The Victorious and the Relentless

Episode 23: “Funeral = Real Fun”

Coldplay’s “Trouble” opens this episode as Kyle stands solemnly outside the door of Tristan’s apartment, contemplating whether to knock on it, his hand suspended in the air. He had spoken briefly with Bralen to possibly get more information about Heath’s attack as Bralen was the one who had called him. What he learned from him—the cold, rank truth—had deeply unsettled Kyle. He had to speak to Heath, his only reservation that Tristan was inside. Damn it! This is about the wellbeing of the man I continue to love for better or worse! His hand at last came into contact with the door. Heath soon opened it.

Kyle: Good afternoon, Heath.

Heath (gesturing for him to come inside): Hi, Kyle. Are you here to get the rest of Vittoria’s stuff?

Kyle: So you were here when they came with the warrant? I think we got what we were looking for.

Heath: Yeah, I saw some of the stuff they took, mainly drugs and a weapon that may link her to Nathan and Brendon’s attack in the park. Tristan had to leave. He just couldn’t watch them going through her stuff like that.

Kyle: So he’s not here?

Heath: No, he had to make arrangements for Vittoria’s body to be returned to Italy.

Kyle: That sounds complicated. Anyway, I came to check on you.

Heath: Is this about the—

Kyle: Heath, we need to talk about it.

Heath (throwing up hands): No, I don’t want to talk. I hate that you were even dragged into this. Haven’t I caused you enough problems already?

Kyle: Would you rather I treat this case with the cold distance of a cop? Or as someone who genuinely cares for you?

Heath: I don’t deserve your concern, Kyle.

Kyle: And you didn’t deserve what happened to you, either.

Heath: Maybe I did. (sitting on the couch) Maybe this is just karma for all the bad things I’ve done.

Kyle (sitting down next to him): Don’t say that. You didn’t deserve what happened to you. You’re one of the kindest and most thoughful men I’ve ever known, and Lord knows this wouldn’t have happened to you if you were still with me.

Heath (angrily): What the—

Kyle: That didn’t come out right. (pauses to rethink) I meant that I only wish I-I was there for you more. (tears coming to his eyes as he reactively rises to turn away from Heath to wipe them away) I need you to come with me.

Heath (looking up into Kyle’s reddened eyes): To where?

Kyle: To a clinic.

Heath: I told you I’m not going to a doctor.

Kyle: But you need to! Heath, you were raped. You should be seen by a doctor. There may still be evidence.

Heath: I showered as soon as I got home. There’s no need for them to see me just to collect evidence. There is none.

Kyle (emotionally choking up): H-Heath, there’s another reason you should go. I don’t know how to say it or let alone ask it.

Heath: What’s wrong, Kyle? You’re taking this worse than me.

Kyle: I nearly lost you, Heath. How am I supposed to react?

Heath (coming to hug him): I-I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.

Kyle (separating himself and looking into Heath’s eyes and taking a deep breath): Bralen told how you looked when he found you. I need to know if—if they—

Heath: What?

Kyle: Did they use any pro—

Heath (not needing him to finish, turning away): What the fuck do you think! I can’t get that out of my mind… how they just—

Kyle: I-I had to ask. (taking another breath) You should go to the clinic. You need to be tested for any transmittable diseases. (noticing his hesitance) I promise it’ll be strictly confidential.

Heath: I don’t want to—

Kyle (coming over to hug him): I know but please do it… for me.

Heath: I-I’m so scared, Kyle.

Kyle (holding him tight): I know you are, but I’m here for you now.

ESTRELLA’S HOME, BEVERLY HILLS

Estrella had placed the depositions in her briefcase and looked at herself in the mirror. Even though she felt like crap, she looked like a million bucks. She was in presentable business attire that both captured her sensuality and complemented her sharp legal mind. It had been time for her to throw herself back into work, and the forthcoming interview was just what she needed. She applied a moderate layer of lipstick, grabbed her briefcase, and opened the front door to see Callum’s car pulling alongside the curb. He presently got out his vehicle and accosted her just as she was attempting to get into hers.

Callum: Going somewhere, are we?

Estrella (pressing the control button for car to unlock): Callum, I haven’t any time right now. I have an important appointment to get to.

Callum: This won’t take long. I just needed to ask you something about Vittoria.

Estrella (reluctantly closing the car door and sighing): What is it? I-I’m still shakened over her death.

Callum: Yeah, at the bottom of my staircase.

Estrella: I have some contacts at the district attorney’s office who told me she attempted to kill you.

Callum: She shot me, (pulling back shirt to show superficial wound) but it’ll take more than a bullet to bring me down. Many people will soon learn that, especially Brendon Roberts.

Estrella (her hand quivering, losing grasp of the briefcase): Br-Brendon Roberts? What does he have to do with this?

Callum: Well, you should know that Vittoria attempted to kill him as well. She’s the reason he was in that coma. And I’ll be the reason he goes into a permanent one.

Estrella: Excuse me?

Callum: I just had a run-in with him. The man thought he had ridden himself of me. He will pay for trying to deceive me with Vittoria.

Estrella: I-I should be going now.

Callum: Oh no, I haven’t questioned you yet. I want to know why you were talking with Vittoria the night Edward was returned.

Estrella: Pardon me?

Callum: I have Vittoria’s mobile, and I was checking her call log. You rang her several times that night and the following day. What was so important you had to reach her?

Estrella: I don’t remember. It was probably something regarding the case. (thinking quickly) Oh, yes, she was worried about some new detective harassing her.

Callum: I see. (sighing)

Estrella: I wouldn’t worry about Vittoria anymore. She’s gone.

Callum: It’s not Vittoria that concerns me. It’s her contacts. Brendon got his claws back into her while she was supposedly loyal to me. It just makes me wonder who I can trust.

Estrella (her mind working hard to get him off the subject of Brendon): This isn’t about Brendon or Vittoria. It’s about Chloe. You still think I had something to do with your son’s kidnapping. I keep telling you I had nothing—(taking a deep breath) I didn’t know that the baby she had was yours. She came to me for help.

Callum: Yada, yada, yada! I’ve heard it all. I have no way of linking you to this scheme other than your having Chloe as an evening snack. (turning to leave) Anyway, I’ll let you get to your appointment.

Vittoria (opening the door and getting inside the car): Have a nice day, Callum.

Callum (turning around): And, Estrella, I just wanted to warn you that I don’t respond that well to backstabbing. Brendon is going down for his involvement in my attempted murder… and so is anyone else connected with him. Let that be a warning to you as well, regarding the kidnapping, which is as much an offense against me as Brendon’s.

He got into his car and sped off. Estrella let out a long sigh of relief. She had avoided that disaster, but Callum was on a mission for blood. I should warn Brendon, but I’m already late for this interview. She started the car and drove away.

PEYTON’S HOME, BEVERLY HILLS

Drake and Bralen had been packing the DVDs for almost two hours. Bralen had soon realized that trash bags weren’t such a good idea as they began to tear with the weight of too many cases. Drake suggested boxes, and they worked another half hour repacking the cases into boxes until Drake’s stomach growled, embarrassing him as the sound echoed in the cellar. They took a brief break to raid Peyton’s refrigerator for food before heading back downstairs to finish the job, Drake not having anything else to do for the rest of the day. They were close to packing the last box when Drake heard foosteps upstairs.

Drake (putting finger to mouth): Shh! Do you hear that, Bralen? Someone’s upstairs.

Bralen: But the front door is locked.

Drake (seizing a broom as a weapon): Let’s check it out.

They crept up the stairs into Peyton’s room. Drake was in front and tiptoed to the source of the noise. There was definitely someone in the house, for he heard rumblnig. He immediately thought it was a burglar and firmly grasped onto the broom as he entered the livnig room.

Drake: Who’s there?

He heard a woman scream before a glass was thrown at him. It bounced off his chest, but the scotch inside it splashed all over him. The woman—elderly and well-dressed—continued screaming as she began throwing other objects at him, including silverware and a lamp that smashed into pieces when Drake ducked, and it consequently hit the floor.

Drake (shouting): Who the hell are you?

Priscilla: I think I might ask the same question of you, trying to rob my son’s home. I didn’t think these things happened in Beverly Hills.

Bralen (hiding behind Drake): Priscilla? Is that you?

Priscilla: Who’s that?

Bralen: It’s Bralen. Bralen Jones. This is my friend Drake.

Hearing Bralen’s voice, Priscilla ended her spree of throwing projectiles at Drake.

Priscilla (exhaling a deep sigh): Why the hell didn’t you say so? (pause) What the hell are you doing here? You two weren’t doing any hanky-panky in my son’s room?

Drake (defensively): No, ma’am. I’m a married man.

Priscilla (her eyes enlarged): What the hell?

Drake (realizing her confusion): No… no… I’m married as in to a man. I’m gay.

Bralen (still seeing puzzlement on her face): Priscilla, I can explain. Drake is from Massachusetts. He and his partner Austin recently moved here from Boston.

Priscilla: And where is his partner? In the room also? Were you having a threeway back there?

Drake: Oh, no ma’am. I’m completely committed to my man.

Bralen: Drake was just helping me clean the place for your arrival.

Priscilla (to Drake): I’m so sorry for overreacting. I went from thinking you were a burglar to thinking you were perhaps role-playing as one. You gays can be such freaky bastards.

Drake: I don’t know how to respond to that.

Bralen: Priscilla is quite the hoot. You’ll soon get used to her humor.

Priscilla (continuing her tirade): Well, it’s true. You were with Bralen, who arguably besides my son is into some freaky stuff. Do you still have that whipped cream fetish? (noticing Bralen blush) Anyway, where are my manners? I’m Priscilla Ashland, Peyton’s mother.

Drake (shaking hands with her): I’m Drake Michener. I’m really sorry to have frightened you.

Priscilla: Well, it’s a good thing you’re gay otherwise I’d be all over you since you’re quite hot. (noticing Drake’s surprised expression) Oh, calm down, Boy! As Bralen can tell you, I’m a harmless “cougar” as your generation would call me. (reaching out to touch Drake)

Drake (backing away from her): Uh—excuse me—

Priscilla (moving upon him): I was just going to get you out of your jacket. Don’t look at me that way. You don’t want to smell like a drunken fairy, do you? Here, let me put this jacket in the washer. (pinching his cheeks) You’ll be smelling baby fresh in no time.

Once she had gone down the hall to the washroom, Drake turned to Bralen, his face a concrete expression of shock that read what the hell have I got myself into? Bralen came over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Bralen: You’ve been bitten by the Priscilla bug. Don’t worry. The shock’ll wear off soon.

Drake (still shocked): Wh-Who was that? W-What?

Bralen: She’s more animated now than usual. It’s mostly a cover. Peyton was her only child. I’m sure she’s torn up inside. Anyway, we had better get back to work.

Drake (suddenly remembering his jacket): Holy shit! (rushing down the hall and into laundry room)

Priscilla: What’s all the commotion?

Drake: Uh—Mrs. Ashland, where’s my jacket?

Priscilla: It’s in the washer, Sweetheart. Why are you so alarmed?

Drake: I—uh—

Priscilla: Were you looking for this? (brandishing the DVD case)

Drake (going red in the face): I’m so embarrassed. Thanks for finding my—

Priscilla: This belongs to my Peyton, Sweet Cheeks. (noticing Drake’s face) You didn’t think I knew about his collection. I came across it a few years back when I had a dry spell and needed a quick fix of liquor. Imagine my surprise when I opened the wrong door.

Drake: Mrs. Ashland, there must be some mistake. (reaching for the case, she jerks it away from him) That’s mine.

Priscilla: You’re such a liar. Can’t you see the tag Peyton put on it to categorize it? He was always so precise.

Drake (trying to snatch it from her): Please.

Priscilla: Drake, you’re a married man. What use have you for dirty porn? Does your husband know you have such an addiction?

Drake: You don’t understand.

Priscilla (waving the DVD in front of him, her composure slowly weakening): No, it’s you who don’t understand. I won’t have anyone stealing anything from my son. (beginning to cry) and for the time being, I’m not parting with anything of his. (putting the DVD case into her bosom) Now, how about you go and make me a nice drink? And while you’re at it, tell Bralen he can stop with the packing. (she grasps Drake’s cheeks and pinches them)

Defeated, he walked off in search of Bralen. Once he was gone, Priscilla broke out into sobs.

TRISTAN’S APARTMENT, WEST HOLLYWOOD

Callum was on his way home when he got a call from Tristan. He didn’t answer it but waited until it went to voicemail. It was one message laced with anger, Callum called everything bad in the book. Tristan was upset by the fact that the police had confiscated many of Vittoria’s belongings, many of which were obviously incriminating—the biggest one being the crowbar that magically appeared hidden in her closet. Tristan had immediately known Callum was behind this and launched into a vicious tirade, which culminated in his demand for money in exchange for his silence over Edward’s real paternity. Still on that train, eh? I’ll show you who’s in charge! When Callum got to Tristan’s home, he was met with Heath answering the door.

Callum (seeing his new hairstyle): Jesus! Heath, you look like you stuck your head in the LaBrea Tar Pits. You should know Allison doesn’t hibernate there until winter.

Heath (listlessly): Hi, Callum.

Callum: I was hoping to speak with Tristan.

Heath: He’s not here right now.

Callum (peeking into the apartment): Oh, but Kyle is. (entering the apartment) How’s the investigation going?

Kyle (coming forward): It looks like Vittoria was definitely responsible for the attacks on Chloe and Allison. Her prints were found on another gun in your house, and ballistics show this was the gun that was used to shoot Allison. Plus Justin confessed to her selling him drugs, which corroborates Chloe’s claim. Vittoria must have paid Vladimir Popov, that horseback rider, to incriminate Peyton. Unfortunately, we can’t locate him anywhere. He’s disappeared.

Callum: You said yesterday during the interrogation at the police station that you had shown Peyton Vittoria’s mug shot at the hospital.

Kyle: Yeah, I had foolishly told him that she was my prime suspect, and that the rest of the division thought he was, given how remarkably well Popov had described Peyton as “the shooter in the park.” My guess is Peyton did some investigating of his own, arrived at the same conclusion, and confronted Vittoria at one point or another. Maybe she followed him to your house and then—well, we know what happened next.

Callum: I just want to put all this behind me. It was such a tragedy and to have Peyton die in my arms.

Heath (putting his hand to his mouth): Oh my God!

Callum: So are you and Heath back together?

Kyle (looking at Heath): No, I—uh—was just here following up on the—

Callum: Well, it’s really none of my business.

Kyle (phone ringing and answering): Excuse me. (coming back a few seconds later) I should get going. (to Heath) Why don’t we make that “appointment for lunch” soon?

Heath: Okay, sure.

Callum (once Kyle had left): So he hasn’t been back since the police left?

Heath (staring into space): Who?

Callum: Tristano, the man with whom you’re obsessed. (pause) Heath, is there something wrong? You seem distant.

Heath: I’m just not feeling well. Peyton and Vittoria’s deaths and all, you know. (picking up the remote to distract himself, begins channel surfing)

Callum: Would you stop that? I’m talking to you, Heathcliff. It’s very important I find Tristano.

Heath (dismissively): Just call him. (his expression visibly changing as he looked at the screen)

Callum: Heath, what’s wrong? (his attention now drawn to the television, where Estrella is onscreen being interviewed) Do you know her?

Heath: I know that bitch very well. She’s hitting on Tristan, trying to steal him from me.

Callum (laughing): What have you been drinking?

Heath: I’m telling you the truth. I once walked in on them, having sex right here in this room.

Callum (flabbergasted): I don’t understand. Tristano’s gay.

Heath: Well, that cunt was blackmailing him with something. I don’t know what it’s about, but I walked in on her trying to have sex with him again… this time in the hospital the day after he was pulled from the river. Vittoria and I were so worried about him—she more so than usual.

Callum: What?

Heath: I got the impression they were supposed to meet up somewhere later. She kept calling his cell.

Callum: But you’re absolutely certain that (pointing to the television) was the woman you caught with Tristano?

Heath: I’m absolutely positive. I’d know that skank anywhere. She knows to stay away from my man. I gave her one big greeting in the hospital (turning around to see that Callum had left, the door wide open)

He had elected not to stay for further details of how Heath handled Estrella. He had just found the missing link between her and the scheme to kidnap Edward, and that was all Callum needed to add her to his growing list of betrayers.

THREE DAYS LATER… MORNING, DAY OF PEYTON’S FUNERAL

Talon had just finished his breakfast when Callum came into the kitchen. Talon put down the newspaper and Callum looked at the remnants on his plate.

Callum: Kidneys and toast for breakfast? Are we getting too nostalgic for the homeland?

Talon: I needed protein. (winking) Lord knows I’m not getting any.

Callum: Would you kiss your mum with that mouth?

Talon: No, but you’ll suffice for now (rising from the chair and kissing him). Are you sure you don’t want me to take the day off?

Callum: You just started this week. What impression would that give them?

Talon: Well, I just want to be there for you. I know how much you hate funerals.

Callum: I’ll be fine.

Talon: I’m sorry I haven’t had much time for you. This job has exhausted me like no other.

Callum (sotto voce): That would also be the sleeping pills I’ve put in your evening tea. (aloud) You should save some of your energy.

Talon: I love you.

At that moment, they both heard the doorbell ring. Godfrey soon came into the kitchen.

Callum: Who is it?

Godfrey (dramatically clearing his throat): It’s Mr. Moynihan.

Callum (dropping his teacup, crashes to the floor): Bloody hell!

Talon (managerially): Godfrey, would you clean this? I’ll see to this Mr. Moynihan.

Callum (grabbbing Talon’s arm): No, that won’t be necessary. (to Godfrey) Tell Nathan that I’ll be out shortly. Keep him in the sitting room.

Talon: What’s going on? You look ashen.

Callum (angrily): It’s nothing for you to worry yourself—oww—(having cut his finger)

Talon (doting): Here, let’s clean it. (taking him over to the kitchen sink to place his finger under the water)

It was at that moment Nathan could be heard coming toward them.

Nathan: Callum, are you okay?

Callum (looking like a doe caught in the headlights): Talon.

Talon: Yes?

Callum: I love you. (grasping his head and pulling him in for a kiss, his hands securely latched to keep Talon’s back to Nathan’s entrance)

Nathan (seeing the spectacle): Oh, I’m sorry.

Talon tried to break free for air, but Callum held his head firmly, his tongue working its magic inside Talon’s mouth. Callum’s eyes met those of Nathan’s, whose were filled with absolute surprise. Talon successfully extricated himself from Callum’s grasp, but before he could turn to view their spectator, Callum grabbed Talon’s neck and drew his mouth to it to suck on it. Fortunately, Godfrey arrived in time to escort Nathan away, who took his cue and soon the left the house.

Talon: My God, I love it when you get these unexpected fits of passion. Are you sure you want me to go to work?

Callum (recomposing himself): Yes, consider that a preview for tonight.

Talon (kissing him): Then I anxiously await closing time. (rushing back upstairs)

Godfrey (coming into the kitchen): That was very close.

Callum: Too close for comfort.

Godfrey: Somehow I’m sure Mr. Prescott didn’t mind.

Callum: Has Nathan left?

Godfrey: Yes, I believe he saw more than he expected. It’s just as well that he loses interest in you. It’ll make it easier for you remain focused.

Callum: But Talon still remains a problem.

Godfrey: You’re torn among three men. There’s your devotion to Lord Armitage, your lust for Mr. Prescott, and your growing love for Mr. Moynihan.

Callum: And Gavin would kill me if I ended up with either of them.

Godfrey: Anyway, you should prepare for the memorial service.

Talon soon came into the room, kissed Callum, and left for work.

WEST LOS ANGELES CEMETERY, MID MORNING

Natalie Merchant’s “Life Is Sweet” plays as the sunlight falls onto the graveyard as a small group of mourners have gathered outside. Marble headstones can be seen in the distance, sunbeams reflecting off their surface. Weeping is heard, and handkerchiefs are in full display. The majority of the people present are Outrunners, all wearing the customary color of black so that should one have an aerial view, it would appear as if an ink stain were in implanted in the green. The somber ambience was suddenly punctuated by mild laughter as Priscilla made a remark that the only man she and Peyton loved equally—besides his late father—was Jack Daniels. She spoke of sensing from a young age that something was different about her boy, partially blaming his homosexuality on the numerous trips they would take to see Broadway musicals every year.

She had on a smoothly flowing black frock that billowed in the breeze that blew through, temporarily relieving everyone from the stifling heat of the August day. Allison next spoke of Peyton as a man who was of honorable stature in the medical field, admired by his colleagues, and was generous in volunteering his time and treasure to worthy causes. It was here that Priscilla interrupted Allison—in a rather gauche manner—to reference that she would be devoting a decent portion of Peyton’s bequest to Outrunners and many other LGBT organizations that were dear to Peyton’s heart.

Bralen next gave a eulogy about how he and Peyton were childhood buds who always got into trouble whether it was for stealing cookies or getting caught going through Mrs. Ashland’s lingerie. Everyone in the audience laughed at that, some indubitably imagining the boys trying on the garments. Drake was laughing so hard he didn’t see Priscilla slither beside him, her lips brushing against his ears.

Priscilla (whispering): I once caught them looking through my late husband’s dirty mags.

Drake (smelling the liquor on her breath): Mrs. Ashland?

Priscilla (looping her arm in his): Come with me. We don’t need to hear the rest of this. It’s all recycled from one person to the next.

Drake: I-I don’t think—

Priscilla: Let’s not make a scene, Sweet Cheeks! (her hand dipping into her purse to pull out the tip of the DVD)

Drake (shocked and moving with her a few yards away): You brought that here!

Priscilla: For the past few days, you’ve been all kind to this old broad, and I got to thinking it must be something you want—and it ain’t what’s between these legs. I know you had wanted this (gesturing to the purse) but I didn’t know why until last night.

Drake (his eyes bulging): You didn’t?

Priscilla (a Cheshire grin on her face): Does your hubby know you can get really nasty with a roomful of men?

Drake would have fainted had it not been a shocking distraction that drew everyone’s attention.

ONE HOUR EARLIER… CALLUM’S HOUSE, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES

Callum had been rather uneasy since the whole Talon/Nathan debacle. He calmed down, changed into designer clothing befitting the occasion, and was about to leave the house when Godfrey met him at the door, holding Edward in his arms. Callum automatically kissed the baby, tears coming to his eyes as he did so, and he then turned the knob of the door, sunlight coming into the house.

Godfrey: I took the liberty of dressing him.

Callum (turning around, sniffling): Pardon?

Godfrey (gesturing to Edward dressed in black): I thought you might want to take him. It is after all his father’s funeral.

Callum (giving a sigh of reluctance): Where’s Inga? I’m already running late.

Godfrey: She’s too distraught to go.

Callum: She didn’t really care for Peyton.

Godfrey: It was too much for her to see his dead body when she came to get Edward after Mr. Prescott had snatched him away from her last Sunday. (pause) I thought I might accompany you so that I could look after Edward and likewise pay my final respects.

Owing to this late development, they arrived at the service very late, catching the ending of the formal memorial within the church. When they filed out the church, Callum stopped Priscilla as she was coming down the steps.

Callum: Mrs. Ashland, my name is Callum Sutcliffe.

Priscilla: I know about you. I read that you were with my son when he died.

Callum: I am so sorry for your loss. Peyton was an exceptional man.

Priscilla: Thank you. Did you know my son well?

Callum: Pardon?

Priscilla (moving closer to his face): Mr. Sutcliffe, my son was a gay man in Los Angeles. I never know if every man I speak with is a former flame, a platonic friend, or his fuck buddy from last week. (her attention suddenly distracted by the baby in Godfrey’s arms, her finger lovingly brushing his little cheek) And who is this little angel?

Callum: That would be my son Edward Armitage.

Priscilla (sighing): I guess I won’t get the luxury of being a doting grandmother. Peyton was my only child. I figured that was the end when Peyton told me he was into men.

At that moment, Priscilla was pulled away to rejoin the procession on their way to the cemetery. Callum exchanged a brief look with Godfrey, reading his mind that Priscilla had just met her grandchild.

Callum (once Priscilla was out of earshot): She’s a charming woman, but now I know the origin of Peyton’s bibulous addictions. Did you smell her? It was a like battle between Jack Daniels and Estee Lauder with the former clearly winning.

Callum and Godfrey followed the procession to the burial site and remained at the far end of the mourning throng away from everyone. Callum much preferred the distance, and he didn’t want to start anything since he had seen Chloe and Allison. Everybody began saying their graveside remarks about Peyton, getting different reactions that ranged from laughter to audible sobs. Callum watched and listened from afar, thinking of how his life had changed due to Peyton. When I first met him, he genuinely wanted to help me through my own grief. Losing Gavin had been so hard on me, and Peyton only desired for me to come out of therapy a stronger person. This is a funeral, not a wedding. I can’t hold my peace.

Callum motioned through the crowd to get to the speaker’s location. He saw several Outrunners gasping and reacting to his presence at the service. He saw Kyle’s hand tighten on Allison’s arm, her eyes suddenly burning red.

Callum: Many of you know me. My name is Callum. I was with Peyton when—(choking on a sob that escaped his mouth). Excuse me. I was going to remain silent about the man who was the epitome of charity. I knew him for just one year, and he only desired the best for me.

Allison (shouting): And you gave him the worst of you!

Callum (ignoring her as Kyle restrained her and whispered something into her ear): He saw me through the darkest time of my life when I lost my husband. If I had known that one year later—

Allison (breaking free of Kyle): That you would kill him!

Callum (crying): Allison, please! Let’s not do this here. I loved Peyton.

Allison: Is that why you were blackmailing him?

Callum (wiping away tears): Now is not the time for this.

Allison (shrugging off Kyle): How dare you come here! You have no right being here.

Callum: He died in my arms!

Allison: It should have been the other way around. You should be the one being put into the ground.

Kyle (amid the gasps of the crowd): Allison, come on. You’ve said enough.

Allison: He would still be with us if it weren’t for you, Callum. Everyone needs protection from you. (looking to the sky) I promise you, Peyton, wherever you are that I’ll make him pay.

Callum: That’s enough, Allison! I understand you’re grieving like the rest of us, but you shouldn’t use Peyton’s memorial service as a platform for revenge. And as for protection, the one who needed it most was my son Edward, who was kidnapped by your chemically unbalanced partner. (speaking to the crowd) Did you know that Peyton was there by my side, giving me support during that trying time? And just where were you, Allison? (aggressively approaching her) Oh yeah, that’s right, you were in Britain trying to dig up dirt on me.

Allison: And I found some.

Callum: Yeah, and whilst you were finding it—(under his breath just so that Allison can hear) Estrella was finding her way to Chloe’s clit.

Allison threw him a wild punch, knocking him back into the floral arrangements that consequently fell into the pit where Peyton was to be laid to rest. Callum regained his balance, looking at the startled crowd before him as he wiped his lip.

Callum: My word, Allison. You’re getting good with your right hand hook. Clearly you’ve been drinking some of Bralen’s juice. (moving closer to her) But you should take your jealousy up with Estrella. She was able to find something you had been in search of for many years.

Allison shoved him away with all the force in her body, and he fell into the pit, his lone scream echoing for the short distance before his body hit the bottom. She then saw a shovel nearby, seized it, and hit at Callum as he tried to climb from the hole. Kyle grabbed her, apprehending the shovel as Nathan rushed forward to help Callum out the hole.

Allison (pointing her finger at him, tears flowing down her face, screaming): You bastard! You’re responsible for this! Peyton’s dead because of you, and I swear to you on his soul that you will pay for this! You may consider it child’s play, but this is war!

TO BE CONTINUED…