[Teaser - Part I]
Location: Beach House
Time: After the Shooting, approaching mid-night
"What a mess!" Craig exclaimed looking around at the matchwood that had been the beach house. Even the hot tub had not escaped damage, having been hit a few times and drained.
Lt. Soto looked up from the metal clipboard an officer had handed to him. Speaking in Craig's direction as he wrote something down, "That's right, you're the owner. I take it you're insured?"
"Of course I am, but still, this will take a while to make it a house again," he responded, now looking directly at the detective.
"Afraid it will have to wait. Despite the fact the responsible parties seem to be dead, I want an investigative team to go through this place with a fine tooth comb."
"But where will the models stay?"
"I don't think it is safe to stay here for the time being, anyhow. I'm sure they can find places. I'm sure you'll help out." Soto eyed him on the last remark.
Craig dodged the glance but still was caught. "Of course, but can I have someone place tarps on the place to protect it from weather damage?"
As an answer, Soto turned to a tall dark uniform. "Sgt. Welks? Will you coordinate with Mr. Boudin, the landlord, on how to place weather protection so not to interfere with the crime scene." Turning back to Craig, Soto nodded once then went off to find Hillary.
Hillary had gathered most of her models except the departed Sarah away from the inspecting police, out in the driveway, by Bright Eyes' shiny clean Rambler. The tailgate was down and the two smallest women, Linda and Bright Eyes, were huddled far inside the heavily accessorised chassis on the carpeted bed, with Cynthia and Julie next to them, and Monique, Adam, Brian, and Hillary sitting, standing around the tailgate. Anna was up front in the shotgun seat with Cally half-in, half-out of the driver's seat, the only model around who would tolerate her being so close. Jason and Victoria leaned against the driver's side of the forest green truck, quietly dwelling on their own thoughts.
And sitting in her car limousine, staring daggers through the darkened glass, was Grayson. She stared in the direction of Hillary and crew, but her thoughts were elsewhere.
'And he calls himself a hitman!' she thought! He use to be the best, but now? She had paid him a lot in advance and he shot the wrong person at the wedding and now, even with help, he can't hit the target at a party. Worse! Jon had almost shot her instead of Jason, that smug preppie!
She couldn't figure out why he had hired 'a chorus', either, but she didn't tell him how to do his hits, just as long as they got done to her desired style. A requirement he seemed no longer able to complete.
But she very much wanted to see Jon again. To find out what happened, to see her money again, and, if necessary, to see that he paid dearly if he had decided to cheat her.
There was so much left to do, so many people left to die. Considering that, she mixed herself a drink from the bar.
Hillary, standing, turned away from talking to the seated Monique and looked toward the police Lieutenant as he walked up. "What's the story, Lt. Soto? Are you done for the night?"
"Yes and no. You and your people are free to go, but, I'm afraid the beach house is out of the question. I want to have a forensic team go over it and I can't have people living in it till their done."
"Well, that's fine with me," Julie said in usual harsh tones from behind Monique and Adam, Monique briefly looking over her shoulder with her quiet amused smile. "I'd have too many nightmares sleeping in this place the way it is."
"Where will we go?" Linda's voice came from within the car.
Hillary took immediate charge. "Wherever people go, I think they should double up with friends. After this tonight, I think they will be better off if they aren't alone in a dark, unfamiliar place. Besides, there's the Hartscord fashion show tomorrow. It will be better if my models aren't spread out all over town."
"I'll leave this matter to you, Ms. Michaels," Soto said. Pointing to a policewoman standing at the front door, he mentioned, "When you are ready to get your things, Hamiliton there will conduct you through the house." Nodding, he moved off, stopping at Grayson's window to tell her the same. He barely got out of the way before she quickly had her driver depart.
"Good night, everyone." Grayson said. The car then went off, in the direction of Models, Inc.
People were moving away from where they had been and were approaching the rear to talk. Coming up from behind him, Anna tapped Brian on the shoulder and asked in her bubbly way, "Brian! Can I stay at your place?"
Brian started at her behind him and then had his attention momentarily diverted as Adam and Monique moved off of the tailgate to allow Cynthia and Julie out of the Rambler, catching the look that Cynthia gave him.
"Mmmm..."
[Teaser - Part 2]
Location: A former clinic in a shopping centre
Time: 12:03 am
Rosalind Deane stared at the empty shell that was to become her office. It was in a shopping center which had seen better days, but she was determined. She wanted to make the former chiropractic clinic into something. Something better. Perhaps a couple of flower arrangements around the room. And, of course, the trophy case with pageant sashes and crowns in the corner. The photograph and large rhinestone tiara on the bottom shelf would be the only reminder Roz was once Miss New Jersey.
What of New York? That had been left in the capable hands of her partner, Gillian Burke. Gillian had told her, "I'll take good care of things, Roz." And Roz believed her. After all, it was Gillian who spurred her on to clean up her act.
First of all, Roz had to clean up the mess the chiropractor left behind. She tossed an old magazine aside and walked along the bare concrete floor. Pretty soon, she thought, this place will come to life again.
Just like me.
We'll have flowers and plush carpet and pretty pictures all over the place. And pretty models. Rosalind sighed deeply, realizing the work to be done. She couldn't do it alone. If she was going to open up a branch of Cotillion Models and Pageants in Los Angeles, she'd have to have models and pageants to work with.
Where to start? Where to start?
She would start with breakfast. After all, she did tell her models in New York that breakfast was the most important meal of the day, no matter what time of the day it occurred at. Fortunately, the coffeeshop next door was open 24 hours a day. She'd go in, order a cup of decaf and a fat-free muffin and pore over the news service print out she had picked up earlier.
She smiled as she flipped to the financial section of the print outs. Her stocks had gone up that day. The fashion section looked good, too, with all the spring collections taking up space (no wonder the transmissions take so long, she thought). Perhaps Pacific Standard Time would agree with Rosalind after all, especially since it enabled her to review more than just the New York exchange. As she tossed the paper cup into the recycling bin, she thought to herself, "Mary Rose Dennison is dead. Long live Rosalind Deane."
[Act 1]
Location: Beach-House
Time: 12:05am after the shooting
"Brian! Can I stay at your place?"
"Mmmm, I don't think so, sorry," he replied, turning back to face Anna.
"Well, can I," Cynthia asked. Brian spun to face her with wide eyes.
Reddening, he stammered. "No, that's not possible."
Anna tapped him on the shoulder again. "Well, why not? I mean, I have to go someplace."
And out of Anna's earshot, Julie's voice sounded "hell" causing Hillary to look up sharply and Monique to surpress a quick laugh.
Brian was still stammering. "It's just not convenient. I mean, I have all my equipment layed out for the fashion show tomarrow," he lied.
"Don't worry about it, Brian," Jason's voice came from the other side. "They can stay at my place; I'll grab a hotel room."
Anna's eyes immediately lit up as she looked Jason up and down, oblivious to what he said about a hotel room. "Okay!"
"I AM NOT GOING TO BE IN THE SAME PLACE WITH THAT WOMAN," Cynthia firmly declared, causing Hillary to look back at her.
"There's plenty of room, Cynthia," Jason said. "Two bedrooms and a roll out sofa."
"I will not be alone in same place with her."
There was the sound of something dropping on the pavement and crush and then a curse word. Jason turned and saw Cally looking at some piece of crushed plastic on the ground. But Jason's mind was still on the immediate matter.
"Cally, what about you? Where are you staying?"
"Nowhere right now unless you are offering," she said, still looking down at the crushed plastic she had stepped on.
"I am." Turning back to Cynthia, "And that makes three. You won't be alone. Is it okay, now?"
"We..ll, okay, but it's not right for you to have to put up in a hotel. Brian, are you sure he can't stay at your place?"
Before Brian could answered, Hillary moved in. "Yes, are you sure? I don't want to pull rank on you, but after tonight, I think I would feel better if I knew that all my star members were in places where I could easily get in touch with them." Hillary's eyes sparkled, looking at Brian.
And Brian saw his easy out of the Cynthia/Anna feud. "Of course, no problem."
"Then, that's settled," Jason said. He took out a business card holder and started scribbling his address, phone number on the back to pass them out.
Cally had picked up what she had stepped on. Craddling the beeper in her hand, she edged toward the tailgate party, standing behind Monique and Adam. Adam took a look and commented, "I think it has had it."
Cally nodded. "Ruined. I'll need to get another one from the company," she accepted Jason's card as he handed it over, "need to call for one." Closing her hand around it, she started to look in the direction of the house, but stopped when Adam produced a folding cellular phone from his pocket.
"Allow me?" Cally nodded thanks, accepted the phone, and moved off to make her call.
Make sure that she was far enough away from everyone, she dialed her number, with the line being answered on the tenth ring by "Roadrunners."
"This beeper owner 4748."
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON OUT THERE? Eberd is alert like a Christmas tree with traffic messages!"
Despite herself, Cally swore. "Open line! I'm fine! We're all fine! But my beeper has been trashed. I need a new one delivered to the following address." She read off the location. "Can you deliver to that location?"
"You better believe we will. With a new instruction book." And the line clicked off. Cally, despite her anger, composed herself and headed back to the group.
The group had thinned a little, since Julie had gone off to find Craig and the Jason party off to gather supplies. Bright Eyes, Victoria, and Linda were talking about all of them staying at Bright Eyes' home.
"Thanks, Adam," Cally said as she handed back the phone.
"No problem," and started to put the device back in his pocket when it shrilled. Shrugging, he opened it up to answer it.
"Adam? It's Eric. I just heard what happened? Was Linda there? Is she all right?"
"She's fine, Eric."
"Can I talk to her?"
"Let me check." Lowering the phone and covering the mouth piece, he called out to Linda. "It's Eric. Would you like to talk to him?"
She hesitated, glanced at the hovering Hillary who pressed her lips together in apprehension and then, slightly nodded. Linda took the waiting phone from Adam and moved aside to listen.
After a few minutes alone, she returned and handed the phone back. Looking at the trio, she said, "He wants to talk and is coming over to pick me up."
Monique glanced to Hillary and said, "Do you think that's wise?"
"I think so. Do you, Hillary?"
"He's changed, so yes." Watching her walk off to decline Bright Eyes offer, Hillary said to the remaining two, "Everyone is taken care of...."
"Except you, Hillary," Monique cut her off before she could get any further. "You shouldn't be alone, either. I want you to stay at our house. I won't take no for an answer."
"Monique's of course right, Hillary. We have the room; please, after all that has gone on, it's better that no one is alone tonight."
With a smile on her face, Hillary replied, "How can I refuse," and accompanied them to make their farewells.
[Act 2]
Location: Unknown
Time: Unknown
Carrie relaxed in a red crochet bikini along side the pool at a major, exclusive hotel in LA. She had been back in LA for the past two days, arriving late at night, decently well supplied in cash and the late Jim's instructions for obtaining such accomadations, but without much of a plan.
While she more or less trusted Hillary, she could not go back to her because no doubt Grayson would be somewhere near and Grayson was the one who sent her away. Besides, going to Hillary might bring Grayson's guns directly against her.
Assuming that any of them were still around, still alive, at all. She had been away for a long while.
She certainly hoped that nothing bad had happened to Deidra, that she was well. Carrie wanted that so that she would be the one to make Deidra unwell.
But for right now, she relaxed, gathering her energies, thinking of ways how best to proceed, unknown to the city.
Almost unknown.
In her limo, a dedicate line that few had the number to started blinking on and off at the small phone bank. Catching it out of the corner of her eye, Grayson checked once to make sure that the window to the chauffer was up then snatched up the phone.
"Yes, Rebecca, what is it?"
"Grayson, I didn't know you would be out so late at night... anyway, I have Mechanic on the other line, wanting to talk to you. He says it's urgent."
Grayson frowned. Mechanic was an occasionally good informant, but his pushiness and arrogance and desire for money over good judgement made him a bad risk. Still, he might have something useful this time.
"Okay, patch him thru." There was a click. "What is it, Mechanic? Make it quick!" 'As if there isn't enough going on, she thought to herself.'
"I've seen Carrie Spencer in LA."
"Impossible," Grayson said flatly, picking her words carefully. This phone line, though scrambled and encrypted, was still very easily monitored on the airwaves. "She's gone for good."
"I don't think so, Grayson, but what is it worth to you to have that a certainity?"
"I don't deal in pipedreams, Mechanic. Bring me absolute proof." Adding a level of intentional aloofness to her voice, her next phrase was built to be figurative to all who heard except for those who actually knew her.
"Bring me her head on a silver platter. If it is indeed her, then you will be well rewarded. But don't waste my time." And with that, Grayson hung up the phone.
[Act 3]
Location: Outside Beach House
Time: 12:29am
As the groups scattered even more from Bright Eye's truck, Hillary was stopped in her tracks with a sudden thought. Monique caught her move and looked on with curiosity and concern. "Hillary, what's wrong?"
Hillary shook her head. "Just a business detail. I'll be right back." She looked around and found who she needed. "Jason!"
Jason turned and slowed, allowing Hillary to catch up with him. "Yes, Hillary?"
"Sarah is signed up to be at that show and we need her, but in her current state of mind, I don't think she will be there."
"Agreed. So?"
"I want you to find her and convince her to be there."
"What makes you think that I even know where she is?"
"Nothing. But I think Brian might."
"Why me, Hillary?"
"Because we need her. Because she is more likely to respond to your requests than mine. Because she is not likely to see you as an enemy. Because...."
"I don't want to do it, Hillary," Jason replied firmly.
"Because I'm telling you to do it, vice president," Hillary put back harsher, her intent clearly in her face.
"Yes, MA'AM," and Jason strode off, deep in thought. He wouldn't need Brian to find Sarah.
[Act 4]
Location: Hotel
Time: 1:10am
Sarah, from Jason's point of view, tended to be as innocent as always. Innocent and easy to follow. Once his informants were given the necessary details to key on, her location rapidly became visible.
Apparently she was in the same hotel that Anna had occupied, but on a higher floor. Though late at night, the room from the outside was readily lit.
With his ear to the door, he knocked, and gently called her name. Inside, he could hear something, though he could not quite put his finger on it. He knocked again, "Sarah, it's me, Jason," he said gently.
That did get an answer. "Go away, Jason, please, I don't want to see anyone." Now, he could identify the sound from before. Not surprisingly she had been crying.
With gentleness and charm, he pushed on. "Sarah, I need to talk to you, please. Please let me in, please?" There was a long pause of about 30 seconds when the door suddenly opened, revealing the woman, still in her party clothes, but her makeup smeared and her eyes swollen. She walked away from the open door without a word. Jason walked in and closed it behind him.
He did a quick survey of the room. No alcohol was apparent, which was a relief. That would make his job easier or at least, easier that the results would hold. Sarah had retreated to the edge of the bed and sat down. It was rather apparent that this had been her crying field.
"Sarah," he said gently as he sat down beside her, "I'm sorry about your father..."
"I don't want to talk about him at all!", she snapped. "I don't want to talk at all about my past!"
"Then, let's talk about your future, okay?" Jason's charm disappeared slightly as a serious tone picked in. He was looking at Sarah who was only looking down at the sheets. "You are, right now, at cross roads. You have success, but you are also building a reputation of being hard to work with. You leave the agency like this and I think you will destroy what you have left.
"And that will be the end, Sarah, because I think we both know that there is no home to go to. But it doesn't have to be like that."
"It doesn't?"
"No. Say good bye. Properly, Sarah. Do the show tomorrow as you have agreed to. And after that..."
"WHAT?" Sarah looked up for the first time, throwing the question out to him.
"After that," Jason said calmly, not to be drawn in, "I will make your leaving the agency smooth and without repercussions. You won't leave with the reputation that Carrie did, of being impossible to work with. Because you aren't. You just need someone who understands what is going on without trying to take advantage of you."
Sarah calmed a little bit, her voice going softer. "Why would you do that for me?"
"Because I don't like seeing models self destructing." He gently placed his hand under her chin and raised it so their eyes met. "If I can save one..." and he let his voice trail off. Sarah didn't say a word, but merely nodded through tear streaked eyes.
"Do you need some one to stay with you? I'll sleep in the chair," he continued, gently speaking. Sarah hesitated but shook her head. "Then you should get some sleep so you can make a proper farewell at the show." Lending her a hand up so she could go and remove her make up, he excused himself to make a phone call to Brian, to inform him of when he would be arriving.
The call only took a moment. He returned to Sarah, but she was in the bathroom with the door closed. Knocking gently, he made his farewells and departed.
A minute or two after Jason had left, a puffied eye Sarah, still dressed but minus the makeup, exited the bathroom. She looked once at the bed, shivered at the dreams she knew she faced, and opted instead to exit the hotel room for a while.
[Act 5]
Location: Park outside the hotel, near a fountain
Time: 2:00am
Sarah didn't really want to be there. She would rather be out getting drunk at Stage 99. She didn't have much interest in anything else after she ran away from the party, and after making the promise to Jason. She seems too tired to do anything... anything.
"Why did I say yes?" Sarah's keep asking herself. She wanted to be away from them all: the people who killed his father. The people who wish to see her going down, never to rise again. Yet, when Jason asked her about the big show tomorrow, she said yes...
May be subconsciously she needed a change; a chance to be a big name again. Or may be, it has something to do with her desire for a companion. A person that understands - a person that would go the further step for her, like, Jason.
A tear trickled down her eye. She dabbed at it with a Kleenex as an older, auburn-haired woman, conservatively dressed in pastel, looked on. The woman looked more as if she were dressed for church than for an AA meeting. She walked up to Sarah.
"Hey, it's OK. I was there once myself."
"No you weren't. You didn't have the biggest chance of your life blow up in your face."
"Believe me, I've been there. I cried just like you. Come on, tell me what's wrong. I promise, I'll understand."
Sarah ran her hand through her now-unkempt hair. It was such a change from how she wore it for the shampoo commercials. Now it was stringy, and had looked unwashed for a week. She chuckled nervously.
"I feel...well, *weird*. I shouldn't be telling things to a complete stranger."
The woman smiled. "I'm not a stranger any more. My name's Rosalind. Call me Roz."
Roz extended a well-manicured hand to give Sarah the business card with the pink and peach roses that were her trademark.
"Any time. Day or night. My door and my phone are open."
Sarah stared at the card. Cotillion Models and Pageants. Rosalind Deane, Director. 13715
Foothill Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90047. (213) 555-6748.
"I'm new here, but I'm recovering, too. Ten years sober. You never stop recovering. Call me sometime. Maybe we can get together."
"I d-don't know what to say, " Sarah stammered.
"Say you'll give me a call."
Sarah relaxed a bit. Perhaps she really could trust this strange woman. Perhaps Roz Deane would prove to be a friend after all.
--- THE END OF RP.16 "Problems Don't Come Alone" ---
*NEXT EPISODE*
Models, Inc. RP.17 - "In Love with an Angel"
*Sarah's in love, but plenty of people want to stop her.
*What has Roz got in her mind?
RP.16 Written by
*Traci "DRAGONETTES" <TH06@swt.edu>
*WhiteDog <lwdog@netspace.net.au> and
*Elisabeth Shaw <bethshaw@praline.no.neosoft.com>
New storyline devised and edited by WhiteDog,
*Danielle Spence <danielle@corp.hp.com> and *Traci "DRAGONETTES" <TH06@swt.edu>.
MI, Characters and names properties of the Spelling Entertainment group.
What would you like to see? Send in your storyline requests NOW to <lwdog@netspace.net.au>.