The Victorious and the Relentless

Episode 3: “Follow the Misleader”

The haunting sound of Mika’s “Any Other World” permeates this scene of muted frustration:

Peyton Ashland arrives at his apartment, rushing to the minibar to pour himself a glass of bourbon, which he downs in one gulp. He falls into his chair, running his hands frantically through his hair, drowned in a tempestuous sea of thought. What is Callum’s endgame? And where do I fit into it? Why, oh why, did I sleep with that deranged fool? Will he really go to the medical board with that DVD? Peyton rose from his seat and gets another glass of bourbon. I’m going to need something stronger! How am I going to get myself out of this mess?

He drinks that in one gulp before throwing the glass against the wall, shattering it into several minuscule shards that litter the floor. He knew his life would be eternally ruined if that DVD were to ever be seen. He had to get it, and for that to happen, he would have to partner with the devil himself. Peyton hadn’t known that Callum would turn out to be so vindictive and scheming, resorting to blackmail in order to render his silence and compliance in his diabolical machinations.

His mind beset with these pressing thoughts, Peyton tripped over his shoes on his way back to the bar and made yet another drink, hoping to drown himself in his misery and perhaps blot Callum Sutcliffe from his mind forever. He was about to throw the container of bourbon against the wall and then immediately thought better of it, for fear that when he inevitably fell asleep that he would have nightmares of his career devastation. It seemed that only alcohol right now was his one true companion.

He lied down on his couch, his head resting comfortably against the cushions before the influence of slumber stole over him, his hand losing its grip on the glass, and its contents spilled onto the floor. Fortunately, he had no nightmares of Callum but had a premonitory dream of pain ahead for Nathan.

BRENDON ROBERTS’ ROOM, HOLLYWOOD HOSPITAL

The shadowy figure lowers the pillow down onto the face of Brendon Roberts. Just that moment, Allison Trudeau enters the room to check on him. She shrieks upon seeing the dark figure at his morbid task, and she feels a slight sense of déjà vu as yet another mysterious person crouches over another one of the special men in her life, seemingly indulged in a questionable act. The figure sees her, drops the pillow, and rushes for the exit.

Allison (placing herself firmly in front of exit): You’re not going anywhere!

The figure charged for Allison, throwing all its weight into her, and knocking her aside. Allison’s head collided harshly against the wall before she fell into a heap, overturning a chair as her body hit the floor. The intruder rushes out the room and down the hall.

Allison: Somebody stop him!

She manages to regain her balance and rushes over to check on Brendon. He’s still breathing and alive. She picks up the phone and alerts hospital security of the incident.

NATHAN MOYNIHAN’S HOME, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES

Nathan Moynihan is finishing his phone conversation with Chloe Dalton.

Nathan: Thank you, Chloe, for informing me of this. (pause) No, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. You did the right thing in telling me. I think that’s him coming inside the house right now. Talk with you later.

He terminates the call just as the key in the lock turns, and Justin Roberts enters the house. He has his knapsack on his shoulder and looks as if he’s come back from some athletic practice. He pays no attention to Nathan, but rather moves toward the staircase to head to his room.

Nathan: Just where do you think you’re going?
Justin: To my room. Like where else would I go?
Nathan: Not so fast. We need to talk.
Justin: Can’t we do that in the morning? I’m tired.
Nathan: And so am I of all the trouble you’re causing. I just got a phone call telling me that you were seen earlier today at lunchtime in Hollywood, buying drugs on a street corner.

Justin: Whoever told you that is lying.
Nathan: Then where were you at lunchtime? You weren’t on campus. That’s for sure. You missed fourth through seventh periods today. I checked so don’t lie to me about that. You know, Justin, you’re ruining your chances for a good life outside of school. Taking drugs and missing classes. There’s no way you’ll get into a selective university that way. Your behavior is self-destructive.

Justin: Why the fuck are you on my case?
Nathan: Hey, watch your language with me, young man!
Justin: You’re not my father! You’re just some faggot who’s fucking my uncle.
Nathan: Yeah, you’re right. I’m not your father. But while you’re in my house, you’ll show me some respect.

Justin: So it’s your house now? I thought you and Brendon both owned this house, but I guess with him about to kick the bucket, you can…

Nathan: Shut up! Just shut the hell up! (realizing his error) Oh, Justin, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. It’s just that I really love your uncle, and I can’t take any thoughts of him possibly not making it.

Justin: Just admit it, Nate. You don’t want me here. Everything was fine before I came along. I’m just the thorn in your side. You know what? I’ll make it easy for you. I’m outta here!

Justin opens the door, rushes out it, slamming it behind him. Nathan, bewildered, rushes after him.

Nathan (seeing the figure retreating into the darkness): Justin, come back!

CALLUM’S HOME, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES

Callum Sutcliffe sits at the dinner table, consuming his dinner when the doorbell rings.

Callum: Nevermind, Godfrey, I’ll get the door. It’s probably Peyton, crawling back with his tail between his legs—which for him wouldn’t be a bad sexual position to try out.

Hearing the pounding on the door, Callum thinks to himself: Let the games begin. Opening the door, he is surprised to see the enraged face of Allison Trudeau, who barges right inside his house.

Callum: How dare you intrude into my home? Have you no manners? Of course not, what was I thinking? Well, while you’re here, you might as well go ahead and fix that awful plumbing in the downstairs bathroom.

Allison (ignoring him): You’re just fortunate I didn’t bring the cops with me. I can’t say that they won’t be here first thing in the morning. I know it was you, you sick bastard! You tried to kill him. If I hadn’t been there in time, you would have…how I cringe at the thought.

Callum: What the hell are you babbling on about? I haven’t done anything. I’ve been here having a quiet evening at home.

Allison: You were just at the hospital less than an hour ago, trying to kill Brendon Roberts. I saw you trying to smother him with that pillow.

Callum: You’re deranged, Allison. All that sawdust from your hobbies must be going to your head. I was here all evening. My butler Godfrey can attest to that.

Allison: Oh yeah, he’s on your payroll! A lot of credibility he’ll have!
Callum: And well, there’s also Peyton, who can provide my alibi. He left not too long ago, probably within the hour so you see I could not have done what you’re accusing me of doing.

Allison: I know you’re after Nathan, and you’ll do anything to get him, including murder.

Callum: That’s a harsh accusation, Allison. I would never harm another human being. Now a subhuman like you might be an exception.

Allison: Cut the insults, Callum. It’s very unbecoming of you, but I know what you’re capable of and so does that family in England! They mistrust you as much as I do and feel you’re capable of foul play.

Callum: And which family would that be?
Allison: You know the noble family that you married into. The people standing between you and that vast fortune you keep talking about as if it’s a done deal.

Callum: I see you’ve been talking with some unreliable source, but I would expect nothing less from a louse like you. Nevertheless, I think it’s time for you to go. I should be getting back to my supper. However, I can have the cook prepare you a salad with contaminated tomatoes and spinach. It always amazes me how you Americans have an annual contaminated food that stirs national hysteria. I’m sure next year it’ll be carrots.

Allison: I wouldn’t eat anything from you. I’m going to speak with Peyton, and confirm if he was in fact here when you said he was. I swear to God if you had anything to do with what happened tonight at the hospital, you’re going down.

Callum: That all you have to say?
Allison: Yeah, that’s all.
Callum: Then get the hell out of my house!
Allison (opening the door): With pleasure.
Godfrey (entering the room, having eavesdropped): Your Lordship, matters are becoming rather complicated. If Ms. Trudeau knows about Lord Armitage’s family, then she’s only a stone’s throw from learning the real reason you’re here in Los Angeles.

Callum: Godfrey, I can assure you that Allison knows nothing. She’s apparently been speaking with Peyton, who couldn’t for his own life remember Gavin’s family name. She only has minimal knowledge, and I don’t expect her to make a trip to Britain in order to flesh out the details. Besides, by the time she finds out the truth—and that’s if she does—it’ll be too late!

Godfrey: Would Your Lordship like for me to remove the dinnerware from the table?
Callum: Yes, please, Godfrey. I’m going out for a walk to clear my mind of that awful woman.
Godfrey: Do be careful as I’ve read of such awful criminal activity in this city.
Callum: We’re in the safest part of town, Godfrey. No need to worry for my safety. But I think we both should worry for the safety of Brendon Roberts. It seems I’m not the only one pining for him to meet his maker. I wonder who else has it in for him. At any rate, Godfrey, please see to it that our guests are well taken care of in my absence.

Godfrey: Yes, Your Lordship. Have a refreshing walk.

Callum opens the door and walks down his winding parking lot to the street. As he steps onto the pavement, a shadowy figure comes careening around the corner and slams into him. The skateboard goes flying into the bushes alongside the road.

Callum: Watch where you’re going!
Justin: Dude, I’m sorry. (getting up to retrieve his skateboard)
Callum (recognizing him): Justin, is it?
Justin: Do I know you?
Callum: Let’s just say I’m a friend of your uncle. My name is Callum.
Justin: Oh, you’re one of them! Fags!
Callum (sotto voce): I see you have the makings of a Cheney in progress. (now aloud) I wouldn’t quite call myself that. I’m not into labels. Of course in my country, fags are technically cigarettes.

Justin: Oh yeah, you do sound funny like you’re from a different country. You sound like Russell Brand.

Callum: I take umbrage against that comment, and I’m sure Russ would as well.
Justin: You know him?
Callum: Of course, I do. He interviewed me on his show. I know all the famous celebrities back home.

Justin: Like who?
Callum: I know lots of them. Sacha Baron Cohen, the Beckhams, all the Spice Girls, Amy Winehouse, Noel and Liam Gallagher, Hugh Grant, and Coldplay. Would you like for me to go on?

Justin: Wow! I was told that I would run into lots of celebrities here in Los Angeles. I’ve been here less than a month, and I haven’t seen shit. Yeah, some of my classmates’ parents are movie stars, but they’re hardly home. They say their parents are in Canada filming or in New York or Europe.

Callum: You like movie stars?
Justin: Yeah, I’m gonna be one soon…bigger than them all. I’ll be the next Shia LeBeouf.

Callum: Well, you certainly have the looks for it.
Justin: Are you hitting on me?
Callum: For the record, I tend to fancy orderly blokes, and given your slovenly nature, you would hardly qualify as even a last resort in my book.

Justin (dismissively): How do you know my uncle? He’s never mentioned you.
Callum: As I understand it, he can’t really talk, eat, or masturbate at the moment. But trust me, I’m a good friend of the family. Anyway, what are you doing out so late?

Justin: I’m ditching staying at that house.
Callum: You’re running away? Why?
Justin: I’ve had enough of Nathan. He’s such a dick, always thinking he knows everything. Besides, he’s such a downer since my uncle’s been in the hospital.

Callum: He’s probably worried sick over you. You should really go home.
Justin: No way! I hate it there.
Callum: Well, did you like it over at Kyle and Heath’s?
Justin: How do you know about them?
Callum: It’s a close-knit community here.
Justin: Yeah, all you fairies fuck around with each other.
Callum: Oh really? To whom are you referring now?
Justin: Well, I know that Heath is cheating on Kyle with someone. I came home in the middle of the day last week because I had forgotten my book report that I had copied from the Internet. When I went into the house, it sounded like Heath moaning, and I knew he wasn’t with Kyle because I was just on the phone with Kyle to find out where he hides the spare key under the flowerpot on the porch. Kyle was at the police station, following up a lead on the fire in the park.

Callum: Well, I can assure you that not all of the homosexual community delights in acts of infidelity. At any rate, I saw how your face lit up when I mentioned Coldplay. You know they’re coming to Los Angeles soon, and I have two front row tickets to their concert. I don’t think I’ll be able to attend as I’ll be flying out for business in Manchester. Would you like to have them?

Justin: Hell yeah!
Callum: Well, I can also get you tickets to Glastonbury later this summer. Of course, you’d need your uncle’s permission to fly out the country.

Justin: I’ve always wanted to go there. Would you really take me?
Callum: Yes, with your uncle or guardian’s permission. At any rate, let’s go inside and I’ll get those Coldplay tickets for you.

Justin: Thanks.

Justin follows Callum back into his house, his mouth agape at the majestic beauty of the inside of it, particularly the winding newel staircase and the opulent crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

Callum: Please take a seat while I get the tickets for you. Oh, where are my manners? Would you like something to drink? Bourbon? Scotch?

Godfrey (entering): Your Lordship, I believe the young man is considerably underage to drink alcohol.

Justin: Holy shit, dude! You’ve got a butler!
Callum: You’re quite right, Godfrey. He’s like several years away from legal drinking age in this country. Anyway, Godfrey, get him a Shirley Temple and use the bottle of grenadine in the right cabinet.

Godfrey (exiting): Yes, Your Lordship.
Justin: Why does he call you that? And what the hell is a Shirley Temple?
Callum: It’s a delicious alcoholic beverage just for you so please don’t tell your uncle. And Godfrey refers to me as “His Lordship” because that’s my title. I’m part of a noble family in Britain.

Justin: Are you related to the Queen?
Callum (laughing): Not exactly. My Gavin was part of the oldest families in the country, dating back to the Norman Invasion in the 11th century—hence his French sounding surname: Armitage. I’m sure somewhere in his family tree he has a connection—albeit tenuous—to the Windsors.

Callum steps out the room and comes back with the tickets. He hands them to Justin. At that moment, Godfrey comes into the room with a glass of sparkling Shirley Temple on a silver tray. Justin takes it and starts drinking it.

Justin: This tastes sweet! Where’s the alcohol? I didn’t taste it.
Callum: You should have sipped it instead of downing it.
Godfrey: Would your Lordship like for me to make another one for our guest?
Callum: No, Godfrey, one shall suffice…
Justin: Actually, I would like another one (reaching out the glass to give to Godfrey)

Suddenly, the glass falls from Justin’s hand and shatters into pieces on the floor. His body slumps and he falls from the couch into a heap on the floor.

Godfrey: Hmm, must have been that special grenadine. I was about to inform His Lordship that Shirley Temples tend to be non-alcoholic. What would you like for me to do with him?

Callum: Take him upstairs to the bedroom in the eastern wing. Make certain the door is locked once you have laid him down.

Godfrey: Yes, Your Lordship.

Godfrey, incredibly strong for a man his age, picks up Justin and carries him out the room. Callum walks over to the telephone to dial Nathan Moynihan, who answers on the first ring.

Nathan: Callum, I know why you’re calling, and I’m so sorry about having to cancel our lunch appointment earlier today. Is it possible we could meet up for coffee in the morning after the run in Griffith Park?

Callum: Sure, Nathan. Are you all right? You sound agitated.
Nathan: My nephew is missing.
Callum: I didn’t know you had a nephew.
Nathan: Well, actually, he’s Brendon’s nephew, but you know what I mean.
Callum: Have you called the police?
Nathan: I can’t technically file a missing person’s report for another 48 hours. He’s only been gone for about an hour. I’ll call Kyle and Heath to see if he showed up at their place.

Callum: Who are they?
Nathan: Oh, Kyle is a police detective, and Heath, his partner, is a firefighter. Justin stayed with them during my time in the hospital.

Callum: If you don’t mind my asking, where in Los Angeles do they live?
Nathan: West Hollywood. Anyway, Callum, I need to go, but thanks for calling. See you in the morning.

Callum (replacing the phone in its cradle): Oh, yes, I shall definitely see you in the morning. Perhaps in bed next to each other!

TRISTAN’S APARTMENT, WEST HOLLYWOOD

Tristan enters his apartment to find his roommate Vittoria on the couch, waiting for him.

Vittoria: Where the hell have you been? I’ve been waiting for you all evening.
Tristan: I’ve been at the office, bitching at Lloyd and those bastards.
Vittoria: What’s wrong now?
Tristan: They’re throwing some shit at me that my realty license is invalid.
Vittoria: And what does that mean?
Tristan: For starters, I don’t get commission for the sale of the house.
Vittoria: They can’t do that to you! You should see a lawyer about that.
Tristan: With what money, Vitt?
Vittoria: Yeah, how could I forget that you’re fucking broke? I am the one after all paying the rent and all the damn bills in this apartment! By the way, rent is due next week.

Tristan: I’m gonna talk to Callum about this. I know he has some pull with these people. I’ll get my commission and then everything will be fine. He’s going to get the charges dropped against me, all our creditors will be paid off, and everything can go back to normal.

Vittoria: Not exactly. What about the other problem? You know which one, the major one.

Tristan: Leave that to me. Once I get what I need and want from Callum, everything will fall into place.

Vittoria: Yeah, well, it had better otherwise we’re royally fucked. Waitressing tables don’t pay much. Good thing that tourist season is here, and all these foreigners have loads of money thanks to the weak dollar… and I made a little money on the side dealing.

Tristan: You better be careful with that. Kyle has vowed to crack down on that.
Vittoria: Well, he’s currently occupied with other matters like arson, hate crimes, etc. Nonetheless, he’s a problem that needs to be handled.

Tristan: Don’t worry about him. I’ve got an inside source to everything he’s doing or thinking. Kyle Walgrove won’t get the upper hand. I guarantee you that.

HEATH ALCOTT AND KYLE WALGROVE’S HOME, WEST HOLLYWOOD

Heath Alcott sits in his dining room at the table, the remnants of a proposed romantic dinner slowly dying away into the night. The taper candles have burned midway, the rivulets of wax falling and dotting the tabletops at intervals. Heath’s champagne glass is empty while the one on the other side looks full, the bubbles still fizzing well over an hour after first being poured. The pot roast has gone cold, and Heath pours himself another glass as the key turns in the lock. Kyle Walgrove enters the house, coming over to Heath and bending down to kiss him.

Kyle: Good evening. You stayed up this late for me.
Heath: I had prepared a romantic dinner for you with your favorite… pot roast.
Kyle: Oh, Babe, I ate already on the way home.
Heath: You promised that you would be home early tonight. I wanted us to have some alone time.
Kyle: I’m really sorry. I got held up at work… this one case has just taken up all my time. (looking at the table arrangement) Yeah, looks like you went through a lot of trouble for me. How about tomorrow night I take you out for a great dinner? You can have me all to yourself then.

Heath (rising from the table): Why can’t I have you right now? (reaching for the fly on his trousers)

Kyle (brushing his hand away): Babe, I’m beat right now. It’s been a long day. I promise we can do this in the morning when I’m more energized.

Natalie Imbruglia’s iconic song “Torn” plays over the following action:

Kyle walks out of the room, leaving Heath to exhale a moment of disappointment. He angrily blows out all the candles before an impulse drives him to knock them all down in one fell swoop of his hand, sending them flying off the table and landing on the floor. He then clears the table, taking what was Kyle’s plate and dumping the entire thing into the bin. He takes his plate to the sink and rather than place it gently, he smashes it over the sink division. Tears flow down his face as he places any remaining food in the refrigerator before heading to the bedroom. Kyle had already gone to bed. He hadn’t heard a fucking thing! A trained officer of the law, and he won’t respond to sounds of disturbance. Of course he never has time for me anymore so why should he care? Hell, if I were to burn the house down, he would look past me, even if I were holding the fucking torch!

All these tortuous thoughts racked Heath’s mind as he slid into bed next to Kyle, laying his head onto the pillow and fighting the urge to relive the carnal moment that took place twelve prior hours in that very bed. He prayed that Tristan would not be a part of his dreams tonight.

CALLUM’S HOME, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES

Callum checks his watch, duly noting the time as half past ten. He summons Godfrey to inform him he’s going over to Nathan Moynihan’s house.

Callum: Is Justin still asleep?
Godfrey: Completely in slumber land, Your Lordship. I see you have put on your coat. Are you going out?

Callum: I’m going round to Nathan’s.
Godfrey: Do you think that a wise idea at this hour?
Callum: He’ll be thrilled with the news that I found Justin. Of course, I’ll neglect to mention the part about drugging him, but once Nathan knows that I “found” his missing nephew, he’ll be most grateful to me, and our relationship can take serious flight from there.

Godfrey: I see. Well, would you like for me to get the car ready?
Callum: No, I’m going to run over there. Don’t wait up for me (winking).

Godfrey opens the door and Callum leaves, breaking into a sprint down the winding road, the cool wind whipping at his face as he makes his way to Nathan’s home. Upon getting there, he notices that there is another car in the parking lot. He nearly reaches the doorstep when the door opens, golden light spilling out into the dark night. Callum instinctively retreats behind a huge tree, still within earshot as the two figures come outside onto the porch.

Allison: Nathan, I’m sure he’ll show up. It’s only been three hours.
Nathan: I-I just feel like a failure at parenting.
Allison: You’ll make a great parent. Besides, you’ll soon have another opportunity.
Nathan: Well, thanks for surprising me with the news.
Allison: Well, you had to be the first to know about it besides us doctors. Chloe and I are just so happy. She’s the happiest I’ve ever seen her. After the first two miscarriages, she was an absolute wreck, but those both happened during the first trimester, which is why we wanted to make certain that we were somewhat out of the woods this time. So in six months, we’ll be one big happy family, and I owe it all to you, Nathan.

Nathan: I only did what I thought was right, and well, having Brendon’s approval only solidified the decision.

Allison: This is as much your baby is it is ours. He or she is going to have a loving father and two mommies. I want you to be a part of his/her life.

At that moment, Callum’s legs felt numb, threatening to buckle underneath his body weight. A cold, steely knot formed within his stomach, rooting him to the ground. His lungs were suddenly short of oxygen as in that moment all his hopes were swallowed by his greatest fear come true. His conscience was compelling him to step from the shadows, make his appearance known, and calm Nathan’s nerves, allaying any anxiety he had over Justin’s wellbeing. Yet upon moving an inch forward, his eyes took in the tableau before him: Allison holding Nathan in her arms, granting him a reassuring embrace that all would be well—followed by a kiss on his cheeks—surely one of platonic nature yet the simple act sparked a brooding sense of anger within Callum.

Nathan was the biological father of Allison and Chloe’s child-to-be!

Nathan: Well, I think that the group doesn’t need to know about this for now. We’ll break that news at the autumn ball when announcing who prepares the best side dish.

Allison: Of course, the minute it pops out with your magnetic smile, even the nurses will know it’s yours.


Scorching tears streamed from Callum’s eyes, burning his cold cheeks as they trickled down to his mouth, the saltiness a mysterious taste. He willed himself to regain his composure, wipe away any remnants of his emotional outlet, and slowly maneuvered his way in the darkness to the street, careful not to produce any sounds that would betray his presence.

The cold wind was to his back, pushing him onward in his new mission. His flight back home was one for the record books—one which Pheidippides would be envious. Out of breath, he pushed him inside the front door, entering the foyer and sitting on the steps of the newel staircase. He started when the presence of Godfrey awakened him from his deep state of thinking.

Godfrey: Back so soon, Your Lordship. I take it that Mr. Moynihan had already retired for the day. Nevertheless, I’m sure he’ll be elated with the news of his nephew in the morning.

Callum: What makes you say that, Godfrey? (noting the puzzled look on his servant’s face) Under no circumstances is Justin to leave this house until I say so. Keep him locked inside and doped up if necessary. Nathan and Allison have made a fool of me, and now it’s time to get back at them both. By the time I’m through with them, they’ll rue the day they ever met me.

TO BE CONTINUED…