Copyright ©2000 by K. Adams
Brenda drives like a maniac to the hotel where she and Dylan are staying. When she gets there, she finds him in the dark, sitting quietly with a picture of Kelly in one hand and a bottle in the other. She drops her purse.
"Dylan, no," she says disappointedly.
"Jeez, Bren." Dylan turns the lamp on, hoping that his wife will be happy to see that he's overindulged only on Arizona Ice Tea. "Happy?"
"What about the picture, Dylan? You're looking at the picture again, Dylan!" says Brenda, her voice raised, crossing her arms.
"Bren, we said we weren't gonna do this anymore." Dylan puts the picture back in the photo album marked "Happier Times" and shoves it under some clothes in his still packed suitcase.
"I can't believe this. I rush home to tell you something, the first good news in a long time, I almost run into an ambulance, and this is what I find? God, Dylan, she's dead! Can't you get that through your thick, moussed head?"
"You're insane, Bren," says Dylan, turning on the TV. "We never should've stayed here. You're suffering from twin loss complex and you don't even know it."
"Where'd you hear that, Ricki Lake?" Dylan smirks and throws his hands up in the air. "All you do is watch the damn TV in this hotel room," she continues. "Don't you even want to see your friends?" Brenda is of course crying by now.
"No, I don't, and you want to know why? Because it hurts!"
"I know, Dylan, but we—" Dylan hushes his wife. On the screen are shots of the Peach Pit, the ambulance that Brenda almost hit, and a reporter talking to Valerie.
"Ma'am, do you know the victims?" says the male reporter, holding the top-heavy microphone in a suggestive manner at Val's chest level.
"Yes, I do. He's my business partner, Nat Buccigio. We own the Peach Pit together." Brenda and Dylan dash out the door, leaving on the TV set.
"Can you tell us what happened, ma'am?"
"Look, I've had a really rough day, OK? Some bitch attacked—"
"Thank you ma'am," interrupts the reporter as he nervously turns back
to the camera. "We'll have more details as this bizarre story breaks."
Brenda and Dylan make their way through the zoo that the area surrounding the Peach Pit has become. No one seems to know exactly what happened. Donna is nowhere to be found. They look for Valerie, but find Steve instead.
"Steve," yells Dylan above the ruckus, "what the hell happened?"
"Dylan…what's up with your hair, man?" says an only partially sobered up Steve. Suddenly Valerie comes out of nowhere.
"Brenda, Dylan, thank God you're here! What are we gonna do about Donna?"
"What happened to Donna?" Brenda says. Steve groans and looks at his feet.
"Well," Valerie states matter-of-factly, "she went insane after she and Nat started sleeping together—"
"What?" scream Dylan and Brenda in unison.
"Yeah, she seduced him or something. Then she became infatuated with him." Val lowers her voice and leans close to Brenda. "Apparently, Nat's packing a lot of heat."
"You're crazy, Val. Donna's a virgin and she always will be," remarks Dylan.
"Not anymore" says Val, giving Steve the evil eye. "You can attest to that, can't you…fucker?" Dylan and Brenda gasp in disbelief.
"Are all you people here insane?" screams Brenda. "I can't believe this! Donna and Nat, Donna and Steve, Brandon and Kelly? I can't wait to get out of here!"
"What do you mean, Bren?" asks Dylan, as disgusted as his wife by the news but to his dismay, somewhat amused by it. She takes her keys out of her purse.
"That's what I came to tell you, Dylan. I've been offered the lead part in Andrew Lloyd Weber's new musical, Mommie Dearest. I'm flying to London for rehearsals tonight." Val turns her head to hide a smile, and Steve grunts.
"And when were you planning to tell your husband about this?" says Dylan angrily.
"That was the great news I had for you when I raced home. I went by your old house, and Andy--"
"Andy?"
"Andy bought your house. We got to talking, and—"
"Oh, I see!" says Steve. "Up to your old tricks again, huh Brenda? I seem to remember you getting the part in the play freshman year the same way. That guy was a Limey too, right?" Brenda's eyes widen. Val chuckles.
"Hey, Steve that's my wife you're talking to," says Dylan, defending his wife, although a little part of him sees Steve's point.
"I know…who did you screw over this time, Brenda? Drew Barrymore?" With
that, Dylan pushes Steve, and the two go at it. Brenda scowls and runs
off for the car.
Val manages to break up the scuffle between Dylan and Steve, and then she drives them all to the hospital. While waiting for news about Joanie and Nat, the subject of Donna comes up again.
"Where is Donna anyway?" asks Dylan, rubbing his sore jaw.
"I don't know," says Val, sneering at Steve. "Maybe she went for more condoms?" Dylan looks at Steve with disbelief.
"I can't believe that you and Don—I don't even want to know!"
"She tricked me…she seduced me…she got me drunk and—"
"Oh shut up, Steve!" yells Val. "No one ever had to get you drunk." Val takes a sip of her vending machine coffee. "You're such a ho."
"Well, if that ain't the pot calling the kettle fat!" Val's eyes squeeze together tightly. She turns to Dylan, smiles, and tosses the boiling hot coffee in Steve's face. Steve screams like a woman and falls to the floor. Dylan giggles to himself. Just then, the doctor comes out of the emergency room.
"Are you relatives of the Buccigios?" says the doc.
"Uh, yes, I'm Nat's business partner, Dr.…Jarvis" Val says as she reads the young man's name card. "How are they?"
"You bitch!" screams Steve, still on the floor with his hands over his face. The doctor looks down at Steve.
"Does he need medical attention?" asks the doctor.
Val shrugs her shoulders. "I suppose," she says. The doc calls for some orderlies to help Steve up. They drag Steve, crying like a baby, into a nearby cubicle.
"So, doc, what's the prognosis on Nat and Joanie?" asks a nearly fed up Dylan.
"Well, they're both in serious condition. Luckily, the office they fell out of was only two stories above the ground. We're stabilizing them, but at this point it's too soon to tell."
"Can we see them?" asks Val, batting her eyelashes.
"Well, only next of kin are supposed to..." Val moves closer and runs her foot up the doc's leg.
"I won't tell. Promise."
"Well, alright, but only one at a time, and only for a minute."
"Go ahead, Val. Go see your business partner," Dylan says sarcastically. Val ignores the remark and follows the doctor. Dylan sits back down and looks out into space. He considers trying to call his wife, but then the ER doors burst open and paramedics rush in with a stretcher. Dylan jumps out of the way to give them room, and happens to get a glimpse as they pass by of the person on the stretcher. It's David Silver.
"Oh, my God! I know that guy!" Dylan yells out to the paramedics.
"Then you'd better call his next of kin," answers one of the medics as they give David's vitals to the attending staff.
"How much does he need?" Dylan starts to roll up his sleeves.
"All he needs is a lawyer," says the medic with the pen and clipboard. "Unless they decide not press charges. That Hamburgler whooped your friends ass!"
"What?" Dylan looks baffled. Then he notices that David, while not bleeding or bruised in any way, is strapped into the stretcher, wearing a white straitjacket.
"Micky-D's don't mess around," says the first medic as he gobbles down some fries. He notices Dylan eyeing the plastic happy meal toy stuffed in David's mouth. "We have to do that—keeps them from swallowing their tongues."
Dylan shakes his head. "Brenda was right," he says to himself. "They've
all gone insane."
"Nat…Nat…can you hear me?" Val touches Nat's hand to try to stir a response. With great difficulty Nat opens his eyes.
"Do you remember Valerie, your business partner, Mr. Buccigio?" says Dr. Jarvis slowly. Nat starts to try to move and speak, but the doctor gives him a shot of something to quiet him.
"You'd better leave now, Ms. Malone," says the doctor. "He won't be able to see visitors until tomorrow, if not later."
"Ok." Val starts to leave, then, turning back says, "if he wakes up
again, tell him not to worry. I've got the Peach Pit totally under control."
The next day Val wakes up early to open the Peach Pit at 7 am. Her first order of business as the fill-in proprietress is to call all the employees to let them know that she is now in charge. She gives them all her revised schedule of hours. They don't question; with Nat and Joanie in the hospital and David God knows where, there really is no one else to take command. After running errands, which include stopping at Barnes & Noble to pick up Fast restaurant management, she returns to the Peach Pit, where she runs into Dylan.
"Dylan…long time no see," Val jokes, touching Dylan's arm a little too much. He grunts, sips his coffee, and opens up a newspaper.
"How 'bout that scene last night, huh? Brenda sure flew out of here in a hurry."
"Uh-huh."
"Real loyal wife you got there," she says under her breath.
"Val—" Dylan starts to get angry, then, as if going through some mental relaxation exercise in his head, he calms down. "I see you're running the Peach Pit and the club. I thought I heard through the grapevine that you and David parted company."
"Well, you heard wrong," Val says as she goes behind the counter.
"Right." He looks down at his paper. The front page reads "New York Virellis take hold in L.A." Val tries unsuccessfully to steer his attention back to her.
"Virelli…Virelli…how do I know that name?" he whispers to himself.
"As in Victoria Virelli," Val answers. "Jeez, where've you been? Oh, I forgot. You're Eurotrash now."
"You mean the woman Brandon married?" Dylan asks, ignoring the comment.
"Yeah, that's her all right. She married Brandon, Kelly freaked out, and now they're both dead. So much for happy endings, huh?"
Dylan scowls at her. "That's not funny, Val."
"Sorry," she says, semi-truthfully. "I guess it makes you think about when your dad got blown up, too."
"Always the tactful one, Val," Dylan says, still reading the paper. "I can't believe the police could never prove that she murdered Brandon and Kelly. They don't even care about the case. It's my dad all over again."
"Really? I thought the man blew up your dad," Val sasses. Dylan rolls his eyes as Val takes the paper and reads aloud. " 'The notorious Virelli mob family is under investigation by the L.A. County prosecutor's office. It is rumored that the FBI has witnesses that could testify against the Virelli family.' How interesting."
"I've had about enough of you for two days," Dylan says as he gets up from the counter to pay for his coffee. "You better take good care of the Pit while Nat recovers."
"You mean if he recovers," Val says unemotionally. Dylan scowls
at her. "Oops. Did I say that?"
Val comes home to an empty house. She hits the button on the answering machine. As she walks into the kitchen she hears a woman's voice.
Valerie Malone…this is Victoria Virelli. I need to speak to you. It's very important. I'll be in touch soon.
"I wonder what she wants," Val asks herself. Beep! Val…Val…you bitch!
I'm in the hospital with second, no, THIRD degree burns. I'm gonna sue
your ass 'til you beg me to come crawling back. David's in the psycho ward
again—I heard he needed to be detained after he woke up. Val rolls
her eyes. Oh, yeah. I'm getting released day after tomorrow, so, can
you come pick me up? Beep!
The following night Val returns to the Pit after closing to "borrow" some petty cash. When she heads for her car, she is startled by a white stretch limousine in the parking lot. A handsome chauffeur gets out and removes his hat.
"Ms. Malone?" he asks politely.
"Depends on who's asking."
"Ms. Malone, Victoria Virelli would like to see you."
"I don't make a habit of getting into strange limos," she says with a smile.
"Just following orders, ma'am." He opens the door for her.
"So," says Val, flirting with the driver as he pulls away. "Are you Michael…or are you Fredo?" He chuckles to himself and looks in the rear-view mirror directly into her eyes.
"I'm Noah, ma'am."
Noah takes Val to a restaurant on Melrose. She goes upstairs, where she finds Victoria sitting alone at a table, quietly enjoying a jazz trio on the tiny stage. In the corner two bodyguards keep a steady vigil. The place is nearly empty.
"You sure know how to pick the hired help," says Val as she sits down and waves over a waiter.
"You weren't followed, were you?" Val starts to say no, but stops short when a handsome man comes to their table.
"Welcome to Kyle's, ladies. I'm Kyle. What can I get you?" Both women give him a toothy grin. He takes their orders and starts a rather friendly chat until a very pouty woman interrupts them.
"Kyle, I need you…downstairs in the kitchen," she says coldly.
"Taylor…I'll be there in a minute." He looks perturbed. She grumbles.
"Don't worry, honey. We'll get him back to you in one piece," Val says wickedly as she lays a hand on the proprietor's well-chiseled biceps.
"Mind you own business, busty," cracks Taylor, indicating Val's low-cut, tight-fitting halter-top. Val smiles crookedly, not knowing whether to slap her or make her a new buddy. Victoria leans over to Val.
"You could so kick her ass," Victoria says.
"Don't worry about it," says Val with a smile. Kyle reluctantly follows
Taylor towards the steps leading to the downstairs restaurant. "Nice to
meet you Kyle…and, uh, ma'am?" Taylor stops without turning around. Kyle
cringes. "I know a doctor who specializes in emergency collagen removal…want
his number?"
"Let me make this quick," Victoria says as she downs her martini. "I've got enough to worry about with this stupid investigation. I need you to keep your eyes and ears open."
"For…what?" asks Val.
"Anything…unusual. At the house. Anything missing, any strange calls, whatever."
"The house? What for? Does this have anything to do with Brandon's death?"
Victoria lowers her voice. "Yes, Val. But you can't tell anyone. We're so close to finding out who really murdered my husband." Victoria eyes an attractive man nearby, and Val notices.
"We all want to find out who murdered Brandon. And Kelly too…right?"
"Yeah, yeah, Kelly, too. Whatever, just keep your eyes open, Val." Victoria summons her men to the table.
"Oh…just one…little…thing," says Val as politely as she can. "What do I get for my trouble?" Victoria puts on her sunglasses.
"You get $100,000…and you get to stay alive."
The next morning when Val goes to open up, she finds a homeless person sleeping on the front step. Upon closer examination she sees that it's David, escaped from the psychiatric ward.
"David! What the hell are you doing here?" Val clutches her purse tightly.
"I own the club next door, remember?" He stands up and scratches his closely shaved head.
"You look awful. What happened to you?" David has bruises all over him and seems to be limping.
"I'm in a little trouble, Val," says David as they walk into the Peach Pit. He lays down in one of the booths. "Real big trouble." He clutches his ribs and winces as he inhales. Looking around, he adds, "What has Nat done to the place? Where is he anyway?"
"Nevermind that now. You say you're in trouble…money trouble?" Val smiles.
"Is there any other kind? You can't tell anyone about this, OK?" David looks sincere. Val makes a zipper motion over her lips. "I owe someone 25 Gs."
"My God, David. You're such an idiot," says Valerie as she counts the money in the cash register.
"I know, I know, Val. I was desperate. I was gonna lose the club." David goes into the back to find some food.
"So I'm guessing that you can't pay it back…and those bruises on you face are friendly statements from the bank telling you you're overdrawn, right?" calls Val from the front.
"Real funny—what the hell kinda food is this? Who wants fucking quiche at the Peach Pit?" David shakes his head and tears into a vat of dill pickles. "To make a long story short, I gotta come up with the money in a week. Or I'm dead."
"Why don't you just give it back?" asks Val.
"I can't!" Val's eyes open even wider.
"You couldn't have snorted $25,000 worth of coke!"
"Would you shut up?" David yells. Val just shakes her head disappointedly. "I used most of it to pay back my vendors," he says when he's calmed down. Val isn't convinced. "Then I woke up in Vegas and—"
"Don't…tell me. I don't even want to know anymore," says Val, holding her hand in front of David's face.
"So I gotta come up with $25,000…or they're gonna kill me."
"Damn, David," says Valerie with her trademark mock concern in her voice. "You're fucked." He shakes his head in agreement. "What if…nah!"
"What if what, Val? C'mon, I'm desperate! Can you help me?" Val turns her head from David and smiles.
"You need a partner, David. Obviously you're not stable enough to run a club by yourself. I'd offer myself, but I've got my hands full with the Peach Pit, and since I won't be needing to work pretty soon--"
"What?" asks David. "You coming into money? Did you blackmail some politician or something?"
"Nevermind. I meant Dylan, dumb-ass. You know he's not going anywhere, now that Brenda's off ruining her career. I'm sure he'd buy you out and let you run the place."
"Maybe you're right, Val," says David as he stuffs some leftover turkey
burgers into his droopy pants. "By the way, do you have any prescription
drugs?"
Later, Steve is ready to be released from the hospital, with nary a scar on his face. While waiting for dependable Janet Sosna to pick him up, he decides to visit Nat, whom he's heard has been improving.
"Hey, Nat." Steve pauses for a second. The sight of Nat hooked up to machines and suspended upside down is almost too much for him.
"Steve…nice to see a friendly face," Nat says with more than a little discomfort. They chat for a few minutes. Neither one wants to discuss the "incident."
"Have you seen Joanie?" Nat asks somberly.
"Not yet." Steve plays with the gadgets connected to Nat's bed. "I haven't left my room much since I was admitted." He notices the confused look on Nat's face. "Yeah, Valerie, that bitch, tossed boiling coffee in my face the night you guys flew out the window." He doesn't seem to notice how uncomfortable his frankness makes Nat, because just then a raven-haired nurse appears in the doorway.
"Time for your sponge bath, Mr. Buccigio," she whispers. She goes into the adjoining bathroom and begins running some water. Steve calls after her.
"I won't stay for that…but you know, I'm a patient here as well…and I sure could use a nice sponge bath." He giggles and pokes the upside-down Nat, who is in too much pain to even notice.
"Steve, be a pal and go check on my Joanie, would ya?" Steve pats his dear friend on the head and goes off in search of Joanie's room. He comes upon the head floor nurse and inquires about the sweet young thing assigned to Nat's room. She refers to her chart.
"All the patients on this floor have had their baths today."
"Well then who…" Steve's face whitens and he dashes back to Nat's room. He bursts through the locked door and freezes when he finds Joanie, in a wheelchair in a total body cast, with Nat's nurse pointing a gun to her head.
"Oh my God!" yells Steve. "You're not really a nurse, are you?"
"Steve, you idiot! It's Donna...agh!" Nat screams in pain. Joanie pleads with her bloodshot eyes, the only part of her visible through her mummy-like encasement. Donna's arms tremble as she points the gun alternately at Joanie, Steve, Nat, and her own head.
"Get out of here, Steve!" Screams Donna through the long, black wig. "Just leave us alone!"
"Donna...you're wigging out...no pun intended. You need help!"
"I don't need your help!" screams Donna, pointing the gun at Steve. "I only need two things." She looks at Nat.
"You crazy bi--" he yells, twisting and turning on his inverted hospital bed. "You belong in the loony bin with Silver!"
"Oh, Natty!" Donna laughs. Steve tries to grab for the gun, but Donna quickly eludes his grip. "Don't f with me, Sanders!" Steve gives up rather quickly, puts his hands over his head and sits himself down on the other bed. Donna quickly locks the door again.
"As I was saying," Donna says as she removes her wig with one hand and points the gun at Nat with the other, "I only want 2 things: Nat in my bed." She turns slowly to face Joanie. "And Nat's wife dead!"
"No! Please!" screams Nat, trying to free himself from the bed. Donna approaches the mummified woman.
"Donna, don't do it!" Steve screams, from a safe distance.
"Why shouldn't I?" Donna cocks the gun. "I mean, with her gone, my life will be perfect. I'll have Nat—"
"Never!" yells Nat as he tries to push the nurse call button with his nose.
"I'll have half the Peach Pit--"
"Don't listen to her Joanie!"
"Oh, honey." Donna lowers the gun momentarily as she turns to look at her love. "Don't worry. I'd be a wonderful stepmother to your little brat." Suddenly a man runs into the room and tackles Donna. They wrestle with the gun and, suddenly, a shot goes off.
"Oh my God!" screams Donna. The man rolls over in agony on his back. It's David Silver.
"Donna...how could you?" He clutches his stomach; a trickle of blood runs out of his mouth. Donna drops the gun and throws herself on David while Steve makes a speedy escape.
"Oh, David...what have I done?" She bawls. She lifts his head up and begins to kiss him. "I never stopped loving you, David. I never even loved Nat, I swear. Please don't die."
"Donna...Donna" he moans as his eyes roll back into his head.
"David, listen to me! Don't go! Do you hear me!" She opens his eyes with her fingernails to force him to look at her. "Keep it together...keep it together"* she sings through her tears.
"You...remembered," he whispers.
"David, I'll do anything, I'll donate blood--" She looks up at the still terrified Joanie. "I'll donate her blood...I'll do anything!"
"Will you," David can barely get the words out. "Will you...get...triple Ds?"
"Oh, David!" Donna covers David with kisses, only stopping when the
police come to take her away.
Later that day, Val comes home and quickly realizes that she is not alone. She quietly climbs the stairs, flings open the door to her room, and nearly faints when she catches Brandon and Kelly going through her things. Brandon tilts his head and says, "Val, would you like to tell us what the hell you're up to?"
Aghast, Val screams, "Me? You two are supposed to be dead!"
"Sorry to disappoint you, Val," says Kelly sarcastically. She holds up one of Val's favorite bras that she happened upon while snooping. "Damn…I didn't know Victoria's Secret made that cup size."
"You fucking bitch!" screams Val as she slaps the bra out of Kelly's hands. "You fake your own deaths, you put your friends and families through hell? For what?"
"We have our reasons, Val," states Brandon, still looking through Val's stuff.
"Really?" Val crosses her arms. "Is it FBI, CIA, or KGB?" Brandon and Kelly look at each other and mouth KGB? "Oh, you know what I mean, you fucks!"
"I can't believe you're taking sides with the mob," Kelly says.
"Better to be a loyal soldier than a snitch," Val says loudly, like she's trying to impress someone. "What do you have to gain from all of this anyway?"
"Our lives," Brandon says. "The FBI knew that Victoria wanted Kelly dead. They've been infiltrating that family for months now. So they saved us from the trap set up by the Virellis. So we're doing what we can to put them all away."
"Oh, Brandon, don't be so naïve. The feds can't protect you. Look at Dylan's dad!"
"What are you gonna do about it?" Kelly asks defiantly.
"I'm doing what I have to do," she says coldly. Val heads toward the hallway. Kelly closes the door.
"Where do you think you're going, Valerie?" Kelly gets in her face.
"Get outta my way, honey. I've got a hundred thou to collect."
"Is that so?" Kelly says with new toughness. "You're not going to tell anyone anything!"
"Just watch me." Val tries to push Kelly aside, but she doesn't budge. "Move, ho!"
"Over my dead body," Kelly says as she nudges Val. Val turns to Brandon, then back to Kelly.
"Nothing would make me happier." Before the "bitch" even completely exits Kelly's mouth, her hand makes contact with Val's face. The two begin to tangle.
"C'mon, ladies…this won't solve anything!" screams Brandon.
"I've been waiting for this for years," Kelly says as she throws a jab. She misses, but gets her diamond ring, the one Brandon gave her, the one that started this entire mess, caught in Val's hair.
"Owww! Stop it!" Val pushes Kelly to the ground, along with a few strands of her own hair. "You're gonna pay for that!" Brandon goes to help Kelly, still swinging, to her feet, but gets in the way of an open-handed bitch-slap, and Kelly's fingernails land deep inside the thicket of Brandon's hair.
"Get it out! Get it out!" squeals Brandon. Kelly tries to free herself from Brandon's helmet-like coif.
"Dammit, Brandon! What you got up there? Gel? Mousse? Shellac?" Val looks amused.
"Gee, Bran. All this to keep Kelly out of the line of fire…was it worth it?" Kelly makes a lunge for Val, but Val is too quick and heads for the door. Just as she grabs for the knob, it turns slowly. The three quit their squabbling and look on silently as the door opens.
"Hello, Brandon."
"My God, Victoria." Brandon can barely get the words out. "What are you doing here?" He slowly moves in front of Kelly. Victoria smiles.
"What's the matter, honey? Aren't you glad to see your wife?" She takes a step towards them as they take a step back.
"C'mon Brandon, let's get out of here," Kelly says, trying to remain calm.
"Why did you do it?" Victoria asks. "Why did you fake your death? Was I too much woman for you? Did that blonde bimbo brainwash you?" Kelly laughs, pulls out of Brandon's grip, and faces Victoria.
"I know you were the one that tried to kill me." Victoria shrugs her shoulders. "Ah…don't even try to pretend it wasn't you. You'll get what's coming to you."
"Kel, that's enough. Let's go," says Brandon. He reaches for Kelly's hand.
"You'll leave…when I say you can leave." Victoria reaches inside her purse.
"Oh, God! Please don't shoot me!" squeals Val, who by now has inched her way nearly inside the adjacent bathroom. Victoria rolls her eyes and pops a stick of Juicy Fruit.
"Gee, Vicki, you're some tough chick," says Kelly as she and Brandon slowly move towards the door. Victoria grabs Brandon by the arm.
"How could you betray me like this, Brandon?" He doesn't even look at her. "All I ever did was love you." Kelly laughs.
"Victoria, it's over!" says Brandon angrily. "You've got to pay for what you've done."
"Brandon, do you really think I can just let you walk out of here and destroy my entire family?" Brandon and Kelly turn white. "That won't happen, you must know that."
"We're not afraid of you," Kelly smirks. Val's hand shoots up in the air.
"Speak for yourself, tramp!" Val jumps to Victoria's side. "I'd just like to say that…uh…if you'd like to take over the Peach Pit, or you need someone to front for …something…then, you can always count on me, Victoria. I'm a stand-up kinda girl."
"Funny," says Victoria. "That's just what Tom said." Kelly bites her lip to keep from laughing.
"My Tom?" asks Val. "What are you talking about? He's in New York now!"
"Who do you think put him there? It costs me a pretty penny keeping him in that cozy condo in Manhattan. But it's well worth it. Well worth it." Victoria smiles at the thought of Tom. She'd almost forgotten about him.
"You didn't!"
"Oh, I did," says Victoria as she steps in front of the door, blocking Kelly and Brandon from any escape. "I just couldn't resist such a nice ass. Sorry Brandon, " she smirks. Val's face turns red.
"You see Brandon?" Kelly taunts, "she never even loved you. She's a sick, evil woman."
"Sticks and stones, skank. I did love Brandon." Victoria turns to him and says barely above a whisper. "I still do." Brandon's face softens and Kelly notices immediately.
"You're not buying this, are you Brandon?" A smile creeps across Victoria's face.
"I do, Bran. That never changed. I don't want to hurt you...or your ho." Kelly scowls.
"Are you admitting that you tried to kill us, Victoria?" asks Brandon.
"Well..." she smiles at them all. "A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do."
"My thoughts exactly!" Kelly opens up the lapel of her shirt to reveal a small mike with a wire connected to it. Victoria's smirk quickly turns sour as the sound of feet trampling up the steps fills the room. Before Victoria can move, the door bursts open.
"Hold it right there, Virelli!"
"Noah! What the hell?" screams a totally confused Victoria. Three more men in FBI jackets burst in after him and quickly begin to read Victoria her rights.
"You're going down, Virelli. I'm gonna see to it," says Noah as he puts away his badge. Brandon and Kelly hold each other while Val stands off in the corner, still trying to get the image of Victoria and Tom out of her mind.
"You people are making such a huge mistake," says Victoria calmly. Val walks over to her slowly.
"No, Vicky, you're the one who made a mistake!" She points her finger accusingly in Victoria's face. "When you mess with Tom, you mess with me." Victoria looks Val square in the eye.
"Take…your...finger...out...of...my...face." A bead of sweat forms at Val's brow. Victoria smirks. "Such bad manners...must run in the family, huh?" Val's eyes open wide, and before she can control herself she slaps Victoria. Everyone gasps as a huge pink welt appears on the Mafia princess's face. Val is as surprised as everyone else. Victoria leans in very close and whispers something in Val's ear before Noah and the other FBI men escort her out the door. Val collapses into a nearby chair.
"Val," Brandon says after a long pause, "what did Victoria say to you?" Val looks up with terror in her eyes.
"She said…'You're dead.'"
"Get your hands off me!" Donna screams to the cops as they force her into a Beverly Hills police station holding cell. "I want to call my lawyer, you fascists!" The cops giggle to themselves and lock the cell door. Donna instantly begins to pace back and forth. After a few minutes, she remembers what she did to David. She sits on the narrow cot by the wall and begins to sob. A few minutes later, the sound of keys fills the air. Donna jumps to her feet.
"Can I go home now?"
"We brought you some company, Sybil!" They chuckle to themselves. They open the cell door quickly push a woman inside. Donna gasps.
"Victoria Virelli...what are you doing here?" Donna asks as she wipes the mascara stains from her face.
"Don't worry, babe. I won't be staying." She turns the officers. "I want my phone call—right now."
"Yeah, and me!" Donna waves her hand. "I need my phone call!" The officers completely ignore Donna, but one of them nods to Victoria. She sits down on the cot across from Donna and lights up a cigarette.
"D'ya mind? I'm allergic," Donna says nervously. Victoria ignores the remark while looking Donna up and down.
"So, what are you in here for, Dina?"
"That's Donna."
"Whatever. What did you do, mismatch your blacks? Fashion police after you?" Donna's eyes well up again.
"I...I...killed my true love." Victoria's eyebrows perk up instantly.
"Really? Not that little rap wannabe?"
"Oh, God!" Donna buries her face in the tiny pillow on the cot and sobs as Victoria finishes her cigarette. Suddenly one of the guards opens the door. Victoria stands up.
"I need to make a few calls, actually, " she says without looking up.
"Sit down, Virelli!" Victoria is flabbergasted until she sees the face that belongs to the voice.
"Well, well, well...Captain Noah. I hope you're not too attached to your job," she teases.
"Don't worry about me, Virelli. You should be worrying about you and your family." The playful smile drops from Victoria's face.
"Don't ever threaten my family, copper," she says seriously. They share a tense moment. Noah's stern face softens a bit.
"If you're innocent, then you have nothing to fear." Victoria puts her hand through the bars and touches Noah's.
"I knew you couldn't be all bad." Noah doesn't pull away, and a light bulb goes off over Victoria's head.
"Hey...hey!" The two barely notice Donna sobbing in the background. "What about my boyfriend? Did I really...kill...him?" Noah remembers himself finally, blushing when he discovers that he had been staring into Victoria's eyes.
"Oh, yeah...Martin, right?" He motions to someone out of view. "You got a visitor." Donna rushes forward, only to be stopped dead in her tracks when she sees David.
"Oh my God!" Donna gasps. She stretches her unmanicured fingers through the cell bars to touch his face. "You're alive. I didn't kill you!"
"Nope. I'm still here, Donna." David takes something from behind his back. It's the gun she used to shoot him.
"No! David, no! Please, don't! I'll get quadruple Ds!" Donna screams as she backs away from David.
"Oh, please," sighs Victoria. She quickly snatches the gun from David, points it at Donna's feet and pulls the trigger. Donna screams as a bee-bee grazes her exposed toe. David chuckles. Victoria lights up another cigarette.
"But," stammers Donna, "but I thought I'd shot you! I saw the blood!"
"Yeah…I…sorta bit a huge chunk out of my tongue when I heard the gun go off," David admits. Victoria rolls her eyes.
"Wimp. How stupid are you?" Victoria asks David. "Wait, don't answer. How stupid is everyone in California?"
"Not everyone is as acquainted with the wrong side of the law as you, Virelli," Noah pipes in to their defense.
"Give me a break, Noah. And while you're at it, go get me a Diet Coke?" Noah shakes his head and walks away. Donna hangs her head in shame.
"I've been acting like a crazy person. I don't know what happened. All that business with Nat…what was I thinking?" David rubs the stubble on his smiling face. Donna presses her face through the bars and bats her eyes. "Now we can finally be together…the way we were meant to be."
"Donna," David says, lowering his voice, "you must be crazier than me and my mom put together if you think that we're getting back together." Donna's eyes start to tear up, again. "Even though you were too dumb to use a real gun, you still fucked up--majorly. Lucky for you, I'm in a good mood today."
"What do you mean?" Donna asks as she wipes her face. David looks around quickly to make sure Noah is out of earshot.
"I'll help you stay out of jail, Donna. And it'll only cost you 25 grand."
David walks to the front door of the Martin house. He rings the doorbell and rubs the day-old stubble on his face. A girl in a leotard answers the door.
"Yeah, I have an appointment with Felice," David mumbles, still hungover from the previous night.
"You must be David. I'm Donna's cousin, Gina Kincaid." She extends her hand, but is shoved aside as Donna pushes her way past and into David's arms.
"Oh, David," she whispers. "You're here to take me away, aren't you? Tell me you still love me, David." Just then the Martins appear in the doorway.
"Donna, have a little dignity," says Felice. "How can you love this…boy?"
"I'll always love David…and he'll always love me…right?" Donna looks into David's eyes for assurance. When he doesn't respond, she steps back and pushes her chest into his face. "Right?"
David laughs. "How can I resist such bodacious ta-tas?" As he reaches for Donna's goodies, her mother quickly interrupts.
"This is how," she says, sticking a check in his face. "I believe this is what you really came here for, isn't it, Mr. Silver?" David's eyes gloss over.
"David? David, what's my mother talking about?" Donna says as her eyes begin to water.
"Didn't you know, Don?" Gina chimes in. "Your mother agreed to pay David $25 grand to stay away from you—forever." Donna shakes her head slowly in disbelief.
"No…David…" she says as she tries to touch him. "It's not true." David takes the check and looks at it greedily.
"Oh, its true, Donna," says Felice matter-of-factly. "Believe me, we're doing you a favor. He's been nothing but trouble for you since day one."
"How could you do this, mother? After all I've been through?" sobs Donna.
"After all you've been through?" Gina grabs Donna's arm. "I'd kill to have a mother that could afford to pay my drug-addicted, psychotic boyfriend to stay away from me. You're such a spoiled brat!"
"Stay out of this, you piece of trash!" Donna takes hold of David's face and forces him to look at her. "David…tell them that you love me more than this money. Tell them that everything we've been through—high school…college…your insanity…dry humping—is worth more than this little piece of paper."
David spaces out for a moment, as if his and Donna's life together passes before his eyes in a blur. His gaze turns to the check in his hand, then back to Donna.
"Well?" whispers Donna. "Tell them." He looks at Donna's mother.
"I'll give you an extra grand," she says, writing out a new check.
"Deal!" David grabs the second check and runs off towards a waiting taxi. For about a minute there is complete silence.
"Wow," smirks Gina. "I didn't think he'd actually take it. What an asshole."
"Shut up! Shut up!" Donna breaks out in huge sobs. Felice closes her checkbook.
"Oh, stop it, Donna. If I hadn't paid him off, he would have testified against you and you would've gone to jail."
"Where you'd definitely be somebody's bitch," Gina chimes in.
"Please, Gina, you're not helping—why don't you go get your cousin a glass of water, hmm?" Felice says as she tries to embrace Donna without success. Gina mumbles something under her breath and stomps away.
"Why?" Donna sobs loudly. "Why is everyone against me?" She runs into her father's arms.
"There, there now, honey. Everything is going to be ok," her father says while petting her head. "You can always come work for me."
"Yes, there's always that," says Felice. She closes the front door.
"Good riddance to David Silver. Thank God you never slept with him." Donna
faints.
In late autumn Valerie pushes her way through the maze of journalists and photographers outside the L.A. County Courthouse. She tries in vain to get her picture taken, but to her dismay, no one seems to care. Then one reporter stops her.
"Miss Malone! Miss Malone! Do you wish to make a statement?" asks the reporter just as Val enters the building. Valerie turns around and leans in close to the outstretched microphone.
"I just want justice to be served. I hope they put Victoria Virelli away for a long time," she says as she looks for the correct camera to face. The reporter looks at her notes.
"Would you like to address the rumors that you were secretly working for the Virellis once they suspected Brandon Walsh and Kelly Taylor were still alive?" she asks. Valerie's smirk disappears.
"Where did you hear that" Val asks accusingly. A few more reporters
begin to take interest.
"Miss Malone, is it true that you were in love with Brandon Walsh?"
"Miss Malone, is it true that you approached the Virellis about having Kelly Taylor murdered?"
"Miss Malone, did the Virellis pay for your implants?" Valerie turns in a huff and rushes through the door. When she is finally allowed inside the courtroom of the Virelli trial, Kelly has taken the witness stand.
"And then what happened, Miss Taylor?" asks Matt Durning, the handsome young attorney prosecuting the case.
"Victoria admitted that she arranged to have us killed." Valerie looks over at Victoria, who, sitting next to her father on the defense side, is nonchalantly filing her nails. One of the other prosecutors of the team then hands Matt a tape recorder. The full courtroom collectively shifts in their seats. The tape recorder is admitted into evidence. The Virelli attorneys whisper to one another, but father and daughter look undaunted.
"Miss Taylor, tell the court if you recognize this voice," says Matt confidently. He sets the recorder down behind her microphone, presses the play button, and turns the volume to full blast. The recording from the wire Kelly was wearing the day Victoria was arrested then starts to play.
Hello, Brandon.
My God, Victoria. What are you doing here?
What's the matter, honey? Aren't you glad to see your wife? Click.
"That's Brandon Walsh…and Victoria Virelli," Kelly says. Matt plays more of the tape for the jury. The Virellis remain calm.
You'll leave when I say you can leave.
Oh, God! Don't shoot me! The jury looks alarmed, and Matt stops the tape. Kelly sees Val in the back and smiles. "That was Valerie Malone reacting to Victoria pulling something out of her purse—a piece of gum." A wave of laughter fills the courtroom. Val slides down in her seat. The judge stifles a chuckle and presses Matt to continue. He pushes play again.
Brandon, do you really think I can just let you walk out of here and destroy my entire family? That won't happen, you must know that. Matt stops playback and turns toward the jury.
"Miss Taylor, whose voice was that?"
"Victoria Virelli." A buzz fills the courtroom, and the judge has to smack her gavel a few times to quiet the room. Matt plays the rest of the tape, including Victoria's admission of an affair with Tom. Val opens a magazine over her face. Then Matt pauses.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, what I'm about to play will prove that Victoria Virelli admitted to the attempted murder of Kelly Taylor and Brandon Walsh." Silence falls as Matt presses play once more.
Are you admitting that you set us up, Victoria?
Well—then muffled sounds interrupt Victoria's voice. Matt and the other lawyers look confused. Then a man's voice comes on the tape.
You're goin' down, Virelli.
Who? Me? But I'm innocent. It's Victoria again, but her voice sounds different, almost flirtatious. You know that. I've been set up, haven't I? And you'll let me go if I do this?
You're goin' down, Virelli, the man's voice repeats.
Whatever you say—Captain Noah. The prosecutors quickly turn their attention to Agent Noah Hunter, who looks as surprised as they do. His eyes widen. On the tape, a zipper unzips loudly, as Noah's voice repeats, you're goin' down, Virelli. The courtroom is absolutely silent as the tape progresses with its pornographic soundtrack. Matt lunges for the cassette player but the judge waves him away. The Virellis and their lawyers share a triumphant grin.
Are you almost done, Captain Noah, asks Victoria, almost gagging.
Don't worry about me, Virelli. You should be worrying about you—and then the moans quicken and finally come to a rhapsodic end. An audible gulp on the tape prompts a collective groan. One by one people turn to look at Noah, who by now is completely white.
So you admit, Cap'n Noah, that the FBI knows that my family is innocent? And now you'll drop these stupid charges? Victoria's voice sounds as if she's reading the morning newspapers.
You have nothing to fear. The tape shuts off. Matt picks up the recorder and stares at it blankly.
Kelly turns to the judge. "I don't fucking believe this."
* "Keep it together" was some song David Silver wrote in the next to last season