Previously...

Brooke had an awkard run-in with David. Ethan gave James a thinly veiled warning to stay out of his relationship with Brooke.  Brooke and Ethan considered moving away from Los Angeles and starting over somewhere else.  James worried when he was unable to pay his next loan payment.  Angel Assassin 2 finally became buzzworthy after news spread of Alex and Scott's alleged affair.  Hoping to cash in on the publicity, James asked Alex to fool the press into thinking it was true. In exchange, James agreed to give Alex first billing, infuriating Kelly.  Stormy and Kelly set a wedding date that was sooner than he'd expected.  Jordan paid Lola a visit, who urged him to do anything necessary to keep the secret about Suzanne. After Dr. Anderson asked questions about her mother, Heather had an eerie flashback while in the shower involving an affair between Jordan and Victor's wife Sylvie. Heather had a blackout and when she awoke, had a disturbing vision of her mother laying in a bathtub full of blood.  Benji revealed to Frank Dunning that he saw the bloody ax the night his mother disappeared.  Frank told Benji that Jordan killed Suzanne because she planned on leaving him after learning of his affair with Sylvie.  

Episode 87

"Don't Look Back"

Her financial advisor entered through the giant mahogany doors and took twenty steps into the spacious office overlooking Park Avenue.   She was seated at the ornately carved desk, her back to him as she stared outside at the crisp New York autumn day.

“James Blackthorne called about his loan,” he announced.  “He wants another extension.  They’ve pushed the release of his movie up.  It seems to have attracted quite the stir in Hollywood.”

“Yes, I heard something about Alex Reynolds and her unquenchable sexual appetite,” the woman said, one leg crossed over the other and a Manolo Blahnik dangling from a delicate foot.  “I’m amazed at what the public deems newsworthy in that town.  It's no wonder I left years ago."

“A few scenes have been leaked to the media,” he said.  “It’s getting some positive reviews based on that alone.  I think this is going to be a cash cow for Sunset Studios.  It may be in your best interests to ride this one out.”

“James is under the impression that the bank foreclosing on his studio would mean the film wouldn’t be finished,” the woman replied, the light catching the glimmer from her ruby ring she wore on her finger.  “He’s mistaken.  I have every intention of carrying on and seeing this film, and Sunset Studios, come to fruition.”

“So I take it that it’s a no on the extension?”

She purred.  “It’s most definitely a no.  If I don't have his next payment by midnight tonight, I believe we'll be able to hear the screams from here."

Back in Los Angeles, Miranda flitted across the lobby at Hotel Terranova, spotting her father and rushing toward him just as he began to enter the dining room.

“Daddy, wait up,” she said, her hands waiving through the air.

“Good morning, Darling,” James said and kissed her on the cheek.  “You were certainly up and out early this morning.”

“This expansion is overtaking my life,” Miranda exclaimed amidst the swarm of construction workers who were busy sawing, drilling, and hammering throughout the lobby.

“It is quite the undertaking,” he said with a smile.  “But I’m proud of you, Sweetheart.  You've done all this from your own capital from the hotel.  You’ve really taken this place and made it your own.”

Miranda scrunched up her face and put her hands on her hips.  “Except that it’s still your hotel, Daddy, and as the owner, you are the only one who can complete the inspection with the fire chief.  The expansion has to be up to code in order to get the permits.  And I kind of don’t have them yet.”

“That’s no problem,” he said.  “I’ll take care of it.”

“Are you sure?  I know how much you have going on, Daddy.  What with the financial problems with the studio and the movie and all.”

He looked at her and forced an unaffected smile on his face.  The last thing he wanted to do was burden his family with his problems.  He didn’t how much Miranda knew, but in any case he’d decided months ago to stave off any overreaction to his financial problems. 

“Miranda, the studio and the movie are perfectly fine.  I’ll take care of the permits.”

She smiled.  “Here’s his number,” she said and handed him a business card.  “Thank you, Daddy.  I promise I won’t bother you with any more of this stuff.  From now on I’ll take care of everything.”

“See you tonight,” James said and kissed her on the cheek. 

After she’d run off to confer with the construction foreman, James turned and made his way through the dining room.  When he arrived at his table, Marilee Wells-Walker was already there waiting.

“Marilee, I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, kissing her on the cheek before taking a seat across the table from her.

“Don’t give it a thought,” she said as the waiter approached and poured them each a cup of coffee.  “I’m just thrilled to see you and to catch up.  I’m so glad you called.”

James smiled.  “Well you called me, Marilee.  It just took me a few days to get back to you.  Things have been pretty hectic lately.”

“Yes, Renee told me about your loan burden,” she said.  “Is it true that you had to use Sunset Studios as collateral to pay off your fines to the government?”

“Yes, it’s true,” he said.

Marilee shook her head with a sigh and traced her finger along the rim of her gold plated coffee cup.  “I can’t believe how much trouble Seth caused before he died,” she claimed.  “If it wasn’t for him and that scheme of his…  Well, I feel like this is partially my fault.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” James assured her.  “You were just as much a victim as we all were.”

“He was my husband.  I didn’t know anything about him.  His schemes, his affairs, his hidden agendas.  Not to mention poor Adrienne and poor Leigh.  I still feel like such a fool.”

James reached across the table and touched her hand with his.  “Beating yourself up isn’t the answer.  Seth left quite a disaster in his wake, but we’re all still alive.”

“Some of us,” Marilee deadpanned.  “But still, James, I wish I could help you out of this dilemma.  Sadly, this economy is taking its toll on Wells Inc.  I just had to close five overseas branches.”

James waved his hand through the air in an effort to dismiss her concerns.  “I promise you, I am doing fine.  I do appreciate your concern, though.”

“I understand you’re getting another extension on the loan,” Marilee went on.  “And that Angel Assassin 2 is nearly complete.”

He ran a hand over his face and took a sip of hot coffee.  “It is a race against the clock,” he replied.  “I’m hoping to find out soon whether my extension has been granted.  If so, I’ll be in good shape.  The film will wipe out any concerns I have over my finances.”

“What if it isn’t granted?” Marilee asked skeptically.

James took a breath and pressed his lips together.  “It will be.”

When Miranda returned to her office, she found her brother seated in her chair, his feet propped up on the desk.

“By all means make yourself comfortable,” she said.

Stormy grinned and folded his arms behind his head.  “Let me give you a word of advice,” he replied.  “Don’t skip over your office in the renovation.  It’s in serious need of updating.”

Miranda rolled her eyes and tossed her mane of black hair over one shoulder.  “What are you doing here, Stormy?  And don’t tell me it’s to give me decorating tips.  You obviously want something.”

“That’s a fine thing to say to your big brother,” he said and jumped up out of the chair.  “I don’t always want something from you, you know.”

“Well, considering you’re wrapping up filming on Angel Assassin 2 this week, and probably have your hands full, I’d have to say that in this instance you do want something.  What brings you all the way out here?”

Stormy placed his hands on his hips and followed her across the room.  “You still haven’t congratulated me on my engagement,” he said.  “Or bothered to say word one to Kelly.  This is a very special time for us, you know.”

“Oooh, sorry,” she replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm.  “Congratulations.  I hope the two of you are very happy.  When will you be moving out of the mansion?”

Stormy recognized her droll attempt at being cute and quickly disregarded it.  “Look, I need a favor.  We need a favor.  It has to do with the wedding.”

“No, you can’t have it here,” Miranda said without even looking at him.  She busied herself with marking notes on a large blueprint of the hotel that she’d spread out across the conference table. 

“Why not?” Stormy demanded.  “You don’t have anything booked in the ballroom for weeks.”

“How do you know that?” Miranda asked and glanced across the room to her computer.  “Were you snooping through my files?”

“We’re thinking of having it soon.  Like next month.  Nothing too huge.  Although this is Kelly’s first wedding.  We want it to be memorable.”

“No,” she repeated.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to be responsible when you finally see through that money-grubbing skank,” Miranda said.  “The first thing everybody will remember is that the wedding was at my hotel.”

“You won’t have to do anything,” Stormy said.  “You have banquet managers.  Just have them take care of everything.  I just need you to agree to let us use the hotel.”

Miranda sighed and ran her fingers through her hair.  “The renovation should be complete by then,” she said aloud.  “So I guess it won’t be the worst thing to have happen to this place.  If anything, it’ll bring in a lot of people to see the new look of the hotel.”

“See?” Stormy said with a grin. “It’s a win-win for both of us.”

“But I’m serious as a heart attack, I don’t want anything to do with the planning of this day of reckoning.  I’m still not even sure that I’m going.  Just so you know that.”

He pulled her into an embrace and laughed.  “You’ll be there,” he said with certainty.  “You wouldn’t miss your brother’s wedding.”

“Second wedding,” she corrected him as he flew to the door.  "Seconds weddings don't require attendance."   But it was too late, he was barreling out into the disarray of the hotel lobby.

With a heavy-hearted sigh, Miranda went back to her blueprints and tried to concentrate on work.  Moments later, she heard the door open and close again.  She turned and looked with surprise at Eddie standing before her.

“Eddie, hi,” she began.  “What are you doing here?”

“I know, I said I was going to stay away from you,” he replied, his hands dug deep into his pockets.  “After that….thing at the poolhouse.”

“You mean when you tried to swallow my face?” Miranda asked, inadvertently interjecting a hint of flirtation in her voice.

“Yeah, that,” he replied.  “I’m sorry.  I know it was out of line.  I mean, we’ve known each other since we were kids.  You probably just think of me as your brother’s dorky friend who always hung around like a bad cold.”

“Basically, yes,”

“I guess I never really learned how to talk to girls,” Eddie continued.  “I mean, without hitting on them.  For so long after my mom left, it was just me and my dad and Blake.  And of course Stormy was always the ladies man, so I learned everything I know about women from him.”

“God, you really are in trouble then,” Miranda said with a frown.  “So what’s with all this self analysis?  Did your shrink put you up to this?”

Eddie laughed.  “No, I just don’t want to mess things up between us.  I mean, not that there’s anything to mess up.  But I like you and I’d like to be friends.”

Miranda folded her arms and regarded him carefully.  “Friends?”

He nodded.  “Yeah.  You know, as opposed to you hurling insults every time I come around.  It hurts my feelings.”

“What is your deal, dude?” Miranda asked and walked toward him.  “What angle are you working?  Or do I need to ask Stormy since he’s the one who taught you everything you know about women?”

Eddie shrugged.  “I told you.  I just think you’re cool and I want to be friends.”

Miranda realized that he may be on the level.  There was a chance he could be running one of the hundreds of lines he used to get women into bed, but he could also be serious. 

“Okay.  Fine.  We can be friends.”

He smiled and handed her a small flyer.  “Good.  Then would you go with me tonight to the opening night of my dad’s play?  Blake is going too, but if I have to sit by myself with him I’ll probably wind up strangling him.”

Miranda studied the playbill and frowned.  “Victor’s in this play?”

“Yes.  It’s opening at the Black Dahlia.  I promised I’d go and, well-“

Miranda was suddenly reminded of the exact same playbill she and Brett had found in Dr. Anderson’s office a few days before.  It seemed like an odd coincidence to her considering that the Black Dahlia was such a small theatre and the play, conveniently titled Don Juan wasn’t exactly an internationally known production.   She supposed there was no accounting for taste.

“Sure, I’ll go with you,” she said and handed it back to him.  “I mean, what are friends for?”

“Great,” Eddie said, barely hiding his excitement.  “Curtain call is eight o’clock.  I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Absolutely,” Miranda said with a smile as he headed to the door.  “See you at seven.”

“See ya,” he said and left the office.

Miranda blew a strand of hair from her eyes and leaned against her desk.  She thought Eddie was sweet, completely different from the reputation he had given himself over the years.  He may be a dork, she thought to herself, but something about him still got to her, and the night they’d spent together weeks ago was still fresh in her mind.

Brooke cleaned up the dishes after breakfast while Ethan played with Michael and finished gathering his things before heading off to the studio.  With their son happily distracted with toys on the floor of the living room, they said an intimate goodbye in the kitchen. 

“What about what you said last night?” Brooke asked while straightening the collar on his crisp blue shirt.  “Do you really want to leave Los Angeles?”

His hands on her waist, he gazed into her mesmerizing blue eyes.  “I think it’s the only way we’re going to make this work,” he claimed.  “Getting as far away from my family as possible is the best thing we could do for our relationship.”

“Where would we go?” Brooke asked while looking out into the other room where Michael was playing quietly.  “I can’t go back to Phoenix.  I never want to risk seeing my mother again as long as I live."

Ethan shook his head.  “Somewhere far away.  Maybe an island.  I don’t care where we go as long as we’re together and Michael is with us.  The more I think about it, the more I don’t want our son growing up around this place.”

“I don’t know,” Brooke said and shook her head.

“We deserve this chance, Brooke,” Ethan said and placed his hands on her shoulders.  “After everything we’ve been through, we deserve to start our lives over.  There’s nothing keeping us here.”

She knew he was right.  It had been nothing but pain and heartache since she came to Los Angeles.  Leaving wouldn’t hurt her.  But staying might be the final undoing of her relationship with Ethan.  She didn’t want that.  She wanted to embrace it and protect it with everything she had. 

“Let’s do it,” she said.  “Let’s leave and never look back.”

Relieved that she’d seen things his way, Ethan pulled her into an embrace and kissed the top of her head.  He knew they were making the right decision.  It was the only one that made sense.

“We’re going to finally have that perfect life we’ve always wanted,” he said softly.  “You’ll see.  Nothing is ever going to come between us again.”

The photographers were merciless, cameras flashing at the speed of machine gun fire from the street just outside Katsuya.   They aimed their assault on Alex Reynolds and Scott Kelly who were attempting to enjoy a leisurely mid-day lunch on the terrace of the exclusive Brentwood restaurant.

“This is ridiculous,” Alex murmured under her breath.  “Of all the hair brained schemes my ex-husband has come up with.  Who’s going to believe that we’re carrying on an affair in the middle of the day at a public restaurant?”

“Everyone believes it,” Scott replied, flashing a toothy grin at one reporter who called out his name.  “This is only going to confirm the rumors.”

“It’s career suicide,” Alex drolled while picking at her plate of sushi.   “No one cares if you sleep around on your wife, but for me, I’m being labeled as the town whore.  This may help the film, but it’s going to ruin my career.  I can’t believe James talked me into this.”

Scott kept quiet about the benefit to his own reputation.  If it wasn’t for the made-up affair with Alex, his wife’s lawyers would have made a huge deal about his alleged homosexual affair with the treadmill repairman. 

“Our names are on every gossip rag in the country,” Scott reminded her.  “That’s a good thing.  It’s either this or have Angel Assassin 2 go by way of the straight-to-video release hell that ever actor dreads.”

Alex sighed with exasperation, shielding her eyes from the constant glare of the cameras.  Finally, she’d had enough.  She stood up and threw her napkin down on the table.

“I can’t take any more of this,” she claimed. 

Just as Scott rose to his feet, his wife approached from the sidewalk.  They both looked at her with wide eyes, reeling as the photographers went into overdrive mode.

“Shailene,” Scott stammered, glancing between her and Alex.  “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” Shailene Summers asked.  Sprayed into a skin-tight blue dress, she was all blond hair and mammoth breasts.  “You’re the one humiliating yourself with this…this fossil, and you have the nerve to ask me what I’m doing here?”

Alex gasped in horror and planted her fists firmly on her hips.  “Oh that’s it,” she said.  “I am so out of here.”

“Not so fast,” Shailene said, reaching over the gate and pulling her back.  “I have a few things to say to you first.”

“Let go of me!” Alex shrieked and pushed the woman away.  Shailene staggered  back and bumped into two reporters who broke her fall. 

“Stop, please,” Scott said, afraid to come between the quarrelling women.   “Shailene, just go home.”

“You mean this stupid bitch hasn’t moved in yet?” she asked, forcing her way back to the gate.  “Or did you just set her up in her own apartment so you can feel free to screw all you want without my attorneys finding out?”

“No,” Scott remarked.

“You’d better take a step back and think before you say something you’ll regret,” Alex said, glaring heatedly at the woman. 

“Don’t tell me what to do, you selfish bitch,” Shailene exclaimed, starting to climb the fence, her claws outstretched in attack position. 

“Get off of me, you lunatic!” Alex screamed, throwing her hands up in defense as she tried to push the woman away.  

Scott stood by helplessly, amazed at how far his one little white lie had spiraled out of control.  He shook his head in frustration as cameras flashed over and over in his face. 

Brett paced the lobby of Dr. Anderson’s office, cradling Violet in his arms and glancing at the clock every two minutes.  The receptionist watched him out of the corner of her eye, smiling at the baby while taking a file to a jagged fingernail. 

“She’s beautiful,” the woman said.  “How old is she?”

“Six months,” Brett replied.  He was distracted, glancing at the door to the office and wondering what was going on inside.  He wished he was a fly on the wall.  Heather was resistant to tell him anything about her appointments with Dr. Anderson, and after Jordan filled him in on Suzanne and the events that transpired, he couldn’t help but wonder how much she remembered.  According to Jordan, after the accident, she blocked everything out.  Their concern was that she would begin remembering. 

“How long have you worked for Dr. Anderson?” he asked the receptionist.

“Oh, I work for a temp agency.  I work at all sorts of places, but this is my second time filling in at Dr. Anderson’s office.”

“Who’s his regular secretary?”

She shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I’ve never seen anyone else here.”

Violet began to get fussy so Brett moved her to the other arm, bouncing her gently which always seemed to quiet her down.  She'd been squirmy all day and he wondered if she was coming down with something.  

Inside the office, Heather sat frightened on the sofa, her eyes wide as she stared past the doctor at the wall.

“So you’ve remembered something,” Dr. Anderson said.  “Can you tell me about it?”

Heather shrugged and shivered from a chill in the room.  “None of it makes any sense to me,” she said.  “My mother and I were in the car in the rain.  She parked at a house and she got out and was talking to someone.  She was crying and she was very angry.”

“Why was she angry?” Dr. Anderson asked.

“I think it had to do with my father.”

Dr. Anderson smoothed his beard down his chin and scribbled a few things on a pad of paper.  “What happened before this incident?  What triggered this reaction from your mother?”

“I don’t remember,” Heather said.  “Dr. Anderson, what do you think this means?”

“We’ve been talking about your mother a lot lately,” he explained.  “After giving birth to your daughter it was bound to come up.  Heather, I think you have a lot of subconscious issues that stem from your mother leaving.  I believe this memory is the first step in dealing with those issues.  And once we tackle those issues, we’ll be able to find out what’s caused your blackouts.”

She smiled hopefully, then just as quickly it faded into a look of concern.  “What about the vision I had?” she asked.  “Of my mother in the bathtub?”

He shrugged.  “It could be simple displacement of your emotions.  You have a lot of buried feelings surrounding your mother leaving.  Give yourself time to sort them out.  I’m afraid this is only the beginning.”

Standing up, she shook his hand.  “Thank you, Dr. Anderson.  I feel so much better about things now.”

“It’s quite all right,” he said, pausing before opening the door.  He looked back at her and regarded her carefully.  “Heather, how much did you tell your husband about the memory?”

She shook her head.  “I didn’t tell him anything.  I didn’t want to until I talked to you and figured out what was going on.”

“Good, that’s good,” he said.  “I think for now it would be best if you didn’t tell him, or anyone else for that matter, when you have these flashbacks.  There could be a reason why no one has told you if something important happened regarding you and your mother.  I’d rather you came to any realizations yourself.”

She hadn’t considered the fact that people were hiding things from her.  If there was something that she was blocking out, then her father at the very least had to know about it.  And if that were the case, why was he keeping it from her?

“Wouldn’t it be easier for someone to just tell me what happened?”

“No,” he replied.  “You have to remember on your own.  If you’d like, at our next session we can look into other options.  Things that might help you remember.”

Heather nodded slowly, realizing she had to put her full trust in Dr. Anderson.  She had a daughter now, a daughter with special needs who depended on her.  If there was something she wasn’t remembering about her mother, she wanted to get to the bottom of it.

When Brett heard the door open, he turned and walked up to Heather with Violet tucked gently against his chest.  She smiled and ran her hand over her daughter’s head. 

“Hi,” Brett said, glancing between her and Dr. Anderson.  “How did everything go?”

“Everything went fine,” she said with a meager smile.  “Are you ready?”

Brett nodded, realizing he had an opportunity to talk to Dr. Anderson and didn’t want to waste it.  “Yeah, actually why don’t you take Violet and get her settled in the car.  She's a little fussy.  I just want to talk to Dr. Anderson for a minute.”

Heather nodded warily, lifting Violet into her arms and grudgingly heading for the door to the outer office.  Once she’d gone, Brett turned back to the doctor.

“I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for my wife,” he said.  “I wondered if I could talk to you for a minute.”

“About what, Mr. Armstrong?”

Brett dug his hands in the pockets of his jeans and shrugged while carefully formulating his words.  “I’m just worried about her.  That incident last night in the shower really got to her.  To me too.  Do you have any idea what provoked her to react like that?”

“That’s something we’re going to be exploring in our upcoming sessions,” Dr. Anderson replied, smoothing his hair along his hairline and compulsively adjusting his eyeglasses.  “Please rest assured that your wife’s happiness is of utmost concern to me and I’m going to continue to work with her until we find out what’s causing her blackouts.”

“Good,” Brett said.   “I’m worried that the news concerning our daughter may have been too much for her.  She’s been very high-strung since her birth.”

Dr. Anderson folded his arms and nodded appreciatively.  “Yes, I can understand your concern.  I’m not at liberty to discuss our sessions in detail with anyone, but I can assure you that we are addressing your daughter and the concerns that she has.”

“I’m glad,” Brett said, running his fingers through his blond hair.  “I know that you can’t tell me specifics, Dr. Anderson, but I need to know something.  How much does Heather talk about her mother during your sessions?"

Dr. Anderson frowned.  “Her mother?” he asked.  “Obviously she’s been a topic in the past.  She did desert her at a young age.”

“Anything else?” Brett asked.  “Anything about what caused her to leave?”

He shook his head.  “No.  Mr. Armstrong, is there something that you feel we need to address during our sessions?”

Brett took a step forward and spoke in a low, ominous voice.  “There are certain things that would be best if they didn’t come to light,” he said, recalling every grisly detail that Jordan had outlined for him about Heather and Suzanne.  “Trust me.”

James returned to his office that day and found a sobbing Leilani perched in the Henry Miller chair opposite his desk.  Ethan followed him into the office and frowned with curiosity at the sight of the weeping housekeeper. 

“Leilani?” James said and rushed inside.  “What are you doing here?  Has something happened?”

“Mr. Blackthorne, I’m so sorry,” she cried, standing up and embracing him tightly.  “I should not come, but I had no what else to do.”

He led her back to the chair and sat her down, knowing she was upset because when she was, her English became more broken than usual.  “Calm down and tell me what happened.  Is it Kelly?  Is she okay?”

Leilani blew her nose into a handkerchief and shook her head.  “I’m failed as a mother,” she said sorrowfully.  “I shouldn’t have let her come to California.”

James sighed and glanced at Ethan.  “Look, I know you don’t approve of her marrying Stormy, but they’re very determined.  I’ve accepted it and I think you should too.  Come on, you’re not that upset that she’s marrying my son, are you?  He may be a little irresponsible at times, but overall he’s a good man.”

“I know he’s a good man,” Leilani cried.  “It’s not that.  It’s that…it’s….I can’t afford to pay for the wedding.”

James sighed.  “Leilani, please-“

“I know you pay me well, but I can’t pay for the type of wedding my daughter expects.  In Hawaii it is customary for the husband’s family to pay, but I know it is different on the mainland.”

“Yes, here it is tradition for the bride’s family to pay for the wedding,” James explained.  Ethan poured her a glass of water and handed it to her.  “But we are not a traditional family.  You know that.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said and took a sip of water from the crystal goblet.  “You’ve done so much for me and my daughter already.  I can’t ask you to do any more.”

“But I insist,” James said.  “I would consider it an honor if I could pay for the wedding.  I didn’t get to throw Miranda a wedding because she eloped.  Besides, I think of Kelly as a daughter.  You’re both like family to me.”

“Do you mean it?”

James smiled.  “Yes.  Now please don’t give this another thought.”

Leilani smiled and stood up.  “Oh thank you so much, Mr. Blackthorne.  You are good man.”  She threw her arms around him again and embraced him with her solid frame.  “My daughter is lucky to have you as a father-in-law.”

With that, she flitted out of the room, repeating thank-you’s over and over until she had disappeared from view.  When she’d gone, Ethan looked at James and cracked a smile.

“What’s so funny?”

Ethan sighed and poured them each a drink.  “I hate to be the one to break this to you, James, but you’re in no position to shell out a hundred thousand dollars for a wedding right now.  Do I have to remind you of your current cash flow problems?”

James shook his head.  “No, you don’t have to remind me.  But if I can’t throw my son and future daughter-in-law a decent wedding, then-“ 

“You can’t, James,” Ethan interrupted.  “Your loan payment is due today.  If they don’t grant that extension, then I’m sorry but-“

“They will,” James replied.

Ethan looked at his watch.  “It’s already three o’clock,” he said.  “I suppose they could still be making a decision.”

James swallowed his drink in one gulp.  “I’ll get the extension,” he said.  “And I’ll give my son the biggest wedding this town has seen all year.  Have some faith, Ethan.  You’re not just in charge of the studio finances, you’re also family.  I could use some support.”

“You’re right,” Ethan said, knowing he only wanted to keep his uncle from going bankrupt.  “I’m sorry.  I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Such as?” James asked as he took a seat behind his desk.   “Everything okay?”

Ethan nodded and dug his hands in his pockets.  “I think so,” he said.  “Brooke and I are moving.”

Instinctively, James looked up and stopped what he was doing.  “Did you find a new place to live?” he asked.  “I think that’s great.  It’ll be good to have a place that’s both of yours.”

“Yes, it will be,” he said. 

“So where are you looking?  Malibu?  Beverly Hills?”

Ethan walked across the room and bided his time.  “Actually we’re going to be moving away,” he said.  “As in outside of California.  Maybe outside of the country, who knows.”

James rose to his feet and looked at him in awe.  “Out of the country?” he asked.  “You’re serious?”

“Yes.  We both decided that we need to get away from everything.  We need to take Michael and start over somewhere."

“Well you don’t have to leave California to do that, Ethan,” James said and walked around the desk.

“Except I think we do,” Ethan replied with a slight chuckle.  “Too much has happened here.  We’ve tried to make things work but something always gets in the way.”

James knew what his nephew meant.  By something he meant someone.  And by someone he meant him.  “But I’m your family,” he said.  “I practically raised you after Georgie died.  I was a hell of a lot more family to you than your lousy father ever was.”

“Yes, and I appreciate that more than you know,” Ethan responded.  “But Brooke and Michael are my family now.”

James found it difficult to argue with him.  If he had had the chance, he’d have taken Brooke away and started over somewhere.  She didn’t have any family to speak of.  Her father was dead, Roz was an alcoholic shrew, and David was….well, a brother in the most rudimentary sense of the word. 

“I’m sorry to do this at a time when you’re going through so much,” Ethan said.

James held his hand up and shook his head.  “I don’t want you worrying about me,” he said.  “I’ll be fine.  When are you planning on leaving?”

Ethan sighed.  “I don’t know.  Soon.”

“Would you do me a favor?” James asked.  “Stay until after Stormy’s wedding.  Let me have one more special occasion with the whole family together.  At least give me that much.”

Ethan hesitated.  It was only a few weeks away.  And truthfully, they hadn’t even decided where they were going to go.  So realistically it didn’t seem like too difficult of a promise to make.

“You got it,” he said and shook his uncle’s hand. 

Benji orchestrated a coup for dinner that evening at the Rydell house.  He set the stage perfectly, insisting the chef make all his father’s favorites, instructing Gordon to set an extra place setting, and waiting until the last minute to announce their surprise dinner guest.   And just as expected, when Blake arrived, dinner became awkward to say the least.

“What do you boys have planned for this evening?” Alex asked as she took a sip of chardonnay. 

“We’re going to Victor’s play,” Benji replied, eyeing his father at the head of the table.  He waited for a response, a reaction, or anything to tell him that he was uncomfortable. 

“Victor’s in a play?” Alex asked with a muffled laugh.  “I’d forgotten he was a stage actor.  How I miss the theatre.  Where is it playing?”

“The Black Dahlia,” Blake replied and stuffed his mouth full.

“Jordan, we should go sometime,” Alex suggested.  “I love the stage."

“Of course, whatever you’d like,” Jordan said. 

“Dad, did you ever do any local theatre?” Benji asked, choosing his words carefully. 

Jordan shook his head.  “Not since college.”

“But mom did, right?” Benji asked, pausing just long enough to gauge his father’s reaction.  “She toured with a theatre group as a teenager.  At least that’s what I remember hearing.”

Jordan took a breath and then a sip of wine.  “Yes, she did.  She was a method actress.  It’s very popular among theatre groups.”   He quickly tried to shift subjects.  “Are you coming home afterwards?”

“Maybe,” Benji replied dismissively. “Blake, was your mother an actress?”

“No,” he replied between heaping mouthfuls of food. 

Benji pressed his lips together in frustration of his best friend’s one-syllable responses.  Granted, Blake didn’t know he was being used as a pawn in a game he was playing with his father.  He doubted very much that he even knew about the affair between their parents.  He and Eddie were far-too well adjusted to have had a concept of the betrayal.

“Sylvie was big into the social scene,” Alex piped in, clueless.

“I think that’s why Blake and I have always been friends,” Benji went on.  “Even when I was away at school.  We both lost our mothers by the time we were six years old.”

Blake nodded and swigged down a throatful of water.  “Oh yeah.  That’s right.”

Jordan picked at his food, obviously uncomfortable by the subject.

Benji smiled while watching his father’s reaction.  “Why did your mother leave, Blake?”

“Just ‘cause my dad’s a tool,” he responded indifferently.  “I mean, he’s a good dad and junk like that, but he’s a player.  I think that’s where Eddie got it from.”

Eyeing his son angrily, Jordan set down his fork and wiped his mouth with a napkin.  “Benji, I don’t think Blake wants to talk about his mother or why she left.  This conversation is insensitive.  I’d think you of all people should know that.”

“Why?  Because you won’t talk about my mother?  Because every time I ask why she left you railroad the question and change the subject?”  He was furious, no longer just appeased with making his father squirm.  He now wanted to lash out at him in anger, both for cheating on his mother and then for killng her. 

Alex looked on with wide eyes, curious as to what provoked such a reaction from Benji.  She squinted as if waiting for a pot to boil over.

“Benji, that’s enough,” Jordan said, maintaining his cool.  “I’ve always been forthcoming with you about your mother.”

“Yeah right,” he said and slid his chair out from the table while making eye contact with Blake.  “Blake still sees his mother.  She still lives in the state.  But my mother disappeared off the face of the earth.  I haven’t so much as heard her voice since she left thirteen years ago.”

“Benji, please stop,” Alex said. 

“Shut up,” he fired back and rose to his feet.  “He’s keeping you as in the dark as the rest of us.”

“I won’t have you talking to Alex that way!” Jordan bellowed.  “I know you’re angry with me for your mother leaving, but the fact is that she chose to leave.  Don’t confuse that with something that I did wrong.”

Benji motioned to Blake and they met in the doorway. “Whatever,” he said.  “I know exactly what you did. “

He turned and stormed out of the house with Blake fast on his heels, who was still unsure of what had provoked his friend’s outburst.  He couldn’t help but remember the last time this kind of rage had built up.  He was the one who wound up taking the brunt of it, with a bullet in the arm and an infection that nearly killed him.

“What on earth was that about?” Alex asked and followed Jordan to the bar in the corner of the room.

He shook his head.  “Benji has always had a difficult time dealing with Suzanne’s leaving,” he explained.  “Ever since the day she left.”

“Well what was all that about Sylvie Distefano?” Alex asked and came up behind him.  “It’s just a coincidence that they both left around the same time.”

Jordan closed his eyes tightly.  “No, it’s not a coincidence,” he said.

Alex’s eyes narrowed and she took a few tentative steps toward him.  “What do you mean?”

“Sylvie left Victor because of me,” he announced.  “Because I wouldn’t leave Suzanne for her.”

Eyes wide, Alex stared at him in disbelief.  “You had an affair with her?”

He nodded.  “It was very short lived.  It didn’t mean as much to me as it did her.”

“And Victor found out?  Did he find you together?”

“No, Sylvie told him.  And I told Suzanne.  I didn’t want it hanging over our heads.”

Alex was floored.  How could he not have told her before?  “And that’s why Suzanne left,” she surmised under her breath.

Jordan closed his eyes.  “It’s much more complicated than that,” he said...

Lighting illuminated the skies.  Seconds later, the roar of thunder echoed through the house and shook the walls and windows.  Heather perched at the bottom of the stairs watching as her mother cried in agony. 

“You say it’s over but how can I believe you?” she screamed, tears flooding her eyes.   “How do I know you’re not lying like you lied about where you were all those nights?”

“Because I’m telling you,” Jordan insisted.  “I don’t love her.”

Suzanne drew her fingers through her hair and turned away.  “It doesn’t matter,” she said.  “I’m leaving you.  I’m taking the children and I’m leaving first thing in the morning.”

Heather cringed, her eyes welling up with tears while she listened.

“You can’t,” Jordan said.  “You can’t leave.  I told you it’s over with Sylvie.  I’ll make it up to you.”

“How?” Suzanne screamed toward him.  She beat him mercilessly against the chest while tears fell down her cheeks.  “You can’t make it up to me!  There’s nothing you can do to make this right!  You and Sylvie deserve each other!”

“Suzanne, please-“

She raced for the door, grabbing her keys and purse.

“Where are you going?”

“To see your precious Sylvie,” she cried.

“Don’t, please Suzanne.”

But he was too late.  She dashed out into the rain and ran to her car.  By the time she had inserted the keys into the ignition, Heather was in the passengers seat pleading with her to stop.

“Heather, go back inside!” she screamed to her twelve year old daughter.

“Mommy, no!” she cried while tugging at her arm. “I don’t want to leave!  I want to stay with Daddy!”

Suzanne looked up and saw Jordan coming outside.  Instinctively, she put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway, ignoring her husband as he ran after her in the pouring rain and wind.

Within minutes, they were at the giant iron gate surrounding Victor and Sylvie’s house...

“What happened then?” Alex asked.

Jordan took a deep breath.   “Something that changed my family forever.”

Alex watched him and saw the despair in his eyes.  She suddenly realized there was much more to Suzanne’s disappearance than she ever knew.

Brett had left to run an errand for her father, so Heather stayed home with Violet and made them dinner.  The baby laid fitfully in her bassinette, crying and kicking her feet until Heather finally approached to check on her. 

“What’s wrong?” she whispered in a soothing voice and lifted the baby into her arms.  “What’s wrong with my little princess?”

When she detected a slight fever, she grew into a panic.

“You’re burning up,” she said, smoothing her hand down her head.  She walked to the coffee table and picked up the phone, hastily calling Brett.  When she got his voice mail, she sighed with frustration and clicked it off. 

“Shhh,” she said, her heart breaking with each cry that her daughter uttered.  Instinctively, she called the hospital and spoke to Dr. Mitchell’s nurse.  “This is Heather Armstrong.  My daughter Violet has a fever and she won’t stop crying.  Can I bring her in?”

Dr. Mitchell happened to be on call so Heather packed a diaper bag and flew out the door with the baby.  She called Brett again and left him a voice mail telling him to meet them at the hospital.

Minutes later, she was half-running down the corridor of the E.R, Violet still crying against her bosom.   A few feet ahead, she saw a team of paramedics rushing inside from an ambulance.  A slew of doctors and nurses raced to meet up with them, immediately checking vitals and asking for details on the patient. 

“Severe head trauma to the lateral lobe,” she heard one of the paramedics say.  She stood to the side of the corridor, grimacing as they wheeled the patient past her toward the operating room.

As the stretcher passed, she got a clear look at the woman, whose head was bleeding from a huge gash to the side.  Her hair was matted with blood that trickled down her face and pooled beneath her on the gurney. 

“Car accident,” said the other paramedic.  But by now, Heather was drifting off to another place, bright flashes of light blinding her as she recalled disturbing images from the past...

Heather laid on the operating table, her bruised eyes closed and the room quiet except for the constant beep of the heart monitor.  Two surgeons and several nurses hovered above her.  The first surgeon inserted the scalpel into her shaved head, following a circle of metal pins until a flap of skin was formed and when lifted revealed a mix of blood and bone. 

“We have swelling,” said one of the nurses. 

“Can I get suction?” said one of the surgeons.

Moments later, the other surgeon picked up a small circular saw and began drilling through bone...

When she snapped out of the daze, she held tightly to Violet and raced back down the corridor to the admitting desk where she checked Violet in and quickly called Dr. Anderson.   She got his answering service so she hung up and turned around in a fit of tears.  To her surprise, Brett was standing directly behind her.

“What is it?” he asked and held her close.  “Is it Violet?  I got your message and-“

She sobbed, holding her head in her hands as her eyes darted around in confusion.  “They cut into my brain,” she cried.  “They killed part of me!”

Brett closed his eyes and held her close.  He realized that something must have triggered a memory.  She knew about the surgery.  He wondered how much more she’d remembered.

James poured the last of the scotch into a crystal rocks glass, staring at the amber liquid and running a hand over his face in aggravation.  He was alone in the library at the mansion, watching the clock tick past seven o’clock.  Exhausted, his hair was unkempt and his shirt was untucked and rumpled.  Red, irritated eyes glazed over as he stared at the fireplace. 

The day had gotten away from him, winding down with no word from the bank in New York on his extension.  He felt beaten, hopeless as he realized it was time to face the facts.  In five hours his loan would go into default status, and the bank, despite the publicity over his new movie, would foreclose on the studio and it would no longer be his.  Everything he’d worked for would disappear forever. 

“Daddy?” Miranda asked when she entered the room.  “Are you okay?  What are you doing sitting in here alone?”

He shook his head and finished the rest of his scotch.  “Just thinking, Sweetheart,” he said.  “Are you off to the play?”

She nodded.  “Eddie’s on his way to pick me up.  Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you,” he said.  “You have a good time tonight, okay?”

She knew he was drunk, and the only time her father got drunk was when he was feeling helpless.  She debated whether to cancel her plans and stay home.  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him this way.

“I wish you’d tell me what’s bothering you,” she said.  “Is it the movie?”

“The movie,” James said with a slight chuckle.  “That damn movie.  All that work for nothing.  Your mother’s tantrums, Victor’s constant absence, Stormy and Kelly’s escapades.  Talk about development hell.  Truth is, I’ll be relieved when it’s over.”

Miranda looked at him in despair.  “Daddy, what is-“

Her sentence was cut short when voices carried in from the hall.   Seconds later, Ethan entered the room, a brilliant smile on his face. 

“Ethan, what are you doing here?” James asked. 

“I just talked to Kenny,” he said, shoving a piece of paper at him.  “He faxed me this just a few minutes ago.”

“What is it?” Miranda asked and looked over her father’s shoulder. 

“It’s the loan document,” Ethan explained.

James frowned and stood up.  “This can’t be right.”

“That’s what I thought," Ethan replied.  “But it’s true.  Right there in black and white.  Someone paid your loan off.  You’re one hundred percent free and clear from the bank in New York.  They can’t foreclose on you, James.”

“What?” James asked in disbelief.  “Ethan, I told you I did not want you to use your father’s money.  That money’s tainted as far as I’m concerned.  I’d rather lose the studio than take anything from Will Thomerson.”

“It wasn’t me,” he insisted. 

“Then who was it?” James asked.  “Who would have done this?”

She stared out the window of her office, admiring the beauty of the New York City lights.  A pencil wedged between her fingers, she made plans for what she would do once she was in control of Sunset Studios. 

“You’re early,” she said when she saw the reflection of her financial advisor in the window.  “It’s only seven o’clock on the west coast.  Does this mean I take ownership of my studio early?  Did James Blackthorne forfeit before the deadline?”

“No,” he replied.  “There’s been a change in plans.”

“How so?”

“The loan you made for Blackthorne was just paid off in full.”

The pencil snapped in half between her thumb and index finger.  “What?”

“He’s fulfilled his obligation.”

“How?” the woman demanded, twisting her ruby ring around her finger.  “How did he come up with that kind of money?”

“He didn’t,” the man said.  “Someone paid it off for him.  Your son.”

She turned around in the chair and faced him.  “David paid off the loan?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Jacqueline Lamont slammed her hand down on the desk and gritted her teeth angrily.  “Get him on the phone,” she ordered.

“I've tried.  He isn't answering my calls."

She clasped her hands together in concentration.  "Then have my jet prepared.  I'll be flying to Los Angeles first thing in the morning."

Next time....

Miranda finds a clue at Victor's play.  Jackie fills James in on her father's legacy.  Heather remembers more details with the help of Dr. Anderson.  

Read Episode 88

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