorry,” she said and bent down to collect her things. 

“Are you okay?” Jordan asked and crouched down to help her.

Her hands trembling, she finished gathering her things and stood back up.  “I’ll be fine,” she said.  Glancing out the windows and watching as David climbed into his Mercedes, she took a deep breath.  But how could she be fine when she always ran the risk of another awkward run-in with him?

Alex made her way to the studio amidst a barrage of reporters clamoring for a quote on the scandal involving Scott Kelly.  She shielded her eyes behind a pair of large round Chanel sunglasses and slipped into the suite of offices where James was busy meeting with Ethan over financial statements.

“Are you okay?” James asked as she entered, flustered and winded. 

“No, and I won’t be until this nightmare blows over,” Alex insisted and removed her sunglasses.  “And what was so important that you had to see me today?  You left four messages before noon.  It had better be that you’ve fired Scott Kelly and replaced him with someone who isn’t as morally suspect.”

“No, not exactly,” James said and exchanged glances with Ethan.  He rose from the desk and approached her with a stack of newspapers and gossip magazines.  “I’ve been doing some thinking about the publicity surrounding this rumor about you and Scott.”

“It could be beneficial,” Ethan suggested.

“Beneficial?” Alex guffawed.  “How so?”

“Just look at these,” James said and dropped the magazines one by one on the conference table.  Each one depicted photographs of Alex and Scott and claimed romance on the set of Angel Assassin 2.  “It’s all everyone’s talking about.  And while it won’t last forever, we need to capitalize on this while we can.”

“What are you suggesting?” Alex asked.

James bit his lip and looked at her with pleading eyes.  “Don’t deny the rumors,” he said.  “You don’t have to confirm them, but just don’t deny them.  The longer we can ride this thing out the better off the studio will be.”

“Allow the public to believe this trash?” Alex asked and picked up a copy of Image magazine.   “You can’t be serious.  I have a reputation, not to mention a husband.”

“Jordan will understand,” James said.  “He’s in the business.”

“That doesn’t mean he’ll allow you to exploit me as some kind of depraved sex fiend,” Alex insisted.  “I can’t believe you’re asking this of me, James.  Particularly because you cut me out of the film.  My part was reduced from main billing to a crummy supporting role.  Meanwhile, that opportunist our son is marrying has stolen the show out from under me.”

“I’m sorry,” James said and followed her across the room.  “You know I only did that because we had to make financial cuts.”

“Are you going to give me main billing?” Alex asked with a raised eyebrow.

James took a deep breath and shook his head.  “No.”

“Then the answer is no,” Alex said and started toward the door.

James groaned in frustration and looked at Ethan.  A few moments of hesitation, followed by a shrug and a sigh, and he was calling after her again.  “Alex, wait.  Fine.  You can have main billing.”

She smiled and turned back toward him.   “That’s more like it.” 

“Fine.  Now all you have to do is keep quiet with the media.  Don’t go around threatening their jobs.  And I hate to say it, but it wouldn’t hurt for you and Scott to be seen out in public together.”

“Don’t push it,” Alex warned.

“Do I have to remind you again why my studio is in such financial trouble in the first place?” James asked.

Alex sighed with exasperation and threw her hands up.  “Fine.  But you don’t play fair.”

After she’d gone, Ethan crossed the room and poured a glass of water.  “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, James, but this isn’t going to solve all of your problems.  You may have gotten the movie some free publicity, but you still have your next payment on that loan coming due tomorrow.  Not to mention the crew’s salaries.”

“I’ve got it all under control,” James said with certainty.  “I’ll pay the crew’s salaries on schedule, and go to the bank and ask for another extension.  Based on the publicity the movie is getting, they won’t be able to turn me down.  They’ll see what a sure fire hit they have on their hands.”

Ethan shook his head dismissively.  “I don’t know if you’re on the mark on this one,” he said.  “You know how fast these Hollywood gossip rags plow through stories.  Alex and Scott could be old news by five o’clock tonight.    I think you’re taking a gamble.”

James regarded his nephew carefully.  “You’re certainly a harbinger of doom today,” he said, his forehead creased into a frown.

“Forgive me,” Ethan said while gathering a stack of paperwork from his desk.  “I know how much you always want things to go your way.”

“What is this about?” James asked.  “Are things okay with you and Brooke?”

“No thanks to you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Ethan shook his head and started toward him.  “Forget it,” he said.  He wasn’t about to bring it up.  He had no proof, after all, but he knew that his uncle had deliberately tried to keep him and Brooke from reconnecting after her father died.  It was deja vu all over again.  “But this time she’s mine, okay?”

James didn’t respond, knowing that his nephew was trying to make a point.  He decided that trying to come between them was a futile effort.  Each time he did, it backfired. 

“I guess I’ll go cut those checks for the crew if that’s what you want to do,” Ethan continued. 

James took a minute before responding.  “Yes, thank you.”

After Jordan finished his meeting with Brooke, he drove to Pasadena and made his way through the stale corridors of the Actor’s Retirement Village.  The nurse forewarned him that Lola was more disoriented than usual due to a change in medication.   He thanked her and went into his mother’s private room. 

Once inside, he glanced at the usual shelves upon shelves of awards, the numerous self portraits and magazine covers lining the walls, and the same videotaped interviews playing on her old VCR. 

Each time he went to visit her, Jordan couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with a sense of forlornement.  His mother was now her own biggest fan, with nothing but awards and mementos to mark her place in a world that she no longer fit into.  It made him realize that nothing any of them accomplished mattered if at the end of your life you were alone with no one to share it with.   Depressing, he knew, but that was his mood lately.

“Hello Mom,” he said and took a seat beside her bed.  She was sitting up against the headboard watching an old tape of an interview she did while on a USO tour with Bob Hope.    “How are you?”

When she acknowledged his presence, a smile spread across her face and she reached her hand toward his.  “Troy, how nice to see you,” she said.  “You look wonderful.”

Jordan pretended not to be affected by her confusion.  “No, mom, it’s me, Jordan.  Troy is your other son.”

Lola appeared confused for a moment or two and then pushed a lock of gray hair gracefully from her face.  “Of course, Troy is Topper’s son.  I’m sorry Jordan.  Forgive me, won’t you?”

“Of course I forgive you,” he said and stroked her hand gently.  “I have some papers for you to sign.  They’re for Benji’s trust fund.  I have to move some accounts around and-“

“How is Benjamin?” Lola inquired, her glassy eyes dancing.

“He’s good.  He’s eighteen.  He’s a terror.” 

Lola smiled.  “And Heather?”

“Heather’s fine,” Jordan replied and handed her the papers and the pen.  “She has a baby girl.  Her name is Violet.”

Lola scribbled an unintelligible signature on the financial documents and gave his pen back to him.  “And Mary Ann?” she asked.  “You’re not still married to that wretch of a woman, are you?”

“Yes, Mom.  We’re still married.  And you know she goes by Alex now.”

Shaking her head with disinterest, Lola stared at the television.  “Whatever she calls herself, she’s still no replacement for Suzanne.  She was a worthy wife for my son.   Everyone adored her.”  She stared off in a faraway daze, a few lingering moments passing before she continued.  “Such a shame what happened to her.”

“That’s the other reason I came here,” Jordan began, shifting uncomfortably.  “There’s a man who’s asking a lot of questions about Suzanne.  He’s a director.   For some reason he’s making it his mission to find out what happened to her.”

“It’s not that horrible Dr. Wainwright, is it?”  Lola asked with a shriek. 

Jordan shook his head.  “No, it’s Frank Dunning.

“How much does he know?” Lola asked with startling clarity.  It was as if she suddenly became aware of her surroundings. 

“He doesn’t know anything,” Jordan explained.   “But he was with Suzanne that night.  The night of that earthquake.  I think she told him about Dr. Wainwright.”

Lola suddenly sat forward and clasped her hand tightly around his wrist.  She looked at him, her eyes flashing urgent danger signals.  “Jordan, you cannot let this man learn the truth,” she said insistently.  “Imagine what would happen if Heather and Benjamin found out.  It would destroy them. “

“They won’t find out.  Dr. Wainwright disappeared years ago, Heather blacked everything out, and Benji was too young to know what happened.”

Lola finally loosened her grip on his arm.  “You’d better pray that it stays that way,” she said.  “What if Heather remembers something?  What if someone finds the body?”

“They won’t,” Jordan insisted and stood up from the chair.  “If Heather hasn’t remembered by now, I don’t think she’s going to.  The shock over what happened that night with her and Suzanne triggered something in her mind and she’s totally blocked it out.   As far as she knows, her mother left town because of me.  And that’s the way it’s going to stay.”

“Who are you trying to convince?” Lola asked.

Jordan knew she was right.  What if Heather did remember something?  What if her sessions with her therapist, Dr. Anderson, brought it to the surface?  Or what if something triggers the memory?  It happened once before.   When she shot Will Thomerson, she blocked it out of her mind.  It was only weeks later when she was carjacked, and heard the sound of the gun firing, that she remembered. 

“I guess I’m trying to convince myself,” he said simply. 

At Brett’s insistence, Heather kept her appointment with Dr. Anderson.  She drove to his office in Beverly Hills and left Violet at home with Brett.  Sitting in his office, she couldn’t think of anything else.

“How do you feel about Dr. Katzman’s suggestion?” he asked from behind his desk while compulsively smoothing his beard down his chin and fidgeting with his glasses.  “That Violet be placed in a group home?”

“I hate it,” Heather murmured softly.  “I hate him for suggesting it.  I can’t let someone else raise my baby.”

“And you said that your husband agrees with Dr. Katzman?” Dr. Anderson asked.

“At first he did, but now he understands that there’s no reason why we can’t raise Violet ourselves.  He’s as much in love with her as I am.”

“So you’re prepared for what may come?” he asked.  “For the difficulty in raising a child with special needs.”

Heather shook her head adamantly.  “I don’t care.  She’ll get the best teachers and the best care that there is.  My father will make sure of that.  He's very rich and very powerful."

“You said you were nervous about leaving Violet home today.”

“Yes.  I don’t like being apart from her.  Brett and my father think I’m coddling her too much.  But she’s a baby.  She needs coddling.”

Dr. Anderson leaned back in his chair and smoothed his hairline while reviewing notes from their last session.   “How do you think your mother would react?  Do you think she’d be supportive of your coddling Violet?”

“I think so,” Heather replied.  “Why do you ask?”

He shrugged and sat forward again.  “Well, you claim that your mother abandoned you when you were twelve years old.   I thought maybe you’d have some kind of insight into that.”

“Not really.”

“Do you think you’re trying to make up for not having a mother for most of your life?” Dr. Anderson asked.

Heather shifted uncomfortably on the sofa.  “I don’t think so,” she said.  “I guess I’ve never really thought about it.  It’s hard for me to really remember when I had a mother.”

“But you were twelve when she left.  You have to have some kind of memories of her.”

“Some,” Heather replied vaguely as she kept glancing at the clock. 

“Are you angry with her for leaving?”

Shrugging, she fidgeting with her sunglasses in her lap.  “No.”

“Do you remember the day she left, Heather?” Dr. Anderson asked.

She squinted hard, trying to piece together the events of a day that she had no recollection of.   “Some things.”

“Like what for example?”

Again, she struggled to remember.  “My dad made me go to a birthday party for Blake Distefano.  He was five.  I was mad because I didn’t want to go.  I was too old for a five year old’s party.  Plus I’ve always hated his father.”

“Your mother didn’t go to the party?”

She shook her head.  “No, only me, my dad and Benji.”

“Where was your mother?”

Heather shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I can’t remember.”

“And what happened when you got home from the birthday party?” Dr. Anderson asked.

She shrugged again.  “I don’t remember.  All I know is the next day waking up and my father telling me and Benji that our mother had left.”  She grew agitated and uncrossed her legs.  “Why does any of this matter?  I don’t understand why my mother leaving has anything to do with anything.  I thought we were talking about Violet.”

“You’re right,” Dr. Anderson said with a meager smile.  “It doesn’t.  But the reason you started coming to me was because you were having blackouts.  I’m trying to help you overcome them.”

“I haven’t had a blackout for a long time,” Heather insisted.

Dr. Anderson placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward.  “Don’t you think it’s strange that your memories of your mother are so vague?” he asked.  “What if your relationship with her and what led to her leaving is just another blackout?   What if it’s the reason that they continue?”

Heather didn’t respond.  She watched the way he fidgeted with his beard and tried to wrap her head around what he was telling her. 

“I do remember something else,” she finally said.  “She was seeing a psychiatrist too.  His name was Wainwright.  Dr. Wainwright.”

Kelly held the digital mockup in front of her, scowling and silently murmuring a slew of obscenities.  Finally, she turned to the bed where Stormy was sitting in anticipation of her reaction.

“I know you’re angry,” he said, wincing.  It was late that night at the Blackthorne mansion and he’d just showed her the sample one-sheet for Angel Assassin 2 the art department had crudely put together earlier that day.   “It’s not finalized.”

“It looks pretty final to me,” Kelly fumed.   “And do you know what I’m not seeing anywhere?  My name!”

Stormy sighed and followed her across the room.  “Kelly, you’re not first billed in the film.  You knew that when we gave you the part.”

“I did not!” she exclaimed.  “Your father said that I was taking over the lead role and Alex’s was being cut back.”

“Her role was cut back.”

“Her name’s above the freaking title!” Kelly exclaimed and tore the poster in half, throwing the remnants to the floor.   “She’s only in a third of the film.  I’m in practically every scene.  But my name gets left off of the one-sheet?  Even Scott and Victor’s names are at the bottom.  They couldn’t put mine on here somewhere?   Or at least my picture?”

“My dad feels that we need to draw in viewers with big names.  Everyone knows who my mother, Scott, and Victor are.  Nobody knows-“

She shot him a look of warning and folded her arms.  “Nobody knows who I am,” she finished for him.  “I get it.  But you have to admit this sucks, Stormy.  I’m the star of this movie.  Not her!”

“We have to think of what’s going to sell tickets,” Stormy explained, leading her to the bed and sitting her down.  “It just worked out that this story about my mom and Scott hit in the nick of time.  Critics are finally paying attention.  We could have the biggest opening weekend of next year.”

“So she screws the co-star and gets first billing?” Kelly asked with a pout.  “Maybe I should have an affair with Victor and see if that lands me at least a mention in the closing credits.”

“Don’t be like this,” Stormy said solemnly.  He sat down beside her and put his arm around her.  “The critics are going to love you, and in the next film you’ll have top billing.  I promise.”

She managed a faint smile.  “I’ll hold you to that,” she said.

“Good,” Stormy said with a grin and laid down on the bed while pulling her on top of him.  “Now, let’s try to forget all about this nasty one-sheet business.”  He drew her toward him and pressed his lips against hers.  Within seconds, she was flying up back off the bed.

“I’ve got it,” she said and snapped her fingers.

“Got what?” Stormy asked, slightly put off that she’d spoiled the moment. 

“Another way to help the movie,” Kelly went on.  “If we got married then that would only add to the publicity.  Think of it.  The beautiful starlet and the brooding producer tie the knot in a glitzy Hollywood ceremony.”

"We are getting married,” he said with a cackle.  “Or are you forgetting that rock I put on your finger?”

She straddled him on the bed.   “I mean soon.  Next month maybe.  Before the movie’s release.”

Stormy looked at her with surprise.  “Wow.  You want to do it that soon?”

“Why not?” she asked, flicking her tongue inside his ear and unbuttoning his shirt.   “There’s no reason to wait.  Think of the added publicity it could bring to the movie.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Stormy asked, closing his eyes as she ran her hands over his chest and paused at the waistband of his pants.

“I’m sure,” she said, laying on top of him and running her tongue over his nipples.

“Next month it is,” Stormy said with a groan as she unzipped his pants.

Brooke checked on Michael in the nursery and then returned to the living room where Ethan was poring over the evening paper.  She sat down beside him and he handed her a glass of wine.

“He must be worn out from his play date today,” she said and looked over his shoulder at the newspaper.  “What are you so interested in?”

“The credit markets,” Ethan replied.  “It’s getting uglier by the day.  I don’t think that bank in New York is going to give James another extension.  Even if the movie is done in a couple of weeks, we’re still looking at months before it gets released and starts making money.”

“Do you really think he could lose the studio?”

“If he can’t make that loan payment tomorrow, then there’s a very good chance the bank will call in the loan.  If that happens, he will lose the studio.”

“I know you’re concerned,” Brooke said and ran her hand down his back.  “But there isn’t anything you could do.”

“I could if he wasn’t so stubborn,” Ethan replied.  “I offered to give him the money but he refused simply because it was my father’s.”

Brooke contemplated the dilemma and offered up a hasty solution.  “Why don’t I talk to him?” she suggested.  “James listens to me.  Maybe I can convince him to take your offer.  It’s got to be better than losing everything.”

“No,” Ethan quickly shot back.  “I don’t want you getting involved with him again.  Not like this.”

“But Ethan, James and I are still close.  We care about each other.  I thought you understood that.”

“Not anymore,” he said and stood up from the sofa, walking across the room.  “He’ll just wind up using it to try to get you back again.”

“What are you talking about?”

He looked at her incredulously.  “Come on, Brooke, don’t pretend you didn’t know he was using your father’s death and the whole mess with David to lure you back to him.  I can only imagine what he’d do if you tried to help him through this financial crisis.  I’m sorry.  I love my Uncle, but he has no barriers when it comes to getting what he wants.  And you know as well as I do that you’re all he’s ever wanted.”

“So what are you saying?” Brooke asked.  “That I should never see or talk to him again?”

He shook his head.  “No, of course not.  I would never tell you who you can and can’t be friends with.  But I have a nagging feeling that no matter what we do, he’ll always be there waiting for an opportunity to get back together with you.  There’s no way of escaping it.”

Brooke sighed and followed him across the room.  “Nothing is going to split us up again,” she assured him and placed a hand on his back.  “We’re through with all of that.  With James, with David, with everything.”

Ethan stared out the window, uncertain of their future and what it would bring.  He wished he could be as optimistic as she was.

“I saw David today,” Brooke said.  “I ran into him on my way to meet Jordan.”

“How did that go?” he asked.  “I couldn’t have been easy.”

She shook her head.  “It was awful.  I’ve never felt so uncomfortable in my life.  How am I going to be able to ever look him in the eyes again?  I could run into him at any time and be reminded of that awful night we spent together.”  She glanced up the stairs and recoiled in horror at the images of him leading her to the bedroom.

“Maybe the answer is right in front of us,” Ethan said and turned toward her.  “David, James.  It seems like we’re trying to run from our past and it keeps catching up with us.”

“What are you saying?”

He took her hand in his.  “Maybe we should leave.  Get as far away from L.A. as we can.  We could start over somewhere.”

“Are you serious?” Brooke asked.

He nodded.  “How else are we going to make this work?  We deserve to be happy, Brooke.  I don’t think we can do that here.”

She considered his idea, wondering if he might be right.

Benji arrived at Frank Dunning’s house on a wooded stretch of Laurel Canyon Boulevard near Valley Village.  It wasn’t quite ten o’clock so he waited in his car until closer to their prearranged meeting time.   By ten till ten he couldn’t stand it anymore so he got out and trudged through the piles of leaves covering the driveway.  He rang the doorbell and a few minutes later Frank appeared and motioned for him to come inside. 

“I was beginning to think you’d never get out of your car,” he said, sipping a drink as he led him into the sprawling mid-century living room.

“You said ten o’clock,” Benji said and looked around the modern surroundings.

“You’re nervous,” Frank said with a grin as he sat down on a plush, cream sofa.  “Scared even, I would say.”

Benji rolled his eyes and ran his hand along the credenza against the wall.  “Get serious.  Nothing scares me.  Especially pretentious movie directors.  Now what information do you have about my mother?  You said you were with her the night she disappeared.”

“What do you think happened to your mother?” he asked. 

Benji poured a glass of vodka into a tumbler and swallowed it in one gulp.  “Don’t jerk me around, Dunning.  You asked me here for a reason.  You said we needed to talk.  Now talk.”

“I’m just curious about what your father told you.”

“My father told me she left him with no explanation. “

Frank leaned forward and studied him carefully.  “But you don’t believe him, do you?”

Benji shook his head.  “No, I don’t believe him.”

“Why not?”

“Because I saw the blood,” Benji deadpanned.  “And I saw the ax that he used to kill her.  The next morning she was gone and my father said she’d left us.  I knew he was lying.  Then the next thing I know I'm being shipped off to boarding school.”

“Your mother was afraid of him,” Frank remarked.  “We’d had drinks that night at the Polo Lounge.  It was the night before filming started on Monaco.”

The maitre d’ 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 breathed a collective sigh of relief.   He 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 Suzanne in the corner booth.  “I wonder if the lights are out all over town.”

Frank 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.  “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.” 

“That is the one bright spot in all of this,” Suzanne remarked.  “Now that my marriage is falling apart.  Even Dr. Wainwright can’t stop that.  All the therapy in the world couldn’t stop that.”

“What does he say about the affair?” Frank inquired.

“What can he say?  What’s done is done.  And now my marriage is paying for it.”

“I can’t imagine Jordan taking this out on you,” Frank said.

Suzanne looked down and closed her eyes while stirring her drink with the tip of her finger.  “We had such a huge fight this morning,” she said.  “About Dr. Wainwright, about Troy, about the affair.  Heather and Benji heard everything.  Heather was so upset.  She’s twelve years old.  She’s so impressionable.”

“What are you going to do?”

She looked at him and took a deep breath.  “I think I’m going to leave him.”

“Are you saying my father killed my mother because she was going to leave him?” Benji asked.  “Because she had an affair?”

Frank shook his head.  “No, because he had an affair and she found out about it.”

Benji struggled to wrap his head around the new information.  His father seemed like someone else to him.  Someone he didn’t know.  Affairs, murder, it was a lot to take in. 

“Who?” he asked.  “Who did he have an affair with?” 

Heather stood in the shower, closing her eyes and letting the water wash over her body.  She couldn’t help but feel a little unnerved by her session with Dr. Anderson that day.  All the questions about her mother and the events that led up to her disappearance.   Why did it matter now? 

She opened her eyes, looking directly into the spray of water that came at her face.  Slowly she began to focus on brief images that flashed over and over in her mind.  A rainy night, dark and ominous.  The bright glow of car headlights illuminating the black iron gate that surrounded a big house in the hills.  She saw herself, a twelve year old girl, sitting in the passengers seat while her mother stood at the gate in the rain….

“Damn you Sylvie!” Suzanne screamed, her tears washing away in the rain as she grabbed the cold bars and shook the gate.   “You get out here right now!  I want you to tell me to my face what you did to my family!”

“Mommy, stop!” Heather cried from the car.  She honked the horn in hopes of garnering her attention. 

“Is that you, Suzanne?” a voice called through the wind and the rain.  A man approached from the house dressed in an orange rain slicker and carrying a black umbrella.  “What are you doing out here?”

“I want to talk to you wife!” Suzanne screamed.

“Sylvie’s gone,” he replied over the howl of the wind.  “She left for Fresno this morning.  I know what she and Jordan did, Suzanne.  It doesn’t matter now.  Just go home.”

“You tell her to come back here and tell me that to my face!” Suzanne screamed amidst a flood of tears and rain.

“Go home!” he yelled.  “I’ve moved on and you need to move on too!  This isn’t helping you or your children!’

Suzanne shook the bars and wiped her eyes.  “Damn you Victor Distefano!” she screamed.  “I’m not going to let her get away with this!  I’m not going to let either one of them get away with this!”

“Mommy, don’t!” Heather cried, running out of the car and pulling Suzanne toward her.  “Let’s go home!  Please!”

Suzanne finally started back to the car, pushing her sopping wet hair from her face.  “It isn’t fair,” she cried somberly.  “But they’re going to pay for this!  I swear they will!’

When Heather finally returned to the present, she was sitting on the floor, water flooding the bathroom.  She looked around to get her bearings.  She couldn't figure out how she got out of the shower and onto the floor.

Slowly, she stood up and wrapped herself in a robe.  She was unnerved by the memory, not entirely sure of when it took place or what the circumstances were.  It was all very hazy.

She turned back to the shower and saw that the tub was overflowing.  Beneath the water was her mother, eyes open wide and blood seeping from a gash in her head.  Suddenly the water turned red and Heather started to scream hysterically, backing up against the wall in horror.

Within seconds, Brett was bolting inside the bathroom.  He took one look at his wife and could see that she was terrified.  He inspected her, trying to determine if she’d been hurt.

“What happened?’ he asked and placed his hands on her shoulders

Heather cried, pointing at the bathtub to show him what she’d seen.  Confusion quickly set in.  The tub was empty, the last few ounces of water gurgling down the drain.

She looked at Brett and then back at the bathtub in a panic.  There was no sign of her mother.  Had she imagined it?

“Are you okay?” Brett asked.

She shook her head, crying and sinking to the floor of the bathroom.

Next time....

Opening night arrives for Victor's play.  James gets devastating news about his financial affairs.  Stormy asks a favor of Miranda.  Ethan and Brooke make plans.   

Read Episode 87

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