The Victorious and the Relentless

Episode 1: “The Heat Within”

Cast of Main Characters (for this episode)

Callum Sutcliffe: Briton, dapper, 27, irreverently humorous, scheming, brown eyes, black hair

Nathan Moynihan: striking appearance, tall, mid-40’s, athletic, bearded, object of Callum’s obsession

Allison Trudeau: protective lesbian, mid-40’s, surgeon, firm but exudes warmth to those in her circle

Tristan Bersani: fine-looking Italian-American, mid-30’s, occasionally mentally dense, paparazzo/realtor

Jeremy Dodd: sagacious, early 60’s, leader and paternal figure to many Outrunners members

Brendon Roberts: partner to Nathan, late-40’s, handsome, tall, auburn hair

Dr. Peyton Ashland: single psychiatrist, comely, 40, lean muscular frame, magnetic smile, hazel eyes, brown hair

Chloe Dalton: affectionate partner to Dr. Allison Trudeau, late 30’s, blonde

Bralen Jones: charming, muscular, accomplished athlete, late 30’s, pilates instructor

Drake Michener: cute, early 30’s, friendly, dark hair and eyes, tall

Main Action

Nathan Moynihan harshly choked on the smoke that slowly paralyzed his lungs as he darted through the brush that savagely tore at his open flesh. He couldn’t see too far ahead of him, and his head was a throbbing mass of constant pain. Blood trickled through his fingers as he placed his hand to his right temple and tried to make out his exact location and make his way to safety. He could feel the heat of the conflagration on his back as he rushed in its opposite direction. With each successive cough, he felt like surrendering, but to do so would be certain death. The sound of the helicopters could be heard flying over the park.

Nathan: Help! Brendon!

Shouting the name of his lover whom he could not find amid all the blinding smoke, his shoe lodged between two rocks and he was forced to jerk his leg to free it, but his strength had gone. He bent down to feverishly untie his shoe laces to liberate his foot. I have to find Brendon! Suddenly, there was a spectacular blaze of light as the fire shot up a tree, the dry foliage a feast of ammunition for its ravenous rage. Nathan lost his bearings just as his socked foot came free, and his body tumbled down the hill, his fall eventually broken by the flat surface of a popular hiking trail several feet below.

TWO WEEKS LATER

Santa Monica Bluffs: Wednesday Evening Outrunners Training Course

The intoxicating vista of the Pacific Ocean forms the background of the following scene. A congregation of handsome men has already assembled, and the sagacious group leader Jeremy Dodd is having a private conversation with his fellow members Bralen Jones and Drake Michener.

Jeremy: As you two read in the memo that went out to all members, Nathan Moynihan will now be acting president of Outrunners in light of our current president’s incapacity. Brendon Roberts is still in the hospital and has yet to awaken from the coma.

Bralen: Have the police got any leads? LAPD already confirmed it was arson weeks ago, but nothing much has been in the news about it.

Drake: Add to that the fact that both Brendon and Nathan were attacked by some psychopath who most likely started the fire. No one wants to go running in Griffith Park if they may be the victim of another hate crime.

Jeremy: How did you know they were attacked?

Drake: Allison was there in the emergency room when the ambulance brought in Nathan and Brendon. She immediately got them into surgery, and addressing their injuries and wounds determined that their head traumas were not substantially caused by any falls they may have taken. She could tell it was an attack due to some metallic fragments found in both their head wounds. Of course, the indent in Brendon’s skull was a dead giveaway. (At this moment, he’s given an awkward look by his two colleagues for his ill-chosen words of expression).

Jeremy: At any rate, the email blast went to the whole organization, encouraging everyone to visit Brendon. Maybe feeling all our presence will wake him from the coma. Besides, he obviously can’t give any testimony in his unconscious state, and Nathan can barely recall anything, according to Kyle, who’s heading the investigation.

Drake: Is Nathan out of the hospital?

Jeremy: I think they’re releasing him soon. He’s fully conscious, but they’re keeping him under close observation. He’s made a remarkable recovery and was lucky his head wound was mostly superficial and not as extensive as Brendon’s, but Nathan sustained a broken rib that seems to be healing well according to Allison. She tells me that he’s constantly at Brendon’s bedside, gripping to hope that he’ll wake up. You know those two are an institution. They’ve been together for so long it’s hard not to think of one without the other.

At that moment, Tristan Bersani arrives with Callum Sutcliffe. The three men quickly end their private discussion as it appears that their training run is about to commence.

Drake: Calvin, welcome back.

Callum (snappishly): It’s Callum! First syllable rhymes with your word “gal” and second with “rum.”

Drake: Oh, sorry, but thanks for the brief lesson (simultaneously turning away and rolling his eyes).

Jeremy: Callum, we hoped you would come back. You seemed glum last week.

Callum: I greatly enjoyed myself last week… along with your company, of course. I was going through some emotional turmoil last week, and I thought if I came to the Santa Monica run, it would cheer me as I naturally love beachside communities. I could get used to living here and waking to the sea each morning, running along the shore.

Tristan: Yeah, but remember I’m trying to get you to buy that priceless gem of a new home up in Hollycove so you would be making quite a time-consuming trek from there to the beach every morning.

Drake: Ooh, that house comes with a huge price tag. It’s rumored, you know, Madonna used to own it.

Tristan: I told him how she recorded her latest chart-topping album there in the sound studio.

Callum (catty): From the way you talk, it seems you personally both know Madge, and with your inclusion of the word “rumor” regarding her ownership, it makes me question Tristano’s credibility.

Bralen (interjecting): Well, Tristan is a good realtor. He only recently got his license, but he’s very convincing with words.

Drake: Yeah, and just a few weeks ago, he sold my partner and me on our current house in West Hollywood. We were, in fact, the first house he ever closed a deal on.

Callum: In West Hollywood, you say? Is that not the mecca for the queer community here in Los Angeles?

Jeremy: Yes, it is, Callum. We affectionately refer to it as WEHO.

Callum: Does that stand for “Where Everyone Has Orgasms?”

Laughter erupted from the crowd in time to mollify the mild tension arising between elitist Callum and unassuming Drake. Jeremy then attempted to get the meeting back on track.

Jeremy: Are there any organization announcements?

Bralen: Oh, yes, don’t forget to come to the group’s benefit tomorrow night at PJ’s Bar in Silverlake. We’ll be raffling off some great prizes—one of which would be a month’s supply of free pilates lessons from yours truly at my studio in Malibu.

Callum: If you don’t mind my asking, what does the PJ stand for? Penis Juicers?

Bralen (laughing): No, it’s name of the original owner, Paul Jenkins, but I’m sure there’ll be penis juicers there, especially out on the patio. Tristan and I have certainly met a few of them there on some nights.

Jeremy assembles everyone into a circle including four other men who arrive at the last minute. They each announce their names.

Jeremy: Callum, will you be joining us for dinner afterwards? I was thinking about Guiseppe’s. How does Italian cuisine sound to everybody?

Callum (throwing a sideways glance at Tristan): I’m actually having lunch there tomorrow with Tristano. We’re going to try to close the deal on the house.

Drake: Why do you call him Tristano when his name is Tristan?

Callum: It’s his Italian birth name, and I personally feel that one should always show allegiance to one’s heritage. He’s a full-blooded Italian, and he should pay homage to all things Italian from something as small as his name to something as big as his—

Tristan (clearing his throat in an attempt to stop Callum from finishing): Only my parents call me Tristano, but I’ve allowed Callum the luxury… at least until all the documents for the sale of the house are signed.

Callum: Well, if you wish to close the sale, you’ll permit me many other luxuries (winking at him).

Jeremy: On that note, are you going with us to dinner? I suppose we could go to another restaurant.

Callum: I’m going to take a raincheck on that. I’ve got some personal business to handle afterwards.

Jeremy: I’m familiar with that look on your face, Callum. It reminds me of the French expression: “l’amour et la fumée ne peuvent se cacher.”

Callum (translating): Love and smoke cannot be hidden.

Jeremy: Yes, that’s right. The rest of you here will have to pardon the gauche reference to smoke, but in all in my years, I’ve become quite adept at knowing when a young man is in love. It’s in the glow he gives off, and you, Callum, are practically beaming. I wonder who the lucky guy is…

Callum: I’m not saying.

Bralen: Is he a member of the organization?

Callum: Possibly, but my lips are sealed from henceforth.

Bralen: I bet it’s that new guy Chad that came to our Griffith Park run last Saturday. He was hot!

Callum: Shall we all get started running? That is what you blokes do here, right?

Jeremy (starting to run, leading the group): Sounds like a good idea to me. Let’s go, guys!

SAME TIME, HOLLYWOOD HOSPITAL

Dido’s “Here with Me” softly plays over the following action:

Nathan Moynihan, handsomely bearded now from weeks of non-shaving, sits in a chair next to the bed of his partner Brendon Roberts, firmly holding his hand, their fingers interlaced. He so desperately wishes for him to awaken. He brings his soft lips to kiss Brendon’s fingers, his lips brushing sweetly against his lover’s knuckles. With his other hand, he gently caresses Brendon’s cheeks and then runs his hand through his auburn hair. I’ll never leave you, Brendon, Nathan thinks to himself. I’m partially to blame for this. Had we not gone off to our special place in the park, none of this would have happened.

In spite of his best efforts, Nathan recalls with fervor the moment that they left the Outrunners Tuesday night Griffith Park meeting and went off on their own. They ran up the familiar hiking trail to the hidden alcove in the side of the mountain. The sun was setting in the west, and they were allowed the pleasure of looking deeply into each other’s eyes as they settled down on the gravelly surface. Brendon was the first to remove his shirt, exposing his muscular chest with its chiseled pecs and washboard abs, looking spectacular for someone in his late age division. He reached over and removed Nathan’s shirt before granting him a passionate kiss, their mouths locked in heated triumph. Their bodies easily aligned themselves into position with Nathan atop, and Brendon feeling the swelling hardness within Nathan’s shorts as it brushed against his inner thighs. Brendon’s hands reached down for the elastic strap to release it when their silent revelry was suddenly interrupted by the sound of movement outside.

Nathan put his finger to his mouth, communicating to Brendon not to make a sound. He rose from the ground to check and see if the coast was clear for them to continue their merrymaking… and then everything in Nathan’s mind went black from that moment.

The nurse’s entrance into Brendon’s room broke his reverie. She tries to get Nathan to go back to his own room, but he adamantly refuses to leave Brendon’s side. She reluctantly leaves but returns later with Dr. Allison Trudeau. With Allison’s entrance, the scene’s signature song ends.

Allison: Nathan, Nurse Jackson informs me that you’re being stubborn.

Nathan: I’m not leaving him, Allison. He’s everything to me (on the brink of tears). I can’t lose him.

Allison: Oh, honey, you’re not going to lose him. We just have to keep hope alive. And I know if Brendon could speak right now, he’d tell you to get your ass in bed… and in this case, not next to him. Your room is next door. Come on, I’ll have them give you a sedative so that you’ll rest well into the morning.

Nathan: Allison…

Allison: Not another word, Moynihan! Your room now! You know better than to argue with a lesbian in charge.

Nathan: That’s why in February I didn’t vote Clin—

Allison (interrupting him): Besides, you need some beauty sleep, and a good shave. I’ll have one of our handsome male interns do that for you in the morning. Just don’t tell Brendon.

They laughed. Reluctantly, Nathan rose from his seat, and Allison escorted him back to his room.

NEXT MORNING, HOLLYWOOD HOSPITAL

Allison Trudeau is in the gynecologist’s office with her partner Chloe Dalton, holding hands with her. Chloe uses her other hand to lower the shirt down over her exposed abdomen as Dr. Turner turns off the sonogram machine.

Dr. Turner: I’ll get you both a copy of the sonogram. Chloe, please speak with Trish about setting up your next appointment. Congratulations again!

Chloe: I can’t believe it’s finally happened, Allison. We’re going to be parents.
Allison (teary-eyed): Yes, honey, we’re finally going to realize our dreams of a family! I can’t wait to tell everyone in the group.

Chloe: I just wish that Brendon were conscious. He would be thrilled to know that he’s going to be an uncle or godfather or whatever he wants to be called.

Allison: In his case, he would literally be a fairy godfather.

They laughed, and the warmth of Chloe’s hand radiated through Allison’s body. She could barely contain the excitement within her as she stared down in the eyes of the woman she loved her with all her heart.

Allison: Now, sweetheart, you know you’re going to be on a strict diet.

Chloe: Which I know in your terms means a vegan diet with tons of folic acid.

Allison bents down to kiss her, the softness of her lips still a pleasure after nearly two decades.

Allison: Speaking of food, how about lunch at Guiseppe’s? I feel like celebrating! Besides I have to meet Peyton there to discuss some medical business.

Chloe: Sounds great to me. You can have spumante while I have lime and seltzer. Woohoo! What a trade-off for the next six months.

Allison: I’ll call them for reservations. I’m just going to step out to check on Nathan. I think he’s supposed to be discharged later today, but I have a feeling that he’ll want to camp out in Brendon’s room. I had to give him a strong sedative last night to get him to sleep.

Chloe: Does he remember anything about what happened to him and Brendon?

Allison: So far he hasn’t been able to provide much of anything to further the case. All he said was that he and Brendon were doing their normal “long run” when they were attacked.

Chloe (interrupting Allison): Yeah, for those two, running longer than the others is like sex. They can’t ever seem to get enough of it. Between the two of them, I think they run over a hundred miles a week.

Allison: Anyway, I’ll be right back.

Allison kissed Chloe once more before she went out the room to the nurse’s station, where she saw a new young girl at the front desk, most likely an intern.

Allison: Hi, I’m coming to inquire about Mr. Nathan Moynihan. I think he’s being discharged today.

Nurse: Yes, he’s in his room. I think he’s in there with his partner.

Allison: Partner? You must be mistaken! I haven’t been informed of Mr. Roberts’ waking from his coma.

Not waiting for an explanation from the nurse, Allison rushes off in the direction of Nathan’s room.

NATHAN MOYNIHAN’S ROOM

Aqualung’s “Strange and Beautiful” provides the important ambience for the following scene:
A well-tailored man enters the room of Nathan Moynihan. Noticing that he’s asleep in his bed, he moves across the floor in feverish anticipation, his hands touching the sheets, tugging at them to pull back and reveal Nathan’s handsome physique. He looks at Nathan’s sleeping face, reaching his hand out to touch his exposed skin and subsequently feeling a slight shock of electricity surge through his body. It was unmistakable. The beauty was there, the muscles, the strong jaw line, and his aura.

All these feelings flooded Callum Sutcliffe as he bent over the figure, leaning and waiting for his lips to touch those of Nathan whose chest was rising up and down with his breath. Callum’s hand brushed under Nathan’s shirt, feeling the slight growth of hair on his chest. He then felt something hard, circular, and metallic. It was a locket. Nathan hadn’t wakened from Callum’s touch, enticing him to further move his hand southward and rest it over his groin for a split second before finally succumbing to his burning temptation—jamming his mouth upon Nathan’s lips. Their softness was so reminiscent of Gavin’s. I wish you would open your eyes and look into mine and then you would know that what we have is true love.

Suddenly, the door opens—the song ends here—and Allison Trudeau rushes into the room. Callum’s hand rushed back to his side as he straightened himself upright.

Allison: Who the hell are you? And what were you doing to him?

Callum, taken aback by both the voice and the presence in the room, immediately spun around to face Allison, whose expression contorted into one of mixed surprise and blanketed fury.

Callum: I’m sorry, but do I know you? Oh yes, you’re from Outrunners. I think I met you the other day at Griffith Park. You and the other woman were so warm and inviting to me. My name is Callum Sutcliffe, in case you’ve forgotten.

He extended his hand for Allison to shake, but she maintained her poise, refusing to raise her hand.

Allison: I repeat, what the hell are you doing here? Had I not come any sooner, I wonder what would have happened.

Callum: Whatever do you mean?

Allison: Oh, stop playing the innocent act with me. I saw you trying to kiss him.

Callum: Don’t be so daft, dear. You must be mistaken. I was just admiring the locket around Mr. Moynihan’s neck. My late husband Gavin had one just like it.

Allison: You couldn’t come up with anything better than that? Listen, hun, I’ve known Nathan all my life, and you’re not his type. He loves Brendon and always will. They’ve been together for a long time and recently celebrated their twelfth anniversary.

Callum (brazenly): And I arrive just in time for their unlucky thirteenth year. How fortunate for them!

Allison: I’m only going to say this once. Stay the hell away from Nathan! He’s off limits. You’ll only end up embarrassing yourself… many have tried before you and all have failed at landing a warm spot in his bed. That’s reserved for Brendon, his one true love.

Callum: How poetic, but Dr. Trudeau, I assure you I have no desire to come between Mr. Moynihan and his love for Brendon—pardon me for not knowing his surname at the moment. But I understand that he’s now acting president of Outrunners Corp. As I’m now a member, I now receive the group’s informative communications. It’s absolutely dreadful what happened to Mr. Moynihan and his partner while they were out having a leisure run in the park. Such violence hardly happens in British parks.

Allison: Then why don’t you go back there?

Callum: I beg your pardon, Dr. Trudeau. I resent your tone. Frankly, it’s not the way to treat a new member of your organization.

Allison: Outrunners doesn’t need your kind. All the bedhopping, scheming snakes like you should stay under their rocks in West Hollywood along with all the other clones.

Callum (laughing): Darling, you clearly don’t know who I am. As it stands right now, I’m temporarily staying in Hollycove…you know, that EXCLUSIVE community nestled up in the Hollywood Hills, where the minimum home price is eight digits long. I’m set to inherit an empire worth £80 million, which given the rate of your pathetic American dollar would allow me to buy all of West Hollywood (and anyone in it) if I so wanted.

Allison: I don’t care how wealthy you are! Nathan is not interested in stuff like that, and I know him well enough to know he wouldn’t even give you the time of day.

Callum: From the way you’re reacting to an innocent gesture on my part, I would imagine that it was Mr. Moynihan’s rejection of you that ultimately sent you over to the land of U-Hauls and hardware stores.

Allison (moving to the door): That’s it. I’ve had enough of you. You have no right to be here, anyway. I’m calling security.

Callum: Okay, I’ll leave. I don’t wish to awaken Mr. Moynihan on account of any senseless arguing with the likes of you. I’ll see you Saturday morning in the park. Ciao!

Allison calms down before seeing him depart from the wing of the hospital. She then checked on Nathan to make sure that all was well with him. The sedative must have really knocked him out. She then left the room and headed for the nurses’ station to give that new nurse a piece of her mind, but she was fortunately not at the station otherwise she would have endured an unspeakable wrath.

LUNCHTIME AT GUISEPPE’S RISTORANTE

Tristan Bersani sat at his table, drank his chardonnay, glanced at his watch, and drummed his fingers on the tabletop. Callum entered the scene within three minutes, having consulted the hostess where his party is seated, and headed directly for the table, sitting down, and sighing heavily.

Tristan: What’s wrong? You got caught in traffic? You should know by now that traffic is the number one bitch here in Los Angeles.

Callum: You mean besides Allison Trudeau? I had to go shopping just to cool my nerves after my encounter with the woman.

Tristan: So you had a run-in with her? Over what? She’s really a nice person once you get to know her.

Callum: That wench threatened me to stay away from Nathan Moynihan… as if I fancy the man.

Tristan: Well, do you? (A mixed look of mild intrigue and scorn comes over his face)

Callum: I hardly know anything about him other than he’s handsome and partnered.

Tristan: And he lives in Hollycove. In fact, his house is next door to the one you may purchase. Only a little ravine separates the two properties.

Callum (his eyes suddenly alit with glee): Oh really? Well, I suppose that seals the deal. I’d like to buy the house you’ve been attempting to sell me for the past two weeks.

Tristan: At the current asking price? I know you had some issues with it.

Callum: Not anymore. I have the added benefit of being a thorn in Allison Trudeau’s side if I choose to live in the same neighborhood as Nathan Moynihan.

Tristan: I really wouldn’t get on Allison’s bad side if I were you.

Callum: And I really would advise you not to ever get on mine. I don’t play games which I don’t intend to win. Besides, I have some personal business I need to conduct with Mr. Moynihan, and I won’t allow K.D. Lang’s runaway mistress to stop me.

Tristan: Which kind of business do you have with Nathan? Nothing sexual, I hope.

Callum: What’s your deal with him? You keep asking me about my feelings and connections with him. Are you the one who fancies him?

Tristan: Oh, no, I’m not even remotely attracted to him. Besides, he and Brendon are joined at the hip.

Callum: And at other places at various times, I would wager.

Tristan: You have quite a sense of humor, Callum.

Callum: At any rate, I’m willing to pay full price for the house. I plan on staying indefinitely here in Los Angeles until my affairs are settled. Besides, Tristano, I know that the commission you’ll be receiving from my purchase will help fend off some of your creditors.

Tristan: Excuse me?

Callum: Tristano, I’m a man who does my research on both the property and the realtor (winking at him). I know that you—like me—are caught up in a terrible amount of litigation. I understand that a well-known British celebrity football—excuse me, that’s soccer here—couple is suing you for a quarter of a million dollars since you were the infamous paparazzo who managed to get nude photos of them.

Tristan: Look, Callum, I had nothing to do with…

Callum: You really shouldn’t lie to me like that. I’ve checked your job history, and prior to becoming a realtor just short of a month ago, you were a washed up photographer without a dollar to your name. Luckily for you, I understand your situation, and I’m here to help you. (placing his hands over those of Tristan’s on the table)

Tristan: I don’t quite understand.

Callum: Quid pro quo, Tristano. You scratch my back and I just might scratch yours… and do other things to it as well.

Tristan: What do you want? I only just want to sell you the house. That’s it, nothing more.

Callum: I’ll pay off all your debts in exchange for something…

Tristan: Look, I don’t do that type of thing anymore… no… (growing more frantic)… he put you up to this… didn’t he? Well, no, I’m not doing it again!

Tristan’s paranoiac anger boiled to the surface, and he indignantly rose from the table, shouting the last part and drawing the attention of the seated clientele of the restaurant. A party of the bystanders and spectators happened to be Allison, Chloe, and Dr. Peyton Ashland seated at a table in the corner.

Chloe: Isn’t that Tristan over there shouting? Who’s the guy he’s with?

Allison: Oh my god, Chloe, it’s that bastard I was telling you about earlier. He’s the one who was in Nathan’s room earlier today, trying to kiss him.

Peyton (rising): I’ll go over and find out what’s wrong. Tristan’s usually not the drama queen to be giving such a scene for the world to see.

Peyton rose from the table and journeyed over to the other side of the restaurant. He saw Tristan throw his napkin on the table and storm for the exit, and he was not able to reach him in time. However, the good doctor’s face blanched the moment he saw Callum seated at the table from which Tristan had made a speedy exodus.

Peyton: YOU? What the hell are you doing here?

Callum: What a small world it is, Doctor Ashland. Now is that the way to greet your former lover?

Peyton: You were not my lover!

Callum: Well, temporary fuck buddy, then! Same thing! Lord knows you shagged me like I was one.

Peyton: Keep your mouth shut about that!

Callum: You always liked my mouth open. So may I book a session with you soon?

Peyton: Absolutely not! What are you doing here in Los Angeles?

Allison marches over, having waited impatiently for Peyton to return to their table.

Allison: What’s going on? Peyton, is he causing trouble? I’ll get the manager to throw him out.

Callum: There’s no need for that. Peyton and I are just conducting some unfinished business.

Allison (turning to Peyton): Wait a minute, you know him?

Callum: Rather intimately, I would say. When he wasn’t putting medicine into me, it was his—

Peyton: That’s enough, Callum! What happened is in the past. Let’s leave it there.

Allison: What happened between you two? How do you know him, Peyton? He’s only been here for two weeks. He’s visiting from England.

Peyton: We know each other back from when I was working temporarily in London last year.

Allison: What? You mean he was one of your patients?

Callum: Actually, I became a lot more than his patient, but that’s really not for you to know. Oh, look, Tristano left his briefcase. I should go rush it out to him. You know he's an estate agent. Peyton, you must come over to my new house in Hollycove… it’s in close proximity to the Moynihan residence.

Callum rose, threw down a twenty dollar note on the table, winked maliciously at Allison, grasped the briefcase and rushed for the exit. Tristan had brushed abrasively past the valet outside and shoved his ticket into the man’s hand, waiting impatiently for the arrival of his car. At that moment, Callum came out the restaurant, holding the briefcase.

Callum: You forgot this.

Tristan: Thanks, but I think maybe you need another realtor. I’m through doing shit like that.

Callum: I’m really at a loss, Tristano. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just want to close the deal on the house. I didn’t want to rummage through your briefcase for the housing papers for me to sign.

Tristan: Can we do this another time? I’m suddenly not feeling too well.

Callum: Sure, you have my number and know how to reach me.

Tristan: On second thought, come by the realty office in about an hour.

Callum: What about your sudden pang of illness? It was most likely due to Allison Trudeau’s presence.

Tristan: I just need to calm myself. Anyway, I want to close this deal today, and we can expedite the process at the office.

Callum: I’ll see you there.

Callum gave the valet his ticket and waited for his car to be brought forth. Tristan’s car was driven to the curb, and he quickly hopped into it. He turned on the air conditioning and drove down Santa Monica Boulevard before making the turn onto the street where he resided. He picked up the briefcase Callum gave him only to realize that it was the wrong one. Pressing the command key for the trunk to open, he stepped out into the blazing hot summer heat and went to get his other briefcase. In doing so, his hand brushed against a hard lump, covered by a blanket. The sunlight in all its infinite beauty managed in that moment to cast its radiance upon the definite unsightliness of the tip of a blood-encrusted crowbar.

TO BE CONTINUED…