Episode 10: "Who's Your Daddy?"
Cast of New Characters (for this episode)
Lord Gavin Armitage: striking appearance, tall, mid-40’s, athletic, bearded, husband to Callum Sutcliffe, (deceased)
Austin Monroe: handsome, genial, dark brown hair, blue eyes, tall, early 40’s, partner to Drake Michener
Vladimir Popov: average looking, salt-n-pepper hair, late 40’s, foreign, medium height, equestrian
Estrella Tartaro: flaming beauty, late 30’s, raven-haired, brown eyes, tough-as- nails personality
Evanescence’s “My Immortal” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YxQrPXPSVhQ) hauntingly opens this episode as Gavin Armitage’s body bobbed erratically in the tempestuous sea, his hands reaching out toward his magnificent boat in the Mediterranean. The darkness of the sky and the ominous storm clouds foretold of further fury to come. The wind continued energizing the waves that crashed into him. He tried to swim closer to the boat, but his strength was slowly giving out. He could make out the figure of his lifetime partner Callum Sutcliffe lying sprawled out on the deck.
Gavin (spouting out water from his mouth): Callum!
No response came, and Callum didn’t move. I hope he’s all right. Please, God, let him be fine! I’ve got to get to him! Garnering up as much strength as possible, Gavin propelled his arms and legs in unison and moved closer to the boat, shouting Callum’s name as loud as his lungs allowed. Callum finally raised his head from the floor of the deck, a stream of blood trickling down from his forehead. Debris was scattered about his fallen body, and a wooden beam was weighing down his legs. His vision slowly came back to him, and he raised himself up as far as he could to see the full panorama. The sea looked as if it would swallow him alive, roaring ferociously at its core. He then suddenly saw Gavin in the water.
The pain in Callum’s body overwhelmed the majority of his strength, rendering him powerless. His head throbbed with excruciating magnitude as if he had been dealt an agonizing blow. Nonetheless, he had to get to Gavin, who was being carried away by the current. Searching around for something useful, he saw the rope lying several feet away. He inched over to it, pain coursing through every fiber of his being.
Callum: Gavin!
Gavin (shouting): Callum, are you okay?
Callum: Yes, I’ve been hit by something. I think my legs may be broken. They’re trapped under this wooden beam.
Gavin: Don’t move! I’ll come to you.
Callum inched his way closer to the edge of the deck, trying to move the beam and seeing Gavin muster up further energy to move through the rocky water. An experienced triathlete, Gavin could do it and added to the fact that he needed to get to his one true love, he reached the boat in record time, grasping a metal bar on the side of the boat for leverage to hoist himself onboard. Pain suddenly shot through his legs as cramps bean to overtake his limbs. He cried out. Callum reached forth his hand to grab Gavin’s, but he could feel Gavin’s body losing its force. There wasn’t much strength left in Callum’s grasp and combined with Gavin’s face turning red from all the energy he was expending, the prospect looked grim.
Gavin: Callum, let go!
Callum: No, I’m not letting you go!
Gavin: I’ll be fine. It’s putting too much strain on you.
Callum: Oh, my God! The waves!
Gavin (turning around to behold the gargantuan waves): You need to let me go now and try to find safety inside.
Callum (his eyes starting to tear up): No, don’t make me do it! I can’t lose you.
Gavin: You’re not going to lose me.
Callum: I love you.
Gavin: I love you, too. Now let go otherwise I’ll do it.
Callum: No, don’t do it. (finally grasping the rope and throwing it to Gavin)
Gavin: I’m not going anywhere! (starting to climb up using much upper body strength—his abs and pecs magnificently tensing and contracting ) See there! (finally reaching the top) Wipe those tears away. (tenderly kissing Callum)
Callum: Gav-Gavin
Gavin (moving the wooden beam and picking Callum up in his arms): Let’s get you into the cabin.
Suddenly, the mighty wave crashed into the boat, the water forcefully separating the couple, Gavin’s body being hurled against the metal railings, his head slamming against the bars, knocking him unconscious. The force of the water threw Callum’s body into the stairwell to the cabin, providing him with a modicum of safety as the damning waves continued to crash.
Callum: Gavin! (suddenly seeing another wave crash into the boat and knock Gavin’s body back into the roaring sea) No!!!!!!!
Tears flooded Callum's eyes. There was nothing more he could do but watch as his husband’s unconscious body was carried farther out into the sea, swallowed up by the watery force.
At that moment, Callum awoke from the nightmare in a cold sweat, his heart beating erratically.
PEYTON ASHLAND’S HOME, THURSDAY MORNING
The annoying, blaring sound of the alarm clock awoke Peyton with a throbbing headache. He brushed his hand behind his head, feeling the lump. What had happened? He didn’t really know. All he wanted to do was stay in bed all day, but he had a few client appointments at midday, one of whom was Chloe Dalton. Funny how he hadn’t felt it last night when he had left Callum’s house and went to the hospital. He couldn’t remember all that happened. All he knew was that he had finally turned the tables on Callum Sutcliffe. I’ve got the DVD! Along with possibly some other incriminating information on him.
Although I don’t have the gun—I must have left it in there in my haze last night, but that gun proves that Callum was somehow involved in the shootings at Griffith Park. Or was he? Again, he couldn’t have run to the horse trails and cause all that mess in such a short period of time. Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the gun used to shoot Allison and Chloe. Maybe it’s just one that he had for his own protection. So he didn’t have anything with that Griffith Park attack, but what about the one that happened three weeks prior?
Peyton’s mind cast back to an incident last night that had opened his mind to the possibility that Callum may have attacked Brendon and Nathan in the park.
After he and Drake had left Callum’s home, they had driven—or rather Drake drove as Peyton was still a bit disoriented—to Hollywood Hospital to see Brendon, who had been making remarkable progress in his short recovery. Though he wasn’t able to fully move yet, he had been speaking. It was getting late, and Peyton had seen Nathan in the parking lot. He and Drake went up to him.
Nathan: You guys had better hurry. Visiting hours will be over soon.
Drake (winking): I’m sure that hasn’t stopped you before.
Peyton: Ooh, sex in a hospital. I’m sure that’s just as hot as it is in the park.
Drake: Get your head out the gutter, Peyton! Focus.
The reference to sex in the park triggered something in Nathan’s memory. A gust of wind blew through the parking lot at that moment.
Nathan: Peyton, what is that you’re wearing?
Peyton: I think the slacks are either Hugo Boss or maybe Calvin Klein.
Nathan: No, I mean which cologne are you wearing?
Peyton: I don’t know… just something I splashed on. Why? Do you like it?
Nathan: I know it from somewhere. (pause) Oh my God, I think that’s the fragrance I smelled in the park the night we were attacked.
Drake: Peyton, where did you get that cologne? You weren’t wearing it when we arrived at—
Peyton (to Drake): Cut it, Sherlock! (to Nathan) Are you absolutely sure?
Nathan: I’m almost positive. Where did you get it? Which brand is it?
Peyton: It was some foreign brand, Spanish or something Latin. I can’t really remember the name.
Nathan: I think you should tell Kyle about this. Give him a call. Hopefully, this will put us closer to finding the person responsible.
Drake: I’m going to head on in before that mean head nurse keeps us from visiting Brendon.
Peyton: Talk with you later, Nate.
I can’t believe it, Peyton thought. Nathan recognizes the fragrance that his alleged attacker was wearing, and it just so happened to be found hidden in the Callum’s safe. But why would Callum attack the man he purportedly loves? That makes no sense unless Callum was primarily going after Brendon but Nathan got caught in the crossfire—no pun intended. This is all just so convoluted!
And it would only become more convoluted a moment later when Brendon also recognized the fragrance.
Enough about Nathan and Brendon! I need to handle my own affairs. He rushed over to his slacks and withdrew the DVD from the right pocket. It would ensure his freedom and immunity from Callum. He then rushed into the other room and came back with a hammer to smash it, but then his wayward libido got the best of him. What’s the point in destroying it right now? I haven’t even watched it all the way through, and what I saw of it was sensational. I should see one of my greatest conquests.
Already getting excited, his cock starting to poke his boxers, he threw the DVD into the player and pulled down his boxers, unleashing his semi-hardness. He pushed “Play” and waited for the spectacle to begin. The image that came onto the screen was everything but erotic. Callum Sutcliffe was majestically sitting on an office chaise longue as if he were a sovereign awaiting his concubine to arrive with grapes to feed him. Suddenly, Callum turned directly to the camera to address Peyton. There was a creepiness about it, and a chill went down Peyton’s spine.
Callum: My dear sweet Peyton! So you’ve managed at last to get your grimy paws on this DVD, but I can assure you that beyond this introduction there exists no copulation on this disc. But fear not, the real DVD is in a safe place in the care of a real troll outside this estate. Of course, I’m no longer responsible if it now manages to cause more pain than erections for you. You really should have picked what was behind door number 69, at least then you would have gotten a blowjob in exchange for your current disappointment.
In his fury, Peyton threw the nearest heavy object at the television screen, but even that failed to stop Callum’s maniacal laughter from resounding in his mind.
HOLLYWOOD POLICE DEPARTMENT HEADQUARTERS
Kyle got called into the station early Wednesday morning. His colleagues had managed to locate Vittoria Morelli and had brought her to the station for questioning. She had been placed in the cold, sterile interrogation room. Kyle came into the room with a warm cup of coffee and sat down in front of her.
Kyle: Good morning, Vittoria. You’ve been a busy bee. We’ve been looking for you for the past few days.
Vittoria: All you had to do was come by my place. That was after all where your guys found me.
Kyle (sipping coffee): Where have you been? And don’t lie this time. Your ass is facing some serious charges.
Vittoria: Like?
Kyle: Possession of illegal substances, sale of said substances, possible kidnapping, oh, and the big one… attempted murder… have I left anything off the list?
Vittoria: I blew a guy last night… is that a crime?
Kyle: Depends upon whether you accepted money for it.
Vittoria (laughing): I walked into that trap.
Kyle: Yeah, don’t leave your day job for a career in comedy.
Vittoria: I left town for a few days to visit my aunt in San Luis Obispo. You can call her to confirm it. Her number is—
Kyle: Vittoria, enough with this bullshit! Where is Justin Roberts?
Vittoria: Who?
Kyle: Justin Roberts. The kid who’s been missing for over a week. According to our sources, he was last seen in public with you in Hollywood, where you were selling him marijuana.
Vittoria (laughing): Who’s telling you this shit? You know I don’t deal anymore.
Kyle: We have an eye witness willing to testify she you saw you dealing to Justin.
Vittoria: Don’t I have a right to know and face the person who’s accusing me of this?
Kyle: Oh, I’m sure you know her. Chloe Dalton. After all, you attempted to kill her.
Vittoria: Detective, you should get your facts straight. This woman is lying, and as I see it, it’s her word against mine unless you have someone else to corroborate her statement.
Kyle: Oh wow, I see you’ve been tutored in big words. You’re quite clever. The only other person to “corroborate” Chloe’s allegation would be Justin Roberts, and he’s conveniently missing. Vittoria, it’s best to come clean if you know anything about his whereabouts. God help you if we find him dead. I’ll personally see to it that you rot in jail.
Vittoria: I’m not a murderer, Detective.
Kyle: Yet you attempted to kill Chloe and her partner Allison in the park a few nights ago.
Vittoria: What proof do you have of that, Detective? It’s time for you to now cut the act. You ain’t got shit on me, and you know it!
There was a knock at the door. Kyle excused himself to answer, exchanging a few words with his colleagues before a well-tailored woman barges into the room, proudly announcing herself as Estrella Tartaro , Vittoria’s attorney.
Estrella: What’s the purpose of this sham interrogation, Detective? I understand that you’re attempting to charge my client with attempted murder and the sale of illegal drugs, but I also gather that you haven’t any concrete evidence to book her.
Kyle: Listen, Ms.—
Estrella: Tartaro. I’m not going to repeat it again, Detective Walgrove. I don’t like the fact that you’re trying to intimidate my client into a false confession.
Kyle: We have a witness who claims to have seen your client selling drugs.
Estrella: Where is this person?
Kyle: She’s in the hospital right now, the victim of an attack made on her life.
Estrella: Which you’re trying to pin on my client. Let’s get real, Detective. At the crime scene, there was no evidence that my client was in any way involved. Your team wasn’t even able to locate the attempted murder weapon, and neither of the victims has implied my client as the prime suspect. In fact, Dr. Allison Trudeau has adamantly implied that a Mr. Callum Sutcliffe is responsible. Have you brought him down to the station for questioning?
Kyle: He’s already been questioned. I paid him a house call.
Estrella: How considerate of you, Detective! If only you have extended that same courtesy to my client instead of dragging her down here.
Kyle: We have no reason to believe Mr. Sutcliffe is behind these attacks.
Estrella: I have one question—to which I’m sure I know the answer, but what or who tipped you to interrogate Mr. Sutcliffe mere hours after the attacks?
Kyle: Dr. Trudeau claimed that Mr. Sutcliffe threatened her.
Estrella: And just how close are you to the victims, Detective? As I understand it, you’re rather chummy with them. They are part of Outrunners, aren’t they? You run, train, and dine with them on a weekly basis. Is that not true?
Kyle: Y-Yes. What does that have to do with anything?
Estrella: You’re biased, Detective. Your closeness with the victims may cloud your judgment. Your superiors here at the division have been informed of this, and I suspect that—although I’m not sure—you’ll be reassigned to a different case. (pause) Now, Detective, if you haven’t any other reason to waste my client’s time, we’ll be leaving now. Here’s my card for your reference.
Kyle is fuming mad, wanting nothing more than to wring Estrella’s neck. She and Vittoria rise from the table when there is another knock at the door. Kyle goes to speak with his colleagues in whispered tones as Vittoria and Estrella brush past them on their way out.
Estrella: Have a good day, Detective!
Vittoria (winking at him): And good luck finding the real culprit.
Kyle (sotto voce): You smug bitches. (aloud) Before you two go, I just wanted to let you know that Vladimir Popov, the horseback rider injured in the attacks on Dr. Trudeau and Ms. Dalton, just walked into the station, ready to provide a statement on what happened—and he’s prepared to tell us who he may have seen fire the gun.
Kyle duly noted the look of fright on Vittoria’s face before Estrella pushed her away and down the hall. What is she hiding? She’s guilty as sin! But more importantly, what was Estrella Tartaro, a notorious attorney for Hollywood celebrities—usually getting her high-end clients judicial slaps on the wrists—doing representing a common miscreant like Vittoria Morelli? Who’s footing that bill? And I know Vittoria’s not paying for it with sex!
DRAKE MICHENER’S HOME, WEST HOLLYWOOD
Drake finished squeezing orange juice for his partner Austin Monroe, having much to tell him about his adventures with Peyton the prior night. He was eager to tell Austin about Callum’s palatial estate with all its grandeur, but that wasn’t the real gossip. That would be what happened at Callum’s place. After Drake had gone back into the reception area, he had a drink and continued to admire Callum’s home, losing track of time. Godfrey the butler came into the room after a quarter of an hour later, asking if he would like his drink refilled and inquiring about Peyton. Why was he taking so long? His mind cast back to that tense moment.
Drake: I think he’s not feeling so well. He was complaining of stomach pain and rushed to the bathroom.
Godfrey: Perhaps I should check on him.
Drake: Oh no! (catching his error and lowering his voice) I’ll go check on him. But could you get me another drink, please?
Godfrey: Of course.
Once Godfrey left the room, Drake darted down the hall and into the private sitting room, finding Peyton lying face down on the floor. Petrified at the sight, Drake crouched down to him, checked his pulse to confirm he was alive, slapped him a few times—not wanting to shout, alerting Godfrey of their actual location—but he got no response. He saw a vase on the table, yanked the flowers from it, and doused all the water onto Peyton, who yelped to life.
Drake: Peyton, what happened?
Peyton: I-I don’t know. Where are we? (his vision slowly coming back to him)
Drake (helping him up): We have to go now. Godfrey is getting suspicious.
Peyton (checking his pockets to ensure he had the DVD): Where’s the gun?
Drake: What are you talking about?
Peyton: N-nothing.
Drake (suddenly noticing the minibar in the room): Have you been drinking? My God, I swear you can’t hold your liquor! You obviously passed out. Come on! Let’s go before we’re had.
Drake carried the disoriented Peyton back into the reception area just in time as Godfrey entered, carrying a drink on a salver.
Godfrey: I see Dr. Ashland has come from the bathroom.
Drake: Yeah, he’s not feeling that great. I think we’ll take our leave now.
Peyton (grasping the drink on the salver): Is this for me? (downing it and placing the empty glass back on the tray). Thanks!
Drake yanked him away and pushed out the door. Once outside, Peyton tossed him the keys to the car. Luckily, Peyton seemed to sober up some on the way to the hospital. They met Nathan in the parking lot, and a strange occurrence happened. Nathan recognized the fragrance that Peyton was wearing as the one his attacker had worn. What was even stranger was when they finally made it to Brendon’s room.
Brendon was fairly receptive of them, though he had a pensive expression firmly written on his face. He barely recalled who Drake was, but he recognized Peyton, who had drawn the ire of the head nurse a few minutes earlier. He had accidentally stumbled into her, knocking all her papers and charts to the floor and undoubtedly strewing them out of sequence. Drake prayed that the nurse didn’t smell the alcohol on Peyton’s breath.
Peyton (to Brendon): Are you all right? You look as if you’re staring into outer space.
Brendon: I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind.
Drake: Just as we turned the corner, we saw Allison leaving your room.
Brendon: Yeah, she just told me something very unsettling.
Peyton: So you heard about Chloe and the shooting at the park?
Brendon: What? No (pause) I mean yes, that’s what she told me.
Even in his mild stupor, Peyton could read into Brendon’s behavior and knew he was lying. Something was bothering him. What was it? His pondering was interrupted by the officious head nurse popping her head into the room, reminding them that visiting hours were over.
Drake (taking the cue and rising): We had better get going. Get well, Brendon.
Peyton (crossing to hug Brendon): Yeah, we’re pulling for you, Big Guy.
Brendon: Peyton, are you wearing Tentazione?
Peyton: Why, yes! (turning to Drake) That’s the name of the fragrance I couldn’t remember.
Drake (alarmed): Brendon, you recognize that fragrance?
Brendon: Yes, it’s a very expensive Italian fragrance that has to be imported. I don’t care for it myself, but I bought a bottle once for one of my actors. I didn’t know you had such expensive taste, Peyton. But what’s with that look on your face, Drake? Your eyes nearly popped out their sockets when I recognized the fragrance.
Drake: It’s really uncanny, but you’re the second person tonight to ask about that fragrance.
Brendon: is that so? Who else?
Peyton: Nathan. He was put under hypnosis a few days ago to see if he could recall anything about who attacked you both in the park. He told us that whoever attacked him was wearing that fragrance.
Brendon (laughing): That’s really funny, you guys! So we were attacked by a queer basher with expensive taste.
At that moment, the head nurse whom Peyton was starting to think was named Nurse Ratchett poked her head into the room. Peyton once more got an interesting vibe from Brendon. He knows more than he’s leading on. That laugh was as phony as half the breasts in Beverly Hills. The nurse snapped her fingers and ushered both men out the room. Drake drove back to Peyton’s house and saw him to bed before ringing a cab to take himself home.
Austin awoke Drake from his reverie. His handsome features were in full display.
Austin: What were you thinking about?
Drake: My adventures with Peyton last night.
Austin: Be careful around him. When we first moved here, Allison facetiously warned me about him, saying that he lives by the three L’s: liquor, latex, and lust—and in no particular order.
Drake: I’m guessing that liquor comes first.
After the close call last night in the mansion, Drake wondered if another “l” might be larceny. What exactly was Peyton so desperate to get from Callum’s safe? And more importantly, did he get it? Austin kissed Drake and then left for work.
HOLLYWOOD POLICE STATION
Detective Kyle Walgrove was exhausted after his brief interrogation with Vladimir Popov, the horseback rider injured in the attacks on Allison and Chloe. Kyle had given him the third degree and was generally satisfied with how well the interrogation went. Vladimir was currently in the other room with the sketch artist, hoping for an image of the culprit to be drawn based on the series of descriptive words he provided. I was probably too hard on the poor man, taking my frustration out on him after dealing with that bitch Estrella Tartaro. His mind cast back to his interrogation with Mr. Popov.
Kyle: Mr. Popov, where the hell have you been? You should be in the hospital, especially with that brace around your neck.
Vladimir: I had to find my horse. When I got out the operation room, I kept asking the nurses, and they kept telling me not to worry about it. Your life is more important, they said, and I—
Kyle (interrupting him): They were right. You could have further injured yourself.
Vladimir: My horse is my life. All my family lives out of country.
These horse riders! Kyle thought to himself.
Kyle: I’m sure the Griffith Park police took your horse into custody shortly after your accident.
Vladimir: Yeah, they did. Poor thing! She was scared to death, being shot at and being surrounded by strangers these past two days.
Kyle: So you saw who shot at you?
Vladimir: Oh no, he was not shooting at me. He was shooting at the two women.
Kyle: He? It was a man?
Vladimir: Yes, I got a good look at him before I fell off. He fired twice, the first time hitting one of the women, and the second –
Kyle: What did he look like?
Vladimir: From my distance, he looked to be tall, black hair, and wearing slacks which I thought odd in the park.
Kyle: His approximate age?
Vladimir: He looked to be middle-aged. Professional looking.
Kyle: Mr. Popov, I’m going to send you to a sketch artist to see if you can provide any more details. Here’s my card. If you remember anything else, please call me immediately.
Vladimir (rising): I’m really sorry about running from the hospital. My horse just meant too much to me. I had to know—
Kyle (opening the door and signaling to his colleague): Say no more, Mr. Popov. I understand your reason for doing it. You didn’t commit any crimes per se. Here is Jack, my colleague. Jack, please send Mr. Popov over to Gerard. We need a sketch done.
That had been nearly an hour ago. Mr. Popov’s statement totally blew his theory out the water. It was a man who shot at Chloe. Vittoria Morelli was innocent after all! But who was this man? Kyle went outside his office to speak with his assistant Jack. Mr. Popov had given his statement and had finished giving his description of the shooter.
Kyle: Hey, Jack, let me see that photo!
Jack: You know, Kyle, that man was fairly descriptive. His razor sharp memory helped us out a bunch.
He showed Kyle the sketch photo, and Kyle couldn’t believe his eyes.
ONE HOUR LATER, HOLLYWOOD HOSPITAL, ALLISON TRUDEAU’S OFFICE
The key turned in the lock of Dr. Trudeau’s office, and a figure entered it, rushing across to her desk and shoving a manila envelope inside it underneath other papers before turning to surreptitiously flee from the room.
HEATH ALCOTT AND KYLE WALGROVE’S HOME, WEST HOLLYWOOD
Heath sat listlessly on the couch, his hair unkempt, and the stench of alcohol on his breath. He had kept calling Tristan’s phone but it kept going to voicemail. He’s purposely ignoring me… probably off fucking Bralen! Heath had last month’s Outrunners Express newsletter which had a photo of him and Tristan together in it. He also had the poison-pen letter on his lap and stared at it.
I know who’s fucking you and it’s definitely not Kyle, the last part read. Well, I know who Tristan’s fucking and it’s not just me, Heath thought. Skunk Anansie’s provocatively apropos lyrics to their song “Secretly” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7M8UxZDk56o) begins playing in the background to the scene as Heath pulls out his personal digital camera—one not even Kyle knew of—and looked through its prurient photo history that charted the adulterous trajectory of his relationship with Tristan. The first images were platonically G-rated but by the tenth photo there were pictures of Tristan in various stages of nudity in different location: the couch, the bedroom at Heath’s place and the common room or Tristan’s bedroom back at his apartment. Tristan’s such an exhibitionist! The photos beautifully captured his body—its chiseled features and the beauty of his magnificently erect cock. Heath next came to the images that depicted him with Tristan—courtesy of the camera’s timer that allowed him to join Tristan.
Heath recalled with wonder the taste, smell, sight, and feel of Tristan. The first time he had actually been with an uncircumcised cock. Of course, he had seen images of them in magazines and porn but had never had one in any part of his body. There was a certain texture to the bulb of Tristan’s cock, the foreskin having once been such an oddity for Heath, but now it was all part of the charm of being with Tristan, loving every natural part of him. The taste of his cock was at once foreign and appealing, for Heath soon learned that the extra layer of skin to Tristan’s penis added greater sensitivity, and this provided Heath with the knowledge to make his blowing Tristan an even more pleasurable part of their eventual lovemaking.
When he was fucking me, was he thinking of Bralen? When I was blowing him, was he imagining Bralen’s mouth around his cock? Heath grabbed the vodka bottle and threw it against the wall, the broken shards flying all over the place, and then in his rage, he overturned the coffee table, screaming at the top of his lungs. We were so perfect for each other. How could he do this to me? The anger overcoming him, Heath forcefully threw the camera against the farthest wall, the electronic device bursting into numerous pieces upon contact with the hard surface. At that moment, there was a knock at the door, and Heath—foolishly thinking it was Tristan—rushed to it. Yanking the door open, he was greeted by Callum’s presence, and his expression became lackluster.
Callum: Don’t get too excited to see me. You were the one after all who beckoned for me to make this social call.
Heath (gesturing for him to enter): Yeah, I’m sorry. I thought you might be someone else.
Callum: Bloody hell! What happened in here? Looks as if there were a wrestling match held here.
Heath: Pardon the mess. I-I had too much to—
Callum: Say no more. I understand. You know I attempted to reach you several times yesterday after the incident over at Bralen’s.
Heath: Please don’t say that asshole’s name.
Callum: Heath, if you don’t mind my asking, what’s bothering you?
Heath: I needed someone to talk to, and I didn’t know who else to call.
Callum: You barely know me and vice versa.
Heath: Good, that means you’ll be objective.
Callum: Look, I think I know what this is about.
Heath (impetuously beating him to the chase): I’m having an affair with Tristan.
Callum (his eyes suddenly falling on the poison-pen letter on the floor): I know.
Heath: Well, it was pretty obvious from my reactions yesterday.
Callum (stooping to pick up letter): Actually, I knew of it before then. (handing him the letter) I had this sent to your home.
Heath (angrily): What? (pause) You bastard! (rushing aggressively up to him)
Callum (raising his hand defensively): Heath, calm down! I’m sorry.
Heath: Is that really supposed to mean anything?
Callum: If it’s any consolation, I didn’t know Tristan was shagging Bralen. We both made that discovery yesterday. (pause) However, I-I genuinely am sorry for what I’ve done. In the flick of that revelatory moment over at Bralen’s, I read a multitude of emotions in your face. That’s when I understood that you really love Tristan.
Heath (turning away from Callum): I-I’m not going to lie. I am in love with him (collapsing onto the loveseat) That’s why this hurts like hell.
Callum: At times I do love being the sarcastic voice of reason, but this is one of those rare time when I—
Heath (cutting him off): What the fuck do you want to say?
Callum: Just that aren’t you in a long-term relationship with Kyle? It’s just a tad ironic that you’re furious over Tristano cheating on you when you’re cheating on Kyle.
Heath: Just how the hell did you find out?
Callum: Let’s just say that you were seen in flagrante delicto.
Heath: How? We both have been so careful. There’s no way—
Callum: Justin Roberts discovered you two last week.
Heath: Oh shit, I had forgotten about him. He was always in the way…and a lot of money and stuff came up missing while he was staying here. But how do you know that he knew about us?
Callum: He told me the other evening. At the time I didn’t know he was a runaway. He was heading to the bus stop.
Heath: Well, have you told Kyle? Everyone’s gone crazy over his disappearance.
Callum: He swore me to secrecy. Aside from the homophobia I detected, he struck me as being lovelorn and feeling abandoned.
Heath: I can certainly identify with that. (pause) You know, Callum, I actually don’t regret being found out. For the past few months, this has been weighing me down, and now that it’s out (picking up the letter again) It was very creative of you. I’m just surprised you didn’t send one to Kyle.
Callum: Look, Heath, I’m not going to tell Kyle if you’re worried. That’s up to you now.
Heath: Funny thing is I was prepared to tell him last night, but he made love to me—and in that moment I completely forgot about all my troubles. I care for Kyle and last night was simply amazing. He took me in a way which he’d never done before. It was like how I had always wanted us to be.
Callum (prompting): But?
Heath: He never wanted to go there, and even last night I could tell he regretted it. Tristan wouldn’t have. He would have loved it… embraced it…
Callum: You really are in love with him.
Heath (despondently): Yeah, but he’s obviously in love with that bastard Bralen.
Callum (coming up to Heath): What is it that you want, Heath?
Heath: I-I want him back… and I want Bralen to stay away from him.
Callum: As I understand it, Mr. Jones will be too occupied preparing for the Olympics. Tristano won’t pose much of a distraction, especially if the lure of the gold medal is on Bralen’s mind.
Heath (laughing): Yeah, I could just see Bralen using that win to bed Trsitan… how many guys get to fuck an Olympic medalist? Bralen has always thought himself better than us. What I wouldn’t give to see him fall flat on his face.
Callum: Is that so? (pause) You know I could help you there?
Heath: Really? How? I can’t beat Bralen running or swimming.
Callum: Tsk, tsk, Heath. There are many way of defeating one’s competitor without necessarily entering into physical battle with them.
Heath: Please speak in English—American English. My mind can’t keep up with you that quickly.
Callum: There’s nothing worse for an Olympic athlete than public scorn or degradation.
Heath: Yeah, but no one’s degrading Bralen. There’s no reason to.
Callum (cryptically): Right now there isn’t but that could change.
Heath: What do you have in mind?
Callum: If there one’s underlying question in the minds of Olympic spectators—and hell even the judges, I’d wager—it’s how do they do it?
Heath: I don’t follow.
Callum: Need I give you a list of all the Olympic athletes who once wore the laurel of praise but now bear the crown of shame, namely for getting a little assistance.
Heath (suddenly dawning on him): Oh, Bralen’s as clean as they come. He’s a vegetarian, exercises daily, does pilates and yoga—he hasn’t taken anything illegal and I’d bet my life on it.
Callum: But what if the IOC saw differently come his next testing date?
Heath (hesitantly): Callum, I don’t know about—
Callum: It’s just a thought. Anyway, I must go now, but don’t hesitate to call me if you need someone to talk to (extending his hand for Heath to shake) And once more I apologize for the letter.
Heath (firmly shaking his hand): Apology accepted. And don’t worry your secret about Justin getting out.
Callum: I appreciate that.
Heath: Good riddance to him if you ask me. The little bastard ruined one of my white Versace shirts—signed by the man himself just months prior to his death over a decade ago—writing QUEER across it in red lipstick. Still haven’t been able to get the stain out.
Callum (suddenly thinking of his stock of designer clothing back at the mansion): Well, I must hurry. Ciao!
Heath closes the door and once more embarks on a cleaning spree in his place.
MEANWHILE IN HOLLYWOOD…
Vladimir Popov looked at the cashier’s check for $100,000 that was given to him for remembering all those critical physical and clothing details of the man who “supposedly” shot at the two women. Vladimir honestly didn’t see who fired the gun. It’s not like my lying is going to get anyone in trouble. And to think I always wanted to be an actor in America. I wonder if Mr. Sutcliffe could get me an agent.
HOLLYWOOD HOSPITAL
Brendon Roberts sat up in bed, silently praying for his physical strength to return to him. He certainly felt drained of it after his enlightening and exhausting conversation with Allison in which she left out no detail. Everything that was pressing on her mind was told to him as if he were a man of the cloth and the hospital room the confessional chamber. Nathan was vulnerable and damn near straying. He’s such a good man but far too trusting. This Callum guy means trouble, but I can handle him. He’s just a kid!
Nathan entered the room. Remember, I have to be firm with him. Nathan’s magnetic smile did little to warm Brendon to the difficult task at hand.
Nathan (coming over and kissing him): How was your afternoon? You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had. The close of another academic year. I just gave a moving speech about second chances at the commencement ceremony, and it was mostly inspired by you. (suddenly taking note of Brendon’s expression) What’s wrong? You don’t look so well.
Brendon: We need to talk.
Nathan (sighing): Let’s not drudge up yesterday’s argument again. I thought we put that behind us.
Brendon: Apparently, you haven’t. You were with him again last night.
Nathan: Allison told you.
Brendon: Don’t get mad at her. She’s only doing what a real friend does… look out for each other, which is more than I can say for you.
Nathan: Brendon, I swear nothing happened last night. I ran into him and he was lost and urgently needed to get to the pediatrics ward. He didn’t know where it was!
Brendon: How chivalrous of you! And I suppose he was frightened of the doctors, which is what you led you to hold him in your arms and be his knight in shining armor.
Nathan: Brendon, I was only showing him some emotional support. His infant son nearly died last night. Have some compassion.
Brendon: Have some compassion for him! How dare you! You’re there for this stranger and his family yet you conveniently forget to inform me of our own family crisis.
Nathan: I see Allison told you everything. Look, I—
Brendon (interrupting): Allison didn’t tell me shit about Justin. I guess you all want to keep me in the dark about that. No, I had to find out about his disappearance from the fucking television!
Nathan (placing his hand on Brendon’s shoulder): Calm down.
Brendon (jerking away from him): When were you going to tell me, Nathan?
Nathan: I was trying to figure out a way. We didn’t want you to suffer any relapse due to the shock.
Brendon: Well, I’m still here thank God. I just can’t believe I’m out for nearly three weeks and awaken to discover so much that you’re holding back from me. First, it’s your secret relationship with Callum, and now Justin’s disappearance… what happened to the trusting man I fell in love with?
Nathan: I’m still here. Brendon, surely you do not doubt my love for you.
Brendon places his hand to his bandaged head, tightly squeezing his eyes as if in pain.
Nathan: Brendon, are you okay? (rising) I’ll get the nurse.
Brendon: Don’t act like you care now!
Nathan: Don’t say things like that. I only wish you knew how sick I was every night, worried that you wouldn’t come back to me. I couldn’t function, I barely ate, and I set up camp right here in this chair many days—and it would have been night had the doctors allowed it. So don’t you dare question my commitment to you!
Brendon (angrily): And what about the commitment to our family?
Nathan: I-I’ve done everything possible to—
Brendon: Did you hire a private investigator to track him down? (pause) Your silence speaks volumes. Well, don’t worry, I just hired one to find him.
Nathan (pleadingly): Please try to understand. I was between a rock and a hard place, worried to death equally about your recovery and Justin’s whereabouts.
Brendon: Why did he run away? (pause) Well, Nathan.
Nathan: Look, let’s talk this later (raking his hand through his hair)
Brendon: No, I want to know why Justin ran away, dammit! You know how much he means to me.
Nathan (sighing): Yeah, I do. You know it’s ironic now that I think of it.
Brendon: What?
Nathan: You’re grilling me for withholding information when you dropped the biggest bomb on me a few months ago, which had to do with him.
Brendon: Oh, don’t rehash that now!
Nathan: Why not? You’re throwing Callum in my face… my little “lie of omission” pales in comparison to the one you kept from me for twelve damn years.
Brendon (shouting): That’s different and you know it. Callum is just some young thing that has the hots for you, and well, Justin is—
Nathan (goading him): Yeah, and--?
Brendon (tears breaking out): Justin is my son!
Nathan hearing that for the second time in his life sparked the same haunting reaction in him.
HOLLYCOVE ESTATES, CALLUM’S HOME
Callum arrived home and had a late lunch followed by a relaxing glass of chardonnay. It had been an emotionally draining day beginning with his waking from that awful nightmare about Gavin. What had triggered such a morbid dream? Callum instantly knew. It had been little Edward’s dalliance with death. The mere thought of the child coupled with the dark reminiscences of Gavin sent Callum’s mind into a tailspin.
Covering his face with his hands, he wept as silently. The pressure on his shoulder alerted him to the fact he had been quietly watched. He looked up to see Godfrey’s paternal face staring down at him.
Callum: Oh, Godfrey, I feel such an absolute wreck. (sighing) How I wish Gavin were here.
Godfrey: Lord Armitage always knew how to allay your anxieties. May I know what has you at such unease?
Callum: It’s not just about Gavin. It’s about everything.
Godfrey (sitting down next to him): Having a fight with your conscience?
Callum: You and Gavin always knew how to read me well.
Godfrey: While I don’t approve of the actions you’ve taken, you’re still a decent man at heart, and that is why Lord Armitage loved you so much.
Callum (tears welling in his eyes): I miss him so much, Godfrey. Everything I’m doing is to protect his wishes (pause) or am I that deluded?
Godfrey: You came here with a simple mission but got strayed.
Callum: All I was supposed to do was silence Nathan Moynihan.
Godfrey: And not fall in love with him as you clearly have.
Callum: But even you can see why and how I could so fall so easily for him.
Godfrey (inhaling a deep breath): Lord Armitage would understand. He’d want you to move on.
Callum: But not with Nathan! From my brief moments with Nathan, I know his silence can’t be bought. Should he ever become knowledgeable (pause) oh, what a tangled web it is—
Godfrey: And what about the child? I know you’re worried most about him.
Callum: He’s so tiny and innocent. He’s better off not ever knowing me. I’m sure there’s a loving family out there that can give him the love he deserves.
Godfrey: Would Lord Armitage approve of such an action?
Callum: I’m ashamed to admit my incapability of truly loving that baby.
Godfrey: Why? Because he’s neither biologically yours nor Lord Armitage’s?
Callum: The inexcusable means by which he was conceived… Gavin would never have approved of that!
Godrey: You were seriously ill at the time, overcome and overwhelmed with grief. You weren’t thinking clearly.
Callum: That’s hardly justification for ruining an innocent child’s life.
Godfrey: So you’re resolved to put Edward up for adoption with strangers? Doesn’t he have the right to know his real—
Callum (rising and brusquely cutting off Godfrey): No! Godfrey, I know what you’re about to say… and absolutely not! Peyton can never know that he’s Edward’s father!
Peyton (walking into the room): Did someone just say my name?
Both Godfrey and Callum turn around, their faces outrageously numbed by the shock and suddenness of Peyton’s unexpected presence in the mansion.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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