The Victorious and the Relentless
Episode 20: “Killing Two Birds With One Stone”
LOS ANGELES POLICE DEPARTMENT
Detective Jack Milton had just finished eating crow. The officer he had placed on duty to watch Dr. Trudeau’s home had already informed him that she had returned home. So she’s not dead and didn’t entirely ditch town. But I’m not wrong about her. She knows something! At any rate, I’ll lay off her for a while and eventually catch her off guard. I’m sure Dr. Peyton Ashland will likewise do something foolish soon. I’m more interested in his relationship with Callum Sutcliffe. And what’s this with Sutcliffe having the same attorney as Vittoria Morelli. Something’s not right about that. I smell a rat. I should follow my gut instinct and find the link between Sutcliffe and Morelli. My guess is it might solve this case.
TRISTAN AND VITTORIA’S APARTMENT, WEST HOLLYWOOD
Charlotte Sometimes’ “How I Could Just Kill a Man” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wo6wXgiehtY) plays in the background of the scene as Vittoria contemplatively sits in the armchair in her living room. The only man she had ever really killed was Rudy Giordano. She had knifed a few of her rivals whenever they’d get into fights, but the cuts weren’t too deep and merely served as a warning not to mess with her again. However, in Rudy’s case, it had been self-defense as he was trying to harm both her and Tristan in Las Vegas. They had racked up thousands of dollars in debt and had no means of immediately paying it back. But that’s all water under the bridge or so we thought. We had shot him in the alley and thought no one was around. We hadn’t seen Brendon, but in all honesty, he knew it was self-defense, for he had seen Rudy knock out Tristan and then begin to strangle me. Tristan managed to headlock him before I had been completely asphyxiated, but he had begun to knife Tristan when I saw the gun in his pocket, grabbed it, aimed, and pulled the trigger. No more Rudy, but as in most Italian families, there was an older brother who wanted vengeance.
Brendon’s blackmail aside, Vittoria had enjoyed the thrill of the kill, feeling that slick piece of metal in her hands. Something so small that could take down someone as large as Rudy. It had been an invigorating sensation to take his life, reasserting her power, and now she felt that same feeling as she held a pistol in her hands, loaded with the bullets Brendon had given her. She had gone through the internal battle with herself for a few days now, arriving at the conclusion that while Callum’s murder would not be right, there was a modicum of justification for the action. He still held evidence and incriminating information over her head, and even though he was at present kind to her, he could turn on her at any moment. With this logic, Vittoria willed herself with the planned killing of Callum. It was also the exact logic that decided for her that Brendon would be next in line. I’m going to be free of those two if it kills me.
WILL ROGERS BEACH, SANTA MONICA, SATURDAY LATE AFTERNOON
After not finding Callum in the crowd, Talon rushed back to the party site and awaited his return. He found the Outrunners having a good time—undoubtedly linked to Callum’s absence—the evidence of Callum and Allison’s fight only found in the disrupted sand. The tent had been restored, and it appeared some food had been salvaged. He went for a quick splash in the water, his first time in the Pacific outside that one time in Australia. Upon coming out the water, he found that there was a message on his cell phone. Callum desired for him to go back to the mansion. The car was waiting to take him. Both Peyton and Inga were inside, the man joyously playing with the baby. They rode in silence back to the mansion, the child having fallen asleep in Peyton’s arms. Once inside the house, Inga took the baby from him, Talon instantly noting the look of disappointment on Peyton’s face.
Talon: I see you’ve become quite attached to Callum’s son.
Peyton: Yes, he’s adorable. He reminds me of my relatives.
Talon: Well, he does favor you a bit. In the car, I noticed you two have the same nose.
Peyton: We get that from my aunt Greta.
Talon: So are you still treating Callum?
Peyton (taken aback): Pardon me?
Talon: Oh, where are my manners? I’m Talon Prescott (extending hand for a shake). I’m a good friend of Callum’s. I remember you from that one time when I took Callum to your office on Harley Street.
Peyton: I’m sorry I don’t recall you, but that was over a year ago.
Talon: You were treating him just after Gavin’s death. Callum was an absolute wreck then. He didn’t even want to see me at all.
Peyton: Grief can do that to a person… make them antisocial.
Talon: I gave him all the space he needed from me, but it’s been too long now. I think it’s high time we get back together.
Peyton: Excuse me?
Talon (understanding his error): Oh, no, not you and I. I hardly know you. I was talking about Callum and me. I hope you don’t mind my saying this to you. I mean, you’re a head doctor.
Peyton: No, I don’t mind at all. I’ve noticed the way you behave around him.
Talon (matter-of-factly): I love him, and I know he loves me. We were meant to be together.
Peyton: Oh really?
Talon: We have a long history together. Even though I came to America for a job, I was thinking of whisking him off for an unexpected holiday to Greece. I already bought the tickets.
Peyton: When were you planning on going?
Talon: Tomorrow.
Peyton (whistling): That’s very last minute.
Talon: I know… which is why I was hoping to enlist your aid in persuading him to come with me.
Peyton (hesitantly): I-I’m not so sure if I should get involved in this.
Talon: Well, I figured it would give you more time with the baby. You seem very fond of him, and this would give you more time to bond with him. (pause) So what do you say? Do we have a deal?
They soon shook hands over the proposition.
SANTA MONICA PIER, SATURDAY LATE AFTERNOON
Nathan (throwing hands around Callum): Thank you.
Callum: For what?
Nathan: Making me feel alive after all this time!
Callum: It was just a kiss, Nathan.
Nathan: And I’ll have you know that I don’t feel guilty about it.
Callum: Nor should you. We’re consenting adults. Speaking of which, how about I come round yours later tonight?
Nathan (exhaling a deep sigh): I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Brendon’s supposed to come over for some of his stuff.
Callum: He’s been released from hospital?
Nathan: Yes, he and Justin are now staying at our old home in Silver Lake. I just want this whole mess with Justin to go away.
Callum (putting a reassuring hand on Nathan’s shoulder): Let me know if there’s anything I can do.
Nathan: Thanks for never doubting me. (looking around at the crowd on the pier) I’m going back home now. I think some these people here recognize me from the news. It doesn’t help you’re visibly younger than me.
Callum: You shouldn’t care what they think. You’re innocent in all this.
Nathan then rushed to the bathroom on the beach, leaving Callum to ponder his situation. He had to get to rid of Talon. He pulled out his cell phone, which miraculously was still in his shorts pockets, and called Peyton and Talon to tell them to leave and meet him at the mansion. By the time Nathan came back from the bathroom, Callum was snapping the phone shut, and they walked the distance to Nathan’s car parked near the Outrunners site. By that point, Talon and Peyton were gone. Rodrigo rushed up to him.
Rodrigo: Is everything okay, Mr. Sutcliffe?
Callum: You’ve no doubt seen that Tristano Bersani is still alive. That was somewhat of a surprise.
Rodrigo: He’s still pretty cut up.
Callum: He’s threatening me and needs to be taught a lesson.
Rodrigo: I promise to take care of him for you.
Callum: And you can expect to be well-rewarded for that.
Rodrigo: What about that dyke Alice, is it? You need me to handle her also?
Callum: Don’t worry about her. I’ll deal with her personally. Right now, I’m going to pay a visit to a quasi-lesbian.
ESTRELLA’S HOME, BEVERLY HILLS, SATURDAY LATE AFTERNOON
After Brendon had left, Estrella had to deal with Chloe. It had to be short and sweet out of fear that Brendon would return back for his phone and find them there. Chloe had profusely apologized for everything, tears flowing freely from her eyes. Estrella knew the woman to be emotionally unhinged and thus had to be easy with her.
Estrella: I’m really sorry if I caused problems for you and Allison.
Chloe: Don’t worry about that. We had our fair share of problems before you came into the picture. I-I just wanted you to know that I’ve been thinking about you ever since—
Estrella (cutting her off): Look, Chloe, I think we should end it where we left it. I’m not looking for anything serious, and I really don’t want problems. It’s best you go now.
Chloe (holding back tears): I understand. (turning to go) Thanks for all you did.
Once she closed the door, Estrella gave a heavy sigh of relief and went to make herself some tea to relax her nerves. While she had wished for a better way of handling Chloe, she knew deep down she, too, had been thinking of her and the explosive incident—both sexually and combatively—that had parted them. While it had been a way for her to take Chloe’s mind off her involvement in the child abduction, the nature of the carnal act had given Estrella a genuine sense of power as she had been able to grant pleasure to one of her own sex. She had greatly enjoyed it, especially the moment when Chloe had reached orgasm, feeling the warmth of her body, the sexual heat having engulfed her entirely, rendering her entirely powerless and exhausted. Estrella loved that type of power, but she couldn’t quite give up her love of men. She had always grappled with her bisexuality, chiefly during her time in university but then it was a given period in her life for experiment. Though she loved how the brawn of a man could work beautifully in tandem with his cock, she did like the delicate frame of a woman. She had liked how Chloe’s porcelain skin was in sharp contrast to her olive complexion. She had willfully given herself over to Estrella. It’s so sad that I must let her go. Nothing can come of this. What’s important is that she doesn’t say anything incriminating me with the kidnapping.
There came a knock at the door, and she opened it to Callum standing in the doorway. She stood there silent.
Callum: Either you invite me in or you “come out,” but it appears you did that already.
Estrella: Look, Callum, I know what it must have looked like, but—
Callum: I know damn well what you were doing. I’m not blind! I honestly don’t care what you do or who you do it with… except that I know you’re somehow involved in my son’s kidnapping.
Estrella (gesturing for him to come inside): What gives you that impression?
Callum: You’re fooling around with the nutter who thinks my child is hers.
Estrella: I think you’re way off.
Callum (sitting down): Oh, am I? I come over to your house to discuss this overbearing new detective who’s badgering me, and what do I find? You and Chloe arguing outside! You then drive her back home where thirty minutes later, I find your face nestled between her legs. Have I missed anything so far?
Estrella: You don’t understand.
Callum: No, it’s you, Estrella, who doesn’t understand. Need I remind you that you’re representing Vittoria, whose main accuser is Chloe. You could lose your license over this.
Estrella: Whatever happened between Chloe and me is over.
Callum: Then move onto Allison. Lord knows you’d be doing me an immense favor.
Estrella: It’s all just a misunderstanding.
Callum: I wasn’t born yesterday, Estrella. I am after all Oxbridge-educated. You, Chloe, and Tristano are somehow all involved in Edward’s abduction. For your sake, I hope you all covered your tracks. (rising and proceeding to leave) Your deception has been noted, and if I ever learn of anything else duplicitous about you, I promise you’ll live to regret it.
Estrella saw his car speed down the street. One minute later Brendon came to get his cell phone—apparently angered over something that happened at the beach. His stay had been extremely brief but all that time Estrella had been sweating bullets that Callum would make another unexpected visit and find her in cahoots with his enemy.
WEST HOLLYWOOD, OUTSIDE TRISTAN’S APARTMENT, LATE SATURDAY NIGHT
Rodrigo and four rough-looking goons are sitting in a car parked across the street from Tristan’s apartment complex, watching as Heath and Tristan return from a late night of partying along Santa Monica Boulevard.
Goon #1: So which one are we roughing up? Or is it both of them?
Goon #2: (brandishing a knife and opening the door): Let’s get this shit done!
Rodrigo (pulling him back): No. It’s going down tomorrow. I don’t want any witnesses. Anyway, it’s the guy on the right.
Goon #2: The blond one?
Rodrigo: No, the dark-haired one wearing the jacket.
Goon #3: I can’t really see him that well. It’s dark, you know.
Rodrigo: Stupid, one’s blond and the other one’s not. Just go after the dark-haired one.
SUNDAY MORNING, WEST HOLLYWOOD
U2’s “Sunday Bloody Sunday” plays in the background, the chorus/refrain repeating itself as the sunshine pours down on a new day. A plump lady stands on the doorstep of Brendon’s Silver Lake home, ringing the doorbell. He experiences déjà vu when he recognizes the woman as Nurse Jackson, fearing there had been a mistake and that he was to be sent back to the hospital.
Brendon: Is everything okay?
Nurse Jackson: Yes, I think so. I’m just getting off my night shift and thought I’d bring this to you. (withdrawing a voice recorder)
Brendon: That’s not mine.
Nurse Jackson: It belongs to your—(pause) the other Mr. Roberts. He left it in his room when he was discharged.
Brendon (taking it): Well, thanks, Nurse Jackson. I’ll see to it that he gets it.
Nurse Jackson: Mr. Roberts, I’m not one to gossip, but the young nurse who found it was planning on keeping it for herself. It was only when she accidentally played what was on it that I confiscated it from her. (pause) Though it’s none of my business, I think you had better tell the boy the truth.
Brendon: Excuse me?
Nurse Jackson (saucily): But I think he already knows. (gesturing to the voice recorder). You have a good day now.
With that cryptic deliverance, she turned to leave. She went to her car, got inside, and called Callum to let him know the job had been done. Closing the door, Brendon looked at the little voice recorder in his hands. He quickly fought with his conscience, his curiosity getting the best of him before he played what had been recorded on the device. He heard his intimate argument with Nathan in the hospital. A few seconds later saw him bursting into Justin’s room, startling the boy who had his mp3 player earphones on loud blast.
Brendon (shouting): When were you going to tell me?
Justin (pulling the earphones out): What’s wrong now?
Brendon (throwing the voice recorder on the bed): You recognize that!
Justin (taking a look at it, scooting off the bed to face Brendon): So what if I do?
Brendon: Why didn’t you come to me with this?
Justin: Why didn’t you? You’ve known this all my life.
Brendon: Justin, it’s really complicated.
Justin: That’s bullshit and you know it. You’re out here living it large while Mom—that’s if she’s even my mother—was slumming it as a single parent in Minnesota. You never wanted me.
Brendon: That’s not true.
Justin: Then why did you do it? Why did you leave me?
Brendon: Would you really have wanted a gay father?
Justin: It would have been better than not having one at all!
Brendon: I never meant for this to—
Justin: To what? Come out? You’re nothing but a liar. You and Nathan both!
Brendon (noticing the venomous way Justin included Nathan in his argument): He has nothing to do with this.
Justin: He knew about it, too, and kept quiet. That makes him just as guilty as you!
Brendon: Just leave him out of this! You’ve already done enough damage to him.
Justin: And I’m not through yet!
Brendon (confronting him): Did you lie about him assaulting you? (dead silence which prompts him to grab Justin’s shoulders and erratically shake the boy) Well, did you?
Justin (breaking free): Get off me! That’s exactly how it started with him that night.
Brendon: Stop lying, Justin.
Justin: Why are you standing up for him?
Brendon: Because I love him.
Justin: He’s such a dick… but then again that’s what you like.
Brendon (reactively making a gesture to strike the boy but stops himself): You will tell the truth.
Justin: Or else what? You’ll ground me for a week? (starting to leave) I think you’ve missed out on that chance, Old Man.
Brendon (grabbing Justin’s arm): Don’t you care at all that you’re destroying his life with your lies?
Justin (jerking away): It’s funny you’re defending him against a lie, but you can’t give me one good reason for the one you’ve kept all this time.
Justin tore through the door and rushed outside. Brendon stood silently in the room, thinking to himself. How had this gone so far? I need to reach Nathan, let him know a terrible mistake has been made by both Justin and me. I should never have doubted him. I knew that he could never do what Justin was accusing him of… just hope I can reach him in time before Callum lays full claim to him, but even he’ll be out of our lives soon once Vittoria does her job. Brendon reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and dialed Nathan’s number.
KYLE WALGROVE’S HOME, WEST HOLLYWOOD, SUNDAY NOONTIME
Kyle opened his eyes to the sleeping figure of Bralen lying next to him in bed. He reactively looked underneath the covers to ensure they both had their clothing on, Kyle immediately giving a sigh of relief as they both had their jeans on from last night. Nothing had happened between them except an innocent, misguided kiss.
After Kyle had seen Heath and Tristan together at the beach, he felt sick to his stomach and left, his thirst for hard liquor almost magically returning with their presence. He drove back to West Hollywood and went to the nearest dive bar for the over-40 crowd. It was there that he saw Bralen, sitting on a bar stool, embarking on a journey to drink himself into a stupor. He had fruitlessly tired to dress incognito, wearing sunglasses and a hoodie, but Kyle recognized him from his youth—which stuck out like a sore thumb in that particular bar—and from his voice when had placed an order.
Kyle: Bralen? Is that you?
Bralen: I’m guessing you want to take your potshot at me as well. The media’s done it, and even a few Outrunners have.
Kyle: It’s none of my business. I just want to know how you’re holding up.
Bralen: I’m just peachy.
Kyle (moving away): Well, that was all.
Bralen: Hey, Kyle, let me buy you a drink. It’s the least I can do. I might as well waste my money on a ticket to drunkenness rather than a useless trip to Beijing. I officially withdrew from the competition.
And so began their night together, commiserating with each over the wrecks their lives had become. They had quickly glossed over the two people they shared in common: Heath and Tristan. Bralen had practically given up on Tristan, realizing that he had been played for a fool, whereas Kyle’s feelings still bordered on dangerous anger. Despite their woes, alcohol seemed to mollify their frustrations, and they enjoyed each other’s company, laughing over silly memories as their inebriation took effect. When closing time neared, Bralen slid off the stool, crashing to the floor. He promptly rose, patting his sore, robust bottom before stumbling for the exit.
Kyle: You’re not driving, are you?
Bralen: I-I’m fine. (tripping on the cracked concrete sidewalk pavement outside)
Kyle (taking hold of him): You can stay the night with me. I live about three blocks from here.
They arrived at Kyle’s ten minutes later. Bralen went straight to the couch, seized the remote, and flipped through the television channels. Kyle presently sat down next to him.
Bralen: I’m bored. You got any porn?
Kyle (laughing): Is that the alcohol talking?
Bralen: That’s me talking. (his head falling into Kyle’s lap)
Kyle (moving Bralen’s head from his lap): I think Heath may have left some of his. (rising to go, but Bralen grabs his arm and yanks him back down to the couch)
Bralen: I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we make a porno of our own?
Kyle: Bralen, I think you’ve had too much to drink. (Bralen’s head falls into Kyle’s lap again) Heath used to do that also when he got tired. Lay his head in my lap while we’re watching something on TV. Seconds later, he would be sucking me off.
Now Bralen is trying to do the same. It’s too soon for this. He pushed Bralen away, but he came back with a passionate kiss. Bralen tried to ram his tongue down Kyle’s throat, but it was Kyle who responded gently. It had been the first moment of intimacy he had since his breakup with Heath. Bralen, however, grew more aggressive, attempting to straddle Kyle whose conscience finally got the best of him. He pulled himself away and went into the other room, closing the door behind him. Content with averting that disaster, he fell onto the bed, slumber at last stealing over him.
It was thus a shock when he had awakened to find Bralen in bed with him. Thank God nothing happened. He rose and went to make a cup of coffee. Bralen soon came into the kitchen and had a cup as well. They sat in silence before Bralen broke the calm.
Bralen: About last night, I’m really sorry.
Kyle: Don’t worry about it. Nothing happened.
Bralen (rising from table): But something did happen. I kissed you. I don’t want to cross the line.
Kyle (coming over to him): I promise you that I won’t let that happen.
Bralen: Well, I should get going. It’s practically noontime.
Bralen then quickly left the house only to be seen by Tristan who was outside.
ALLISON AND CHLOE’S HOME, LOS FELIZ
Allison arrived home to find Chloe on the couch, her feet positioned under her bottom. She appeared as if she had been crying and looked very distraught. Chloe likewise took notice of Allison’s appearance, particularly her disheveled hair and the superficial scars where Callum had scratched her.
Chloe: What happened to you?
Allison: Callum and I had a little disagreement on the beach.
Chloe: What? (concern morphing into anger) What is it between you and him?
Allison: Pardon?
Chloe: You’ve absolutely changed ever since he’s come into our lives… all this name calling, being confrontational and violent.
Allison: At least I haven’t been unfaithful. I’ve been here for you.
Chloe (laughing): That’s rich coming from you. You weren’t here last weekend. Where were you?
Allison: I left town on an important assignment.
Chloe: You were gone nearly four days without me hearing so much as a word from you. What the hell was so damn important you had to leave without letting me know?
Allison: I couldn’t tell you. It had to be kept secret. I left to protect you and everyone else from him.
Chloe (confused): What?
Allison: I went to England to get some information on Callum. While what I found was sparse at best, I did get an ally to help me get rid of him.
Chloe (angrily rising from the couch): You put me through hell just so you could dig up dirt on Callum?
Allison: He’s to blame for everything that’s gone wrong.
Chloe: And you take no responsibility for what’s happened?
Allison: I did this for you, but I never imagined I’d come home to such a blatant display of ingratitude.
Chloe: Estrella was helping me during the hardest part of last week.
Allison: Oh, yeah, she helped herself… to you!
Chloe: That’s not how it started.
Allison: Was she the woman you were kissing in the bar during Pride Weekend?
Chloe: How do you know—
Allison: Oh my God, Chloe, what else are you hiding? How long have you been with this woman?
Chloe: It’s not like that. She was helping me get back Jacob.
Allison: Who?
Chloe: My baby!
It was with those two words that Allison soon realized that Chloe’s condition had worsened, and that perhaps the actions she had done were not entirely her fault. I did leave her without a word. The last time we saw each other before I had left had ended in an argument. She had just thought that Callum’s son was hers. Oh no! Callum had said that his son had been kidnapped and suspected Chloe. Could that be possible?
Allison: Chloe, did you take Callum’s son last week?
Chloe: He’s not Callum’s. I keep telling you that. He’s our son, Jacob.
Allison: Did you take him during the Pride Run?
Chloe: It was too loud a place for a baby. I brought him back here, but there was a neighborhood blackout. I then heard on the radio that the police wanted him. I didn’t understand why they would want to take him away from his mother. I figured it was because I was gay so I went to Estrella since her law firm advocates LGBT rights.
Allison (putting her hand to her mouth): Oh my God, Chloe! It’s true. You kidnapped Callum’s son.
Chloe (testily): He’s not Callum’s son!
Allison: But you took him? Don’t you realize what you’ve done?
Chloe: You never wanted him. You wouldn’t have found time for a family. Estrella promised me her help.
Allison: She’s using you! Can’t you see that?
Chloe: She’s going to help me get him back.
Allison: Stop it! Just stop it! He’s not your baby. You kidnapped him!
Chloe: I don’t understand how the law can claim I’m kidnapping my own son. (pause) So what are you going to do, Allison? Turn me into the cops?
Allison (eyes watering): No, honey, I couldn’t do that to you. It’s just that you need help (noticing Chloe prepare her rebuttal) and I don’t mean that legally. Have you been keeping your appointments with Peyton?
Chloe: Either I cancel the appointments or he does.
Allison (running her hand through her hair): I’m calling him right now.
Chloe: Why?
Allison (urgently): Because you need to see him. This has really gotten out of control. (picking up phone) I can’t believe all this happened while I was away.
Chloe: The person I really need is Estrella.
Allison (slamming the phone back into its dock): What did you say?
Chloe: She understands me. She comforts me. She—
Allison: That’s it. I’ve heard enough (moving to the door)
Chloe: Where are you going?
Allison: I need to clear my head. I’m going to see Nathan. He’s going through a rough patch, and I haven’t been answering his calls lately.
Chloe: I can’t believe this. You’d rather go over to Nathan’s than sort out this mess. How many times are our problems going to take backseat to his?
Allison: Chloe, he’s being attacked on all fronts by the media and Justin, and then there’s this whole mess with Austin Monroe. He needs someone in his corner.
Chloe: And I need you in mine! I’m tired of coming in second place to your obsessive protection of Nathan. Must you fight all his battles for him?
Allison: We’re not arguing over this.
Chloe: And you have nerve to crucify me for my mistake with Estrella, yet you strike me down for calling you out on your lifelong fixation on Nathan Moynihan.
Allison (leaving): We’ll talk about this later.
The door shutting put a definite end to their argument, but it merely signaled the beginning of insurmountable problems for them. Chloe cried herself to sleep on the couch.
TRISTAN AND VITTORIA’S APPOINTMENT, WEST HOLLYWOOD, SUNDAY LATE MORNING/NOONTIME
Having risen early that morning, Heath had wanted to surprise Tristan, who had survived his gruesome attack earlier that week. Heath felt it was time for new beginnings and sought out Vittoria’s help, mainly in the form of her cosmetic expertise. Two hours later he looked at himself in the mirror, his signature blond locks now shorn, his hair dyed darker black, giving him an edgier look that closely matched Tristan’s style.
Vittoria: What do you think?
Heath: I really like it. I hope Tristan likes it.
Vittoria: Guess I can’t call you Goldilocks anymore. Why don’t you go show him?
Heath: No, he’s knocked out. You know he doesn’t get up before one on Sundays. Besides, I wanted this to be a surprise for him.
Vittoria: So when is he going to see you?
Heath: At the Hawk Eye. We’re going to the beer bust later in the afternoon, but I reserved their patio for an hour before they open. I wanted to have a homecoming celebration for Tristan. I already told you about it. You are coming, right?
Vittoria: Yeah, I just have some business to take care of before I make it there.
Heath: Anyway, I have to get over there to make sure everything is ready. Tristan knows to be there around two. Just make sure to remind him (moves toward her to kiss her).
Vittoria: Yuck! You’re such a fucking fruit.
Heath: Thanks again, Vittoria. You’re the best.
Vittoria: Well, your ass is making me those blueberry pancakes all this week and the next.
Heath laughed and then left the house to walk the four blocks to the Hawk Eye, one of West Hollywood’s most notorious leather bars. He was so excited at the prospect of cheering up Tristan that he hadn’t noticed the four thugs across the street when they began to follow him. They had foolishly mistaken him for Tristan, based on Rodrigo’s sparse description from last night. They hadn’t been able to see him clearly in the dark but had been told that Tristan was the only dark-haired man that would be coming out that particular apartment.
When Heath reached the bar, he found the front door locked and walked around to the back, finding not even the manager’s car there. I specifically told that idiot that I needed the place open early. He angrily withdrew his cell phone from his pocket, but it slipped and fell to the ground. He bent down to pick it up, and when he rose he was met with four thugs who pounced on him. Their blows came too quickly for him to react, the harsh jabs sending him to the ground. They each began kicking his fallen figure, and he managed to get a good look at them, two of them looked Hispanic, one African American, and the last looked Eastern European, although Heath thought he recognized the accent with which that particular individual mumbled as Russian.
Thug #1: We got a message for you, Britney Queers, from Rodrigo.
Thug #2: Yo, Stupid, no names!
Heath tried to get up and fight back, but they collectively proved stronger, one of them punching him in his stomach as his arms were held behind his back. One of them immediately cupped his hand over Heath’s mouth to prevent any sound from escaping and possibly alerting anyone in the vicinity of the criminal activity taking place.
Thug #1: Oh, ain’t she cute? Why don’t we teach her a lesson? Who wants to go first?
That was the last thing Heath heard before he was struck in the back of the head, knocking him temporarily unconscious. When he came to a few minutes later, he felt his hands bound behind his back and saw that his shirt had been ripped from his chest. His pupils dilated at the sight of a knife blade that was slowly positioned under his chin.
Thug #2: Don’t you say a fucking word or else I’ll rip your goddamn throat!
His only reaction was to cry, for he knew that they meant business. They looked to be gang members, although there hardly was any notorious gang activity in West Hollywood, though Heath soon found they were not the typical LA street gang once he saw one guy pull down his pants, take out his cock, and shove it in his face.
Thug #3: Suck it!
Heath: P-Please don’t—
Thug #2 (kicking Heath in the back while the other puts the sharp blade against his Adam’s apple): Do it!
Heath obediently opened his mouth, soon feeling it shoved full of the guy’s cock. At the same time, he felt the others slapping the back of his head, pushing it down onto it. He nearly gagged on it and tried to scream but nothing came through his mouth, the threat of the knife a reminder of his situation. He continued to be subjected to this degradation as they each successively forced him to fellate them, his throat becoming sore from their aggression, his mouth producing an excessive amount of saliva upon which he nearly choked. All this time tears were present in his eyes as he silently prayed to be saved from this vicious attack.
He knew the horror was not over when he felt someone’s grimy hand clamp over his mouth with such force that it nearly snapped his neck. They yanked his shorts down, the air at once flowing into his nether regions. It was a few seconds before he felt the hardness of what was unmistakably a cock enter his ass, his first reaction to move and attempt to flee, but once again the force of four against one proved too overpowering for him. He was held down as this brute mercilessly thrust into him, Heath’s tears flowing over his cheeks.
Heath: Please!
Thug #1: Shut the fuck up!
Thug #3: Here, suck on this!
The fourth thug furiously slapped the back of Heath’s head and slashed the side of his right cheek with the knife. Heath felt the warm blood as trickled down his skin and let out a loud whimper.
Thug #2: He said suck!
Thug #3: And don’t get any blood on my dick!
Heath’s first impulse was to bite it, but he knew that could prove a fatal mistake. He continued praying that someone would come around to the desolate parking lot, find him, and rescue him. His mouth once more took cock, which appeared both uncircumcised and grimy.
Thug #3: Is Britney Queers crying?
Thug #4: I think she likes it. She gives good head.
When he withdrew from Heath’s mouth, it was at that moment Heath felt another sharp blow against his head that sent him level to the ground. The team of goons now assaulted his prostrate figure, each of them placing their weight upon him as he felt them enter him again. One of them even had his foot positioned on Heath’s neck, threatening to apply pressure should he scream. The pain in his lower body was intolerable, partially as there was no lubricant to ease the manner in which they brutishly fucked. Heath’s open wounds were stinging with pain that matched that of his bare ass as one thug continued to violently spank it as he drove himself farther into Heath.
Thug #1: I think it’s time we Kevin Fertilize, Ms. Queers!
Heath tried to push them off him, but it was the kick to his mouth, his stomach, and back that rendered him powerless as they began the climax of their defiling. One of them chose to ejaculate on him, Heath cringing as the hot fluid speckled his body. The others chose to leave theirs in various places, the most obvious one leaving Heath feeling even sicker to his stomach at this powerlessness to stop them. The thugs having finished their play thus began the task of beating him to a bloody pulp, but their mission was soon cut short by the sounds of sirens that they mistook for the police (when in actuality it was an ambulance venturing down Santa Monica Boulevard). Nevertheless, they all fled the scene, leaving behind in their wake a deathly catastrophe.
KYLE’S APARTMENT, WEST HOLLYWOOD, SUNDAY NOONTIME
Kyle had sat down on the couch to watch TV when someone knocked at the door. Thinking it was Bralen, he quickly opened it only to be met with the muscled frame of Tristan Bersani standing in the doorway.
Kyle: Shouldn’t you be at home, recuperating?
Tristan: You’re the reason I’m in this state. You beat me and threw me in the river, you bastard!
Kyle (Tristan having barged inside): Oh, you’re not pinning that on me. Besides, I’m an environmentalist and don’t believe in water pollution.
Tristan: Ha! Ha! You still assaulted me that night. I’m going to the police chief about this.
Kyle: He won’t believe you.
Tristan: He will once he knows the whole story.
Kyle: Is that so?
Tristan: Yeah, once he hears how you’re mad at me for stealing Heath from you.
Kyle: Shut up, Tristan!
Tristan: Did you know we fucked right there on that couch?
Kyle: Get out!
Tristan: Was that Bralen I saw leaving just now? Have you moved onto him? Guess I’ll have to ask him who’s better in bed. We both already know Heath’s answer to that question.
Kyle couldn’t resist the impulse to punch Tristan, sending his body to flip over the couch and land on the floor. Upon rising, Tristan’s eyes sparkled with the thrill of the fight, and he soon sprang for Kyle, throwing him an equally powerful knockout punch that forced Kyle’s body onto the wooden coffee table, effectively rendering it into large splinters as it gave way to his weight. Pain shot through his body, but his pugilistic determination overtook him.
Kyle ran right into Tristan, slamming him into the far wall, knocking ornaments and frames from their pegs as both men groaned in pain. Kyle’s fist banged into Tristan’s face as Tristan’s hand defensively clutched around Kyle’s neck. Tristan was then thrown to the side, knocking over a table on which had been Kyle’s gun, which had slid to the floor with a thud. Both men had seen the weapon and lunged for it like a hawk swooping down for a rodent. It was Tristan’s hand that caught it first, but that didn’t stop Kyle from attempting to pry it from him. Each struggled for full possession of the firearm, which during their scuffle found itself between their bodies when it suddenly went off.
BRENDON AND NATHAN’S FIRST HOME, SILVER LAKE, SUNDAY NOONTIME
Justin had finished trashing his bedroom, his reaction to Brendon’s turning against him. The mirror was shattered, the mattress turned over, the pillows ripped, a flurry of feathers and cotton strewn over the floor. He still loves that fag Nathan more than me, his own son. He never loved me. Well, I’ll see to it that none of them have any joy. I’m surprised that Brendon didn’t hear me trashing this place. Where is he? Justin stepped out his room and walked throughout the house. He heard some rumbling downstairs in the basement or “wine cellar” as Brendon had called it during his brief tour of the house. Justin surreptitiously crept to the door and closed it, making sure to lock it. He then dragged a heavy chair in front of it.
Meanwhile, Brendon had decided on a bottle and climbed to leave the stairs when he was met with the obstacle of the door refusing to open. He pushed on it, turned it, and banged into it. What the hell? Justin! Is this some kind of joke?
Brendon: Justin! Justin! Open this door now!
At least Nathan is on his way here. If only I had my cell phone on me, I could leave him a text message to let him know I’m locked in the wine cellar. After waiting for ten minutes, Brendon grew impatient. There was no other way out the cellar than through the transom near the ceiling that led to the backyard. He put a chair on the table next to the wall and was going to attempt to climb through the small window when his eyes took in the horrendous sight of his lover being sent to his death.
Nathan had arrived at their old home in Silver Lake, which brought back such fond memories of their life together. It was the first place they had called home together. When he got to the front door, he found it locked, but there was a note posted on it, telling him to meet him in the backyard. He went through the side fence and found that the backyard still looked lovely despite neither of them living there anymore. Brendon had kept the gardener on the payroll for this property. All the flowers were in bloom, and the pool glimmered in the noontime sunshine. There was no one around. He went to the back door, oddly finding it also locked. Where is Brendon? His car is parked outside. Shit! I don’t have the keys to this house on my keyring. I’ll just call him. Why the hell is it going straight to voicemail? Where is he?
Nathan walked back toward the pool and stood at the water’s edge, breathing in the air. The water looked so inviting. He remembered all the parties they would host around the pool. He bent down and put his hand in the water. It was definitely warm. He then heard a muffled sound but couldn’t make out what it was. Had he turned around at that precise moment, he would have seen the top half of Brendon shouting through the windowpane of the wine cellar. As it was, Nathan rose straight up and thus didn’t see the flat metallic face of the garden shovel as it collided with the back of his head, knocking him unconscious and sending him face-first into the water. The blood from his fresh wound had begun slightly coloring the water as his nostrils began filling with water. The shadow that fell onto his body then diminished in size as Justin crouched down to push Nathan’s head farther below the surface.
CALLUM’S HOME, HIS PRIVATE STUDY, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES, SUNDAY NOONTIME
Peyton whirled the baby around, making a sound as if the little boy were some aircraft landing in a hangar. Edward smiled gaily, his eyes shining, his little mouth open, his toothless gums in full display. Peyton lifted him back up again before dipping him down to plant a sweet kiss on his soft cheeks.
Callum (coming into the room): How many times must I tell you to stop doing that? I don’t want him suffering from vertigo.
Peyton: He likes it. Just look at him, smiling. I think he needs a portrait taken.
Callum: Hand him over to Inga, Peyton. I need to speak with you privately.
Peyton (reluctantly giving him over to Inga): About what?
Callum: I’m going on holiday to Greece with Talon this evening. I gave serious thought to your suggestion about my needing to take some time away.
Callum had spoken with Peyton last night and had decided it best to give into Talon’s wish rather than risk Talon having an encounter with Nathan such as the one that nearly happened on the beach yesterday. That had been such a close call that Callum knew it was imperative he had to get rid of Talon. Deciding to go with him to Greece was the only option, and while Callum was there in Athens, he reasoned he would steal and destroy Talon’s passport, abandon him at the hotel, and secretly fly back to America. That would at least afford him a few days to finish his mission with Nathan before Talon possibly reappeared in Los Angeles.
Peyton: Really? You told me you had reservations about leaving town… that you and Nathan—
Callum (cutting him off): it’s not what you’re thinking. But listen, I know how close you’ve become with Edward, and so I thought this trip would allow you more time with him while we’re away.
Peyton (joyously throwing his arms around Callum): Oh, wow! That’s great! I can’t believe how soft you’ve become.
Callum: It won’t last. Enjoy it while you can.
Peyton: Well, I did—uh—want to ask a huge favor of you.
Callum: What more could you want?
Peyton: To have my name cleared. You don’t want Edward to have a father wrongly accused of criminal behavior. I need you to get rid of that gun that has my fingerprints on it.
Callum (pause): Okay, I’ll do it. But it’s for Edward. (journeying over to the safe to enter combination)
Peyton: Hold on. It’s been here all along. You said it wasn’t on the property.
Callum (withdrawing the gun, secured in a Ziploc bag): Well, I lied. Now, watch me as I wipe the prints off with this cloth. You are hereby a free man, Dr. Ashland. (lying the gun on the desk)Without this piece of evidence, the police haven’t anything to really link you to shooting Allison and Chloe.
Peyton: But we both know who did.
Meanwhile, Vittoria was outside the house, trying to open the front door. She found it locked and not budging even with her weight gently thrown against it. She consequently rang the doorbell, Godfrey answering it.
Godfrey: Good afternoon, Ms. Morelli. Is His Lordship expecting you?
Vittoria (coming into the house): Yes, he is.
Godfrey: He’s upstairs. (starting to ascend): I’ll let him know you’ve arrived.
Vittoria: Oh, no, Godfrey! Before you do that, would you get me a cosmopolitan? (noticing his hesitance) You remember how I like mine?
Godfrey: How could I forget? You had them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner your entire stay here. (turning on this heel to leave the room)
The firearm was weighing heavily in her purse. She had loaded it with the bullets Brendon had given her. She waited a few minutes after Godfrey left before she darted after him.
Vittoria (shouting): Never mind the drink. I just got an important call on my cell. It’s an emergency. I’ll see myself out.
She rushed to the front door, opened it, and slammed it shut loud enough for the sound to reverberate through the front of the house. That should make him think I’m gone. I’ll be quick and get this job done! With feline agility she tiptoed up the stairs toward Callum’s study. As she drew closer to the room, she heard voices, and upon eavesdropping her heart nearly leapt from her body.
Peyton: It was Tristan’s roommate who shot at them, didn’t she? Kyle had shown me her mug shot and told me he suspected her. It was then I remembered seeing her here at the mansion the night Allison was shot. You’re blackmailing her, too.
Callum: Well, let’s just keep that between us.
Peyton: Nearly losing Edward has definitely made you a changed man from what I can see. You really should turn her into the cops. It would be the right thing to do.
Vittoria (coming into the room): What the fuck! He knows about me?
Callum (testily): Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?
Vittoria: I can’t believe this. (pushing toward Callum) You promised me that nothing would happen.
Callum: And nothing will. Peyton doesn’t know what he’s talking about.
Vittoria: I trusted you, Callum.
Callum: Vittoria, I haven’t time for this. I’m leaving the country in another hour.
Vittoria: Oh, I get it now. You were planning on going to the cops and then leaving the country for me to take full blame for everything. (suddenly seizing the gun lying on the desk) Well, it’s not going down like that!
Peyton (scared): Callum!
Callum (pushing Peyton to the door): Pay her no mind.
Vittoria aimed the gun at Callum, pulling the trigger several times with nothing happening.
Callum (shouting): What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing? There aren’t any bullets in there, you incompetent cow. I’ll remember this moment when I get back. (successfully pushing Peyton out the door and into the hallway near the staircase landing) Now if you’ll excuse me.
Vittoria (throwing the useless gun at him): You’re not going anywhere!
Callum (turning around in the doorway): Oh, yeah, is that so? Well try and stop me.
Vittoria pulled the gun from her purse, rushed to the doorway, and aimed it at Callum’s retreating figure, pulling the trigger. A shot rang out that was quickly followed by the screaming sound of pain issued from Callum’s mouth. Peyton instantly rushed over to him as he fell to the floor, Callum’s left hand clutching his right arm as hot, red blood gushed forth, staining his shirt crimson.
Peyton looked up and saw the barrel of the gun aimed directly at him. It was at that moment that Talon came down the hall and immediately pounced upon her in an attempt to wrest the weapon from her. Peyton jumped up and hopped into the struggle, which carried the trio to the staircase banister, where Talon tried banging Vittoria’s hand against its wooden surface in hopes she would relinquish the gun. She defiantly bit at them, kneed Talon’s groin, and succeeded in pushing them both away.
The haunting tone of Natalie Merchant’s “My Skin” begins playing in the scene’s background as Peyton took the opportunity to throw himself at her, knocking her off balance as the gun went off a second time, and Vittoria’s body began tumbling down the stairs. Peyton fell back to the ground next to Callum as Talon got up to see Vittoria’s body land at the base of the stairs.
It had all happened in a split second. She had been in control of the gun, winning the fight against the two men when she found herself falling down the stairs. The bumps stabbed into her back, and she thought everything would be fine, yet it was the third from the last step that fatally broke her neck before her body came into contact with the solid, flat ground floor. Up above, Talon saw as Godfrey walked to her fallen corpse, reached his fingers down to her neck, found no pulse, and nonverbally communicated as much to Talon, who duly informed Callum.
Callum (painfully inching over to Peyton): You hear that, Peyton? She’s dead. You saved my life.
Talon: You’re a hero, mate.
Callum: Peyton? (getting no sound) Peyton! Oh my God, I think he’s been shot! It’s not my blood on him. (lightly slapping him) Peyton, wake up!
Peyton (slowly opening his eyes): C-Callum?
Callum: I’m here. Whew! You scared me for a moment.
Peyton: Where’s Edward?
Callum: He’s in the other room.
Peyton: C-Can I see him?
Callum (turning to Talon): Would you get him from Inga? And call an ambulance if Godfrey hasn’t.
Once Talon rushed away, Peyton grabbed Callum’s wrist and drew the young man’s hand to his heart. Callum could feel the warmth of Peyton’s blood seeping through the cloth of his shirt and running between his fingers.
Peyton: I don’t have much time left.
Callum: Quit talking such nonsense, you ninny. You’re going to be just fine.
Peyton: I need you to swear to me on my heart that you’ll tell my son about me. (Callum tries to move his hand away from Peyton’s bloodied chest, but Peyton firmly holds it there) Promise me you’ll tell him I was a good man and that contrary to what others may say, I wasn’t some sex-crazed drunk. Promise me, goddammit!
Callum (tears filling his eyes): I-I promise.
Peyton (suddenly coughing up blood): One more thing. Promise me you’ll play “airplane” with him everyday. He really loves it. (coughing up more blood, making it harder for him to talk) Please tell him that of all the men in my life, he was the one I loved the most.
Callum (talking through choked sobs): I’m not going to have to do that because you’ll pull through this for him. (looking up to see Talon coming down the hall with Edward) Oh, look, here he comes!
But by that point, Callum looked down to see Peyton take a shallow breath and close his eyes for the last time. Feeling the body grow lifeless in his arms, Callum let out a truly emotional cry that blended poetically with that released from Edward’s lips as if the child, too, knew that he would never see his father again.
TO BE CONTINUED…
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Dear Reader,
I feel like cuing up Matchbox 20’s “How Far We’ve Come” as it’s hard to imagine we’re already at V&R’s 20th episode, and as you’ve witnessed, the dynamics of the series have definitely changed. The subject matter has become darker in tone, and no one is safe—well, actually that’s a lie as there are three major characters safe from death’s clutches for at least the next few months—but I genuinely hope you’re enjoying the series as much as I am writing it. Each day I awaken and think of these characters as an integral part of my life, and much like one’s family, I find myself simultaneously loving and hating some of them. The primary reason I’m leaving this note is to encourage you to please consider leaving a comment as I really would like to have an understanding of this website’s readership. I know it may take a while to register in order to leave a comment, but I beseech you to either do that or recommend the series to your friends (my sister website http://tvandr.wordpress.com is only six or seven episodes behind this one and allows me to see the amount of hits—however abysmal they may be—per day).
Besides the issue of numbers, it would be exciting to know which characters you like (and conversely hate with a passion), which storylines you like, and your opinions about the musical selections. When I initially envisioned V&R, it was to be a hybrid of Queer as Folk (the original English version) and Dynasty (which arguably became better with the introduction of a certain English diva—and to a certain extent her cousin towards the end of that series), and now I think V&R is in a world of its own. As I look forward to gaining greater exposure for the series (and likewise getting feedback from enthusiastic readers), I’ll share with you some exciting news of what to expect this spring from the series (keeping in mind that like an actual soap opera, I have an additional six to eight week’s worth of episodes written at the time of publishing any current one).
You can look forward to the introduction of some colorful new characters that will make you laugh hysterically and hopefully shed a tear or two in light of the series’ current tragic storyline, and as always expect some explosive confrontations (and if you love the “Callison” storyline, prepare for one hell of a funeral gathering) as secrets are revealed to deadly consequences. I’m sure the series will get mixed responses when V&R takes on the issue of California’s Proposition 8 (recall that the story’s action thus far takes place in summer 2008) in the only way it knows how: via scandal and the biggest catfight courtesy of a particular V&R couple J. And lastly, might Callum’s world come crashing down upon him once his secrets are uncovered by those whom he has wronged and blackmailed? You’ll have to keep reading to find out!
Don’t forget to leave your comments! Thank you for reading. You have no idea how appreciative I am.
Respectfully,
Kedric (and Callum)
