Welcome to the second story in the trilogy that began with "It Was All About Love For". Like the first story in the series, this story has strong language and adult situations, so I'm rating it as "M", just to be safe.

It is important that you read "It Was All About Love For" before reading this story. Parts of this story will not make sense without that as a background.

I'll be updating this story once a month so that I can stay far enough ahead to have regular updates. And, again, the only thing I own are the Lawrence family (and probably Emily and her brother.)

Unblended: A Beautiful Mess

By: December

Prologue – Here We Are

"So, here we are. Here. We. Are."

- Jason Mraz, "A Beautiful Mess"

November 27, 2042

London, Ontario

Canada

4:15pm

She never thought she'd see the day when she was glad she wasn't able to get out on the ice. Yet, that day, she wasn't ranting about St. Mary's hockey team co-opting her practice rink again, even though St. Mary's was Thompson's biggest rival. The moment she realized that she couldn't skate that afternoon, she was out the door and driving away in her car. She didn't even stop to ask her coach if there was other practicing that she could do instead. There was something more important to her than mastering the double toe loop and the triple axel waiting for her at home.

She had barely thrown the car in park and cut if off before she was at the door to her house. She had barely gotten in the door before she was running up the stairs. She felt a little guilty about not going to greet her mother first, as she normally did, but her mother would be there. Her brother? Her brother might not.

She had been excited about Mikey being home all day, but reticent to talk about it. Her friends had all wondered why she was more bouncy than normal, but she had only smiled. She didn't want to talk about Mikey being home just yet. She was almost afraid to. It made no sense, but part of her was convinced if she talked about Mikey being back with them, then he would leave.

When she reached Mike's room, she noticed the door was cracked. She opened the door without knocking, almost as if she didn't want to give him any warning she was coming in. What she found when she entered the room was a neatly made bed and almost no evidence of Mike having spent the night. For a moment, Emily was afraid her brother had left yet again without telling her goodbye.

Seeing his duffel bag sitting next to his desk and his cellberry sitting on top of the desk, allowed Emily to release the breath she didn't realize that she was holding. "Mikey? Are you in here?" Emily asked belated, sure her brother was around if his cellberry was there.

She didn't get an answer in return. 'At least I know he'll be back for this,' she thought as she picked up his cellberry. She was curious about why he left it. Obviously he wasn't one of those people who had his whole life programmed into his cellberry, or else it would be with him. Their father didn't have his life programmed into his cellberry and Emily didn't have everything in the cellberry that she had gotten as a gift last Christmas. Her mother, however, had the lives of the entire extended family in her cellberry; Daddy teased Mom about that often enough. Casey Venturi did have more stuff in her cellberry than her husband's personal assistant or her own manager combined. Emily wondered what Mike had in his.

As she picked up the cellberry and turned it on, she told herself that she wasn't snooping. Mikey clearly didn't have the phone with him and she needed to see if there was a reason to try to find him and get the cellberry into his hands right away. So it was a weak excuse, but it was one. And if Mike had locked his cellberry, it really wouldn't matter what she tried to do.

Amazingly, the PDA-telecom device was unlocked. She didn't know where to start looking. She ignored the links button, because who knew how often Mike used the internet feature. She also ignored the lifelines listing, because she thought that might be prying too much. But she did decide to look at the list of contacts in his cellberry.

The list was sadly short, only about ten entries. Her mother had over 60; her father had at least that many. Emily's own list fluctuated a lot, but averaged around 150. Since there were only ten entries, Emily decided to look at them. The first was just listed as "Canada embassy". Did Mike need to be able to reach the Canadian embassy for some reason? And which embassy in what country? The States maybe? He did know about their Thanksgiving holiday after all.

The second entry was for a Dr. L. This entry was flagged as a lifeline, one of four that was. After Dr. L. were listed an "Imani" and a "Jake", with no further notes, except that this Imani was also a lifeline. There was the expected ICE listing; Emily stopped short of checking to see what number was there. The next entry was labeled "Mom" with Sally in parentheses. This must be Mike's mother. Emily had actually never met her, although she had heard the name in passing.

After Mike's mother, he had a listing for Nana Abby. That surprised Emily a lot, especially as it was designated as a lifeline. Mike wouldn't have done that unless he had talked with Nana Abby in the last year. Mike had been talking to Nana Abby? She'd never mentioned it, not that Emily would have thought to ask. How long had Mike been talking to their grandmother?

She could have thought about that more, but being curious about the other entries, Emily continued. There was a listing for an "OIE"; Emily had no idea what that could even be. There was also a listing for a Pizza Hut. That one made Emily laugh. Her brother had take-out programmed into his cellberry! So did their father. Derek had numbers for the preferred take-out places in London and the other cities where he spent a lot of time, like Toronto, Ottawa, New York, L.A. and Detroit. The last entry was listed as "Sponsor Alex" and also had the distinction of being the last lifeline.

"That raised more questions than it answered," Emily huffed as she set the cellberry down. Somehow, she managed to knock over Mike's duffel bag. A grey t-shirt rolled out. Emily went to pick it up, to put in back not to see what it was. At least, that is what she told herself. After she picked it up, she unfolded it. Printed on the shirt in blue was "University of the Commonwealth, established 2010". Emily had never heard of that university before. She'd have to look into it. She also wondered why Mike had the shirt. Did he graduate from a university? Did he graduate from that university?

Replacing the shirt and backing away from the desk, Emily looked around the bedroom as she thought. It did look like Mike might need a towel; she would have to ask him when he came back. While she was cataloging what things Mike might need to make his stay comfortable, she was also making a list of all the questions she wanted answered. Her father often laughed at her thought process, insisting that the laundry list of questions "was all Casey" and the way she researched a problem was "totally Ed's fault". The research file she had on her flash drive was probably influenced by her uncle as well…but her father didn't know about that file.

How long she stood in the middle of Mike's room in thought, she wasn't sure. Regardless if it was two seconds or two hours, her brother's voice startled her when he said, "If you are looking for something in particular, you can just ask. I might be willing to help you find it."

Emily jumped before whirling around to face her brother, glad that she had finished her information gathering before he had returned, "Mikey! You scared me."

Her brother shrugged as he came into the room. "Any particular reason you are casing my room?"

"I…I'm not!" Emily insisted. She wasn't casing the room. So, she had looked through some of his stuff, but that was rifling, not casing. "I just wanted to be sure you had everything," she told her brother, which was also true in its own way. It was one of her original purposes for being in the room, after all.

"And you couldn't have just asked me?" Mike raised an eyebrow as he sat on his made-up bed.

"But, if you needed towels or something, they could have already have been waiting for you," Emily smiled at her brother, thankful she had inherited some of their father's ability to bluff.

"Uh-huh," Mike replied.

"What?" Emily asked nervously. Maybe she was more like her mother than her father when it came to bluffing.

"I just don't think Venturi's training you for maid service," Mike shrugged

Emily laughed at that. "No, of course this wasn't Daddy's idea. Daddy wouldn't make up his side of the bed if Mom didn't insist. Besides…Mom has said that Daddy isn't allowed to determine my career path."

"Smart move on Mrs. Venturi's part, seeing how well Venturi did with me," her brother said nonchalantly, as if it were true.

To be honest, the statement shocked Emily into silence. Mikey was blaming their father for some failure in his life? Emily didn't understand a lot of her brother and father's relationship, but she did recognize bitterness and blame when she heard it. Those feelings and her reaction had her sinking into Mike's desk chair. "That's not fair, Mikey," she corrected her brother in a soft voice.

"Truth rarely is," was Mike's reply.

"It's not truth either! Mikey-" Emily found herself preparing to vigorously defend…someone, she wasn't sure who, but she didn't get the chance.

Mike held up a hand and Emily stopped. "You don't have to defend your father to me, Emily. I shouldn't have said anything."

'How do I respond to that?' Emily had to wonder. There was a lot she wanted to say, but she wasn't sure how to say it. "Dinner's in an hour," she blurted out instead as she stood up and walked toward the door.

"Thanks."

As she paused at the open door, the first part of the Mikey's reply rang in her head. He had called Dad her father, like Derek Venturi wasn't something they had in common. Like they weren't a family. Maybe if Mike just remembered that they were all in everything together, then he'd stay? Regardless, she found she couldn't walk out without reminding Mike that he should have more than just his mother and Nana Abby programmed into his cellberry. "And Mikey…he's your father, too," is what Emily shared quietly as she left.

As she walked back to her room, Emily knew that she should go downstairs and help her mother with the special dinner for Mikey that she was no doubt planning. But first, she had to make a note. She couldn't ignore that blue and grey t-shirt from a university that she had never heard of. With a few Google searches she might be able to find out more about it, and look into it. Mike had that shirt for a reason. Maybe he managed to go to university and that was where he graduated from? Either way, that additional clue into her brother's life was more important to her than finally nailing a double toe loop.

April 3, 2043

Fredericksburg, Virginia

United States of America

10am

Even if the place had been packed, he would have recognized the famous filmmaker right away. This was not because Keith had seen the Canadian's picture before or followed any of the general press on his work; although he did have much respect for the man based on the industry press on his work. No, the foreign director, like most directors, knew a lot about placement and space. Where and how he had chosen to sit in the outdoor seating of the Starbucks spoke volumes. Keith had to wonder if the director had any acting experience as well. At the moment, the person he was coming to meet was doing a great impression of exiled overprotective father.

Walking over to the well positioned gentlemen, Keith said more than asked, "Mr. Venturi? I'm Keith Lawrence. Thank you for meeting me here."

"Mr. Lawrence," the gentleman returned as he rose to shake Keith's offered hand. "It's nice to finally meet you in person. The twitter conferencing is always tiring after a certain point."

"On that we agree," Keith returned. "And you can call me Keith, Mr. Venturi. The only people who call me Mr. Lawrence are my accountant, my housekeeper, and my wife when she's angry with me."

"Only if you call me Derek," Derek Venturi replied. "My father is Mister Venturi."

"Okay, Derek," Keith smiled as he indicated that Derek return to his seat. Sitting across from him, Keith put his cellberry on the table in front of him, noting that his companion had a cup of coffee and a cellberry on the table as well. "I apologize for being late. My wife is a professor at the university here and she had to impart a ton of 'honey do' orders before rushing off to some accepted students' panel."

"I can relate to the laundry list of instructions from a wife. Mine is very good with that. She'll even e-send me the instructions later, just to be sure I have them."

Keith laughed, "Maybe I shouldn't introduce her to my Amanda, then."

After his companion stopped laughing, Keith found himself asking the question that he had been tossing around in his head since he first heard from Derek about a possible face-to-face meeting. "Why did you come all the way to the States? I would have come to Canada. You didn't have to make a special trip to my place of residence just to catch up with me."

"I was in the area, so decided to combine the trip," Derek replied.

"You were in D.C. for some reason?" Keith asked. "I didn't think there were any film festivals in the District about now."

"No, I was due to be here in Fredericksburg this week. My daughter is seriously looking at attending University of the Commonwealth in the fall. We are here for that accepted students' weekend."

Keith was a little surprised by that revelation. "Your daughter's looking into U of C?! I mean, it's a good school, given its age. And it is accredited. But I would have thought she would have been looking at University of Toronto or University of Western Ontario. And if she was looking at international schools, I would have thought she would be looking at Harvard, Yale, Stanford, NYU, or even UVA or University of Richmond before University of the Commonwealth."

"University of the Commonwealth has articulation and exchange agreements with all of the Virginia and Maryland schools as well as Bennett College, Claire McKenna, and a handful of what you would call 'ivy league' schools, if the brochure is to be believed," Derek shared with a raise of an eyebrow.

"That's true, but…" Keith shook his head. "Wow. Amanda's right. I really am a bad salesman. I'm really not selling U of C at all. And I actually think it's a good school."

Derek laughed. "I understand the surprise, though," the filmmaker shared as an aside. "I thought she would have ended up at our alma mater, Queens, or at U of T, since her aunts and uncle all went there. She was looking at a variety of places but after…well, after November, we all went through some changes. One of hers was insisting in attending University of the Commonwealth. To be honest, I have no idea how she heard about the university. It's not well-known out of the Virginia and Maryland area."

"No, not yet," Keith smiled. "I sometimes think my wife is trying to single-handedly change that, especially with her work with the Promise Beyond our Borders program. But U of C is working very hard in making their international education component the best in the world. Your daughter would be in good hands here."

"Good to know," Derek smiled.

"Although I feel your pain about your daughter not going to your alma mater. My daughter didn't decide to attend any of the schools her mother or I attended. She's actually a rising sophomore at U of C. Shocked the hell out of her mother that she decided to go there and not somewhere else. I didn't complain because that made everything so much cheaper and daughters are expensive."

"Ain't that the truth," the foreign director smiled in agreement.

"So, why don't we get to business? This is probably the first among many meetings, and I'm sure you don't want to hang out with me all day."

"Sure. So, you mentioned wanting to work together?" Venturi started back up where their last twitter conference had left off.

"Yes, I do. I've been impressed with what I've read and seen by you. And I wanted to do something a little different. Producing the same old 'blockbusters' and 'Academy Award edgy' movies for the major players and studios is getting old. I wanted to mix it up and do something with someone truly independent. And you wanted to do something else besides award-winning docs and thought pieces?"

Derek Venturi shrugged. "Thought I'd give mainstream a try. Sure, I've won a few awards for the things I've done…but after November, I wanted to do something different. I think we all did."

Keith's internal radar went off at Derek's second mention of November, but he decided not to press. Whatever happened in November was giving him a chance to do something different with this cutting edge director. If Keith was ever going to move out of the box of being a "black producer" for "black movies", he had to work on something to shake things up.

So lost in thought, he almost missed Derek's question. "Did you see any interesting scripts or ideas for us to tackle?"

"I looked through what I had," Keith admitted, "but hated everything. They were all so done or clichéd or hackneyed or just bad. I thought we might want to create the concept and hire writers to write it. You know, so it is original all the way around?"

"That's not really all that new for me," Derek pointed out.

"But it is very new for me," Keith explained. "And it might add a little extra spice to the movie. But I'll make sure it stays mainstream."

"And you know writers just sitting around waiting for a story?"

"A few," Keith hedged. "And your wife writes as well, doesn't she?"

"Novels and poetry, not screenplays or movie scripts," Derek corrected.

"But I'm sure she could help in a pinch."

Keith's companion was silent for a second. But, just as Keith was going to back down from his idea and float some of the less awful pitches he had received, Derek shrugged and said, "So, where is our original concept coming from?"

Maybe he was a better salesman than he thought, Keith reflected. It looked like Derek was willing to go all original. But, as his family would point out, Keith wouldn't be Keith without pushing the envelope. "Actually, when I was thinking about ideas, I remembered something you said about one of your award-wining documentaries."

Derek looked a little surprised, "Which one?"

"The one on teen drug addicts," Keith shared. Shocked at how quickly his would-be partner's expression went from surprise to wariness, Keith pushed on. "You mentioned in some interview that the documentary was motivated by a story of a real family. Maybe we could use part of that family's story as our inspiration-"

"No," Derek said.

"I'm not saying we take their story and over-sensationalize it or anything. It's just a common struggle that could be explored through a fictional story-"

"No," Derek repeated.

"Is it that you don't think the family would let you use their story, even as inspiration? I realized they trusted you with their story, but they must know that you would handle it as tastefully as you did all the stories in that documentary. And I haven't produced any tasteless trash. We'd take good care of the story. I could even talk to the family-"

"It's not that the family doesn't trust me," Derek shook his head, "although, given everything, they probably shouldn't. It's just a private story."

"Sure, I understand that. But that story could help so many families going through the same thing. Or at least help the parents-"

"Everyone blames the parents," Derek insisted.

"Well, they do very often. But this could be our chance to address that. Maybe-"

Derek raised a hand and Keith fell silent. A lot of expressions flitted across Derek's face. Then he finally said, "Okay. If I tell you the story that inspired me to work on the documentary…well, you'll see why we can't use it."

"Or at least not as the story. The idea might be in there somewhere."

"Or not," Derek suddenly seemed to look a little queasy. Keith wanted to ask if he was okay, but guys tended not to push other guys about their feelings. Discussion of feelings was a female thing.

"If the story is really that –"

"No, it's just that the story is personal. That's the main reason I wouldn't talk about it when asked."

"Personal? From what little I've heard, your daughter sounds like a wonderful kid."

Derek smiled a little, "Emily is Emily. She surprises me all the time. But the story isn't about my daughter."

"So, this is a nephew or niece or cousin who inspired your look into teen drug use?"

"No. It was my son."

"Your son?" Keith blinked. He wasn't aware that Derek Venturi had a son. Admittedly, he hadn't ever read Venturi's bio, but mentions of family usually show up in press releases and discussions.

"He was my son from my first marriage," Derek explained. Keith nodded in response , more to encourage Derek to continue than because he knew that Derek's son was from a previous marriage, although Keith did remember hearing that Venturi's current wife wasn't his first. Derek continued, "When he was born, I thought I'd have a blond version of me running around, although indefinitely cooler."

Keith nodded again, this time in understanding. As a parent you always hoped your children would show the best parts of you to the world and be better than you could imagine. At times he saw his daughter as a more perfect version of his wife, with a few of his good qualities thrown into the bargain. Of course Derek would wish the same for his son.

"Maybe he could have been a great person, but I fucked up the end game." Although said in an off-handed way, it was clear that this idea upset Derek. He was looking off in the distance, not at Keith. His hands were in fists instead of resting flat on the table. And there was a sheen to his eyes that Keith made sure not to notice.

"You are sure about that? Your son lives with you and your family then?"

"No," Derek replied softy.

"With his mother?"

"Not to my knowledge, no," Derek answered. "But who the fuck knows? He's talked more to her than me; I know that at least. He picked up some of his habits from her."

"She's an addict." From Derek's tone, Keith managed to pick up that much.

"Claims to be clean. Last time I saw her was at the screening of that teen drug documentary. We didn't talk long, but she mentioned that she had been going to AA."

"When was the last time you saw your son?" Keith found himself asking.

"November," was Derek's reply.

Keith took a deep breath. Obviously, he'd walked into a minefield here. But after you are halfway across the shaky bridge, you push on to the end. "Maybe you should start this story at the beginning. When was your son born?"

Derek got a far away look in his eye as he began to relate his story. "He was born in November. November second in twenty-sixteen, very early in the morning. We'd been in the hospital for hours. Sally, his mother, was in labor for almost a whole day. We were all exhausted when she finally had the baby. So, I let her rest and I proceeded to call everyone to celebrate."

Keith smiled and he remembered how much he gushed about Imani to the whole world after she was born. "Who did you call first?"

"Casey," Derek laughed. "That probably should have told me something. At the time, I couldn't think of anyone better to share my joy with. I didn't even think waking Sally and 'gushing' with her would really do it. So, I pulled out my cell phone and woke the princess up in the middle of the night to tell her about my baby boy. It was only of the happiness moments of my life."

"So, start with that conversation, then," Keith prompted and then sat back to listen.

- to be continued -