The Victorious and the Relentless

Episode 17: “Vittoria’s Secret”

TRISTAN AND VITTORIA’S APARTMENT, WEST HOLLYWOOD, MONDAY MORNING

Vittoria could usually tell the ultimate nature of her day by the way her mornings went. She had gone to bed Sunday night still chuckling over the near catfight between Heath and Bralen. She did, however, take a moment of silence when she learned of Callum’s personal ordeal. Family was a precious thing to her. La mia famiglia! She had cried herself to sleep, praying for the safety of Callum’s child as well as that of all her loved ones.

When she had awakened on Monday, she found that Tristan hadn’t come home. Heath had fallen asleep on the living room couch, most likely waiting for him when slumber overtook him. There was a knock at the door, and upon opening it, she wished she hadn’t. The tall man standing in the doorway gave off a vibe Vittoria knew all too well. He was a cop! What now? She thought.

Milton: Good morning, Ms. Morelli. I’m Detective Milton, and I was hoping to have a word with you.

Vittoria: About what, Detective?

Milton: About your ties to Ms. Chloe Dalton.

Vittoria (panicking): Look, I’ve been exonerated of those charges.

Milton (laughing): Exonerated, eh? Ms. Morelli, you haven’t even—

Vittoria (cutting him off): Look, my attorney told me that you guys had spoken to an eyewitness who said it was a man that shot at her.

Milton: That’s true, and we’re following up on that lead.

Vittoria: So why the hell are you here?

Milton: Look, Ms. Morelli, I’m not here because of Ms. Dalton’s attack. I’m here because of Ms. Dalton’s claim that you sold drugs to Justin Roberts. The investigation into his “disappearance” is still ongoing.

Vittoria (anxiety sweeping over her as she turns away from him): Look, it’s her word against mine. Besides, Kyle already interrogated me.

Milton: Well, I’ve replaced Detective Walgrove on this case, and unlike him, I’m leaving no stone unturned.

Vittoria: What’s that supposed to mean?

Milton: For starters, Kyle—for some odd reason—thought you were the real culprit in spite of lack of evidence, but you do have a compelling motive for wanting to harm Ms. Dalton if these claims are proven correct. Nevertheless, you have been busted in the past for selling illegal drugs.

Vittoria: Well, I’m not doing that anymore.

Milton: I met with Ms. Dalton last night (reading the sudden jolt of guilt writhing through Vittoria’s body), but she wasn’t able to confirm anything, but I will be following up.

Vittoria: That’s it, Detective! I’m sock of this badgering. I’m calling my attorney Estrella Tartaro.

Milton (backing off): Okay… Okay. I just want you to know I’ll be watching you.

Vittoria (slamming the door in his face): Bye, Detective!

Whew! What the hell was that about? This new guy means business. What did that dyke really tell him? She’s starting to get on my nerves again. I need to speak with Estrella. Damn it! She’s not answering her phone. I’ve got to find her. I thought I had dodged this bullet. There are only two people alive that can testify against me: Chloe and Justin. If Estrella can’t get me out of this mess, I’ll have to take care of them both!

CALLUM’S HOME, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES, MONDAY AFTERNOON

Peyton had arrived at Callum’s home early mid-afternoon. The press had still been congregated outside as he made his way onto the property. Godfrey led him into the reception area. He uncharacteristically declined a drink. Callum came into the room, looking absolutely awful.

Peyton: Any updates?

Callum: No, the police are doing all they can.

Peyton: Any word of a ransom?

Callum (lying): No, nothing of the sort.

Peyton: I’m really sorry about running out on you like I did yesterday. You just can’t tell someone news like that and expect them to take it calmly.

Callum: Just so you know, I’m not expecting you to do anything for him once he’s returned. You’re in the clear as far as that’s concerned—

Peyton: You’re passing him off as your late husband’s and you don’t want your in-laws to know.

Callum (hesitantly): Should I dignify that with an answer? (pause) What the hell, it may be too late for that. I was on the local news, making a plea for his return. Lord knows if it’s managed to cross the pond yet and alert them.

Peyton: I-I really don’t understand all this, but how is he mine? I know this isn’t the right time to discuss it, but—

Callum: You know how delirious I was. All the time we had sex, I thought you were Gavin.

Peyton: You called out his name a few times.

Callum: And you kept right on shagging me. As unethically as it was, I took your semen anywhere you left it, whether it was on my body… inside the condom… you didn’t even take note of the times when I spat out your fluids. At any rate, I had the surrogate readily available for the insemination, thinking it was Gavin’s sperm. I had wanted “his child” so badly as a reminder of him. (pause) And now an innocent baby’s life is at stake. This is all my fault (breaking down emotionally)

Peyton (taking Callum’s hand): As strange as it sounds, I want you to know I’m here for you.

Callum: Thanks, Peyton. I need I all the support I can get right now. Nathan has already been such a tower of strength for me.

Peyton: You obviously haven’t heard the news, but I just got it on my Blackberry. The Hollycove Tribune’s online news site just reported that Nathan has been accused of child molestation.

Callum (incredulously): What! By whom?

Peyton: By none other than our resident thief Justin Roberts.

Callum: Bloody hell!

Peyton (his cell phone suddenly ringing): I have to take this. Hold on sec, Callum. (pause) I’m really sorry, but I have to go. It’s very urgent. One of my suicidal patients is attempting—

Callum (raising his hand): Say no more. I’ll let you know if anything happens. Thank you again for your concern.

Immediately after Peyton left, Godfrey entered from the side door, a look of anxiety upon his face.

Godfrey: I must confess I overheard the majority of your talk with Dr. Ashland. Did you tell him about the child’s paternity?

Callum: I told him yesterday. I know you had wanted me to tell him much earlier… perhaps it would have prevented this catastrophe.

Godfrey: He does have a right to know. (pause) I was hoping to have another look at that ransom note.

Callum: Why? Everything is almost in place for the trade. I’ll have the money soon. You’re not talking me out of this. I need this to run smoothly, Godfrey.

Godfrey (being given the note): There just seems something odd about this letter, the way it’s written and worded.

At that moment Callum received a phone call and upon answering and listening to it, his face blanched with the startling news. Godfrey noticed, and when the call was terminated, he naturally did his inquiry.

Godfrey: What has you so shaken?

Callum: That was the second disturbing call I’ve received from London in two days, although this one is more clarifying. It appears some woman went into Armitage & Burnham, demanding to speak with a member of the family, regarding me!

Godfrey: Oh, my God! Did she--?

Callum: Security turned her away, but I can give you three guesses who it was. The one and only crucial hint is that she’s American. (pause) I can’t be bothered with her right now. After Edward is returned, I’ll handle Allison and her meddling ways.

Godfrey: You indicated this as the second disturbing call you’ve received? What about the other one?

I’ve already told him about half of it or rather the details of it, but I can’t tell him who left that message.

Callum: Never mind that, Godfrey. I’ll handle it myself.

Godfrey: And what about this Rodrigo? I’m not sure what to make of him. You said it was he who found the ransom note.

Callum: I know what you’re thinking, but I’m positive that he has nothing to do with Edward’s abduction. I specifically saw him running in the race, and Edward was still with me. He only went missing a few minutes later, and Rodrigo would not have had time to kidnap him.

Godfrey: Okay, but I don’t trust him, Your Lordship. Anyway, I’m going to review this note. Summon me if you need anything.

Callum: Thank you.

Once Godfrey stepped out the room, Callum received another phone call—only this time he knew it had to be the kidnapper making contact with him. The creepy, distorted voice only proved it.

ESTRELLA’S HOME, BEVERLY HILLS

Estrella felt sick to her stomach. Tristan had left on an important errand, leaving her with Chloe and the baby, both of whom were in the other room. She didn’t like this scam. It was very unnerving. She knew kidnapping was a felony, and she could be tried as an accessory if they were caught. Paranoia slowly stole over her. What if they somehow trace the kidnapping back to me? What if Tristan wants to get back at me for making him fuck me the other day? He could call the cops at any time and send them right over here!

There then came a knock at the door at precisely that junction in her thoughts. Estrella silently jumped—nearly out of her own flesh. What if that’s the cops? I need to quickly get rid of them or whoever it is. She gingerly opened the door to a very flustered Vittoria, who barged right inside.

Vittoria: Why the hell haven’t you been answering your phone?

Estrella: Vittoria, what’s wrong?

Vittoria: You fucking said I was out of the woods. A new cop came by a while ago, asking me questions about that bitch.

Estrella: Calm down. Now who was this?

Vittoria (shouting): His name was Milton. He’s worse than Kyle. He’s out to get me!

The baby began crying in the other room, and Estrella prayed that Vittoria didn’t hear him over her own loud voice. Unfortunately for her, Chloe came into the room, holding the baby.

Chloe: Estrella, what’s wrong? I heard shouting. I think it’s upset Jacob.

Vittoria: What the fuck is she doing here?

Chloe (cradling the head of the baby): Estrella, who is this?

Vittoria (to Estrella): You know her personally? You’re not trying anything funny, are you? Like getting her to testify against me!

Chloe: I’m going to the other room. I think he needs changing again.

Estrella (rushing up to Vittoria): I know what this looks like, but I can explain. I had nothing to do with her taking that baby.

Vittoria (suddenly dawning on her): Dio Mio! That’s Callum’s kidnapped son. What the hell is she doing with him? And what is she doing here?

Estrella: Ask your roommate.

Vittoria: Tristan? What’s he got to do with this?

Estrella: He thinks he can pull the wool over Callum’s eyes. He’s asking for a ransom.

Vittoria: What the hell is he thinking?

Estrella: She arrived at my doorstep this past evening, asking for help.

Vittoria: Well, I need your help now! We have to take care of both her and Justin.

Estrella: Look, I have enough on my plate right now. Besides, do you really think anyone’s going to believe anything that comes out of Chloe’s mouth? She’s two tits short of a breast augmentation.

She does have a point. Chloe’s credibility is very weak right now, given her emotional state. I have a good basis to challenge her on those grounds. That’s one down and one more to go. That only leaves Justin, and I can easily take care of him. Vittoria turned on her heels and headed for the door, not even hearing Estrella’s admonishment to “pretend” she hadn’t seen anything in the last five minutes.

STREETS OF WEST HOLLYWOOD

Local online news was afire with the allegations against Nathan, but it was also the email from Austin announcing his intent to depose the current Exec Board that set club gossip ablaze. Bralen had just finished working out at the gym when he came across Drake, immediately asking him about what was with his partner’s incendiary email.

Bralen: I can’t believe he’s going through with this. I mean there are some club members who are dismayed with the current leadership, but I thought they were in the minority.

Drake: Please understand it’s not a direct attack on anyone. Order just needs to be reestablished.

Bralen (taken aback): Order? It’s not like the club has descended into chaos.

Drake: Well, Austin feels it has, and he claims he has proof. And he’s already received some encouraging feedback that he should move forward with the recall.

Bralen: Do you think he’ll get enough signatures?

Drake: What’s the worst that could happen if he does?

Bralen: Mutiny! I don’t want the club to be divided. I—excuse me, Drake. I see Tristan across the street, and I really need to speak with him.

Drake: Well, it was nice talking with you. I guess I know where you stand so I’ll refrain from requesting your signature on the petition.

By that point, Bralen had jaywalked across the street, nearly getting hit by a car in his haste to catch Tristan. Oh, well, thought Drake, I’m sure there are many others who’ll gladly sign the petition. Oh shit! There goes Callum’s weird bodyguard going into that shop across the street. But where is Callum? Maybe the guy’s just on his lunch break. Even though I can’t stand Callum, my heart goes out to him. I had better scout more member signatures.

Bralen (to Tristan): Where have you been?

Tristan (caught offguard): I’ve been busy.

Bralen: I came by your place last night and found Heath there. He claims that you’re with him now. Is there something you’re not telling me?

Tristan (feeling cornered): Uh, no. I don’t know what he’s talking about.

Bralen (pulling him in for a kiss): Why is he there?

Tristan: He and Kyle had a tiff, and he needed someplace to stay the night. I’m sure they’ll get back together.

Bralen: We need to get together now. I don’t know what’s come over me, but I’m feeling so horny.

Tristan (eyes suddenly alit): Oh really? Friday night wasn’t enough for you? Between Peyton and me, we didn’t think you’d be able to walk or talk for a few days—much less rush across a busy street to see me.

Nine Inch Nails’“Head like a Hole” begins playing when Bralen grabs Tristan’s arms and leads him around the corner of the building and into the secluded alley. Once they felt safe, Bralen dropped to his knees.

His hands automatically went for the zipper on Tristan’s pants, pulling it down and yanking out his cock before eagerly latching his mouth upon it. Even in its non-erect state, it was a thing of both infinite beauty and bounty, and Bralen began worshiping it with a ravenous hunger, spurred on by the sexual fire that had seeped through his body. Though he knew not where it had come, he gave himself over to this overwhelming horniness that drove him to deep-throat Tristan’s hardness right there in broad daylight. The tip of his nose brushed against Tristan’s pubes as the top of his tongue feverishly swept the underside of Tristan’s manhood.

Tristan: Oh yeah, that’s a good boy.

Tristan’s hand gently caressed the side of Bralen’s face, feeling the lump of his cock as it poked into Bralen’s cheek. He hardly came off it for breath, instead choosing to savor the taste of Tristan’s hardness as if it were essential nourishment. Man, he really is horny! I can’t complain, but this is a bit risky in this alley. WeHo has cracked down on public sex in recent years…ohh, damn! Bralen slurped at excess saliva spilling from his mouth before his left hand grasped the shaft and jerked it enthusiastically. Tristan could see that the head of his cock glistened in the sunshine from Bralen’s oral skills. Another ten minutes passed before Tristan finally released his masculine warmth. Bralen then looked seductively up into Tristan’s eyes, communicating with him for a sign of possible reciprocity. He was instantly shot down as Tristan quickly told him that he had somewhere else to be within the next fifteen minutes and wouldn’t have time to fully give his oral attention to Bralen, who upon hearing this news felt saddened with the prospect of masturbation for sexual relief.

Rodrigo had watched the whole scene unfold, having followed Tristan because he had recognized him from his “street days” last year. He had hoped to pay for Tristan’s services once again, but Bralen beat him to the punch. Hey, I don’t see any exchange of money taking place. What gives? He saw Bralen wipe the sides of his mouth, rise from his knees, and leave. Rodrigo then casually walked over and followed Tristan farther down the alley, and then saw him turn up a street to stop at a payphone. He entered the coinage, dialed the numbers, and then withdrew some device which he put to his mouth and began speaking through it. Rodrigo recognized it as a voice disguiser. What is he up to?

His curiosity getting the best of him, Rodrigo darted as close to him as possible without betraying his eavesdropping, and it was then that he heard Tristan say “Callum.” That’s definitely not a common name in America. Why was he placing a call from a payphone to Callum? And if so, why is he using a voice disguiser? Having asked himself those questions and giving it a split second of thought, he naturally figured out the answer.

KYLE WALGROVE’S HOME, WEST HOLLYWOOD

Heath stood outside his old home, hesitant to enter as Kyle’s car was parked outside. He had come to get the rest of his clothing, tired of wearing Tristan’s skintight garments. He put the key into the lock, turned the knob, and entered the house, his heart nearly leaping from his chest when he saw Kyle sitting in the chair in the exact same position as when he had last come into the house prior to their explosive breakup.

Heath: I-I just came for the rest of my stuff.

Kyle: You left it out on the lawn and didn’t come back for it so I donated it all to Goodwill and the Salvation Army.

Heath (angrily): You what? (calming down, not wanting to start anything) Never mind. I knew this was a bad idea.

Kyle: What was? Your affair with Tristan or coming here?

Heath (grasping the door knob): Just fuck off, Kyle!

Kyle (having risen in a split second and thrown himself between Heath and the door): Don’t go.

Heath (seeing him for the first time as he’s now out the darkness): Jesus, Kyle! You look awful.

Kyle: I feel awful, Heath… about everything. I just can’t believe that-that—

Heath (finishing for him): It’s over between us.

Kyle: Is it?

Butterfly Boucher’s “I Can’t Make Me Love You” begins playing over the rest of the scene as Kyle’s question lingers in the air. Heath moves away from Kyle, seeing the dreaded photo album on the table, opened to moments of bliss between them. Heath couldn’t resist cracking a smile.

Kyle (sniffling): You know I’ve given it some thought, and I was the one in the wrong. I really should have been there more for you.

Heath: So what are you saying? That you’ve forgiven me?

Kyle (closing the distance between them): I still love you, Heath. Not having you in this house these last few days has left a void in my life.

Heath: Really? (pause) Well, now you know how I felt.

Kyle: Please say it’s not too late for us. (leaning into Heath, attempting a kiss but Heath steps back)

Heath: You didn’t answer my question. Have you forgiven me? (long deadly silence) Well, that settles it for me. I’m happy right now, Kyle, just where I’m at.

Kyle: With him?

Heath: Don’t bring Tristan into this.

Kyle: You brought him into our house!

Heath: I’m not going through this again. I’ll be back for the rest of my stuff—the TV, stereo, DVD player—when you’re not here.

Kyle (emotional crack in his voice): Don’t go! I still love you.

Heath: But I don’t love you… anymore. Goodbye, Kyle.

The door slamming shut shook Kyle’s heart. He went back to the reclining chair and attempted to rest. He was soon pissed off to discover that he had gone through all the alcohol in the house.

NATHAN MOYNIHAN’S HOME, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES

Nathan tried to reach Brendon, but he was not taking any calls. Aside from the fiasco with Justin, he needed to confer with him about the disastrous email that was quickly pervading the inboxes of all Outrunners members. What the hell is Austin thinking? It’s bad enough I have both Justin and Brendon attacking me, but to have this time of dissension only adds to the constant worry. Damn it! He had come home for lunch and was met with the media outside which he had foolishly thought was just spill over from Callum’s property. He had brushed past them on the way into his own home. New surely does travel fast in this technological age! None of the print newspapers would have the story until tomorrow. Damn you, Justin! I’ve got to stop this before it gets really out of control.

It was then that he got the dreaded phone call from the Trustees of Hollycove Prep, asking for an explanation which he could not honestly give at that moment. The consequent message had been both simple and sincere. Owing to the wealthy clientele of the academy, such news would naturally be seen as detrimental to the long term reputation of the institution. Therefore, it had been deemed best for Nathan to be on “paid leave” and the official press release would declare he would be taking an extended holiday until further notice. What the hell is wrong with my life? Brendon’s giving me the cold shoulder. Justin has it in for me. Austin wishes to remove him. There’s no one in my court. I can’t even reach Allison, who’s not returning my damn phone calls. Where is she?

Damien Rice’s “9 Crimes” begins playing softly in the background. As alienation swept over him, the stifling sensation made him think of the one person to whom he may be able to turn. I should go check on him. He’ll need me. Opening the door and stepping out, he attempted to dart over to Callum’s place, knowing it was futile. The swarms of media had seemingly increased outside his door, ready to pounce on him with numerous questions. He had cameras and microphones shoved at him as he held his head low, and his hands brushed away these nagging pests.

Once he reached the street, he broke into a sprint, clearly outrunning them, but he was met with a different crowd of media as he neared Callum’s home. He managed to successfully make it into the house, Godfrey his temporary savior.

Nathan: Thank you, Godfrey.

Callum (coming into the room as Godfrey exits): Nathan, what brings you here? I figured you had your own slate of problems to deal with.

Nathan: So you’ve heard?

Callum: Peyton told me.

Nathan (throwing his hands up): I don’t know what to do. Brendon’s not talking to me.

Callum: Surely he doesn’t believe such rubbish.

Nathan: You would think that after being with someone for over twelve years, you’d know when a lie is being told about him.

Callum: For what it’s worth, you know I could never—

Nathan: I know. The irony is that you didn’t give it a moment’s thought—unlike Brendon. You don’t know how much I appreciate that. (pause) In the short time I’ve come to know you, you’ve always put me at ease. I had no one else to turn to.

Callum (suppressing the urge to grin): So you came here of all places?

Nathan (moving closer to him): I don’t know why, but I needed to be here for you.

Callum (looking deeply into his eyes): Nathan, now’s not the time for—

Nathan suddenly pulled Callum towards him for an unexpected passionate kiss. Callum gave into the warmth of it, and Nathan pressed his mouth more ardently upon Callum’s, the heat of the moment astounding his beleaguered conscience. I should be making Edward my main concern right now. Callum tried to pull away, but Nathan held onto him, the strength of his hands holding their bodies firmly together. When their lips finally separated, it was Callum this time that fled the scene. He had known that his heart had been recently inflamed not by Nathan but by that of a former love returned to his life.

HOLLYWOOD HOSPITAL

Vittoria managed to reach Hollywood Hospital at an opportune time since security had successfully warded off the media from Justin’s room. Vittoria knew his story would be one of great sensationalism and prompt many outrageous news headlines. She peeked into Justin’s room and saw that he was in the bed, seemingly fast asleep. It would be easy to finish him off just like she had intended with Brendon that one night when she had attempted to smother him—had it not been for that other dyke stopping her and engaging in a confrontation. What’s with these damn lesbians getting in my way?

She crept into the room and carefully walked up to the bed, her hand fishing insider her purse for the knife when Justin’s eyes opened, his mouth following suit as he released a yawn. A pall of fear then fell over his face as his pupils dilated at the ominous sight of Vittoria.

Vittoria: Wake up, Sleepyhead. (brandishing the knife) You missed me?

Justin: What the fuck are you doing here?

Vittoria: I was bringing you a get-well-soon gift. (moving the blade toward him)

Justin: Look, I promise I won’t say a word about you.

Vittoria (withdrawing the knife): You know better. Besides, it might damage your credibility to be associated with me. That’s some lie you’re telling.

Justin: It’s the truth!

Vittoria: Yeah, right, and the tooth fairy is real. I know enough about Nathan to know he’s not capable of that. Hell, I’ll be a character witness for him in court if you—

Justin: My beef isn’t with you so don’t worry. It’s with Nate and Brendon. So you can leave. (pause) But I may need a fix from when you I get out of here. (winking) This pain is killing me.

Vittoria: As long as it’s on the sly. The cops are all on my case. Anyway, I better get the hell out of here before I’m seen.

Rushing to the door, elated with her victory, she hadn’t exited the room more than three yards when she stopped dead in her tracks, hearing the voice that scared her.

Brendon: Vittoria, what the hell were you doing in there?

Vittoria (to some extent mollified by the sight of Brendon in a wheelchair): Brendon, I-I was coming to see you, but—

Brendon: Cut the bullshit, Vittoria. Word has it that you’re selling drugs to my nephew.

Vittoria: Well, you both look as if you could use some painkillers.

Brendon: Yeah, you did a pretty bang up job on me and Nate.

Vittoria (courageously rushing to him, bending down into his face): Trust me, I didn’t mean to hurt Nathan. He was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Brendon (cryptically): Sort of like how you were. (long pause) I see that shut your trap. Let’s take this somewhere else.

Vittoria reluctantly went with him into an empty hospital room. All she wanted to do was grasp the handles of his wheelchair and push it through one of the glass windows. They were on the higher floors. That would take care of him once and for all.

Vittoria (cowardice washing over her): Look, Brendon, I-I-

Brendon: After all I’ve done for you, Vittoria, this is how you repay me (gesturing to his bandaged head) by beating my brains out and attempting to burn me alive.

Vittoria (in amazement): After all you’ve done for me? (growing angry) You’re not only pimping me and Tristan out, but you’re also blackmailing us, you heartless bastard!

Brendon: Well, this heartless bastard holds the key to your freedom. With one word from me, Mickey Giordano will track you and Tristan down for offing his brother, Rudy.

Vittoria: It was self-defense! Rudy attacked us first.

Brendon: Somehow I don’t think Mickey the mobster will accept self-defense as a plausible excuse. You know how you dagos are about family ties. You and Tristan owed his brother big time for all those gambling debts you racked up in Vegas.

Vittoria: Speaking of family, haven’t you got enough to worry about with your would-be hubby feeling all over your nephew?

Brendon: Shut up about that!

Vittoria (continuing): But then again Justin’s also a conniving liar like you. I guess bad blood runs in your family.

Brendon: I said shut up! As long as I know what I know about you and Tristan, you both will do as I say. Not only have I got you two on killing a mobster’s brother, but one call to Immigration, and you’re both back on a boat to Italy, where Mickey can easily find you. I’m sure Italy’s version of witness protection hardly fares any better than America’s.

Vittoria: Why are you doing this to us? We’ve done everything you’ve asked of us. We appear in your movies—both mainstream independent and your seedy softcore porn—and we’ve escorted for you. What more do you want?

Brendon: I thought you liked sex, Sugar Tits. Tristan surely does. That boy was made for it, and he never complains when he gets paid for it. Now as for you, I see it’s done a number on your sanity. After all, I’m in this damn wheelchair because of you.

Vittoria (bitterly): And I’d do it all over again! I hate you. (pause) I just want to be free of you.

Brendon: Look, I’m a forgiving man. I’m willing to put all this behind us. I have one more assignment for you, and I’ll let you off the hook for good.

Vittoria: Who do you need me to fuck or blow this time? Some producer you’re trying to impress?

Brendon: Oh, no, it’s not that kind of assignment. This one is more up your alley.

Vittoria: What are you talking about?

Brendon (gravely): I want you to permanently “take care” of Callum Sutcliffe for me.

TO BE CONTINUED…

The Victorious and the Relentless

Episode 16: “”Suffer the Children”

MONDAY MORNING, LONDON… SUNDAY EVENING, LOS ANGELES

Ever since her arrival in the United Kingdom, it seemed Allison was receiving the coldest reception. It was if Callum’s essence still resided in his homeland, for within hours she had been mugged and had lost her wallet, cell phone, and passport in the process. Fortunately, she had at least one credit card in her pocket and some clean clothing in her lone carry-on luggage that she had brought with her from her hospital office. After meeting with the necessary authorities, she checked into her hotel and fell asleep, the obvious effect of both jet lag and the horrendous incident.

When she awakened, she had wanted to call Chloe, but she couldn’t risk Callum finding out—much less deal with Chloe’s curiosity as to why she had left the country without telling her. She’s probably worried sick over me. I’ll be back home soon, Honey, and Callum will be a thing of the past. His reign of terror will be over once I get the necessary information needed to stop him. Perhaps I should leave Chloe a message so that she doesn’t get too worried. Allison dialed the house number from the hotel and left a simple message that she was away and would be back in a few days—and most of all for her not to worry and that all would be explained when she came back home.

Hopefully that will calm her nerves. Unfortunately for Allison, Chloe would not get the message since shortly thereafter leaving it on the answering machine, there came a power outage that erased it moments before Chloe enter the darkened house. Taking notice of the darkness, Chloe fumbled for the flashlight, and with its assistance found her way upstairs, packed a few articles of clothing, and rushed back downstairs and outside none the wiser that Allison had attempted to reach her.

As she was locking the front door, Chloe was startled by a voice. Spinning around, she was met with the presence of a tall, middle-aged, mustachioed man who immediately identified himself as Detective Jack Milton.

Milton: I’m sorry to have startled you, Miss Dalton?

Chloe: Have we met? How do you know me?

Milton: I spoke with your partner Dr. Trudeau the other day.

Chloe (anxiously): Allison? Have you seen her?

Milton: No, I haven’t. That’s why I came by here. I needed to speak with her about the park incident. When was the last time you saw her?

Chloe (growing antsy): Friday night.

Milton: That’s nearly forty-eight hours ago, Ms. Dalton. And you haven’t heard from her since then? (looking at the mini-suitcase beside her leg)

Chloe: Detective, I really need to go. As you can see, there’s a neighborhood blackout, and I don’t really feel comfortable staying here in the dark all by myself.

Milton: Yes, I understand. The heat has really come down on this city. I’m sure there’ll be more blackouts as a consequence.(pause) So Dr. Trudeau has just disappeared, leaving you all alone in this state. You were both attacked in the park. Of course, I needn’t remind you of that. I’m just finding it a little odd that your partner would “skip out on you” like this.

Chloe: Detective, I really should go now.

Milton: Please let me know if and when you hear back from Dr. Trudeau. It’s urgent I speak with her.

Chloe: I will. Thanks.

Milton: I’ll be in touch with you.

Chloe watched as the detective strode down the sidewalk and got into his car, driving off in the eastward direction. Grasping the handle of the wheeled suitcase, she rushed over to her car in the driveway, quickly got inside it, turned down the soothing classical music that had been left playing on the radio, and started the engine before leaving her darkened neighborhood.

TRISTAN AND VITTORIA’S APARTMENT, WEST HOLLYWOOD, SUNDAY EARLY EVENING

While Tristan had chosen to volunteer at the Pride Weekend beer booths, Heath had stayed at the apartment all day, tidying the place and consequently incurring the wrath of Vittoria, who knew where to find her stuff amid her clutter. His cleaning had upset her method of style, her nerves already frayed ever since she got that phone call from Brendon a few nights ago. She had tried to call Callum, but he was not returning her messages. Something has to be done about Brendon. Surely Callum will take care of him. He won’t let him walk out that hospital in good condition, especially if he’s dead set on stealing Nathan from Brendon.

Heath, clad in only Tristan’s black silk boxers, was in the kitchen, preparing something delicious, its aroma wafting into the living room, stimulating Vittoria’s appetite. Maybe Tristan should keep this fag. He cooks and cleans (as long as he stays away from my shit). She flipped on the television at the same time there was a knock at the door.

Vittoria: Could you get that?

Heath (opening the door): Y-Yes.

Bralen: Is Tristan here?

Heath (coldly): No, he isn’t. Is there a message I can give him?

Bralen: I thought he’d be back home by now. I saw him at the festival beer booth earlier today. I wanted to show him my medal and cele— (awkward pause as he notices Tristan’s boxers on Heath) Uh, why are you here?

Heath (candidly): I’m with Tristan now.

Vittoria (turning around, bored with the television and more thrilled with the burgeoning drama in the apartment): You tell him, Girlfriend!

Bralen (laughing): What are you talking about, Heath?

Vittoria (getting off the couch and coming over): I think what Goldilocks is trying to say is that Tristan has dropped your ass for someone who cooks and cleans and doesn’t do all those strange exercises you do.

Bralen: It’s called yoga, and I’m an instructor, a yogi. (turning to Heath) And as far as I know, Tristan and I are still together. He didn’t give any indication that he wanted out. Besides, aren’t you with Kyle?

Heath (his demeanor visibly softening): No, that didn’t work out.

Vittoria (to Bralen): So I guess he’s gone after yo’ man. Now you two don’t mess up your hair getting into some bitch fight.

Bralen (pushing past Heath and going into the living room): I need to speak with Tristan.

Vittoria and Heath (in unison): He’s not here!

Bralen: Then I’ll wait for him. He’s got some explaining to do.

Heath: What’s there to explain? He’s over you and he wants me back.

Bralen: Back? Just how long have you “been with” Tristan?

Heath: Longer than he’s been with you. He was with me last night.

Vittoria: Ooh, snaps! Tell it to him, Girl!

Bralen (in full rebuttal mode): While that may be true, just who do you think he was with the night before that? (pause) That’s right. Me!

Vittoria: Yogi the Bear does have a point. He was here Friday night, and from the sounds of it, there was a third wheel involved.

Heath (incredulously): What?

Vittoria: Let me simplify this for you two bitches: YOU BOTH BEEN PLAYED! My whore ass roommate got what he wanted out of the both of you.

Bralen (to Vittoria): Would you just butt out?

Vittoria: Fine, but he’s done this a lot. And for what it’s worth, I like Heath better. As I said before, he cooks, cleans, and he’s not as loud when Tristan’s banging him.

Bralen (insulted): I’m leaving. Just tell him I stopped by. (slamming the door behind him)

Heath: Thanks, Vittoria.

Vittoria: Now get your ass back into the kitchen and finish dinner. I’m starving.

PRIDE WEEKEND FESTIVAL, WEST HOLLYWOOD, SUNDAY LATE AFTERNOON

Tristan had the most interesting day capped off with one of his most memorable nights. He had decided to work the beer booths today as he had ditched his volunteer responsibilities yesterday, and he narcissistically knew that whenever he tended the booths, he always earned the most in tips, his striking good looks the primary reason. He had been there all through the pandemonium of the baby disappearance that had threatened to shut down the whole festival.

He had no idea that he would become greatly embroiled in it. Toward the end of his six hour shift, his last customer was Peyton, who had arrived already drunk as a skunk, apparently having been thrown out a bar after exceeding his drinking limit.

Tristan: You’re not driving home like this?

Peyton (slurring): No, I-I’m a responsible person.

Tristan: Was it the booze or the size of my cock that’s got you brain dead? (pause) Just kidding. Hope you had fun the other night.

Peyton: I need to lay off the booze.

Tristan (gesturing to him): Come on back here and sit down. You need to sober up some. (pause) So I guess you heard about Callum’s son and the kidnapping. It’s really sad… would hate to be in his shoes.

Peyton: I-I need another dr-drink. (pause) You should bring out the cigars for Father’s Day.

Tristan: That was last weekend, you doofus, and besides you’re not a father.

Peyton: I’m the father of Callum’s baby. (putting finger to his mouth) Shhh! B-But no one’s supposed to know that… it’s just our little secret.

At that moment Peyton officially passed out, leaving Tristan in a state of confusion. Though it was a general rule of thumb to never put much stock into an inebriated Peyton, Tristan knew that sometimes alcohol loosened not only one’s libido but also one’s secrets. He had heard Allison mention that Callum and Peyton had a brief past back in London last year. Wait a minute! Peyton was Callum’s shrink after Callum had tragically lost his partner. That baby is not that old. There’s no way that rich husband fathered that child when he was still alive. Could there be some truth to what Peyton said? Could he be the father? And more importantly, was Callum passing the child off as his late partner’s? And if so, did Callum’s wealthy in-laws know this?

The wheels of his ingenious mind turning, Tristan thought he had just found a way to possibly get back at Callum for all the things he had done to him. It was then that Tristan received the call that would potentially change his life forever.

DETECTIVE MILTON’S HOME, LOS ANGELES, SUNDAY EVENING

Detective Milton arrived home after grabbing a quick bite at a hamburger stand. It had been an eventful weekend amounting to nothing. All he had was a mountain of speculative information, and concrete evidence was what he needed. He had his mind on three people: Dr. Allison Trudeau, Dr. Peyton Ashland, and Callum Sutcliffe. He had spoken with the staff of Hollywood Hospital, and no one had seen Dr. Trudeau since early yesterday—over 36 hours ago! Not even her partner knows where she’s gone off to… or was that just an act? Ms. Dalton genuinely looked surprised as if she hadn’t heard from Dr. Trudeau, but then again I did put the fear of the law into her partner, paying her that unexpected visit at the hospital. Perhaps the good doctor skipped town. That makes her guilty as hell in my book, blackmailing Dr. Ashland with that sex DVD in her possession.

In spite of these ruminations, his mind kept coming back to Chloe. She seemed to be in a hurry. It was true that an electrical blackout had gripped the neighborhood of Los Feliz earlier this evening, but there was just something suspect about her behavior. I wonder if she was ditching town along with Dr. Trudeau. I’ve heard about these lesbian pairings that evade the law like Thelma and Louise and that duo of hot chicks from that Bound movie. I should have found out where she was going. She looked too innocent and harmless to be involved in something unlawful, but those are the ones you’ve got to really watch out for!

One person he knew who easily wore the blanket of guilt was Dr. Peyton Ashland. That man was terrified when I made the slight remark about finding a DVD, and the most surprising aspect was that I didn’t indicate it was a sex DVD. I’m sure I could push some of his buttons and get him to admit that Dr. Trudeau was blackmailing him. But where does Callum Sutcliffe fit into this?

CALLUM’S HOME, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES, EARLY MONDAY MORNING

The haunting sounds of Radiohead’s “All I Need” opens the scene as Godfrey stands silently outside Callum’s bedroom door, having knocked several times. His impatience reaching its peak, Godfrey twisted the knob and entered the chambers only to find Callum, lying crouched in a corner, the salty remnants of tears blemishing his face, his lips murmuring nonsensical words, one of which the elderly servant recognized as “Somerset,” which closely followed the name “Gavin,” that of Lord Armitage’s birth name. Godfrey soon realized that Callum was in a near catatonic state, holding a picture of Lord Armitage close to his chest as he continued mumbling the words.

Godfrey: Are you all right, my Lord? (pause) Mr. Moynihan is downstairs in the reception area. He’s come to check on you.

Callum (the reference to Nathan having awakened him from his trance): Have they made any developments in the case?

Godfrey: None of which I’ve been informed. There are some reporters and camera crewmen outside. Do you wish to make a statement?

Callum (still crouched): This is not what I wanted. This publicity is not good. Everything’s falling apart. I’ve lost everything. I’ve made a wreck of too many people’s lives already. This is karma for what I did with Justin. Now I know what I put Nathan through, but I’ll be damned if I ruin an innocent child’s life. I’ll do whatever it takes for his safe return.

Godfrey: Do you wish for me to get rid of the reporters?

Callum (rising and moving toward the door): No, I’ll handle them.

Godfrey: (his hand shooting out and stopping Callum from moving any further) I’m sure you wouldn’t want Mr. Moynihan (wresting the framed photo from Callum’s possession) to see you in this state.

Callum (mental clarity momentarily coming back to him): Thank you, Godfrey, for averting that catastrophe.

Callum rushed into the bathroom quickly to shower and get dressed and then rushed downstairs to see Nathan sitting on the couch.

Nathan (rising): Callum, how are you?

Callum: I’m not sure I’ll make it through today. I was just about to speak to the media.

Nathan: Did you want me to stand by you? (pause) That sounded awkward to say.

Callum: I know what you meant. Nathan, I really appreciate your support, but you really should be at the hospital with Brendon and Justin.

Nathan (firmly placing his hand on Callum’s shoulder): I’ll head there after I’ve made sure you’re fine.

They then went outside, and over the news camera Callum thanked everyone for all their assistance and support in this matter. He pled with whomever had taken Edward to safely return him, specifically stating that he would pay a hefty sum if he were brought home soon. Callum then burst into tears and nearly collapsed onto the ground had Nathan’s strong arms not been there to catch him. The news camera caught this moment in all its histrionic glory.

DRAKE AND AUSTIN’S HOME, WEST HOLLYWOOD, SAME TIME (MONDAY MORNING)

Watching the news, Austin Monroe placed another private call on his cell as he enjoyed his second cup of strong, black coffee that morning. This time the call was answered on the second ring.

Austin: Hey, Lance, did you get the results?

Lance: You owe me big time for going into the lab on a Sunday night to test the contents of a syringe.

Austin (impatiently): Well, is it…?

Lance: Meth? No, it wasn’t. I won’t bother you with its polysyllabic clinical name, but it was steroids. (pause) Why was it so important to know this, Austin? Are any of your boys taking this to buff up for their spreads?

Austin: No, all my models are clean. Anyway, Lance, thanks for the favor. Let’s do lunch sometime .

So Mr. Olympian Bralen Jones is taking steroids. Some act he put on yesterday when got a personal record in the Pride Run. Well, you can kiss your Olympic dreams goodbye once the IOC finds out about this. At that moment, Drake stumbled into the kitchen, stretching and yawning.

Drake: Are you watching the news? Callum is on.

Austin (turning around to the television in time to see Nathan catch a fainting Callum): Was that Nathan?

Drake: Yeah, it looks like him. Even with such a despicable person like Callum, Nathan has always been such a considerate and supportive guy.

Austin (sotto voce): And a possible pedophile. (aloud) I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m definitely running for president of Outrunners. This club is fast going to hell in a hand basket.

Drake: Don’t be so melodramatic. I’m sure things will calm down by the time elections are held in December.

Austin: I’m not waiting until then. I’m talking a special recall to immediately replace Brendon and Nathan as executive leaders.

Drake: Are you serious? I think all that talk about Governor Schwarzenegger has gone to your head.

Austin: Yeah, well, that’s how he became governor of California, supplanting Gray Davis. I’m within my own rights. I’ve read the bylaws and all I need is a majority of club signatures. I’ve already drafted the petition, and I’m getting ready to send out an official email announcement of my candidacy.

Drake: Why is this so important?

Austin: Drake, you and I practically ran and represented Outrunners during Pride Weekend. On Friday, you had to speak on behalf of the Executive Board since Allison had to take Chloe home. Brendon and Nathan were also nowhere to be seen that evening. On Saturday, I had to do extra time volunteering because Bralen wasn’t feeling well—not to mention that Tristan ditched his duties that day. And well, yesterday we had to give out medals to the winners. Sheesh! Sometimes I feel like we are the Los Angeles Outrunners. (pause) Besides, if you knew what I’ve learned about a few of our club members over this weekend, you’d want to do some cleaning shop as well.

Drake: What did you find out?

Austin: I’m sure you’ll learn of it soon enough without my telling you.

Drake: What about your business relationship with Brendon’s production company? Won’t this cause much tension between you two?

Austin: Not really. I mainly work with his business partner. At any rate, I need to know you’ll support me.

Drake: You know I will.

Austin (kissing him): Good! Now that’s settled. What’s for breakfast?

CALLUM’S HOME, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES, MONDAY, LATE MORNING

Rodrigo arrived at Callum’s home under the guise of getting all of his autographed novels. He really wanted to know how Callum was holding up. He had seen the news coverage that morning, and saw that Callum had fainted. He looked awful onscreen and he was still with that Nathan guy. What’s the deal with those two? They were together all day yesterday. I should have been there for you, Callum, instead of him. Next time… definitely next time!

Godfrey answered the door and cautiously let Rodrigo enter, sending him to the reception area while he went to alert Callum. Rodrigo could hear some weeping in the background and knew it definitely wasn’t Callum who was doing it, for he soon heard the tone of his calm voice.

Callum (heard prior to his entrance into the reception area): Inga, would you please take your wailing into the other wing? I already have a headache, and you’re only making it worse.

Rodrigo (rising): Mr. Sutcliffe.

Callum: You’ll have to pardon Inga. She partially blames herself for what happened to Edward. She was not feeling well enough yesterday to accompany me to the Pride Run to properly look after Edward.

Rodrigo: Have you heard anything?

Callum: Nothing so far, although I’ve been on the phone with the police department one too many times. (pause) Anyway, I assume you’re here for the books. They’re in the other room. I’ll get them—

Rodrigo: No, don’t worry. It’s the same room as the other day, right? (leaves upon Callum’s affirmative nod)

As he rose and went into the room, his backpack fell off the seat, its contents spilling on the floor. Callum immediately noticed his name either inscribed or typed onto various letters. He soon realized it was mail. What would Rodrigo be doing with it? Perhaps he was kind enough to bring inside to me. Picking up the packets, he rifled through it until he came across a nondescript envelope that had just his name written upon it. He opened it and read what he had both feared and expected—a ransom note for the safe return of Edward.

HOLLYWOOD HOSPITAL, EARLIER THAT DAY

After leaving Callum’s house, Nathan decided it was time to clean up his own mess. I need to get to the hospital and set things straight with Justin… get him to confess to lying before this blows out of control. Once he reached the floor of Justin’s room, he was met with a reception that he had experienced just an hour before at Callum’s—namely the media. There were two reporters in the room with Justin, one of whom had a camera on him. What were they talking about?

Nathan (knocking and entering): Justin, I need to speak with you.

Justin: I have nothing to say to you, Nathan.

Nathan: Why are you lying about this?

Reporter: Are you Mr. Nathan Moynihan?

Nathan (to cameraman): Would you turn that off? (to reporter) Would you mind stepping out for a moment? I need to speak with him privately.

Justin: Nathan, leave me alone. (to reporter) Could you call security?

Nathan: I can’t believe you’ve gone to the media with this bogus lie.

Justin: I already spoke with the WeHo Beat and the Hollycove Tribune. People need to know what kind of a sick guy you really are!

At that moment, a security guard entered the room—a cue for Nathan to leave, but he rushed up to Brendon’s room where he go the coldest reception of them all.

Nathan: Bren, he’s gone to the media with this story. You have to stop him. What if people—the school board—hear about this?

Brendon: I’m sure “your boyfriend” can afford you an expensive attorney. I’m sure it’s the least he can do for you providing him a warm body to fall back into—like you did earlier this morning for him on TV.

ESTRELLA TARTARO’S HOME, BEVERLY HILLS, SUNDAY EVENING

The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind of excitement for Estrella. On Sunday morning, she had awakened with the worst hangover, barely recalling what had happened on Saturday night, although finding a sleeping woman in bed next to her lent her somewhat of an idea of what happened. It had been one of those nights. She would have to go through the same shtick, breaking it to her easily that she was not that interested in women and that last night had been a mistake. She didn’t know the woman’s name.

Estrella rose and took a shower. When she came out, she was spared the ordeal, for the woman had apparently taken leave. Well, I hope she loses my address. I still can’t believe I did that. Oh, well, hopefully it was good enough for her since I don’t remember a damn thing. It was then that she got a phone call from one of her clients, seeking to settle a case out of court. This is potentially good news, although I’m not sure it’ll fly well. She went to prepare something to remedy her headache and fell back asleep out of sheer exhaustion. She woke up a few hours later, put in a call to Tristan, who reluctantly made it over to her house later that evening.

Tristan: What do you want, Estrella? I thought I told you it was over between us.

Estrella: Well, I thought you would want to know that the Debenhams are willing to settle out of court. They’re asking for $300,000.

Tristan: I was quoted a rumored figure of $250,000.

Estrella: What difference does it make? I’m betting either way you don’t have the money.

Tristan: Get that look out your eyes, Estrella. I know what you’re thinking.

It was then that the door rang, prompting Tristan to dart into the adjoining room, not wanting to be seen in Estrella’s company. She opened the door, and there stood the woman to whom she had awakened in bed that morning—only this time she held an infant in her arms. What the hell?

Estrella: Yes, how may I help you?

Chloe: I had no one else to turn to. Some people are trying to take my baby away from me.

The child started crying, and Chloe attempted to coo him back to sleep. Estrella gestured for her to come inside. Jesus, what have I gotten myself into this time? Then came a flicker of memory.

Estrella: You came by the legal aid booth yesterday. Now, you said someone is trying to take your baby. I’m assuming you’re talking about the biological father and perhaps a custody battle he’s waging.

Tristan couldn’t believe what he was hearing—or rather eavesdropping. He recognized Chloe’s voice and knew damn well she wasn’t he mother of the baby she was claiming as hers. What a coincidence that Callum’s son goes missing, and Chloe miraculously has a baby now—especially after her outbreak at Fancy’s Restaurant on Friday night when she thought the baby was hers.

Chloe: Estrella, I really need your help. They want to take my baby from me.

Estrella: Who are they?

Chloe: The police!

It was then that Tristan hatched his scheme.

KYLE WALGROVE’S HOME, WEST HOLLYWOOD, MONDAY

Nick Lachey’s “I Can’t Hate You Anymore” plays over the following scene as darkness swallowed the figure of Kyle Walgrove. He had called in sick to the station and sat in the living room in the reclining chair, thinking of the mess he had made of his life. He had closed the blinds and turned off the lights, although slivers of light managed to slip into the room, revealing that the infamous photo album lay in his lap. He had gone through the task of removing any indication of Tristan and Heath from it. The ashes of those photos lay at the bottom of the nearest trash bin. Kyle’s hand shot out and grasped the bottle of vodka, and he took a quick swig. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, feeling the growing stubble as he hadn’t shaved in two days.

He flipped through the expurgated album, recalling Heath’s laughter and amusement at the photos in the front. How things would be different if he hadn’t strayed from our love. We were so good together. I loved you, and you loved me. No, not loved… but love… I still love you, Heath, but you’ve moved on… moved onto that bastard Tristan. His hand automatically brushed over the loaded gun lying on the arm of the chair. That bastard doesn’t deserve you. He ruined you… desecrated you… turned you into some sex freak… you’re not the same man, but I can’t give up on you… on us! Kyle’s hand then tensed as he firmly grasped the gun.

ESTRELLA’S HOME, SUNDAY NIGHT/MONDAY NOONTIME

Estrella stood paralyzed at the reference to the police. Had this woman kidnapped this baby? And was I foolish enough to sleep with her last night? Oh, God, I’ve got limit the booze to two. Estrella’s cell phone rang at that moment. She answered it, instantly seeing a panicked Chloe head for the door.

Tristan (on the phone): Don’t let her leave!

Estrella: Please don’t go! I can help you.

Tristan: Come up with some excuse to make Chloe stay.

Chloe? So that was the woman’s name. I vaguely remember that name from the bar last night. But why is Tristan giving me instructions?

Estrella: Chloe, please stay. We can talk about your case.

Chloe: Oh, thank you, Estrella. I-I knew you would understand that a mother shouldn’t be separated from her baby.

Estrella: What’s his name?

Chloe: The police and everyone keep calling him Edward, but that’s not the name I gave him. His real name is Jacob. (pause) Who’s that you’re talking to on the phone?

Tristan: Tell her it’s a friend from work. Make some excuse to come me in the other room.

Estrella (to Chloe): It’s a coworker at the festival. (speaking into the phone) I’ll call you back later. (snapping phone shut)

Chloe (the baby having started crying again): I think he needs changing, but I’ve run out of diapers.

Estrella: I’ll go get some fresh cloths from the other room. That’ll suffice until we can get to the store. Be right back (leaving the room and entering the other one)

Tristan (whispering): Good job!

Estrella: What the fuck is this, Tristan? Do you know that woman? Is that even her baby?

Tristan: No, it’s not. She kidnapped him earlier today.

Estrella: What the—

Tristan: Shh! The poor girl thinks it’s hers! She did the same thing Friday night—not wanting to give the baby back to Callum except Allison was nearby to calm her down.

The reference to those two names helped Estrella put the pieces together. Ah hah! Chloe… as in Chloe Dalton, partner to Dr. Allison Trudeau, both of whom were attacked in Griffith Park. I read that she had miscarried her baby as a result of the attack. And now she thinks that this baby is hers, but it’s Callum’s… as in Callum Sutcliffe! What a coincidence!

Estrella: I need a drink!

Tristan: Now is not the time to get drunk. Listen, I’ve just figured a way for us to get rich quickly. Are you game for it?

Estrella: What are you thinking?

Tristan: Chloe is practically harmless. Make up some reason for her to stay the night. We can take the baby away from her when she’s not looking. Like I said, it happened last Friday at a restaurant.

Estrella: And then what? We contact Callum and get a reward for returning his son?

Tristan (adamantly): No.

Estrella: Pardon?

Tristan: Not reward but ransom.

That had been last night, and Tristan had managed to get Estrella to go along with the plan. She had even worked her mojo to get Chloe to stay the night. He had caught the morning news and had seen Callum was willing to pay for the safe return of Edward. It was then that he had crafted the note, cryptically wording it in such a way to ensure Callum’s full cooperation.

The ransom note should be there by now. I had dropped it in the mailbox seconds after the postman made his daily delivery. Callum’s definitely going through with this… or else his perfect world will come crashing down upon him.

CALLUM’S HOME, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES, MONDAY NOONTIME

Godfrey: Shouldn’t we contact the police about the ransom note?

Callum: Absolutely not! We’ve already received too much unwanted publicity. What if this got back to Eleanor and the rest of Gavin’s family? Thank goodness, most Americans aren’t into following the lives of famous authors. This shouldn’t make national news.

Godfrey (disbelievingly): So you’re going to give into the demands of the ransom?

Callum: If the police know of this ransom, it will definitely become a media storm, and I definitely can’t risk that. Besides, do you think the Los Angeles police can really find Edward? Hell, they couldn’t find Justin, and he was staying with me the whole time—mere yardage from his own home.

Godfrey: May I see the letter? (given it and glancing through it) Bloody hell! One million dollars! Whoever kidnapped him knew you were wealthy. (pause) The demands seem fairly simple. Obviously, they want no police to be notified of this letter, but to leave the money in a briefcase on the banks of the Los Angeles River seems rather questionable to me. And just where is this Atwater Village location?

Callum: I looked it up online. It’s near Silver Lake, and the Los Angeles River runs through it. I don’t care how odd a location it may seem. That doesn’t matter to me. I just want this to be over. I’ve already spoken with my accountants, and they’re working on getting the money prepared.

Godfrey: Can you even trust them not to go to the police? Naturally, their suspicions shall be alerted with your asking for such a large sum of money so soon after your son’s disappearance.

Callum: They know to be discreet about this measure. (pause) Why do you look so pensive, Godfrey? You don’t think this a good measure?

Godfrey: I wish I knew who was behind this whole heinous act. Surely you must know who’s behind it.

Callum: I have a whole legion of enemies but none that would purposely abduct a child. My first thought was that nutter Chloe. She did think Edward was her baby and didn’t want to give him back to me at the restaurant the other night.

Godfrey: Well, have you gone to see her? Perhaps she is the—

Callum (cutting him off): No, she wouldn’t be behind this. Besides, it like I just told you. She wouldn’t want to give the baby back to me, therefore I can’t imagine her asking for ransom for his return!

Godfrey (heavily sighing): Okay, who else could it be? Perhaps Mr. Moynihan’s partner?

Callum: Brendon? He’s wheelchair-bound. I can’t imagine him engineering this scheme. (sighing heavily now and frantically raking his hands through his hair) I honestly don’t know what to think anymore. I just want Edward back home!

Godfrey: You honestly haven’t been in your right mind since this morning when I found you upstairs. Callum, I’ve never seen you in such a state since Lord Armitage was lost at sea.

Callum: And you only call me by my birth name when you’re really worried.

Godfrey: You very nearly made a mistake this morning that would have unwittingly blown your cover.

Callum (sighing deeply): Which may already be blown, given what I know.

Godfey: What had you at such unease? And don’t lie to me. I can read you like a book, you know.

Callum (softly spoken): Just like Gavin could read me. (suddenly falling into the nearest chair, his face contorting into an expression of sincere trepidation)

Godfrey: You kept saying his name this morning. Had you dreamt of him again? That must be what has you so distressed. (pause) Were you dreaming of a holiday you had with him in Somerset? (suddenly witnessing a shade of fear in Callum’s eyes and rushing to explain himself) You kept murmuring “Somerset” alongside Lord Armitage’s name in your catatonic state so I assumed you were talking about a holiday—

Callum (cutting him off): Gavin and I never went to Somerset together. I was speaking not of the county but of Somerset House.

Godfrey (shockingly making the connection): Oh, my God!

Callum (recognizing the astonishment in Godfrey’s eyes): Yes, someone foolishly went in search of information about me at Somerset House.

Gavin: Well, that’s not an instant cause for concern. They won’t immediately find anything.

Callum: You’re quite right there. But it’s only a matter of time before they find their way to Identity and Passport Services, and should they go in search of me there, we both know what will be found. It would lead them straight to Gavin, and that must be prevented at all costs.

TO BE CONTINUED…