Three Months Later

Szymon Skubisz stood beside the river, staring off into the distance as he watched the sun begin to rise. The darkness around him quickly began to recede to whatever place dark things go, and as he stood there, he felt another kind of darkness take hold of him. There was an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach, a nervousness that he could not explain. He sighed and turned to face yet another gruesome tragedy, a portent for things to come.

The flash of a bulb caught him off guard and nearly blinded him. "What the hell is going on?" He called out. "Who let the press through?" He said as he pointed up toward the embankment where a group of photographers and a new crew had gathered. "Jesus Christ," he grumbled as he started up the hill.

"Oh shit," Joseph Lester sighed as he turned and saw the photographers with their flashing bulbs and the news reporters with their microphones in hand. He turned to follow Szymon up the hill. "Damned hounds," Joseph said when he reached Szymon’s side. "I thought Casey was covering the perimeter."

"Yeah, well Casey’s going to have some explaining to do," Szymon agreed as they approached the crowd. "Everyone," he said as he put his hands up, "I’m going to have to ask that you all step back. This is a crime scene," he explained.

"Detective, has there been any identification on the body found in the river?" One of the reporters questioned as he shoved a microphone within mere inches of Szymon’s face. Szymon slowly reached up and moved the microphone away from his face. "There are no details at the moment," Szymon explained. "All we can say for certain is that at 4:00 a.m. a body was found in the river," he explained.

"This is the ninth homicide to plague the city in three months," another reporter mentioned. "Do you have any speculation as to why there have been so many violent crimes and homicides recently? Is a mob resurgence underway, Detective?"

"The New York Police Department does not speculate," Szymon Skubisz responded. "We examine the evidence. I’m sorry, but that’s all for now," Szymon said as he shook his head and motioned for Officer Casey to control the crowd.

"Jesus Christ," Szymon said as he stepped away.

"No kidding," Joseph Lester said in agreement. "They’re right about one thing," Lester acknowledged, "All of this activity does seem to be pointing in one direction."

"No shit," Szymon sighed. "We’ve got a mob war on our hands."

"Are you willing to put that on the record?" A beautiful blond woman inquired as she stepped forward.

"Jesus Christ, don’t you people listen?" Joseph Lester said as he turned toward the reporter and motioned for her to step back behind the line.

"It’s nice to see you again, Szymon," the woman continued, as if Joseph Lester didn’t even exist.

Szymon Skubisz stared at her for a moment in silence. "It’s been a while, Eve," he said with a nod.

"You know this woman?" Joseph questioned as he glanced back at Szymon.

"It’s Eve Myers," Szymon responded. "You’ve seen her face every day on the news," he explained.

"All the more reason for her to step back behind the line," Joseph said.

"It’s okay," Szymon said with a nod. "Why don’t you go down and see what the M.E. has found," he explained. "I’ll keep Eve away from the real news," he added.

"Whatever," Joseph said as he shook his head and headed down the embankment.

"You do know that you can’t really keep me away from the real news," Eve Myers said with a smirk as she stepped over to Szymon. "How are you?" She questioned as she opened her arms and allowed Szymon to step into her embrace.

"I’m good," Szymon responded as he hugged her. "How are you?"

"I’m doing well," Eve responded. "So I guess you know that I’m the lead investigative reporter now," she explained.

"I saw," Szymon said in acknowledgement.

"I was hoping that you could give me an exclusive," Eve began.

"Are you serious?" Szymon questioned. "Do you honestly think that just because you’re my cousin, I’m just going to spill all of the details of this investigation to you?"

Eve smiled and shook her head, "Of course not," she said, "I’m not stupid, Szymon," she added. "I’ll take whatever you can give me," she said as she glanced down the hill toward the medical examiner. "Who’s the stiff?" She questioned.

"Not sure yet," Szymon explained.

"Can’t I.D. him?"

"He’s been in the river for a while, Eve," Szymon explained, "He’s been degloved."

"What the hell do gloves have to do with anything?" Eve questioned.

Szymon shook his head and smiled. "Jesus, for a reporter, you’re not very bright," he explained. "not that you ever really were," he jokingly added. "But for your information, degloving happens when a body’s been in the water for a prolonged period of time. The skin on your hands breaks away and gets pulled off, just like a glove."

"That‘s disgusting," Eve said.

"That’s death," Szymon sighed. "Look, that’s all I can tell you now. Office," he said as he called for someone to escort Eve away from the crime scene as Joseph Lester began to trek back up from the water’s edge.

"Call me," Even called out as the uniformed officer took her back behind the line with the other reporters.

"What do we have?" Szymon questioned as Joseph Lester approached him.

"I think we’ve got a positive I.D." Joseph Lester said as he reached into his pocket.

"How?" Szymon questioned. "The body’s been in the river for weeks. We can’t even get prints."

"No, but we can get a wallet with an I.D.," Joseph said as he held up an evidence bag to show Szymon. "You’re not gonna like this," he said as he handed it to Szymon.

Szymon Skubisz glanced down at the contents of the evidence bag: a single leather wallet with a driver’s license. The face on the card jumped out at him. "Jesus Christ," he said as he shook his head. "It’s David Brooks."

"Jacob Talbot’s assistant," Joseph explained. "Of course we have to wait for the official report, but I’m willing to bet everything that it’s him."

"He disappeared three months ago," Szymon noted.

"Yeah," Joseph said, almost distantly as he glanced up at the sky. "The clouds are rolling in. Looks like rain," he explained.

Szymon paused to stare up at the sky. "A storm is coming," he added. The nervousness in the pit of his stomach seemed to intensify. He knew that something was coming, and he prayed that he would be prepared for it.

"What on Earth is happening?" A beautiful middle-aged black woman with perfectly coiffed hair said as she sat forward in her seat and braced herself as the train began to slow quickly. She glanced out of the window at the tumultuous sky outside and for the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt panic grab hold of her heart.

She glanced to the side as several others gasped with surprise, they too had just been given the shock of their lives. Frantically, she glanced out of the window at the storm that had seemingly erupted out of nowhere. "Oh Dear God," she said to herself, "please don’t let me die here on this train with all of these insufferable people," she pleaded.

"What the hell is going on?" The woman to her right said as she was nearly thrown from her seat. She leaned to the side to get a look out of the train, but could only see the rain as it poured against the glass. "Why are we stopping?" She questioned as she glanced at her neighbor.

"How am I’m supposed to know?" the woman responded as she tried to inch away from the overweight woman.

"We’re stopping," the second woman said aloud.

"Well thank you for stating the obvious."

"What the hell is your problem?" The second woman asked.

"Excuse me?"

The second woman stared at her neighbor. The entire ride from Albany she had gotten the impression that the woman beside her somehow felt that she was better than everyone else. It was this sense of self-entitlement that really got under her skin. Despite her anger, she paused and shook her head. "I’m sorry," she said softly in a Southern accent. "Maybe we got off on the wrong foot back at the station. My name is Dorthea," she said with a smile.

She was a portly middle-aged black woman with hair extensions and cheap jewelry, and although she tried her best to dress herself up, there was no hiding her poor black southern roots. It was as if she had a stamp on her forehead that everyone could read wherever they went.

"Gloria," the first woman responded.

Dorthea nodded her head. "It’s nice to meet you, Gloria," she said, extending her hand for a shake. Gloria stared down at the proffered hand in silence. She didn’t want to shake the hand of a ghetto, welfare-receiving southerner. She was above that.

Dorthea put her hand down, but continued smiling. "Maybe they’ll tell us what’s happening," she said as she glanced up the aisle.

"They damned well better," Gloria chimed in as she glanced in the same direction. She was beginning to wonder what kind of business they were operating if they just let anyone sit in the first class section and stopped the train on the middle of the tracks for no apparent reason.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a voice said as it came over the loud speaker. "We apologize for the abrupt stop, but due to the storm, a tree has fallen across the tracks. We are working quickly to move this out of the way so that we may continue to our destination. We apologize for the delay and hope to be back on our way very soon," the voice said before cutting out.

"Oh my Lord," Dorthea said, "what if we didn’t stop and hit the tree?" she said.

"Would you stop?" Gloria said with frustration, hoping against hope that she had not boarded a train that was bound for a gruesome crash. It would be the icing on the cake back home if people found out that she had boarded a death car. She would never hear the end of it, and for what, for taking time out of her busy schedule to clean up a mess that should have been cleaned up long ago? She was furious, and she was about to get up from her seat when a young boy plopped himself down across from her and Dorthea.

"Hey," he said with a smile. "This is crazy, isn’t it? Do you really think it’s just a tree? They lie all the time about things like this. Maybe it’s a dead body or a car accident or something," he said as he glanced out of the window and tried to see up to the front of the train.

"Go away," Gloria said with frustration.

"Relax," the young boy said.

"Are you supposed to be in this section?" Gloria countered as she glanced at him from head to toe. He was white, with blue eyes and black hair and his clothes were dirty and she got the distinct impression that he smelled. She put her hand up to her nose and regarded him with disgust.

"What’s her problem?" He asked as he glanced at Dorthea.

"She thinks she’s too good for everybody," Dorthea responded as she glanced at Gloria and rolled her eyes. "Miss Thing acts like she walks on water, Honey."

"I am sitting right here," Gloria said with disbelief.

"I know," Dorthea responded, "you don’t let nobody forget that, Honey. Miss high and mighty."

"You piece of trash," Gloria said with outrage. "How dare you!"

"Because I can," Dorthea responded. "What’s the matter, ain’t nobody ever stood up to your rude ass?" She questioned.

"Ladies, please," the young boy said as he leaned forward just as Gloria was about to attack Dorthea. Relax!"

"Excuse me," a woman said as she approached them. "Gloria, is that you?" She questioned. She had long black hair and full red lips.

"Cassandra," Gloria said with surprise. "I had no idea you were on this train."

"I thought I heard your voice," Cassandra said with a smile as she glanced at both Dorthea and the boy seated next to her. "Oh Dear, you look flustered. We have no idea how long we’re going to be stopped. Perhaps you’d like to come with me to the dining car for a drink?" She questioned as she glanced back at Gloria.

"I think I would," Gloria said as she grabbed her purse and stood up from her seat. "At least there are still some people who treat others with respect," she said as she accompanied her friend.

The young boy leaned back in his chair. "I wonder what’s gotten her so wound up," he said.

Dorthea stared at the young boy and picked up a faint odor coming from him. She reached for her purse. "You’re going to hell," she said as she stared at him.

"Excuse me?" He questioned with surprise as he turned to stare at her.

"I saw what you did," she said as she shook her head.

"What are you talking about?" He questioned as he tensed up and glanced around, hoping that no one was listening to what she was saying.

"I don’t know what brought you to this point," Dorthea said, "but it ain’t the road that you want to go down," she said, "No Sir. A kid like you has the whole world at his feet. This ain’t the way you want go," she said as she continued to shake her head.

"Look, I just came up here to get a better view," he said as he stood up from his seat and started to walk away. Dorthea quickly reached out and grabbed his hand, which he had shoved into his pocket. She pulled it out and he froze. In his hand he was holding a red leather wallet.

"Stop him!" Gloria called out as she re-entered the train car with Cassandra right behind her and saw Izik holding her wallet. "Thief!"

"Are you crazy?" Cayden King questioned as he glanced around the apartment with horror. "You’re not serious, are you?" He added with disbelief and he took another step forward and realized the seriousness of the situation that he had just been presented with. "You can’t seriously believe that black and orange balloons are a good idea for an engagement party!" He nearly shrieked.

"What the hell’s you’re problem?" Devon James inquired. "This was all I could find at the last minute," she explained. "You should be thanking me."

"I should be killing you! It’s not Halloween, it’s an engagement party."

"It’s a last damned minute engagement party that you couldn’t buy decorations for," Devon countered. "If you wanted pink balloons and roses, you should have gotten them yourself."

"Black and orange, Devon?" Cayden groaned as he threw himself on the couch. "It’s so tacky!"

"Well, it’ll just have to do," Devon said as she sat down next to him. "Jesus Christ," she said as she glanced down at her belly. "This baby weighs like seven-hundred pounds."

"Lemme listen to him," Cayden pleaded as he glanced up at Devon with pleading eyes. "Pretty please?"

"You know I don’t like people touching my stomach Cayden," Devon responded.

"You owe me," Cayden said with puppy dog eyes as he pointed to the balloons and streamers that adorned his apartment.

"Oh fine," Devon sighed. "Go ahead."

"Yes!" Cayden said with a smirk as he sat up and placed the side of his head on Devon’s stomach and did his best to listen. "Hello little baby," he said in a soft voice. "How are you today? You’re mommy’s always so grumpy, but I bet the minute she sees you, she’s going to be a much happier person."

"Screw you," Devon said as she slapped him on the arm.

"And less violent," Cayden continued. "It’s your uncle Cayden."

"More like his aunt Cayden," Devon said as she pushed him away.

"Hey," Cayden protested, "I wasn’t finished."

"Yes you are," Devon said as she tried to stand up from the couch. "You’re crazy, talking to a belly. You better cut that shit out or I’m not letting you anywhere near my son when he’s born," she said as she walked toward Cayden’s kitchen.

"What’s wrong with our son?" Gage Matthews questioned as he entered Cayden’s apartment.

"Nothing," Devon responded. "Cayden’s trying to talk to him again."

"Oh, well did he talk back?" Gage teased as he joined Cayden on the couch.

"You know," Devon said as she returned to the living room with a bottle of diet Snapple from Cayden’s refrigerator, "You two are the biggest idiots I’ve ever met," she announced.

"Well, studies show that if you talk to a baby while they’re still in the womb, they do turn out to be more intelligent. You really should try it." Cayden said.

"Screw the studies," Devon said. "I’m not going to sit there and talk to my stomach all day. Besides, he’s become very good at communicating with me already," she added. "He kicks the shit out of me all day long just to remind me that this is no longer my body, and I have to bend to his every will," she explained. "He’s a little control freak."

"Just like his mother," Gage teased.

"Fuck off," Devon said as she sat down on the couch.

"What the hell’s up with the orange and black in here?" Gage questioned after taking note of the decorations.

"Oh fuck everybody," Devon said. "You can all just go to hell."

"So when’s the party?" Gage questioned, choosing to let Devon win the argument in favor of getting along."

"Whenever my mother gets back," Cayden responded. "She should be on the train back from Albany as we speak," he explained.

"What’s in Albany?" Devon questioned.

"Nothing but a bunch of snobs and socialites," Gage responded. "Trust me, I know."

"Jacob had her go up there for some hush-hush appointment," Cayden responded. "Apparently, they have more big news to announce," he explained.

"Bigger than their engagement?" Devon inquired.

"I guess so," Cayden sighed.

"You still haven’t said anything about the engagement," Gage noted.

"Well, I don’t know what to think of it," Cayden admitted. "My mother practically just divorced my father and now this new man is whisking her off of her feet and proposing to her," he explained. "It’s all happening so fast."

"You think she’s making a mistake?" Devon asked.

"I don’t know," Cayden admitted. "I think Jacob Talbot makes my mother happy and that’s really all that counts, isn’t it? I just hope that it’s not a short-lived happiness. I hope it’s something that lasts," he sighed.

A knock at the door caught their attention. "Who could this be?" He questioned, "the party doesn’t start for another few hours," he said as he made his way to the door and opened it slowly. "What are you doing here?" Cayden questioned with surprise as he stared at the man standing in the hall.

"Cayden," Patrick King said as he stepped forward and pulled his son into a strong embrace.

For the life of him, Cayden King could not explain what was going on. He stood there with his father’s arms wrapped around him, and although it was probably one of the biggest things he had ever wished for - to once again feel his father’s embrace - Cayden could only wonder what trouble Patrick King was bringing with him. He held his breath and waited.

"Can I help you?" Victoria King questioned as she glanced at the young boy who sat down beside her. It seemed awfully rude of him to jump over her and just take the seat closest to the window, despite the fact that it was empty.

"Shh," the young boy said as he grabbed her shawl and put it over his head.

"What are you doing?" Victoria questioned as she tried to snatch back what was hers.

"Please," the boy said with urgency. "You have to help me."

"I don’t have to do anything of the sort," Victoria responded. "Now give me back my shawl."

"Look lady," the boy responded. "People are after me. I didn’t do anything wrong, but they’re out for blood. All I want is some food and a place to sleep. I haven’t eaten in two days and the last time I slept in a bed was weeks ago. Can’t you just cut me a break?" He whispered.

"Where did he go?" several voices called out as they entered the train car.

"Lady, please," he said as he lifted the shawl from his face so that he could look into her eyes.

"When I find that hooligan, I’m going to have him arrested!" A woman decried as she stormed up the aisle.

Victoria King glanced back down the aisle as the mob approached. She was faced with a decision. "What did you do?" She questioned the young man.

"Nothing," he responded.

"That sure doesn’t sound like nothing," Victoria noted.

"Fine, I took some money," he admitted. "Look lady, I’m putting my life in your hands right now. Just please help me," he pleaded.

"I can’t . . ." Victoria said hesitantly as she glanced at the approaching mob. She didn’t want to be in the middle of this. She didn’t even want to go to Albany. She told Jacob that it was a bad idea to send her. He should have gone himself, and although the meeting went better than expected, she couldn’t help but to feel like it could have been better.

Perhaps that was her problem, perhaps she was too much of a perfectionist for her own good. Or maybe her problem was that she always let others make the decisions for her. When she left her husband she vowed to herself that she would start to make her own decisions, and she did for a short time. When her relationship with Jacob began to grow stronger, she found that he had begun to make the decisions and it scared her. As much as she loved him, she didn’t want to lose herself in another relationship and look in the mirror one day and not recognize the woman staring back.

"Lady, please . . ." The young man begged as Victoria stood up from her seat.

"Excuse me," she called out to the angry mob. "What’s happening?"

"It’s none of your concern," an older black woman said as she motioned for Victoria King to step aside. It was in that instant that Victoria King made her decision. She turned and stepped out of the other woman’s way and returned to her seat. She sat quietly as the mob passed.

"Thank you," the young boy said as the group of people entered the next train car.

"I didn’t do it for you," Victoria King said, "I did it for myself."

"I think this is a really bad idea," Sebastian Vaughn said as he sat in the center of Jesse Martinez’s living room holding his guitar in his lap. There was a breeze coming in through the open window, which normally wouldn’t have phased him except for the fact that he was completely naked.

"Sit still," Jesse said as he lifted his paintbrush and stared at Sebastian.

"It’s getting cold in here."

"It’s not too bad," Jesse said as he turned back to the canvas and continued to paint.

"Well, can you close the window?" Sebastian questioned.

"No," Jesse responded. "I need fresh air when I paint. It helps me to relax."

"Yeah, well if it gets much colder in here, you won’t have much to paint when you get down to my . . ."

"Relax," Jesse interrupted, smiling slightly, "It’s not about the nudity."

"Then why am I nude?" Sebastian questioned, slightly confused. "I’m sitting in the middle of your living room with nothing but my guitar and you’re trying to convince me that it’s not about the nudity. You better not try to sell this on the internet," he exclaimed.

Jesse shook his head. "Please, like anyone in their right mind would buy a naked portrait of you," he countered.

"Hey, lots of people like to see me naked," Sebastian responded. "You included," he teased.

Jesse Martinez paused and glanced back at his friend. "This is not about seeing you naked, Sebastian," he explained. "I already told you that."

"Then why am I naked? Why would you ask me to come up here and take all of my clothes off so that you could paint my portrait?" He questioned. "Especially when you haven’t painted someone’s portrait since."

"Since Julia," Jesse interjected. "I don’t normally do portraits," he admitted. "I did hers because she spoke to my soul," he explained. "And I’m doing yours because . . ."

"Because I speak to your soul?" Sebastian inquired, perking up slightly at the thought that Jesse could finally return his feelings of affection. It had taken Sebastian months to break through Jesse’s shell, months of work to get past the barriers that Jesse had erected around himself, and months of torture to finally come to the realization that Jesse Martinez would never love him, not the way he loved Julia Taylor.

"Your music does," Jesse admitted. "I was in a bad place when you moved in, but then I heard your music and it helped me. It made me remember that there were still things left to fight for, things that I has neglected all along. You helped me get back to the man that I used to be and you did it with your music. I didn’t paint your portrait for the same reason that I painted hers. It’s different with you," Jesse responded. "You’re different."

"What do you mean?" Sebastian questioned.

"I loved Julia," Jesse said with a shrug. "When you’re in love things are always so much better. Colors are brighter, sounds are louder and happiness . . . well, happiness is just so . . . within reach."

"But you’re not in love with me," Sebastian said softly.

"I’m not gay," Jesse responded.

"Me either," Sebastian explained.

Jesse glanced at him with a knowing eye. "Last week you told me you were in love with me," he reminded him. "You tried to kiss me."

"I know what I did," Sebastian responded. "I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but I’m not lying to you," he explained. "I love women. I love the way they smell, I love their hair and their lips and their . . ." He put both his hands out to simulate grabbing breasts. "They’re just so wonderful," he explained.

"So you were drunk last week and you had no idea what you were saying?" Jesse questioned, perfectly willing to believe that the situation that occurred between the two of them last week was just a came of inebriated confusion. That fact was that he didn’t even want to discuss it. He was perfectly content to act like it had never happened, but it kept nagging at him at the back of his mind until he had to say something.

"No," Sebastian explained.

"I really wish you would just come right out and say what it is you’re trying to say," Jesse sighed as he put his paintbrush down and turned toward the man that had quickly become his best friend. "You and I are different from everyone else," he explained. "We feel things strongly. Maybe it’s because we’re both artists, I don’t know. But when we were sitting out there on that fire escape staring up at the stars, you grabbed my hand and looked into my eyes and told me that you loved me and then you tried to kiss me. If that doesn’t mean you’re gay, then I don’t know does," Jesse explained, finally able to get it off of his chest.

"I’m sorry," Sebastian responded. "I don’t know what to say. I’m a musician, I play music. I can’t use words," he said with frustration. "God, I wish this was easier to say!" he exclaimed as he stood up from the stool and set the guitar down. "I’ve never felt this way about another guy before. I never thought I would wake up one day and feel this way about another man, but I did," he admitted. "I’m not ashamed of it," he said as he shook his head. "I’m not ashamed of the way that I feel."

"So it’s true, you are gay. You’re attracted to other men. It’s not a big deal, Sebastian. A lot of my friends are gay. It doesn’t change the way that I feel about you, you should know that already."

"I’m not gay," Sebastian explained.

"You just admitted to being attracted to men, Sebastian."

"Not men," Sebastian explained. "You. Just you."

"Jesse," Sarah Mulberry called out and she opened the front door and stepped into the apartment. "That stupid mailman put your mail in our mailbox again," she said absently as she entered the apartment. "I think this might be a check, so you might want to open it right away," she said as she came to a halt in the center of Jesse’s living room.

"Holy shit," she said with surprise as she saw Sebastian Vaughn completely naked standing in front of Jesse Martinez with tears in his eyes.

"So do you have a place to stay?" Victoria King questioned as she handed the young man a hotdog and stared into his beautiful blue eyes. He reminded her of her son in a lot of ways and she found comfort in that. It allowed her to trust him a bit more, despite the fact that she knew exactly where her purse was every second he was with her.

They had disembarked from the train once they reached Manhattan after what seemed like forever waiting on the track, and had now found themselves standing outside at a hot dog vendor. She glanced up at the sky. The heavy rain had subsided and she was grateful for that.

"Not yet," the young boy responded with a mouthful of hotdog. "But don’t worry, I know a place."

"Is it safe?" Victoria questioned.

"I don’t know yet," he said with a shrug.

It took everything in her not to extend an invitation for the boy to stay with her. She was always such a sucker when it came to someone in need, but she resisted the temptation to offer more help and nodded her head. "I’ll tell you what," Victoria said as she opened her purse and reached in for a business card and a pen. "Here is my card," she said as she wrote her personal cell phone number on the back of it. "Give me a call if you need help. I can’t promise anything, but I will try," she said as she handed it to him.

"Thank you," the boy said as he accepted the card and shoved it into his pocket. "I’m Izik, by the way, Izik Morin."

"It’s good to meet you Izik, I’m Victoria," she said as she shook his hand. She glanced around the street. She didn’t want to leave the young man alone, but she had to get back home. Cayden was planning her engagement party and she didn’t want to be late. Still, something about the young man made her want to stay with him. She had to know that he would be okay.

"There he is! Stop him! Thief!" Gloria shouted as she stepped out of the station and immediately spotted Izik at Victoria’s side.

Victoria glanced over her shoulder and saw the woman, hell-bent on retribution. She turned toward Izik. "You’d better get out of here," she said to him. Izik looked past her and saw what was coming.

"Thank you," he said as he jumped and turned and ran. Victoria sighed with frustration as she saw him run down the street. A moment later he was gone.

"Why did you let him leave?" Gloria questioned as she approached Victoria’s side.

"Excuse me?" Victoria said as she turned toward the other woman.

"That boy stole my wallet," she said. There was a police officer standing next to Gloria. He stared at Victoria intently. The rain began to pick up again.

"That’s ridiculous," Victoria responded with a laugh. "He never stole your wallet."

"How dare you call me a liar," Gloria gasped.

"Because you are, quite frankly, lying," Victoria countered, "or at the very least you are mistaken. That boy didn’t steal anything of yours."

"Oh, how would you know, you weren’t even on the train," Gloria said, dismissing Victoria as if she didn’t even matter. She stared down the street, but could no longer see the boy.

"I was on the train," Victoria said as she reached into her purse and pulled out her ticket stub and nearly smacked Gloria in the face as she held it up. "I apologize if your wallet was stolen, Ma’am, but that boy had absolutely nothing to do with it," she explained.

"And how would you know?" Gloria questioned.

"Because he is my son," Victoria King lied. "and he sat next to me during the entire trip from Albany. If you have lost or misplaced your wallet, then I suggest you look for it elsewhere and stop blaming innocent people. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some place to be," she said as she stepped away from Gloria and reached into her purse for her cell phone. She couldn’t find it and paused. She glanced into her purse, her heart pounding.

"Where is it?" She asked herself. She knew the answer. The cell phone was gone. With a heavy heart, Victoria King glanced up from her purse and stared down the street. She knew she wouldn’t find him. Izik Morin was gone, and he took her cell phone with him.

Cayden King shut the door once his friends had stepped out of the apartment. He turned to face his father, a man he had thought he would never see again. It almost seemed surreal to see his father standing in his apartment. Somewhere deep down inside he always wanted to win his father’s love back, but he has resigned himself to the fact that it would never happen. But now Patrick King stood in front of him and the words coming out of his mouth should have allowed Cayden to finally exhale with relief, but they didn’t.

"I’m sorry," Patrick King said. "There’s no excuse for the way I treated you. You’re my son and I love you. I never stopped loving you. I just . . ."

"Need a moment to come up with an excuse for the way you’ve treated me?" Cayden interjected. "You disowned me, you tried to convince my mother to disown me."

"I made a mistake," Patrick said.

"A mistake?" Cayden questioned incredulously. "A mistake is when you throw in a red sock with the white clothes in the washer. A mistake is when you order the wrong thing off of a menu. This wasn’t a mistake," Cayden explained. "You knew exactly what you were doing."

"Cayden, I didn’t know how to respond. I saw my son having sex with another man. It was such a surprise. You were my boy," he explained. "My son . . . Can you imagine what it would be like to walk in on something you so . . ."

"So what? Disgusting? Unnatural?" Cayden inquired.

"Until that moment, I thought I knew who you were," Patrick King explained. "I thought you and I were not only father and son, but friends, best friends. We shared everything, and then one day I find out that the son I always thought I knew wasn’t the person that I thought he was," Patrick explained.

"And your response is to shut me out of your life?" Cayden questioned. "To cut me off? How could you do that to me?" Cayden questioned.

"I don’t know!" Patrick King yelled. "Why don’t you tell me first? You were the first one to cut me out, God dammit!" He yelled. "You cut me out first! You shut me out first! You lived in my house for eighteen years and never once did you tell me who you really are!"

His father’s outburst caught Cayden off guard and he gasped with surprise as the man he once looked up to began to break down before him. "You want to talk about betrayal?" Patrick questioned as he glanced away from his son. "How could you stand there and accuse me of betrayal when not once in eighteen years did you tell me what was really going on with you? Now, I admit, I was wrong to do what I did to you, but do you even have an apology for me?" Patrick questioned as he found the strength to look into his son’s eyes once again.

"Do you have anything to say to me? You stood there in that very place," Patrick said as he pointed, "and you wanted me to accept you for who you are," Patrick reminded him, "but doesn’t it even strike you as strange that I don’t even know who that person is?"

Cayden couldn’t find the words to respond to his father’s questions. It was as if they had turned the clock back to when he was a young boy when he broke his mother’s lamp and tried to lie about it. He was wrong then, but was he wrong now? And if he wasn’t, why did he feel as if a big part of this current situation was his fault?

"Just put yourself in my shoes, Cayden," Patrick sighed, shaking his head. "You think you know someone and then one day you find out that you don’t really know them at all."

"Don’t compare us, we’re completely different," Cayden responded, a little of his anger poking through.

"You’re right," Patrick said with a nod. "We are completely different. I never lied to you about anything, Cayden. I never lied to you about who I am. I never kept the truth from you. I was honest with you."

"So this is my fault?" Cayden questioned as tears began to stream down his cheeks. "It’s my fault that you hate me? It’s my fault because I didn’t feel that I could tell you? You son of a bitch!" Cayden screamed. "It’s taken me a long time to deal with what you did to me and now you’re back and you have the nerve to make me feel bad that you left me? You left me!" He repeated. "I was alone! I had no one!" He shrieked.

"Cayden!" Someone yelled from the hall. "Cayden, what’s wrong!" The front door was thrown open as Szymon Skubisz rushed into the apartment grabbed Patrick King by the front of his shirt and threw him up against the wall. "What are you doing to him?" He question.

"Cayden, who is this guy. Get him off of me!" Patrick King yelled.

"Holy shit!" Devon James said as she rushed in from the hall and saw Cayden. He had fallen to his knees sobbing. "What happened? You son of a bitch, what did you do to him?" She shouted as she rushed to her friend’s side. "Gage, get me a blanket!" She shouted to her boyfriend, who stood in the doorway wide-eyed with surprise.

"I’m giving you five seconds to tell me what the hell you’re doing here," Szymon Skubisz said as he reached to his side and grabbed his gun and pointed it at Patrick King.

Patrick held his hands up with surprise. His heart began to pound until it felt like it would burst out of his chest.

"Oh shit," Gage Matthews said as he stepped out of the bedroom and saw Szymon with his gun pointed at the man’s head. "We can’t keep killing people like this!" He shouted.

"Look, just relax!" Patrick said as he tried to defuse the situation.

"Three seconds!" Szymon shouted.

"Wait!" Patrick said as the front of his tan dress pants grew wet and began to spread as his panic increased.

"Two!"

"Stop it!" Patrick shouted.

"One!"

"No!" Patrick pleaded. "Wait!"

"Szymon," Victoria King said as she stepped into her son’s apartment. She set her purse down on the table and stepped into the room.

"What’s going on here, Victoria?" Szymon Skubisz questioned as he glanced at Cayden’s mother.

"Put the gun down," she said as she stepped beside him and placed her hand on his arm and gently guided his pistol away from Patrick’s face. "This is Patrick," she said calmly. "He’s Cayden’s father," she added as she glanced back at her ex-husband before smacking him across the face. "You son of a bitch, what the hell are you doing here?!"

"So what’s going on with you and Sebastian?" Sarah Mulberry questioned after Sebastian quickly got dressed and excused himself from Jesse Martinez’s apartment.

"Nothing," Jesse responded. "You have my mail?" He said as he held out his hand for it.

Sarah handed it to him and just as he was about the grab it, she pulled it away. "That sure didn’t look like nothing," Sarah noted. "He was naked in your apartment and correct me if I’m wrong, but I think he was crying too," she added.

"Just give me the mail," Jesse said as he reached over and snatched it out of her hand. He tore it open and shook his head.

"Would you like to talk, Jesse?" Sarah questioned.

"To you?" Jesse asked with surprise.

"I like to think that we’ve become closer these past few months," she explained. "We’ve helped each other out a lot."

"I know, I’m sorry, I’m just . . . Frustrated."

"Frustrated?" Sarah questioned. "You’ve been painting like a maniac. Ever since you became friends with Sebastian the two of you are inseparable and now it seems that something else is going on. He was crying, for God’s sake. Jesse, just tell me. Are you guys lovers?" She questioned.

"No!" Jesse responded.

"Then what? You just have naked men in your apartment all the time?" She asked.

"I was painting his portrait," Jesse explained. "That’s it."

"And what, you painted his dick too small so he got upset and starting crying?" Sarah questioned. "Something else happened here."

"He’s in love with me," Jesse explained. "There, I said it."

"He’s not even gay!" Sarah exclaimed with shock.

"No shit!" Jesse agreed. "But he’s still in love with me."

"I don’t get it," Sarah said as she shook her head. "I thought I understood this whole gay thing, but apparently I don’t. A straight man is in love with another straight man."

"Do you really think he’s straight?" Jesse questioned.

"Sebastian? Damned right he’s straight," She explained. "I had my doubts when I first met him, but you forget, we live on the same floor. There is a constant stream of women coming in and out of his apartment all the time. The man likes his blondes," she explained.

"Then I don’t get it," Jesse sighed.

"He told you that he’s in love with you?" Sarah questioned.

"He tried to kiss me."

"What did you do?" Sarah questioned. "Why was he crying?"

"Because I told him that I don’t love him back," Jesse explained. "I think . . . I think I just ended our friendship," he explained.

"Oh, Jesse . . ." Sarah groaned. "I’m sorry. Maybe you could patch things up."

"How?" Jesse questioned. "He’s in love with me, but he’s not gay. I’m not gay and I’m not in love with him. How do I patch that up. It doesn’t even make sense."

"Yeah," Sarah admitted, "I don’t understand how you could be in love with other men and not consider yourself to be gay," she agreed.

"He said he’s not in love with other men, just me," Jesse explained. "How do I take that?"

Sarah thought for a moment and shrugged. "Up the ass, I guess," she said with a chuckle. Jesse glared at her.

"Oh, come on. So he has feelings for you. So what? There are a lot of people who wish they were more than just friends with people. He’ll get over it. Now come on, get dressed. We have to go downstairs to Victoria‘s engagement party. Joseph can‘t make it and you‘re going to be my date for the night. Don‘t worry," she said with a smile. "I‘m not in love with you."

"You’re a bitch," Jesse said as she shook his head.

"I know, Sweetie," Sarah said as she pointed to the bedroom. "Now go change your shirt. You look like crap."

"Why the hell are we standing in the hallway?" Devon James questioned. "Yet again. Cayden needs his friends right now," She explained.

"There’s nothing we can do," Gage Matthews assured her. "Both Szymon and Victoria are in there with him. They won’t let his father do anything to him."

"I know," Devon sighed, "I just wish there was something that I could do. I feel useless," she explained.

"Well, you can’t fix everything," Gage reminded her.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Devon questioned. "Never mind," she said as she glanced down the hall. "Hold that thought. Why the hell didn’t you call me?" She questioned as she stepped past Gage, her eyes set on Elijah Montessori as he approached. Nicolae Federov was standing at his side.

"I know, I’m sorry," Elijah responded. "We lost all track of time and then had to rush to get dr-dressed."

"You nasty ass," Devon said. "You guys fuck like rabbits. I guess it’s okay though, you stutter less after sex," she noted with a smirk. "Nicolae, I hope your taking care of him. Ever since he moved in with you, I don’t get to see him as often as I’d like."

"I’m sorry," Nicolae said. "We’ve just been really busy."

"Busy my ass," Devon said. "My friends are important to me, do you understand? Make time to come see me. Hell, at this rate, my son‘s going to be graduating high school the next time I see the two of you."

"Yes sir," Nicolae said with a mock salute.

"Where the hell is Ryan?" Devon questioned. "She was supposed to help me decorate. I called her like fifty times and she hasn’t answered."

"She’s at the club," Nicolae explained. "Johnny has her doing some kind of inventory or something. She might not even make it."

"Whatever, I told that bitch to be here," Devon explained as she reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. "I’m calling her." She dialed the number as gage stepped over to the boys and shook their hands.

"She’s becoming a bigger control freak than ever," Gage whispered.

"I heard that, asshole," Devon said as she held the cell phone to her ear. "Finally, Bitch!" She said once Ryan answered. "Where the hell are you?"

"At the club," Ryan responded. "Johnny’s in a real mood and sprung this surprise inventory on us. She’s acting like a real bitch. I’ll be there as soon as possible."

"Tell that bitch that I said you had to leave," Devon laughed. She had to admit, she was the last person to believe that she would ever become friends with Ryan Clarke. The very fact that she was the spitting image of Julia Taylor was enough to almost send her over the edge, but once you got to know her, you realized that was where the similarities ended. She was a completely different person, and once you accepted that, it was a lot easier to accept her face. "Look, I gotta go," Devon said, "Gage is talking shit about me and I have to slap him."

"Wait," Ryan said as she lowered her voice. "Before you hang up, you asked me to keep an eye on Johnny for you."

"Yeah, and?"

"Well, I heard her talking to someone. She was asking them when they were scheduled to arrive from . . ." she explained.

"From where?" Devon questioned. She couldn’t hear the tail end of what Ryan was saying. The phone call seemed to be breaking up. "Ryan? Can you hear me? Ryan? I can’t hear you. Ryan? Dammit," Devon said as the call dropped.

"Can you hear me now?" Gage teased.

"Shut up," Devon said. "She was trying to tell me something. I hope to God it’s not what I think I heard, though."

"Why not?" Gage questioned.

"Because if it is, then you and I are in for a nightmare," she explained.

"Shouldn’t we be going in-inside?" Elijah questioned.

"No," Devon explained. "You don’t want to go in there just yet."

"Why not?" Nicolae asked.

"Because you’d be walking right smack into a family nightmare," Devon assured him and I sure as hell don’t think you’re ready for that. Let’s go to our apartment."

"Why don’t you come to our place?" Gage questioned. He smiled at Devon. He loved calling it their place. The moment he moved in with her was probably the happiest time in his life.

"What the hell is that?" Devon questioned as she heard shouting coming from the elevator. Everyone in the hallway paused at the sound. An furious argument was erupting on the elevator down the hall. When it came to a stop at their floor they watched at the doors opened.

"I swear to God, if you call me ghetto one more time, I will kick your Oreo cookie ass."

"How dare you speak to me like that?"

The two woman stepped off of the elevator nudging one another to the side.

"Holy shit," Devon said with surprise.

"Oh my God," Gage mouthed.

"Mama?" They said in unison. Devon and Gage turned toward one another with shock, trying to understand what was happening.

"Baby!" The two women said at the same time. They too turned toward one another and it was at that moment that Gloria Matthews and Dorthea James realized that they shared much more than just a train ride from Albany.

"So what exactly did you say to our son this time?" Victoria questioned as she sat beside Cayden. She stared at Patrick intently, with hatred in her eyes.

"I just told him how I felt," Patrick explained as he stared down at his urine soaked pants. "That’s it."

"He told me it was my fault," Cayden explained. "That I did all of this."

"Patrick, how could you?" Victoria questioned.

Szymon sat quietly in the back of the room. It was not his place to interfere in Cayden’s family dynamic. He was there to make sure that Cayden wasn’t hurt. At the first sign that his boyfriend was in pain, he would step in and put an end to it.

"I told you how I felt," Patrick explained. "I told you how betrayed I felt by him. All I did was tell him."

"So you went on and on about being lied to for eighteen years and how you didn’t know who our son really was and blah, blah, blah?" Victoria questioned. "You gave him the guilt trip. Made him feel horrible for keeping his secret, for hiding who he was? Made him feel like he was wrong for lying? Have you ever asked yourself why our son felt the need to keep that secret from us, Patrick? Have you ever once asked yourself why he didn’t feel comfortable enough to tell us the truth?" She inquired.

"I know," Patrick said. "I think about it all the time. Maybe if I was a better father. Maybe if I listened more. Maybe if I allowed him to feel like he could tell me anything. I can’t change that, Victoria. As much as I want to, I can’t. I can only move forward."

"And how is she?" Victoria King questioned. "The woman you moved forward with?"

"She’s gone," Patrick responded.

Victoria King began to laugh. "She dumped you," she said as she shook her head. "It serves you right, Patrick. You sneaky son-of-a-bitch, it serves you right."

"I didn’t really want her. I was reacting to my son not being the man I thought he was," Patrick explained. "I’m sorry, but I understand now what I really want. I want you back," he explained. "Both of you."

"It’s too late," Cayden said. "What’s done is done."

"It’s never too late," Patrick explained. "We can get back what we’ve always had."

"What did we have, Patrick?" Victoria questioned. "Lies? Betrayal? A family where people didn’t feel free to be honest with one another. This wasn’t the first time you cheated on me," she explained.

"What?" Cayden questioned with surprise.

"I’m sorry, Sweetheart," Victoria said as she reached over and gave Cayden’s hand a squeeze. "Shortly after you were born your father cheated on me," she explained. "It took us years to get past it. I thought he was done with that. I thought he would never cheat on me again and then it happened one day and I realized what was important to me and I left and I came straight here," she explained.

"You make me sick," Cayden said as he shook his head. "I want you out of my house."

"Cayden, please . . ." Patrick said as he stood up.

"Don’t you dare say another word to me," Cayden said as he pointed his finger in his father’s face. "Don’t you dare try to make up for all of the pain you’ve caused us. Maybe I wasn’t honest with you. Maybe I did keep the truth from you, but you gave me a reason to want to hide the truth and I won’t let you make me feel bad for doing it. I won’t."

Szymon Skubisz stood up and cleared his throat. "Wait," Patrick said as he motioned for Szymon to relax. "Cayden, we need to talk about this. Let’s be civil here."

"I don’t want to talk to you," Cayden said as he walked toward the door and grabbed the knob. "It’s time for you to go," he said as he threw the door open.

"Oh my God," Victoria King said as she stood up from the couch. "Izik? How did you find me?"

Izik Morin stared at Victoria with surprise. "What are you doing here?" He questioned with disbelief.

"My son lives here," Victoria explained.

"You’re his mother?" Izik questioned as he pointed to Cayden and tried to control the torrent of emotions building up inside of him.

Izik stepped into the apartment and caught sight of Patrick King. He began to shake his head. "You son of a bitch, you followed me. You followed me?"

"Wait a minute what’s going on here?" Victoria questioned as she took a step forward.

"Who are you?" Cayden questioned.

"Do you want to tell them, or should I?" Izik questioned. "Do you want to tell them what you did to me?" He questioned.

"Look, everyone just calm down," Patrick said. "We can talk about this rationally. Izik, I need you to calm down."

"You know this boy, Patrick?" Victoria questioned.

"What’s going on here?" Cayden questioned as glanced at his father and stepped up beside Izik.

"Tell them," Izik said again as he stared at Patrick King.

Cayden stared at his father. His eyes widened as he heard the very word he was about to say come from not his own lips, but from the lips of the young boy standing next to him.

"Dad?"