THIS WAS NOT WHERE THIS PART WAS SUPPOSED TO END OR WHAT WAS SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN.

but i have to stop. i ran out of time. went over it in fact, so ugh. Written in 70 minutes see you tomorrow.

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Tuesday, October 1, 2024

Kristina’s Apartment: Living Room

Kristina stepped back from the door, a bit warily. “Mom? Did I know you were coming over?” She glanced behind her at the remains of her dinner on the coffee table, some laundry strewn across an armchair, and just the general chaos.

“No. No. This was—this was an impulse—” Alexis strode past her daughter, dropping her briefcase on an armchair, then whirling to face Kristina, her hands raised. “I know you’ve been trying to be supportive of your sister—of Sam,” she added when Kristina made a face. “Is there a chance that your support has been more…” Alexis paused, her hands hands frozen in mid outstretch as she tried to articulate whatever was in her hand. “More vociferously agreeable than it should have been?”

Mystified, Kristina closed the door. “I’m lost. Vociferously—” She squinted. “Agreeable? As opposed to what? And what does that even mean?”

“I don’t know.” Alexis put her head in her hands. “I don’t know. I just know that Sam’s crossed a line, and I’m trying to go back in time to understand how this happened. Sam told me yesterday you’ve been supportive. What kind of support would you say you’ve offered?”

“This—what kind of question is that?” Kristina edged around her mother, and started to gather the laundry on the other chair, shoving it into a nearby basket. “I’ve been doing what you and Molly and Dante apparently can’t. Listening. Not telling her she’s an awful person—”

“Okay, see, that’s—” Alexis stabbed a finger at her. “That’s where I think there’s a disconnect here. Because we’ve all been listening to Sam. But only one of us is doing some kind of girl boss nonsense—”

“Mom.” Kristina rolled her eyes. “Stop trying to talk around it or, like, trying not to offend me. What do you think I encouraged Sam to do?”

“Well, I know for a fact you thought she should go to her appointment yesterday and defend herself. We could start there.”

“Why—why is that a bad thing? You know, I see where Molly gets it now.” Kristina lifted the basket, carried it her bedroom, and tossed it on the floor. Returning to the living room, she planted a hand on her hip. “Sam might not have handled everything with the Molly Lansing-Davis Seal of Approval, but she’s doing the best she can. Okay? And it doesn’t help that she’s got Elizabeth Webber prancing around like she’s some kind of Mother Theresa—or actually—you know what—she’s exactly like Mother Theresa. Pretending to be perfect and a bitch behind the scenes.”

Alexis opened her mouth, then closed it, her expression sour. “I don’t even know what to do with that statement, Kristina. Elizabeth isn’t—Okay, so did you maybe mention the conversation you and I had on Sunday? About Elizabeth’s bail?”

“We—” Kristina stopped, looked at her mother, her heart pounding just ever so slightly. “Conversation?”

“When I told you they were worried that the government was going to attack Elizabeth’s bail. Don’t play stupid with me, Kristina. We were standing right here discussing it. And you spent the day with Sam. The same day the feds learned about Danny and Rocco’s arrest. Did you tell your sister to mess with Elizabeth’s bail?”

“I—” Kristina couldn’t do anything other than stare in disbelief. “How—why do you think Sam did that? Wait, did something happen to Elizabeth’s bail?” Had it actually worked?

“No. Not yet. But it’s set for a hearing—” Alexis shook her head. “And no one else could have done it.”

“What do you mean? Everyone knew Danny was arrested for drinking. Both of them,” Kristina added. “That was—I mean, everyone knows it—”

“Not everyone knows about the arrest on Elizabeth’s property. No one that would use it against Elizabeth. Don’t defend your sister, Kristina—”

“I’m not—” Kristina stopped. They were blaming Sam. That was a lucky break, she thought, pressing a fist against her chest. She hadn’t realized how limited the knowledge was — but unfortunately her sister was the perfect suspect. Guilt churned in her abdomen. But if they suspected Sam — “They’re blaming Sam? You’re blaming her, too?”

“Well, who else would be stupid enough to do something like this without thinking about the harm it would do to Danny?” Alexis shook her head. “Diane’s trying every trick in the book to keep Danny and Rocco from having to testify, even in a closed hearing, but—”

“Whoa, whoa—” Kristina held up her hands. “What do you mean, testify? Why would they have to testify? Can’t Dante or Sam or Elizabeth—”

“Well, they can, and believe me, no one wants those boys dragged into this, but what’s the alternative? Letting Elizabeth rot in jail?” Alexis picked up her bag. “I’m not blaming you, Kristina, if you talked to her about the bail situation. I’m sure you just wanted to give her something to, God help us, look forward to. Something to cheer her up—”

“I didn’t tell her about the conversation. I didn’t even think about it—” Or she hadn’t longer than it had taken to send a quick spoofed email about the arrest. “What did she say when you asked her about it?”

“Denied it, of course. But what is she going to do? Admit that she willingly threw her son under the bus? God, this is going to destroy any chance we had of getting her case moved up. Why can’t just one of you think before you do something?” Alexis jerked the door open, looked at Kristina. “Do me a favor. Stop trying to help your sister. It’s just encouraging her—in fact—stay away from her.”

Oh, that wouldn’t be a problem, Kristina thought, locking the door behind her mother, then leaning against it. If everyone was blaming Sam, how long it would take Sam — or Dante — to remember that conversation over breakfast?

She needed a story. And fast.

Webber House: Kitchen

Jason stepped into the kitchen, frowning slightly when Elizabeth straightened up, the dishwasher clicking shut. “One of the boys should be doing that—”

“I don’t mind.” She dried her hands with a dish towel, smiling when he came behind the counter, kissed her lightly. “Danny still not up to talk?”

“No. I’m not sure what I’d say to him even if he did.” Jason stopped, looked towards the living room, frowning when Aiden’s head dropped below the edge of the sofa, but Jake on the armchair wasn’t even pretending not to be listening. “Can we—”

“If you want to talk about picking up dinner,” Elizabeth said, raising her brows meaningfully, “we may want to wait until we go to Diane’s office tomorrow. Even my bedroom has heating vents.”

“Heating vents—” Jason nodded, understanding. He rubbed his chest, considering waiting overnight to have this conversation. “We could—we could leave them alone, though. Right? Go out somewhere.”

“Really?” Elizabeth studied him for a moment, and maybe it was too much to ask after how long the day had been, considering it had included two long car drives and a hearing. But her curiosity won out. “We could do that. Have to be a covered vehicle,” she said with a sad sigh. “I can’t wait until it stops raining.”

“You and me both,” Jason muttered, following her towards the living. He could use a fast drive in the dark, whipping around the corners, letting everything go. Once he might have done it anyway, despite the steady pounding of the rain. The added danger of turns on slick back roads would have been all he’d needed.

But he’d never do that with Elizabeth on the bike, and now — he was all too aware that he was a father with a responsibility to come at night. He’d spent too many years throwing that away. He’d have to find another outlet for the adrenaline rush.

“Your dad and I are going for a drive,” Elizabeth said, picking up her purse and checking it for her house keys. “Jake—”

Jake grimaced, climbing to his feet. “You don’t have to go out to talk, you know. I’ll keep them away from the vents—”

“Yeah, but who’s going to keep you from listening?” Cameron wanted to know. He snagged the game controller from Aiden. “I’ll get the babies in bed, Mom. You and Jason are good.”

Elizabeth just rolled her eyes, shrugged into the coat Jason was sliding over her shoulders. “Don’t stay up late. You have an early flight,” she reminded Cameron, then turned to Jason. “Let’s go.”

Penthouse: Living Room

Sam paced the short space between the end of the sofa and the fireplace, rerunning the day through her mind — irritated with herself for losing her temper at every turn. Her mother, that was fair — stunned shock and indignation had clouded her ability to react with anything other than denials.

And Dante — well, that had been another level of shock — she closed her eyes, sank onto the sofa, remembering the way he’d looked at her. The doubt she hadn’t been able to raise until the very last moments when she’d been beyond caring. She’d thought he knew her — had thought that this time she’d found someone who knew all her dark places and loved her anyway. Who understood her.

By the time Jason had showed up, Sam had nearly decided to embrace the villain label everyone wanted to slap on her. Why not? Everyone had already made up their minds—

But Danny. Danny must believe it, too. How could he not with his father assuming it was true? And—she bit hard on her lip, remembering the way they’d ripped at each other — the scar tissue she’d ripped open. Her only consolation was knowing that Jason would never, ever tell Danny about Maureen Harper because he’d never be able to explain himself enough for Jake to forgive him for marrying Sam after it.

The lightning flashed out the terrace windows, and Sam jolted from the sound of the thunder clap directly after, like a bomb exploding just outside the building. She rubbed her mouth. She couldn’t let this accusation stand. She didn’t give a damn if Jason or Elizabeth believed Sam was innocent—but Danny—

Danny had to know the truth.

But who could have done it? Dante would never — and there was no one else who even had a motive—no one else who could have even known there was any Elizabeth side of the story to use against her—

Sam sighed, dragged her hands through her hair again, then got to her feet, turning towards the stairs. A hot shower and some sleep. That’s all she needed —

Then she stopped when another bolt of lightning flashed, illuminating the darkened first floor. The dining table between the terrace and the stairs.

You look like hell. Dante keep you all night?

Kristina.

Vista Point: Parking Lot

“Well, this was probably a terrible idea,” Elizabeth said, when lightning flashed, lighting up the SUV. She held her hands over the heater. “You know, you didn’t have to wait until we were all the way up here before you told me what happened. I don’t think the boys have hid any listening devices in the car.” She looked over at Jason’s profile, hoping to see even a hint of a smile.

But he was facing forward, his hands curled over the wheel.

“Jason?” She leaned up, flicked on the light for the inside of the car. “How bad was it? Did she at least have an excuse that wasn’t garbage?”

“I—” Jason flexed his fingers, then leaned back with a heavy sigh, rubbing his face. “I’m sorry. The whole drive up here, I’ve been thinking about what to say, and now that I have to say it—” He looked at her. “She didn’t admit it. And the conversation isn’t worth talking about.”

“Okay,” she drew out, bewildered. So why had they gone out in the storm, driving for fifteen minutes in silence? “I mean, it was always a long shot she’d admit it especially since it’s backfired—”

“Cameron was there. At the parking garage. He saw me leaving and followed.”

“I—” Elizabeth sat up. “What?”

“He didn’t follow me upstairs,” Jason added, and she relaxed only slightly. “But he was pissed. First because I guess he thought I was there behind your back and then mad at both of us when I told him you knew.” He paused, the beat of silence heavy. “It was stupid for me to go. Even more stupid for me to think it would accomplish anything. And Cameron was right to be angry.”

“I guess I thought you’d get her to admit it. I mean, she doesn’t usually hide when she does something like this—”

“I don’t think she thought past hurting you,” Jason told her, looking over at her again. “Danny didn’t factor in at all. I thought I needed to hear it from her, to confront her, to make sure she understood how much she hurt Danny, but I didn’t. It won’t fix it. Nothing can fix any of it.” He let his head fall against the seat, looked up the roof the car, then turned his head so that their eyes met. “But it was Cameron I wanted to tell you about. You can have a conversation with him if you want, but I didn’t brush him off. Or tell him it wasn’t his business. Because it was.”

“We’ve been telling them to live their lives — I’ve been pushing him back to California, begging him not to let this ruin his life—yeah, he gets to be angry we did something impulsive.” Elizabeth bit her lip, looked out the front, but there was nothing to be see beyond the rain sluicing little rivers in the glass. “I don’t know why I wanted you to go. What it would change.  Cameron’s right. It was stupid, and risky. Too risky.”

“Did you think—” Jason stopped, squinting slightly as if searching for the right word or what to say. “Did you think that she would talk herself out of it? That I would…find a way to forgive her? Because I did before?”

“No—” Elizabeth said, then stopped, really letting herself consider the question. “I don’t know. I don’t think—I don’t think I would play games like that.”

“It’s not a game, though, is it? I did forgive her for something that hurt you. Hurt our son. Cameron. And I did it after I told you that we couldn’t have a future together.”

Elizabeth pressed her lips together, her stomach rolling. She looked forward again, fisting her hands in her lap. “I don’t see why we have to drag this back up again. What good does it do? It happened the way it happened. Now we have Aiden and Danny, so there’s no point—”

“Elizabeth.”

Her name on his lips, just said in that tone, with a bit of exasperation, had her scowling at him, “What do you want me to say, Jason? Yes. It hurt me when you forgave her. When you married her. When you wanted to have children with her. The life you promised me, you gave it to her. Yes, it hurt. Does it make you feel better to drag that out of me? Is that what you wanted? Why you made me come all the way up here? Here, of all places—” she bit out. “Where you walked away from me over and over—screw this.” She shoved at the door, twisting the lever to open it, then dashed out into the rain.

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