The time spent in the labs had been horrible for Rex. Never had he felt
such distinct criticism - until now. As he stood in the Quartermaine living
room, Rex could feel his new family members examining him and his twin
sister, their eyes burning holes into him.
Cassie took a tentative step closer to her brother when one of her newfound relatives began to approach.
While Cassie wearily eyed Monica Quartermaine, Rex took a defensive step forward. The action was not one of deliberation but rather naive impulse. No matter their age, Rex would always feel instinctively drawn to protecting Cassie. And, if that meant guarding her from their mother's family, so be it.
Monica stopped her approach when she realized that it had only succeeded in making the twins more nervous than they had been when Dillon led them through the front door. Though she had become a somewhat stern woman in recent years, Monica gave her best attempt at a welcoming smile. Clasping her hands together, she said with forced cheer, "We're all glad to finally meet you."
The greeting earned Monica little more than an apprehensive stare from Rex and Cassie.
Alan took his place at Monica's side and began his effort at salvaging the first meeting. "Monica's right; the family has been very excited about meeting the two of you." The stares shifted a few degrees to focus on Alan. Clearing his throat he continued, "Well, let me introduce you to everyone."
As he finally began his own approach toward the newest Quartermaines, Alan said, "I'm Dr. Alan Quartermaine. Your mother is my sister." He then motioned toward his wife and continued, "This is my wife Dr. Monica Quartermaine. My mother Lila is in her room resting, and Skye is sitting with baby Kristina. But, let me introduce to everyone who's already here."
Alan released a quick sigh when the duo finally directed their gazes away from him and began to inspect the room's other occupants. Nodding toward Ned, Alan continued with his introduction. "This is Tracy's oldest son Ned Ashton. And, you've already met Tracy's other son Dillon."
Ned's smile apparently struck the pair as more sincere, for it was the first that they had bothered to return since entering the home.
Taking over the introductions before his well-intentioned uncle could continue, Dillon said, "And, that guy over there is A.J., beside him is his sister Emily, and that old goat in the corner is our grandfather Edward."
"That'll be enough out of you, young man," warned Edward as he finally acknowledged his grandchildren. "Now, let's get down to the issues at hand."
"Edward . . ." Monica ineffectively cautioned.
"Tracy didn't actually bother to tell this family where the two of you were coming from when she called. The shrew only said that she was shipping two more of her kids to this house."
Dillon casually walked past Cassie and Rex and muttered, "Welcome to the jungle . . . it gets worse here every day."
Pointing his finger toward Dillon, Edward growled, "I heard that. And, unless you would like me to enroll you at a military school, you had best show this family some respect."
Breaking the self-imposed silence that he and Cassie had forced upon themselves, Rex firmly asked, "What issues did you wish to discuss, Mr. Quartermaine?"
Rex's direct nature clearly surprised the older man and placed him in a position of unease. "Well, for starters, your education. You'd best not expect this family to just support you while you play hooky and run around town like a pair of menaces to society."
"Father," reprimanded Alan. "That is enough."
"Dad's right - for once," concurred A.J. "You've just met these kids. They shouldn't have to answer all your questions as soon as they walk through the door."
Rex smiled cockily and walked boldly toward Edward. Keeping his steely eyes focused solely on his grandfather, Rex stated, "Actually, I don't mind answering Edward's questions. I believe he will be pleasantly surprised by what my sister and I have to say."
"Oh, is that so?" Edward gruffly responded. He frowned as he realized that his daughter's delinquent children had been in his home less than fifteen minutes, and they were already making him ill at ease with their intense personalities.
Cassie grinned as her brother took charge of the situation. As long as she had Rex by her side, she was beginning to think that life as a Quartermaine would not be too unbearable. Her maternal siblings seemed far less vile than her sister Sami Brady - not too mention that living as a Quartermaine would beat moving in with her working-class father Roman Brady.
Answering Edward's question, Rex said, "I actually completed my college education in a year. So, unless you would like me to pursue a master's degree and then a doctorate, I'm satisfied with the formal education I received at Salem University."
While Edward was still standing slack jawed, Cassie took the opportunity to explain her own educational background. "Unlike my genius brother here, I'm still in college. But, I did finish my first year of college at Salem U with a solid 4.0."
"Don't let Cassie fool you," bragged Rex. "She got that 4.0 without even trying. She's amazingly smart."
Turning the conversation around once more so that Rex would be the one in the limelight, Cassie declared, "He's just trying to be modest. Before we found out who our real parents were, Rex was actually preparing to help Tony run Dimera Enterprises."
The smile quickly faded from Rex's face when Cassie mentioned their former father. For Rex his time in Salem was better left forgotten. Though he would never really get over leaving Mimi behind, he understood that he could never have survived emotionally if he had been forced into a life as Roman Brady's son.
However, Edward was paying no attention to Rex or Cassie's facial expression as he, himself, did a complete turnabout. Smiling widely, Edward announced, "Well, whatever you children decide to do will be perfectly all right with this family. We only want you to be happy. In fact, Emily was just saying the other day that she wanted to take a class or two this fall at PCU. Cassie, perhaps you would like to go with her to register. I'll take care of all the financial arrangements."
Moving his cunning gaze toward his newly acquired grandson, Edward said, "As for you, young man, I'd like you to consider working for E.L.Q. We're always on the lookout for young, bright minds such as yourself."
"And, the fact that I have both a professional and personal history with Dimera Enterprises has nothing to do with this job offer, right?"
Edward chose to ignore the definite sarcasm in Rex's voice and the grumblings that came from A.J.'s corner of the room.
Saving Rex from Edward's motives, Ned stated, "I have a better idea. If it's alright with Cassie, we can go ahead and enroll her at PCU tomorrow. I have a feeling that the Admissions Office will be more than willing to help us with the last minute accommodations. And, then we can just let Rex and Cassie settle in before making any other major decisions."
"That sounds great," declared Cassie with a smile that hinted at mischievousness. Glancing at Rex, she gave a quick, discreet wink. One thing was already abundantly clear: life as a Quartermaine would never be dull.
~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~
Carly uncaringly traipsed along the waterfront, her thoughts in a state of muddled disarray. She felt as though she was trapped on the edge of a dangerously high cliff. There was no turning away from the edge she precariously balanced herself on, but she had an unsettling sense that someone - or something - was about to come along and give her a merciless push over the proverbial edge.
The sensation had first hit her when she'd arrived back at the penthouse after an afternoon shopping trip. Sonny had given her a pacifying smile and gone about his business, but Carly had been able to sense the tension lurking behind the gesture.
Her attempts as civil conversation were useless. Sonny had repeatedly found ways to either evade her topics of choice or simply ignore her entirely.
Once Bobbie had arrived to take Michael to the Brownstone for the evening, Carly had released her fury upon her husband. With her usual flair of indignant rage, Carly had demanded to know what had happened to upset the man she had married. She loudly boasted that she could see when something was wrong.
For his part, Sonny had remained surprisingly calm and collected when Carly first began her tangent. However, once he felt that her formerly wild accusations were transforming into frightfully accurate observations, Sonny fired back with his own brand of anger.
They had stood arguing in the living room for more than fifteen minutes before Carly had irately grabbed her purse and stormed out the door. She left in her wake a shattered vase and a fuming spouse.
Carly shook her head as though she were physically shaking away the thoughts of her earlier argument with Sonny. She tried to convince herself that it was just another one of their marital spats and that it would soon be little more than an amusing memory. Yet, there was a feeling in the pit of Carly's stomach that warned otherwise.
Throughout the argument, Sonny had not once denied that he was hiding something. He merely chose to avoid his possible secret entirely, repeatedly turning the heated discussion back to Carly and her transgressions.
After ten more minutes of walking along the water, Carly finally convinced herself that she should at least call Sonny and try to resolve whatever issues had led to their disagreement. While she was fumbling through her purse's contents in search of her cellular phone, Carly felt herself slam into another person.
Carly began to mumble an insincere apology until she looked up and realized who she had bumped into. With a roll of her eyes, she grumbled, "What? Are you following me?"
"Excuse me?" Nikolas replied with minor annoyance. Looking back toward the water, he could see that the ferry was nearing the launch. He only prayed that it would arrive before Luke Spencer's estranged niece ordered one of her husband's goons to toss him in the river along with a charming pair of cement shoes.
Her cell phone forgotten, Carly snapped, "That's right. Excuse you."
Before Nikolas could even process Carly's childish comments, the blonde had stormed away and disappeared around a corner. His gaze once more being directed at the water, Nikolas muttered, "That was strange."
"Ahhh, Nikky, don't tell me you've taken up talking to yourself."
Nikolas did not bother to turn around to look at his latest unwanted companion. "What do you want, Luke?"
"How about a nice, juicy steak, a bottle of whiskey, and world rid of all you Cassadines."
Nikolas refused to respond to Luke's snide remark. The two men had battled the same war for far too long. In the end, it always came back to one thing. One was a Spencer and the other was a Cassadine, and only a miracle could bring the two together in a manner that was anything but volatile.
Realizing that Laura's son had only silence to offer as a response, Luke stated, "You know, kid, just when I started to think there might be hope for you, you went off and proved that you're just like that frozen papa of yours. Cold and heartless."
Again, Luke was answered by only the sound of water lapping against the dock, Nikolas had not a word to say. Disappointed by his former stepson's lack of confrontational attitude, Luke finally opted to walk away and leave the young man alone to wait for the ferry to Spoon Island.
Taking a deep breath of the warm summer air, Nikolas wearily thought over the events of his day. When he awoke that morning, he had been dutifully engaged to Lydia and envisioning a lonely, dull evening locked away in his bedroom at Wyndemere.
However, that had all been lost along the winding path of what he had expected to be a typical Thursday. With the help of Alexis, Nikolas had found an alternative to marrying Lydia and had happily sent the heiress back to Europe. Then, in an attempt to escape his displeased uncle, Nikolas had ventured into town for a celebratory dinner at the Port Charles Grille.
That was where he had been sitting when he received the phone call from Gia. Beginning there, his day had gone downhill. From learning that his former love was leaving town to having unpleasant encounters with not one but two Spencers, Nikolas's day had quickly gone from surprisingly nice to dreadfully disheartening.
Only minutes after Nikolas finally made his departure from the dock, Cameron Lewis and his son began to walk along the water. The two had encountered each other at Kelly's purely by accident. The mere idea of purposely meeting seemed a bit unreasonable to both men. The damage to their relationship still had far too many repairs left.
They had first kept the conversation light and casual, such as a pair of strangers would. However, that particular pattern crumbled when Cameron calmly stated that Zander's mother had called him earlier that day.
Hurriedly turning to face his father, Zander demanded, "What did you tell her?"
"Only that you were doing fine here in Port Charles and that you would visit her when you felt that it was right."
"Good."
"But," added Cameron.
"But?"
"You know your mother. She wasn't going to be satisfied by some vague answer concerning her baby boy. She began asking about things like where you were living and where you were going to school."
Zander tiredly rubbed his face with his hands. He could feel a headache building as the conversation continued. This was why he and his father didn't have casual chats over coffee. "What did you say?"
"I only told her that you were living on your own and working full-time."
"How did she respond?"
Cameron took a deep, fortifying breath before answering. The actual phone conversation had been difficult, but he fully realized that this discussion with his son was going to be even worse. "She made me promise to get you back in school. Your mother wants you to finish your college education, Alexander."
"School's never really been my thing," grumbled the young man. "So, don't bother."
"What if I made you a deal you couldn't refuse?"
Zander sent an inquisitive look in his father's direction. Blackmail and bribery were not Cameron's usual tactics. He might make you feel guilty or apprehensive, but he seldom stooped down to a purely devious level. Doing his best to appear uninterested, Zander asked, "What makes you think I'd care about any deal you had to offer?"
Cameron completely ignored Zander's last comment. "I happen to think that your mother is right. Attending college might be just what you need."
"Okay, so where does this deal of yours come into the picture?"
"For every dollar you spend from your college fund on your education, I will donate an equal amount to the Susan G. Komen Foundation."
Zander openly laughed as he realized just how cunning his own father could be. He shook his head with frustrated amusement and commented, "You're not joking around, are you? I mean, man, you know exactly what my weaknesses are. My girlfriend is a breast cancer survivor, so you're holding a charitable donation over my head."
"Contrary to what you may believe, I do care about you. I want to make sure that you don't look back on this time of your life with regrets. So, if it will secure your future, I am willing to pressure you into going back to school."
"You've definitely been hanging around Alexis too much - you're beginning to sound like a Cassadine."
Cameron forced himself to overlook the obvious slight his son directed at him. He would much rather Zander willingly go back to school, but he realized that all too often his son did the exact opposite of what was in his best interest.
Zander's mind darted back to a recent conversation with Emily. She had mentioned that she would be taking a few classes at PCU. The imagined wheels in his mind began to spin at full throttle as Zander envisioned himself in a classroom setting with Emily. That just might be the one thought that would make school worth attending. With that idea in mind, he finally responded, "Fine, it's a deal."
"It's a deal?" Cameron skeptically echoed.
"Yeah. I'll get to spend extra time with Em, and it'll hopefully keep you off my back for a semester or two."
Cameron smiled just slightly as he replied, "I think you're making the right decision." Pulling a slip of paper out of his jacket pocket, Cameron offered it to Zander. "Here are the numbers for the Admissions office at PCU and also their Housing office."
"Housing?"
"Yes, once you're officially accepted, they can arrange for you to move into one of the housing facilities on campus."
Again, Zander released a frustrated laugh. "You've got to be kidding me. You can't actually expect me to move in with a bunch of giggly teenagers after I've spent this long living above a bar. That's crazy."
An almost wicked, yet good-natured, smile crossed Cameron's lips. "Did I mention that all costs of living on campus would be included in the amount I matched for cancer research?"
Zander merely shook his head. "I can't believe I'm going to do this."
~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~
The dimly lit bar's air was polluted with a blend of cigarette smoke and horridly executed jazz music. In the corner farthest from the establishment's entrance, a lone figure sat nursing his drink.
The dark-haired man kept his back to the door as he nervously tapped his glass of scotch with his fingertips. Though he generally portrayed himself as reckless and unconcerned, he was feeling neither of those traits on this late August night. Of all the cities in the world he wished to dwell, New York City was not one of them. It seemed just a little too close to home.
Taking a sip of his almost forgotten drink, the man forced himself to take deep, relaxed breaths. However, he could not forget that his entire future - and in due course his true freedom - was completely dependent on the success of his meeting. A bad impression could quite possibly leave him with rather dismal prospects for his upcoming years. Among those prospects was a jail cell adjacent to a burly criminal looking for a new love interest.
Before the man could further envision the bleak possibilities, a pair of shadows fell across the booth. With dread-inspired hesitance, the man turned his head to face his companions. Introductions simply weren't necessary.
John Black and Shane Donavon sat down with a distinct air of indifference. Their unflappable attitudes were a quick warning that neither had any investments in the meeting. Regardless of the evenings outcome, neither of the man's companions would lose anything - therefore it was his sole duty to prove that by trusting him they would gain something. Above all else, he must prove his worth.
"Gentleman," he greeted with false confidence. "I'm glad you could both meet with me."
"No doubt," coolly responded Shane.
John watched with mild amusement as the former criminal's facade began to crack. Both sides knew that this was the last chance. Either the man would be given a new lease on life or the ISA would turn him into the proper authorities and watch him be sentenced to a lengthy stay in Pentonville.
"Yes, well, I thought offering my services to your organization would be more mutually beneficial than if I were to collaborate with the WSB or the FBI."
Giving his trademark eyebrow lift, John curled his lips into a faint smile. "That's funny. Because, based on my previous discussions with the WSB, they don't trust you enough to hire you as a janitor at their lowest-level office - much less make you an actual agent. And, should they find out you kicking back in the Big Apple, I have a feeling they would be more than happy to make accommodations for you at the state penitentiary."
The man casually threw his hands up as a sign of clear defeat. "Fine. You've got me. The ISA is my last option - but I have a feeling you guys know something the WSB doesn't."
"Oh," replied Shane. "Why is that?"
The man smirked and responded, "If you didn't think there was something I could offer, you'd never even bother meeting with me. This conversation would never happen if I wasn't of some value to the ISA."
John momentarily considered lying. He toyed with the idea of telling the man that there was nothing the ISA wanted with him - but that simply wasn't the case. "You just might be right. However, that doesn't guarantee that our agency will actually choose to bring you onboard. Your past indiscretions have proven that you're needlessly reckless. That's not something that will be tolerated if we decide to employ you."
"I understand."
"Good," declared Shane. Making a quick, unplanned decision, he continued, "Once a plausible story is arranged to explain your return to the United States, we'll contact you with travel and assignment information."
The man felt certain that his jaw had dropped completely to the floor. In the blink of an eye, he had been given a chance at redemption.
Rising from the booth, John stared down at the man with eyes stained by misgiving. Pushing aside the negative feelings, John simply stated, "Welcome to the ISA, Jerry."
Cassie took a tentative step closer to her brother when one of her newfound relatives began to approach.
While Cassie wearily eyed Monica Quartermaine, Rex took a defensive step forward. The action was not one of deliberation but rather naive impulse. No matter their age, Rex would always feel instinctively drawn to protecting Cassie. And, if that meant guarding her from their mother's family, so be it.
Monica stopped her approach when she realized that it had only succeeded in making the twins more nervous than they had been when Dillon led them through the front door. Though she had become a somewhat stern woman in recent years, Monica gave her best attempt at a welcoming smile. Clasping her hands together, she said with forced cheer, "We're all glad to finally meet you."
The greeting earned Monica little more than an apprehensive stare from Rex and Cassie.
Alan took his place at Monica's side and began his effort at salvaging the first meeting. "Monica's right; the family has been very excited about meeting the two of you." The stares shifted a few degrees to focus on Alan. Clearing his throat he continued, "Well, let me introduce you to everyone."
As he finally began his own approach toward the newest Quartermaines, Alan said, "I'm Dr. Alan Quartermaine. Your mother is my sister." He then motioned toward his wife and continued, "This is my wife Dr. Monica Quartermaine. My mother Lila is in her room resting, and Skye is sitting with baby Kristina. But, let me introduce to everyone who's already here."
Alan released a quick sigh when the duo finally directed their gazes away from him and began to inspect the room's other occupants. Nodding toward Ned, Alan continued with his introduction. "This is Tracy's oldest son Ned Ashton. And, you've already met Tracy's other son Dillon."
Ned's smile apparently struck the pair as more sincere, for it was the first that they had bothered to return since entering the home.
Taking over the introductions before his well-intentioned uncle could continue, Dillon said, "And, that guy over there is A.J., beside him is his sister Emily, and that old goat in the corner is our grandfather Edward."
"That'll be enough out of you, young man," warned Edward as he finally acknowledged his grandchildren. "Now, let's get down to the issues at hand."
"Edward . . ." Monica ineffectively cautioned.
"Tracy didn't actually bother to tell this family where the two of you were coming from when she called. The shrew only said that she was shipping two more of her kids to this house."
Dillon casually walked past Cassie and Rex and muttered, "Welcome to the jungle . . . it gets worse here every day."
Pointing his finger toward Dillon, Edward growled, "I heard that. And, unless you would like me to enroll you at a military school, you had best show this family some respect."
Breaking the self-imposed silence that he and Cassie had forced upon themselves, Rex firmly asked, "What issues did you wish to discuss, Mr. Quartermaine?"
Rex's direct nature clearly surprised the older man and placed him in a position of unease. "Well, for starters, your education. You'd best not expect this family to just support you while you play hooky and run around town like a pair of menaces to society."
"Father," reprimanded Alan. "That is enough."
"Dad's right - for once," concurred A.J. "You've just met these kids. They shouldn't have to answer all your questions as soon as they walk through the door."
Rex smiled cockily and walked boldly toward Edward. Keeping his steely eyes focused solely on his grandfather, Rex stated, "Actually, I don't mind answering Edward's questions. I believe he will be pleasantly surprised by what my sister and I have to say."
"Oh, is that so?" Edward gruffly responded. He frowned as he realized that his daughter's delinquent children had been in his home less than fifteen minutes, and they were already making him ill at ease with their intense personalities.
Cassie grinned as her brother took charge of the situation. As long as she had Rex by her side, she was beginning to think that life as a Quartermaine would not be too unbearable. Her maternal siblings seemed far less vile than her sister Sami Brady - not too mention that living as a Quartermaine would beat moving in with her working-class father Roman Brady.
Answering Edward's question, Rex said, "I actually completed my college education in a year. So, unless you would like me to pursue a master's degree and then a doctorate, I'm satisfied with the formal education I received at Salem University."
While Edward was still standing slack jawed, Cassie took the opportunity to explain her own educational background. "Unlike my genius brother here, I'm still in college. But, I did finish my first year of college at Salem U with a solid 4.0."
"Don't let Cassie fool you," bragged Rex. "She got that 4.0 without even trying. She's amazingly smart."
Turning the conversation around once more so that Rex would be the one in the limelight, Cassie declared, "He's just trying to be modest. Before we found out who our real parents were, Rex was actually preparing to help Tony run Dimera Enterprises."
The smile quickly faded from Rex's face when Cassie mentioned their former father. For Rex his time in Salem was better left forgotten. Though he would never really get over leaving Mimi behind, he understood that he could never have survived emotionally if he had been forced into a life as Roman Brady's son.
However, Edward was paying no attention to Rex or Cassie's facial expression as he, himself, did a complete turnabout. Smiling widely, Edward announced, "Well, whatever you children decide to do will be perfectly all right with this family. We only want you to be happy. In fact, Emily was just saying the other day that she wanted to take a class or two this fall at PCU. Cassie, perhaps you would like to go with her to register. I'll take care of all the financial arrangements."
Moving his cunning gaze toward his newly acquired grandson, Edward said, "As for you, young man, I'd like you to consider working for E.L.Q. We're always on the lookout for young, bright minds such as yourself."
"And, the fact that I have both a professional and personal history with Dimera Enterprises has nothing to do with this job offer, right?"
Edward chose to ignore the definite sarcasm in Rex's voice and the grumblings that came from A.J.'s corner of the room.
Saving Rex from Edward's motives, Ned stated, "I have a better idea. If it's alright with Cassie, we can go ahead and enroll her at PCU tomorrow. I have a feeling that the Admissions Office will be more than willing to help us with the last minute accommodations. And, then we can just let Rex and Cassie settle in before making any other major decisions."
"That sounds great," declared Cassie with a smile that hinted at mischievousness. Glancing at Rex, she gave a quick, discreet wink. One thing was already abundantly clear: life as a Quartermaine would never be dull.
~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~
Carly uncaringly traipsed along the waterfront, her thoughts in a state of muddled disarray. She felt as though she was trapped on the edge of a dangerously high cliff. There was no turning away from the edge she precariously balanced herself on, but she had an unsettling sense that someone - or something - was about to come along and give her a merciless push over the proverbial edge.
The sensation had first hit her when she'd arrived back at the penthouse after an afternoon shopping trip. Sonny had given her a pacifying smile and gone about his business, but Carly had been able to sense the tension lurking behind the gesture.
Her attempts as civil conversation were useless. Sonny had repeatedly found ways to either evade her topics of choice or simply ignore her entirely.
Once Bobbie had arrived to take Michael to the Brownstone for the evening, Carly had released her fury upon her husband. With her usual flair of indignant rage, Carly had demanded to know what had happened to upset the man she had married. She loudly boasted that she could see when something was wrong.
For his part, Sonny had remained surprisingly calm and collected when Carly first began her tangent. However, once he felt that her formerly wild accusations were transforming into frightfully accurate observations, Sonny fired back with his own brand of anger.
They had stood arguing in the living room for more than fifteen minutes before Carly had irately grabbed her purse and stormed out the door. She left in her wake a shattered vase and a fuming spouse.
Carly shook her head as though she were physically shaking away the thoughts of her earlier argument with Sonny. She tried to convince herself that it was just another one of their marital spats and that it would soon be little more than an amusing memory. Yet, there was a feeling in the pit of Carly's stomach that warned otherwise.
Throughout the argument, Sonny had not once denied that he was hiding something. He merely chose to avoid his possible secret entirely, repeatedly turning the heated discussion back to Carly and her transgressions.
After ten more minutes of walking along the water, Carly finally convinced herself that she should at least call Sonny and try to resolve whatever issues had led to their disagreement. While she was fumbling through her purse's contents in search of her cellular phone, Carly felt herself slam into another person.
Carly began to mumble an insincere apology until she looked up and realized who she had bumped into. With a roll of her eyes, she grumbled, "What? Are you following me?"
"Excuse me?" Nikolas replied with minor annoyance. Looking back toward the water, he could see that the ferry was nearing the launch. He only prayed that it would arrive before Luke Spencer's estranged niece ordered one of her husband's goons to toss him in the river along with a charming pair of cement shoes.
Her cell phone forgotten, Carly snapped, "That's right. Excuse you."
Before Nikolas could even process Carly's childish comments, the blonde had stormed away and disappeared around a corner. His gaze once more being directed at the water, Nikolas muttered, "That was strange."
"Ahhh, Nikky, don't tell me you've taken up talking to yourself."
Nikolas did not bother to turn around to look at his latest unwanted companion. "What do you want, Luke?"
"How about a nice, juicy steak, a bottle of whiskey, and world rid of all you Cassadines."
Nikolas refused to respond to Luke's snide remark. The two men had battled the same war for far too long. In the end, it always came back to one thing. One was a Spencer and the other was a Cassadine, and only a miracle could bring the two together in a manner that was anything but volatile.
Realizing that Laura's son had only silence to offer as a response, Luke stated, "You know, kid, just when I started to think there might be hope for you, you went off and proved that you're just like that frozen papa of yours. Cold and heartless."
Again, Luke was answered by only the sound of water lapping against the dock, Nikolas had not a word to say. Disappointed by his former stepson's lack of confrontational attitude, Luke finally opted to walk away and leave the young man alone to wait for the ferry to Spoon Island.
Taking a deep breath of the warm summer air, Nikolas wearily thought over the events of his day. When he awoke that morning, he had been dutifully engaged to Lydia and envisioning a lonely, dull evening locked away in his bedroom at Wyndemere.
However, that had all been lost along the winding path of what he had expected to be a typical Thursday. With the help of Alexis, Nikolas had found an alternative to marrying Lydia and had happily sent the heiress back to Europe. Then, in an attempt to escape his displeased uncle, Nikolas had ventured into town for a celebratory dinner at the Port Charles Grille.
That was where he had been sitting when he received the phone call from Gia. Beginning there, his day had gone downhill. From learning that his former love was leaving town to having unpleasant encounters with not one but two Spencers, Nikolas's day had quickly gone from surprisingly nice to dreadfully disheartening.
Only minutes after Nikolas finally made his departure from the dock, Cameron Lewis and his son began to walk along the water. The two had encountered each other at Kelly's purely by accident. The mere idea of purposely meeting seemed a bit unreasonable to both men. The damage to their relationship still had far too many repairs left.
They had first kept the conversation light and casual, such as a pair of strangers would. However, that particular pattern crumbled when Cameron calmly stated that Zander's mother had called him earlier that day.
Hurriedly turning to face his father, Zander demanded, "What did you tell her?"
"Only that you were doing fine here in Port Charles and that you would visit her when you felt that it was right."
"Good."
"But," added Cameron.
"But?"
"You know your mother. She wasn't going to be satisfied by some vague answer concerning her baby boy. She began asking about things like where you were living and where you were going to school."
Zander tiredly rubbed his face with his hands. He could feel a headache building as the conversation continued. This was why he and his father didn't have casual chats over coffee. "What did you say?"
"I only told her that you were living on your own and working full-time."
"How did she respond?"
Cameron took a deep, fortifying breath before answering. The actual phone conversation had been difficult, but he fully realized that this discussion with his son was going to be even worse. "She made me promise to get you back in school. Your mother wants you to finish your college education, Alexander."
"School's never really been my thing," grumbled the young man. "So, don't bother."
"What if I made you a deal you couldn't refuse?"
Zander sent an inquisitive look in his father's direction. Blackmail and bribery were not Cameron's usual tactics. He might make you feel guilty or apprehensive, but he seldom stooped down to a purely devious level. Doing his best to appear uninterested, Zander asked, "What makes you think I'd care about any deal you had to offer?"
Cameron completely ignored Zander's last comment. "I happen to think that your mother is right. Attending college might be just what you need."
"Okay, so where does this deal of yours come into the picture?"
"For every dollar you spend from your college fund on your education, I will donate an equal amount to the Susan G. Komen Foundation."
Zander openly laughed as he realized just how cunning his own father could be. He shook his head with frustrated amusement and commented, "You're not joking around, are you? I mean, man, you know exactly what my weaknesses are. My girlfriend is a breast cancer survivor, so you're holding a charitable donation over my head."
"Contrary to what you may believe, I do care about you. I want to make sure that you don't look back on this time of your life with regrets. So, if it will secure your future, I am willing to pressure you into going back to school."
"You've definitely been hanging around Alexis too much - you're beginning to sound like a Cassadine."
Cameron forced himself to overlook the obvious slight his son directed at him. He would much rather Zander willingly go back to school, but he realized that all too often his son did the exact opposite of what was in his best interest.
Zander's mind darted back to a recent conversation with Emily. She had mentioned that she would be taking a few classes at PCU. The imagined wheels in his mind began to spin at full throttle as Zander envisioned himself in a classroom setting with Emily. That just might be the one thought that would make school worth attending. With that idea in mind, he finally responded, "Fine, it's a deal."
"It's a deal?" Cameron skeptically echoed.
"Yeah. I'll get to spend extra time with Em, and it'll hopefully keep you off my back for a semester or two."
Cameron smiled just slightly as he replied, "I think you're making the right decision." Pulling a slip of paper out of his jacket pocket, Cameron offered it to Zander. "Here are the numbers for the Admissions office at PCU and also their Housing office."
"Housing?"
"Yes, once you're officially accepted, they can arrange for you to move into one of the housing facilities on campus."
Again, Zander released a frustrated laugh. "You've got to be kidding me. You can't actually expect me to move in with a bunch of giggly teenagers after I've spent this long living above a bar. That's crazy."
An almost wicked, yet good-natured, smile crossed Cameron's lips. "Did I mention that all costs of living on campus would be included in the amount I matched for cancer research?"
Zander merely shook his head. "I can't believe I'm going to do this."
~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~ * * ~
The dimly lit bar's air was polluted with a blend of cigarette smoke and horridly executed jazz music. In the corner farthest from the establishment's entrance, a lone figure sat nursing his drink.
The dark-haired man kept his back to the door as he nervously tapped his glass of scotch with his fingertips. Though he generally portrayed himself as reckless and unconcerned, he was feeling neither of those traits on this late August night. Of all the cities in the world he wished to dwell, New York City was not one of them. It seemed just a little too close to home.
Taking a sip of his almost forgotten drink, the man forced himself to take deep, relaxed breaths. However, he could not forget that his entire future - and in due course his true freedom - was completely dependent on the success of his meeting. A bad impression could quite possibly leave him with rather dismal prospects for his upcoming years. Among those prospects was a jail cell adjacent to a burly criminal looking for a new love interest.
Before the man could further envision the bleak possibilities, a pair of shadows fell across the booth. With dread-inspired hesitance, the man turned his head to face his companions. Introductions simply weren't necessary.
John Black and Shane Donavon sat down with a distinct air of indifference. Their unflappable attitudes were a quick warning that neither had any investments in the meeting. Regardless of the evenings outcome, neither of the man's companions would lose anything - therefore it was his sole duty to prove that by trusting him they would gain something. Above all else, he must prove his worth.
"Gentleman," he greeted with false confidence. "I'm glad you could both meet with me."
"No doubt," coolly responded Shane.
John watched with mild amusement as the former criminal's facade began to crack. Both sides knew that this was the last chance. Either the man would be given a new lease on life or the ISA would turn him into the proper authorities and watch him be sentenced to a lengthy stay in Pentonville.
"Yes, well, I thought offering my services to your organization would be more mutually beneficial than if I were to collaborate with the WSB or the FBI."
Giving his trademark eyebrow lift, John curled his lips into a faint smile. "That's funny. Because, based on my previous discussions with the WSB, they don't trust you enough to hire you as a janitor at their lowest-level office - much less make you an actual agent. And, should they find out you kicking back in the Big Apple, I have a feeling they would be more than happy to make accommodations for you at the state penitentiary."
The man casually threw his hands up as a sign of clear defeat. "Fine. You've got me. The ISA is my last option - but I have a feeling you guys know something the WSB doesn't."
"Oh," replied Shane. "Why is that?"
The man smirked and responded, "If you didn't think there was something I could offer, you'd never even bother meeting with me. This conversation would never happen if I wasn't of some value to the ISA."
John momentarily considered lying. He toyed with the idea of telling the man that there was nothing the ISA wanted with him - but that simply wasn't the case. "You just might be right. However, that doesn't guarantee that our agency will actually choose to bring you onboard. Your past indiscretions have proven that you're needlessly reckless. That's not something that will be tolerated if we decide to employ you."
"I understand."
"Good," declared Shane. Making a quick, unplanned decision, he continued, "Once a plausible story is arranged to explain your return to the United States, we'll contact you with travel and assignment information."
The man felt certain that his jaw had dropped completely to the floor. In the blink of an eye, he had been given a chance at redemption.
Rising from the booth, John stared down at the man with eyes stained by misgiving. Pushing aside the negative feelings, John simply stated, "Welcome to the ISA, Jerry."
