CHAPTER 63: PRECINCT BLUES 5- GOTCHA! AND REMEMBER THAT OLD ADAGE ABOUT DESPERATION Part 2, LOSING TO WIN and WHEN SOCIOPATHS COLLIDE

CYNTHIA:

I arrived here just as the previous meeting was finishing up. I couldn’t help but notice the Chester Cheetah grin on the face of the man leaving. I was informed just who, and what he was, and why he was basically floating on cloud nine. I wonder how he’ll feel later when he not only checks his bank account, but his remaining employee roster. As I sat looking over the transfer of ownership that should have been filed with the courts by now courtesy of Daphne, I have to admit that Harry, Mel, and Janean, with the incomparable help of Brian and Justin, have fucked that idiot without lube and a ‘thank you for offering your ass’. Justin was brilliant to remind them to include a waiver to the cooling off period all standard contracts have, which both parties have signed. Without it, Harry could still be held responsible for what Herkowitz is doing by taking clients contrary to the firm’s former branch of law. Justin Taylor-Kinney never ceases to amaze me! Now any lawsuits that come forward are all the sole responsibility of Mark Herkowitz, including any regarding misrepresentation predating from yesterday. It’s funny that even being an attorney of some note, he followed Michael’s rule of thumb: in anxiousness, never read anything especially the fine print.

“Okay, so everything else is settled, guys. But…”

“But what else is there?” Justin asks. “As soon as this interview is over, we’ll be heading out.”

“Well, Emmett called a little while ago during the meeting with Leo Brown. He and Brandon overheard a conversation between co-conspirators Gardner, Troy, and Eric…”

“So Eric is working with them?” Brian says, giving Justin the stink eye.

“We always knew there was a possibility, Brian, so no need for that look,” Justin huffs. “The real question is: do we mention Gardner’s real reason for hiring Troy? And if so, how do we do it without incurring a defamation of character lawsuit?”

I’m silent for a moment, thinking about how much we should disclose in the whole Stockwell situation. “In terms of Troy’s employment, we know that, on paper, he’s qualified to hold the position he has now. The rest could be looked upon as speculation and conjecture.”

“Even if it’s by his own admission?” Brian asks, turning to Melanie, as she, Harry and Jenean look over the original confidentiality clause Brian had to sign while working on that accursed account.

“Even then. He’s already been proven an opportunistic liar, with a talent for making himself out to be the victim when he’s anything but. He kinda reminds me of Lindsay.” Mel shudders.

“That’s understandable, since they’re related,” Justin says.

“What? How? And how do you know that?”

“They are cousins through Nancy’s bloodline. Her sister, Margaret, who is Troy’s mother, was the one who introduced the Petersons into Pittsburgh society once they relocated from New York after Ron left Merrill Lynch. They weren’t wildly popular, except because of Lindsay’s antics,” he answers.

“Hmm… do you think we should include Ron and Nancy in this interview, then?” Brian asks.

“No. If they want to have a press conference to address their daughter’s mess, they need to schedule their own,” Justin states, adamantly. I feel the need to interject here, though.

“But Justin, since this issue is widespread, and Lindsay’s been involved while implicating her father in your bashing even though now we really know it was Craig she was covering for, perhaps they should be invited to participate. Otherwise, they could say anything they wanted, which could cause confusion with the public, and we wouldn’t have the opportunity to control the outcome. By having them here, Mel will be able to run interference when necessary so that none of the cases are compromised by giving out too much information.”

He seems to mull it over in his mind for a few moments. I really admire that about him. It’s almost like he plays both sides of the situation, while figuring out every angle both for and against his own argument. “Okay, but I would like a word with Ronald in private first. He needs to understand that while we are willing to let him state his innocence publicly, this will NOT become the ‘Free the Petersons from High Society Suicide Show’. There will be no victim playacting on Nancy’s part. If there is, I’ll have no fucking qualms shutting this shit down immediately.”

I can’t help but be taken aback by his vehemence. It’s very rare that I’ve ever heard Justin as anything but reserved, but in all honesty, it’s been happening more and more of late. I suppose if people were constantly fucking with my life, and ultimately trying to destroy me and the person I loved, I would have run out of patience, too. I would be worried about Justin’s mental wellbeing except that Brian seems to be enjoying everyone else’s discomfiture whenever Justin kills another preconceived stereotype based on his unassuming looks. I remember Brian telling me once not to let the let the angelic looks mislead me into thinking that Justin was harmless. Given what Mel has told me about Justin’s explosive temper, and Daphne’s firsthand account of the numerous run-ins with Christopher Hobbs prior to the incident at the Prom, I’m beginning to understand exactly what Brian meant.

For me, it was never a question of what Brian saw in the young blond man, but what he didn’t. Although, thanks to Justin’s upbringing, there was no doubt of his gifts of manipulation and subterfuge since it, no doubt, goes with the territory of the Country Club set. That world has always been a high class version of survival of the fittest, where cuts given with a tongue could be far sharper and more harmful than any knife- a world I remember all too well since I was born into it as well. But the difference between Lindsay and Justin is that whereas the former would strike first, thereby losing the advantage, the latter would wait for the most opportune moment to inflict the most damage.

As for his comparison to Michael in the manipulation department... well, I suspect by the end of this interview there will be no way for the idiot to come back from the tsunami the simple truth being exposed will cause in Michael’s little world. If that little cretin was half the intelligent man he thought he was, he would have realized that he was fighting a battle for Brian that he could never win. Even if my boss wasn’t with Justin, there was no way in Satan’s drawers that Brian would have ever considered Michael as anything but an annoying little brother, if that. Which brings me back to the subject of siblings...

“What about Lynette? Shouldn’t we also include her in the warning to Ron Peterson?” I ask.

Justin shakes his head. “No. Lynette could give two rotten, bullshit hells about the mess Lindsay has gotten herself into, and has said as much numerous times. Besides, she’s incredibly happy and has nothing to lose or gain by not commenting on Lindsay’s actions, which is yet another thing that chaps Lindsay’s ass. Her husband holds more power within the country club set than the Petersons ever had or wanted. At least that’s always been true for Ron, but I’m no longer so sure about Nancy. Although Nancy talks a good game when it’s just her and Ronald addressing Lindsay, there’s no telling what she will do when there is a camera and national notoriety involved. I have no doubt that she will try to make Lindsay’s inherent vindictiveness and greed into some kind of mental illness so that the public can excuse Lindsay’s misdeeds away.”

“Humph, reminds me of what Deb has done all of Michael’s life, without the whole mental illness schtick,” Brian comments.

“Exactly,” Justin concurs. “Blame everything and everyone but the person really old enough and stable enough to know better. I won’t let Nancy’s need to ease her own conscience about the true nature of the bitch she birthed sacrifice an entire population of people who really do need the help. So Ron can either agree to my terms or he can fuck off and try to do damage control to his family’s reputation without our help.”

“Anyway, Brandon went to Horvath, Carver, and the D.A. with video of the meeting, which included audio. We should hear what they decide to do with the recording soon,” I inform them.

“Does that mean there’s a possibility we have to stay here?” Brian asks. I swear, I can almost hear a bit of whine in his voice. I know he’s been looking forward to getting out of here, not that I blame him. We all need a break from the bullshit here.

“I’m not exactly sure what it means, except that Justin’s redecorating plans may have to wait a little while longer.”

“Well we could always visit Thorne Industries, along with Jared and Josiah. I know we had planned to before coming back to the Pitts,” Justin suggests.

Before Brian has a chance to answer, we’re interrupted by the doorbell, which catches all of us off guard to some degree. The two chosen reporters aren’t due here for another half an hour, so we’re wondering who it could possibly be. I wave Brian and Justin back to their seats, and move along to answer the door. In case it is a reporter, I don’t want the guys to be caught off guard in any way. Thankfully, it’s Daphne, Ted, and Dale in the company of another young woman.

“Hey Cyn, we thought the guys could use some moral support. But more than that, a couple of friends of theirs also sent some,” Daphne says as she moves into the house, smiling.

I turn my attention to Ted before responding. I can’t help but notice his sudden reticence. “Uh, Ted, what’s wrong with you? Why are you tense all of a sudden?”

Dale snickers, as Ted’s blush creeps up his cheeks. “No reason, I uh…”

I hear a deep chuckle behind me, and know automatically who it belongs to. “Ted, let’s leave the nelly bottom bullshit to Emmett, shall we? Now get in here, we have the matter of Brown Athletics to discuss before the vultures descend on me and Justin,” Brian says, barely holding himself together. And yeah, I’ll be getting to the bottom of that little exchange later.

They move into the living room as Daphne shoots me a puzzled look. I shake my head at her, acknowledging that I have no idea what that was about either. Turning my attention back to the newcomer, I take note of the expensive forrest green pant suit, which compliments her completely. Confidence and grace exudes off of her in a way I have only encountered when dealing with Justin and Jennifer Taylor. I even notice that Daphne is affecting that same borderline-arrogant tilt of her head, which is something that I would know anywhere since I was also raised in that world, even if I would rather forget. I raise an eyebrow and straighten my own spine just that fraction, which lets them both know they’re not dealing with an amateur in WASP either. “Daphne?”

“Cynthia Moore, I’d like you to meet Karen Jenkins,” Daphne says, all proper in tone.

“It’s nice to meet you, but uh…”

Karen smiles, and I can’t help but notice just how attractive she is. The twinkling green gaze is covered momentarily by her shining red bangs as she ducks her head for a moment. At first, I think she’s laughing at me, until she speaks. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I think you should just call me Jinx, though. Besides, keeping this ramrod straight posture is irking my nerves right now, and I suspect that we’ll all have to be battle ready to sting some asses in a bit.”

I laugh along with her and Daphne, before asking, “So what brings you here?”

“I spoke with Jared and Josiah. They thought you two should have backup. This is a shitstorm of grand proportions, and since Lance Freeman was on our payroll…”

“Ah, part of covering Thorne’s ass.”

“It’s been my job for many years to do just that, but this time it’s about covering Brian and Justin’s. I haven’t officially met them yet, but my bosses have taken a real liking to them. They figured that lending support personally will give credence to whatever it is they are going to say. Love it or hate it, when Thorne speaks, people listen and listen well. They would be fools not to.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what about them causes that kind of loyalty? I mean, I know them personally so…”

“Off the record, it’s their story. It plucked many chords with Jared and Josiah. The second thing is that they promise less, but deliver more. Justin sent the preliminary boards to Thorne before I got on a plane this afternoon, even though we weren’t expecting them until next week sometime. It spoke volumes about the character of the CEOs of Kinnetik. Not only that, but the clips that Brian sent of that girl- that Marta Cuthberth- was a runaway hit already, and that was just within the office. A few people within the company are familiar with her music, so that was plus. Just based on her YouTube vid of Hark of the Bells, she’s perfect for the Heirloom Christmas campaign, but we would probably want to work with SAG/AFTRA dancers in addition to the ones she used in the video. We believe in exposing talent, and those young ladies deserve to be discovered. By the way, presenting her and the fragrance as a dual campaign is something Jared wouldn’t have ever even thought of; it’s genius! So it shows that Brian and Justin are innovative, creative, talented, and honest, with just the barest hint of self-assured arrogance, which makes people want to put their complete confidence in them, Those are all qualities that Thorne values in both his business associates and we precious few he considers his friends.”

“It’s why Daphne and I have no problem watching their backs constantly. Brian and Justin are top quality people, as well as employers. Consequently, it also makes the bottom-feeders hungry to take a bite out of them. I suspect you have the same issue when it comes to guarding Jared, and therefore, Josiah.”

She nods, and then laughs. “Remind me to tell you about Bimbo Bosom sometime.”

“Bimbo Bosom?” Daphne snickers.

“That’s what I called her. She’s a lot like what I heard about Lindsay Peterson during my investigation.”

It’s my turn to laugh then. “Jinx, trust me when I tell you, that will require a gallon of Mai Tais.”

“I imagine it would. Oh, and before I forget, I’ve invited someone else upon Jared and Josiah’s request. They thought since this story has already gone national that Brian and Justin should make the most of getting it out there. I know Jane Markell from the NYT is scheduled to arrive here within the next hour, but…”

“But?” Both Daphne and I ask at the same time.

“I called in a favor, and Jessica Lynn Mayer jumped at the chance to do this story.”

“Oh my God,” I whisper.

“Why does that name ring a bell?” Daphne asks, wonderingly.

“She’s the current Editor-in-Chief of Time magazine. It’s also fortuitous that she hails from this great city, so she already knows most of the main players. So she’ll be able to give a fact-based history lesson into the former police chief’s sordid legacy. She also wants to include the team behind the men. She feels that your views on the story as a whole is just as integral to the story as Brian and Justin’s. In fact, she’s dedicating an entire special issue, and is willing to hold off on printing it until the verdicts on Stockwell and his cohorts are reached,” Jinx says.

I suddenly feel a bit lightheaded. Daphne is basically vibrating with excitement over this news.

“So we have that mess taken care of. What’s next on the agenda?”

“The interview this evening.”

DARIS:

Walking into the interrogation room, I almost laugh aloud at who they chose as their attorney. He’s sitting there with a smirk he’s doing his utmost to hide, but Mark Herkowitz can’t fool me. “Does Donaldson know you’ve taken this particular case?” I ask, because I know that he would never agree to it; not only due to the conflict of interest, but because he believes in fairness. And the Hobbs family is everything Harry Donaldson is against.

“Harry is no longer with the firm,” he says, smirking fully now. “In fact, we just signed off on the deal, stating that as fact.”

“So now your firm will be representing criminals?” I ask snidely, not bothering to hide my feelings on it.

“My client is innocent until proven guilty.”

“Not really, but I’ll let you live in your delusion until you get to court.”

“That’s fine, since the burden of proof is always on the prosecution.”

“Which with Hobbs record of harassment, laden with eyewitness accounts, and a very public threat on Liberty Avenue before the attempted murder of Justin Taylor, should be easy.”

“That’s just hearsay and conjecture,” Mark says, brushing off what I’ve said.

“It’s fact.”

“We’re here to make a deal.”

“There isn’t going to be one,” I tell him, pleasure coloring my voice.

“What do you mean, ‘there isn’t going to be one’? That’s how this is supposed to work. Even you arresting him, and talking about this case is violating the law in terms of Double Jeopardy...”

“Not in this case. You see, your client was mischarged with simple assault from the onset. The fact is that had Justin Taylor been a heterosexual male, Christopher Hobbs would have been charged correctly with attempted murder. Five hundred hours of community service is not going to cut it, especially since the judge on record is being indicted on numerous counts, including bribery, violation of the 14th Amendment, misapplying the law, and misconduct. And those are just the charges pertaining to this particular case. There are other charges, of course, but I can’t disclose those due to privacy issues even if it’s about to become a matter of public record. I would suggest you prepare your defense adequately. I’m sure Christopher has a lot to explain.” I look over at the young man, whose initially smug countenance has now changed to one of fear and abject horror. Good!

“What do you have?” Mark asks me.

“Plenty, but I think we should share that information away from your client so he can find a way to answer you with the truth, for a change. But I will say that no completely het male would passively allow a hand job from a gay one without stopping him before he came. The fact that Christopher didn’t, speaks volumes, don’t you think?”

“I didn’t want it!” Hobbs explodes.

“Didn’t want what? Didn’t want his hand there? Didn’t enjoy Justin jerking you off while you were finding your own personal nirvana? What? Or is it that you wanted it a little too much; so much that you couldn’t leave him alone afterwards?” I can see that I hit the issue right on the head with that last suggestion. The glazing of his eyes, and sudden flaring of his nostrils speak of the arousal he’s feeling while mentally reliving the moment, however brief it was.

“I didn’t,” he states, quietly.

“Didn’t what?” I ask, noticing him fidgeting in his chair. It’s definitely a question he doesn’t want to answer, and I have no doubt left as to the reason why.

“I think we’re through here for the interim,” Mark interrupts, hurriedly. “Since there isn’t going to be a deal for my client going forward, I’ll see you in court.”

“No problem,” I respond, nonchalantly. “Just call my secretary when you would like to pick up the transcripts with all necessary documentation for your case. You’ll certainly need it.”

He looks at me, surprised. “Why not you, directly?”

“Other than already feeling like I need a scalding shower being in the room with you two slimeballs, I have other matters to attend to on several other cases semi-related to this one. I’ll have my secretary and one of the officers make the evidence records available to you, Herkowitz. Just be advised that they will be with you the entire time, after all we wouldn’t want anything to miraculously disappear, now would we?”

He rolls his eyes and turns away, but not before I see the tell-tale blush creep along his cheeks. Yeah, I know men like Herkowitz, men who will do anything to get their clients off for the crimes they’ve committed. I’ve been around this game of cat-and-mouse far too long to leave anything to chance, especially when it comes to the attorneys representing the elite.

“I’ll be in touch within the week,” he says.

“Do that. We’ll be moving forward with this case as soon as possible,” I say, watching as an officer meets them at the door to escort Hobbs to his cell in the Allegheny Correctional Facility where he will be until his trial. And if I have my way, for the next fifteen years.

MICHAEL:

I can’t believe they didn’t even let me say anything to defend myself. My lawyer told me it was just the official indictment, followed by the jury selection. He’s still there now, and I’m still pissed. One good thing came out of the day though. Even though I was ordered to keep my eyes facing forward, I was able to glimpse Ma there. Thank goodness she’s still on my side. It would have been better if Brian was there, though. Oh, I know that he has to play it up with Boy Wonder until I get out of this mess, but he still should have been there! I mean, I’m more important to him than some blond, brain-damaged boy ass! As soon as I get out of here, Brian and I are going to have words, and then we will go on with my plans for us to spend the rest of our lives living it up in Palm Springs. He owes me at least that much, and I plan to collect.

“By that dreamy look on your face, you’re back to indulging in your delusions, I see,” Bubble sneers at me.

“My thoughts are my own, and I would appreciate it if you’d leave me to them,” I answer him, already cringing at the pain I know is not going to be long in coming. I can’t wait to get to court and tell them all about how they kept me locked in here with an abusive cellmate. Hopefully that bitch of a warden will lose her job!

“Did you really just say that aloud?” he asks, as if talking to the air.

“What?”

“That you can’t wait to get to court and tell them all about me abusing you, and that you hope the bitch of a warden loses her job? Well let me disabuse you of yet another one of your fantasies. The warden is not going to lose her job, especially if you can’t talk or write. Which if you speak to me the way you just did again, I’ll be happy to crush your your larynx and break the fingers on both hands. Can you write with your toes?” he asks me, smiling.

I can’t help the involuntary shiver that wracked my body as his words created a visual I certainly don’t want. I’m so fucking tired of this place. It’s not that I thought prison was anything like the porn I favored watching; I just thought it would be somehow more decent than these living conditions. I shouldn’t be subjected to criminals like Bubble and Bubba, who every time he sees me, makes some snide comment. It’s fucking abusive! Maybe a letter to the Commissioner or something, letting them know of the conditions, would get the officers to stop letting innocent prisoners like me get beat up.

He laughs. “Yeah, you’re innocent, alright. Innocent of being smart.”

“What?”

“You really should learn to contain that stupidity leak, you have. Apparently, when your brain is so full of the sludge you think, it comes out of your mouth without your knowledge. Just shut up, and that includes the hole in your brain before I’m tempted to almost drown the assholeness out of you… again.”

I go to sit on my bunk, grateful when he leaves the cell when the officer comes to tell him his appointment is here. I can’t wait for Howard Bellweather to arrive, since I plan on telling him not only the real story of me and Brian, and finally letting the world know what kind of asshole Justin is, but telling him of my current living situation. Perhaps an expose of what goes on here will make them finally change my cell, or at the very least, my cellmate.

I sit on my bunk, and start making a list of all the things I want to talk about.

DEB:

I walk back into Alex and Stephen’s house, considering the day’s events. I know that I have been a real bitch to Brian, Justin, Em, and Ted- I know that. But I didn’t really understand how I was at the time. Sitting there, hearing all of the charges levied against Michael, really put things into perspective for me in a way that people telling me what he’s done hadn’t before accomplished. My son has… I want to say problems, but that seems to be such a tame word. Problems can be fixed, but this shit with Michael? Well there’s just no way! I have to face the fact that no matter what, Michael will be going to jail. But more importantly, I have to get on with the business of building a life for myself beyond it. The first thing I have to do though is apologize.

I hear the voices of laughter coming from the kitchen, and realize that all of the guys are home. I guess whatever hairy situation with tomorrow’s event that Em and Vic were facing before has finally been worked out. I walk in there to see the kitchen island covered in flour as Vic stands there kneading dough, while on the other counter, Emmett and Stephen are slicing huge sections of the cake away. I still find it hard to believe that my brother has managed to crawl of his self-imposed deathbed to redesign his life in such a way where he smiles and laughs like he doesn’t have something coursing through his blood, trying to kill him. It brings tears to my eyes to realize this, but more than that, it gives me hope that I can do the same.

As I step further into the kitchen, all conversation stops, as does all action. I wonder if it’s just my presence or the fact that I don’t know what to say to make them stop looking at me the way they are doing. Vic, Rodney, and Emmett are frowning, while both Alex and Stephen both have questions in their eyes. I don’t know if Vic and Rodney told them of the confrontation a few days ago. Since then, I’ve just been keeping a low profile, not wanting to cross anyone’s boundaries. I understand what Rodney yelled at me even moreso now than I did before.

I have a tendency to want to- to feel that I have the right to- know everything going on around me just so I can have an opinion about it, or to feel included when really it’s none of my business. I guess it comes from always feeling like I’ve had no control over the events and decisions regarding my own life. I mean, I had to have Michael due to the tenets of my Catholicism. I had to leave home when my parents kicked me out. I had to put all of my hopes and dreams out of my mind because I was a single parent.

It always seemed like I was forced to make the best out of less than ideal situations, instead of making a solid decision for myself and going from there. But then again, I guess I did make a decision to just simply let life happen to me instead of taking control of it when I could have, and then encouraged other people to do the same. Or more accurately, I tried to control their reactions to their situations, then got angry with them when they didn’t do what I would have done if I was in their shoes. To put it in plainer terms, when life handed me lemons, instead of making lemonade, I inhaled the chronically bitter taste of the peel.

The only time I felt marginally better about my own life full of inaction was when someone was suffering right along with me, or when a person didn’t follow my sage advice and ended worse off for not doing so. It’s funny that I’ve spent my life preaching about human rights and equality, but in reality, I’ve never really applied the theory to anyone else but my asshole son. He was taught to be free to do what he wants, while I subjugated all of his friends by threatening to withhold my affection if they didn’t put all their own aspirations on hold to make Michael happy. I owe them each an apology and so much more!

“Is there something you need, Deb?” Alex asks me, stepping forward.

“Yes. First, I need to apologize to Emmett, and the rest of the guys. Especially Brian and Justin. I sat in that courtroom today, during the indictment hearing for Michael…”

“I thought we agreed that it was not a good move for you to go to that,” Stephen says, and I nod.

“We did. But I had to go- to know- just what Michael had done.”

“And what did you find out?” Rodney asks.

“That I really didn’t want to know. That I should have listened when you all told me that I needed to leave Michael to his fate… that he… that he is so much worse than what I imagined.” I closed my eyes, letting the tears I’ve been holding back finally fall before opening them to face the men in this kitchen again. “I didn’t want to believe he was a total asshole. I just wanted to believe that he was misunderstood, or that I didn’t give him the attention he needed, but…”

“But?” Emmett asks, curious and pissed all at the same time.

“Oh Emmett, but hearing the reality of what he’s done, and seeing the… the SMIRK as they listed all of his charges. I’m really sorry. I was selfish, and fucking cruel, and… and…” I can’t even finish, I’m so upset.

“I’m not going to absolve you if that’s what you’re looking for me to do,” he says, and as the others exclaim at his uncharacteristic lack of compassion for me, he continues. “But I suppose it’s a start, at least from me. The fact that you can stand here and acknowledge that Michael isn’t the man you thought you raised, is a start. I’m not saying that the others will feel the same, nor am I ready to have anything to do with you again beyond this moment or in the presence of these guys, but I accept your apology. It’s the most I can do right now.”

“It’s enough,” I tell him, once again understanding how badly I fucked up. Emmett is the most tender and open-hearted of them all; the most forgiving man I’ve ever met. I know I’ve got a long way to go with him, and even moreso with the rest of them.

“You said ‘first’, so I assume there’s something else you wanted to discuss, Deb?” Alex asks me, handing me a tissue.

I wipe my eyes, and feel at peace with the next thing I’ve been thinking about. “Yeah, I want to sell my house, immediately. I don’t care if I run the risk of it being a short sale, I just want it gone along with any memories I have of the son I never really knew.”

“That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?” Rodney asks. “It’s just that it was the first place to call your own, and you’ve worked all your life to maintain the place. Shouldn’t you want to make a profit from it?”

I shake my head. “Right now, I feel like I’ve sold my soul for it.”

“Be that as it may, it’s still your house, which you’ve worked hard for,” he says. “You should get full value for it.”

“The only person I know who would fight for me to get full value on it isn’t speaking to me.”

“That’s true. Jennifer is about as forgiving as Justin where you’re concerned, and I can’t blame her.” Vic says. “I can’t help but wonder if this change of heart isn’t just because it’s become clear to you that no matter what you do, Michael is going to jail.”

“I won’t lie, so yes, that has a large part to do with it. But there’s more to it than that, Vic. Did you know that he’s also being charged as an accessory to the loft robbery, AND Justin’s bashing?” I hear the collective gasp from everyone but Alex. “You knew, didn’t you?”

He nods. “Yes, I did, but I couldn’t and still can’t talk about it since I’m under a court order. I was called in as a consultant for specific evaluations, and can’t even tell my partner what I know. Even though he is usually the person who helps me process my own jumbled thoughts and put things into their proper perspective.”

Although part of me is fighting to get the answers at all costs, I nod my head, understanding what he’s really telling me. If he discloses anything that isn’t a matter of public record already, it would jeopardize his license. And I wouldn’t want that; not with how good he and Stephen have been to me already. “I get it, Alex, I really do. It hurts, but I understand why you couldn’t say anything.”

“I think I have a way for you to offload the house using Jennifer, but without you having to deal with her directly,” Vic suggests.

“I don’t mind seeing Jenn. This is business,” I say, even though I’m not so sure it’s a good idea.

“That’s true, it is. But why tempt yourself above which you’re able to stand?” I look at him, puzzled why he would use that particular phrasing. It’s something our parents used to say all the time. “The bottom line is, even with all your newfound remorse and realizations, you’ll still want to plead your case to her. I don’t know that she’s ready to deal with you, business or otherwise, just yet.”

“Bullshit. Jennifer’s a consummate professional,” I defend.

“True, but she’s also the mother and mother-in-law to the men you’ve metaphorically crapped on. I can guarantee that if you were in her position, you wouldn’t be so quick not to retaliate, either. I mean, look what’s been happening just since all of this began. You’ve been a veritable mama bear, even knowing that Michael was less than innocent. What do you think she’ll be like knowing that your son was culpable in trying to kill hers?”

When put like that, I can’t say that I don’t see Vic’s point. Once again, it’s brought home to me just how much I’ve scorched some bridges; I’m just hoping they all haven’t been completely burned yet. “Fine, Vic. I’ll sign the house over to you to do what needs to be done. But can you start the process today?”

“Yes, I can, but why the rush?”

“The trials are going to start soon, and it’s no secret where I live… lived. All it would take is someone Michael pissed off, or especially Michael himself, telling the press where I live.”

“She’s right,” Emmett agrees. “We all know that he’s going to be glued to something besides comics for once in his life. Michael lives for the attention, and the news coverage- both tv and newspaper- is going to have him skeeting in satisfaction all over himself. At base, that’s what what this is all about. He wanted Brian’s undivided attention, but Justin got in his way. This will somehow fulfill his need to be relevant.”

I want to argue on Michael’s behalf, but I can’t. Not because it would negate all the progress I’m making within my own mind, but because Emmett’s right. And I’m pissed at myself for buying into his fantasies so much that I’ve lost everything, especially my self-respect. The guilt is crushing as I again think about all I’ve done, but I can’t wallow in it.

“Maybe if Deb asks you to act as the intermediary instead of signing over her house to you, that would work faster. If we do it with her signing over the house, you’ll have to wait the customary thirty days for the paperwork through the courts for transfer of ownership,” Stephen suggests.

“That could work. Let me call her, and see what she thinks,” Vic says. And after about a ten minute conversation, Vic has made arrangements along with Emmett and Rodney to meet at the current residence of Brian, Justin, and Mel. I was surprised to find out they were living only a few blocks from here. I wonder why I haven’t seen them.

“Don’t even think about it,” Emmett says.

“What?” I ask, as he stares at me.

“You know what,” he grits out, as I feel my cheeks flame as if he’s just slapped me. “If they want to see you, they will let YOU know. Don’t even think to try to force your way into their lives again. As I’ve said, I won’t speak for them, but that also means I won’t take their choices away from them, either. So you can just get the thought of popping up right out of that wig of yours. Whereas we have a standing invitation, you don’t.”

“Emmett…” I begin, but he cuts me off.

“No. Part of the problem is that unlike the devil, and vampires, you don’t wait to be invited in. You think just by showing up, all should be as it you want it within your mind. Well not this time, Debra Jane Novotny- or Grassi or Shangri-la or whomever else you want to be this week. You don’t get to make the decision for accepting your presence without their permission. They’ve earned that.”

I hang my head at his scolding, especially since that’s exactly what I was thinking to do. “Will you at least tell them I want to apologize for my part in the mess they’re going through?”

“I’ll tell them, but that’s all,” he agrees.

And once again, I have to accept that it’s enough.

BEN:

I arrive at the house Justin, Brian, and Mel are sharing. Mel and Janean said that they needed to see me, but also said that they wanted Hunter and I to stick around for the interview. When I told Hunter, James and Glenda decided to tag along. As I was let in by Cynthia, Glenda made her way to the kitchen. Brian’s penchant for take out is well known, and it stands to reason that with everything that’s been going on, neither of occupants have been eating any home-cooked meals lately.

I follow her into the kitchen where Mel is sitting at the table with Janean, who is taking her turn at feeding Gus. He looks up and smiles at me, looking like Brian. My heart always skips a beat when he does that. In a perfect world, I would have been able to father my own. But then I look over at Hunter, my son in every way that matters, and it suddenly doesn’t seem so important that I can’t anymore. I rescue Gus from his highchair, much to his delight, and toss him into the air. Yes, I might get puked on, but it’s a small price to pay to hear his squeal of delight. Hunter comes over, and takes him from me, while taking a seat at the table.

“How’s my little brother today,” he coos, as Gus holds his face in both hands. It’s really sweet to watch the two of them together.

I was surprised when I found out that he’s been spending a lot of time over here, but then again, Justin and Daphne have been tutoring him so he could graduate earlier than expected. It turns out that Hunter is a lot like the two of them and has been testing pretty high on all of his tests since he decided to complete his high school education online. The beauty of it is that Justin and Daphne don’t take it easy on him at all. I’ve seen some of the test questions they’ve given him in addition to those on the school’s website. They have even made me question my ability to be a professor at times, but it’s the oral essays they require him to give each week which astound me. Essays on literature, science, and history, which Hunter completes with aplomb, that has me continually amazed. He displays the poise and grooming it took me years, and several communication classes, to attain.

When I asked Justin about it, he said that if Hunter was going to work for Kinnetik, he needed to learn how to comport himself no matter the subject matter. Apparently, Hunter is not the only one who has big aspirations for himself, and that makes me more happy than I can say aloud. It’s proof to Hunter that we all see his potential, and that his past really doesn’t matter as much as the kind of person he is.

“They are always like that,” Mel tells me, smiling at the display Hunter and Gus continue to put on.

“I’m glad that Hunter has a true friend, even if he drools,” I laugh.

Mel does as well. “You would be amazed at how he looks for Hunter. Everyday at 3:30, the fidgeting starts. He’s usually at the office with me during that time since lately, it’s the time my official workday has been ending, even though I still work here at home.”

“Have you guys considered hiring a nanny?”

“We’ve talked about it, especially since we’ve been talking about having another child between the three of us. I just… I don’t want to have one if it means she or he knows Gus better than we do.”

“Now, chile, don’t you fret none about that,” Glenda says, from the stove. “I would rather a child be in the hands of a good caregiver than neglected.”

“Me too, but…”

“No buts, Melanie Marcus. There’s nothing in the parents’ rulebook that says you’re neglectful if you have a high-stress job. If that were the case, millions of Americans in your position would be guilty of neglect while trying to earn a living. The bottom line is that the three of you make time for Gus, and he’s as happy a baby as all of them should be. So what’s the real issue?”

“Lindsay was raised by nannies most of the time, and look how she turned out,” Mel mutters, honestly.

“Lindsay turned out how she turned out because of how she turned out, Honey,” Glenda responds. “For some people, having a stable roof over their heads and a stable relationship aren’t enough for them. She strikes me as a person who was just never satisfied not being the center of attention. Everything she’s ever done was self-gratifying no matter who it hurt, including you and this sweet little boy here. She was defective from birth, it was just reinforced by parents incapable of getting her back in order before she got out of control. If they left her raising solely up to the nanny, then they were the very definition of neglectful. A caregiver can only do so much, and I’d imagine that little Miss Peterson was showing all the signs of a sociopath long before she reached adolescence.”

“Perhaps,” I agree. “But how will that affect her prison sentence?” I ask, looking to Mel.

“It shouldn’t, because Lindsay knew what she was doing was wrong; she just didn’t care. She never has. In order for an insanity plea to come into play, she has to be evaluated, and found that she was not in her right mind during her criminal acts. What Lindsay has done took planning, even if none of it succeeded. When one thing failed, she revamped the plan and tried again. There’s not a delusional bone in her body, although I’d imagine she’s about to go metaphorically crazy since her plans keep getting thwarted. I received a call from a friend of mine, who works as a prison guard. Lindsay’s in the infirmary right now from self-inflicted wounds trying to become un-pregnant because she couldn’t get Brian to say he’s the father.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Glenda and I gasp.

“I wish I was,” Mel sighs. “They aren’t sure of the fate of the baby right now. They are running tests.”

“Will there be a way to increase her charges if the child doesn’t make it?”

“We have to wait for the results, but this isn’t like abortion, be it legal or the old-fashioned way, which were always done in secret. She’s close to four months, and intentionally tried to cause a miscarriage. Whereas to anyone else, this would look like she’s just a scared mother-to-be, the fact that she had Gus negates that theory. And it goes beyond the scope of a woman’s right to choose. I don’t know if she’s far along enough in the pregnancy to perform an amniocentesis, which is a way to test for genetic birth defects before the baby is born. Doctors usually don’t like to do them because of the risk to both the fetus and the mother. But, I imagine based on that specific test, they will decide what to do. They won’t abort the baby without a solid reason, and even then they are going to need to have hard facts and reasoning to justify doing so. They won’t do the procedure just because of what Lindsay tried.”

“Do you think she knows all of this?” I ask. I just can’t imagine someone trying to cause birth defects, or even killing a child just because they didn’t fulfill their purpose. I shudder to think what might have happened to Gus if he was still left to her care. It was bad enough she tried to involve him in a felony, and he wasn't even six months old!

“I don’t know, but I’m sure based on what they find, they will explain the situation to her no matter the outcome.” Changing the subject, she hands me a sheaf of papers. “These are the figures that Michael still owes you, beyond what you received back from Jen’s leasing office.”

“Twenty thousand dollars? But his store mortgage was…”

“I know it was only six grand. However, I found some other charges taken directly from the account, which Janean is looking into. They are from Emil and Sherman Printing Company, located in Pasadena, California.”

“California? Did the publishing company for the comic move, or something?”

“No, they are still based here in Pittsburgh. The only other operation they have is based in New Jersey. I checked with the owners directly, and they confirmed it. Although, they said Michael had a weird request.”

“Which was?”

“He wanted to know if they could create wallpaper out of a picture.”

“But that doesn’t make sense. The walls at the shop were just cleaned and painted before Michael took off with Hunter. I know because I paid for it directly. See this company?” I point to the line that says Martell Brothers Painting and Repairs. “Michael wouldn’t have been able to do anything to the walls at his apartment beyond hanging pictures or posters in frames. That was written in the lease agreement, which Jennifer gave me a copy of along with a receipt for the money she returned in case he had the bright idea to take me to court over the money. Unless I was on the rental agreement, my check wasn’t supposed to be accepted as payment since it was also a way to keep track of who was occupying the apartments. The previous owners had some trouble with fifteen people sharing an apartment, which was against the fire code. They had to pay a huge fine when there was a fire in that particular apartment, not too long before Jennifer bought the building. You don’t think…”

“I don’t know, but I mean, what about this entire case is rational when it comes to Michael’s part in it? The man’s been full of stupid ideas since I met him. Anyway, they told him his request wasn’t within the scope of what he was trying to accomplish.”

“So how did he find that place?” I wonder aloud.

“I would imagine during his frequent trips to Palm Springs. That said, I think we’ll find the answer to this particular question when we go to the house. Do you think you can wait that long?”

“I’ve waited this long so what’s another few days? By the way, Hunter and I talked about it, and we want to speak to the D.A. He wants to press charges against Michael and Lance Freeman. I didn’t know that Michael… that Michael…”

“I understand. You don’t have to say it aloud.” She pats my hand. “I’m really happy he decided to do this, but is he sure? I mean, as high-profile as this case is, I don’t want to put him through any unnecessary pain. He’s already been through so much.”

“It’s fine,” Hunter tells her, coming back into the kitchen. “I need to do this. I want them all to pay for what they’ve done, especially the woman who calls herself my mother. Thanks to you, Brian, and Justin, I’m fully emancipated so she has no hold over me in that respect. But she still made a deal regarding me when I wasn’t. That has to count for something, right?”

“It should,” Mel answers him, honestly. “What made you decide?”

“Other than the fact that I still have nightmares, there’s always the fear that she’ll have one of her pimps seek me out for payment. Honestly, I don’t care if she ends up dead, but I don’t want to live my life in fear of her, Michael, or Lance, anymore. I have a good job already, but now I want to have a good life.”

Mel nods before telling him, “I’ll call the D.A. later tonight after we deal with these interviews.”

“Good God, woman, who let you in the house?” Brian comes in, grabbing Glenda from behind and hugging her. He places a kiss on her cheek before saying, “Simply by breathing, I’ve just gained five pounds.”

“Oh hush, you. You’re still too skinny for my liking.”

“Now where have I heard that before,” Justin comes in, laughing. He places a kiss on Glenda’s cheek, before turning to Brian. “My mother used to tell me that all the time about you.”

“Used to? I’m still my pre-Sunshine weight, although if my nose is serving me correctly, I might not be.”

Justin smiles wider then, taking a huge whiff of the air. “Ah, pineapple coffee cake. Brian, stay away from my piece. You still owe me from the last time she made it. He was down here in the middle of the night stealing the ONLY slice he left me.”

“I shared,” Brian protests, but Justin shakes his head.

“One forkful does not constitute sharing, Brian.”

“But I let you work off my excess.”

“WHOA, you two! Impressionable youth in the vicinity,” I say, when it becomes more than obvious just how Justin worked off Brian’s overindulgence.

Hunter laughs. “Please, Dad. Working with these two, you learn to knock on any closed door, including the broom closet.”

“Brian!” Mel exclaims, but she’s laughing.

“What? It wasn’t my fault. I mean, you’ve seen Justin in that tailored Boss suit. I mean the way the fabric drapes over his…”

“Hellooooooo,” Emmett walks in with perfect timing. I don’t think I would have been able to look at Justin in the eyes again if Brian had been allowed to finish that sentence. Outside of his picture-perfect appearance, his butt has always been the toast of the town.

“Alright now everyone not a cook, get out of this kitchen,” Glenda announces.

And after a few grumbles, and a sneak attack of the batter from Brian, Justin, and Hunter, we all head to the living room, laughing as we’re practically chased out with the threat of the business end of a rolling pin. I never thought I would be so happy again, but with these people- my true family- I don’t even have time to remember the heartbreak of a little over three months ago when all of this started. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.