Dillon Quartermaine climbed out of his limousine; cellphone attached to his ear. He didn't bother to tip the doorman; his thoughts were on other things. The lobby of the hotel was abuzz with people but he didn't notice as he pushed the elevator button and continued to listen annoyed to the voice on the other end of the phone.
"I don't care," he finally groaned at last "I told you what to do. Either you do it, or I'll give the job to someone else."
The elevator reached the bottom floor and he climbed inside with five other guests. He was the only one not to notice the tension in the closed in area. The two women standing in front of him shot each other glances of a mixture of fear and excitement. The little boy that was riding with his father tugged on his hand but his father ignored him. The older man standing beside him looked straight ahead; his eyes never glancing in his direction.
"Yes, I told him," Dillon sighed into the phone "Well, I don't see as if it will be a problem. You know how to handle this situation, don't you?"
There was a pause while the elevator doors opened and the father and son quickly walked out.
"Daddy, didn't you see who that was?" the boy exclaimed.
"Hush," the man urged him, dragging him by the arm down the carpeted hallway.
When the elevator reached Dillon's floor, he brushed passed the other occupants and walked briskly down the hallway. His doorman nodded at him as he made his way inside his suite, tossing his coat across the back of an easy chair. He walked to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a drink.
"Well, just see that it's taken care of," he finished his conversation, tossing the phone onto the unmade bed. He never allowed the cleaning service into his room to straighten up when he stayed in a hotel. It was too risky. He took another sip of his drink and unfolded the paper that lay on his bedside table. The stock market was up, armed robbery in Long Island, the president was visiting Africa, Georgie Jones elected to head new Port Charles medical facility. He almost dropped his glass onto the carpet. It couldn't be but there it was in black and white. There was a large picture of her in a doctor's coat, stethoscope around her neck and a huge smile on her face. He read on in the article. Port Charles had opened a Cancer facility, and Georgie was the doctor in charge of the staff there. Nikolas and Emily Cassadine had donated a sizable donation and they were quoted as saying they had full faith that Georgie would take good care of all the patients that passed through the doors of the facility.
A knock on his door broke his concentration and he quickly tucked the paper inside the night table drawer.
"Mr. Quartermaine?" a voice beckoned from the other side.
"Yes?"
"You have a visitor sir."
He sighed and crossed the room, opening the door to find his accountant Ryan Landon on the other side.
"Now is not a good time," Dillon insisted "I have had a long day, and I'm in no mood to go over stock quotes right now."
"I think you should see this," Ryan stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.
"What? Can't it wait until in the morning?"
"Look," he extended a folder of documents, which Dillon took and began to scan.
"What am I looking at?" he shrugged.
"Our Port Charles branch isn't keeping up it's end of the bargain. The shipments aren't reaching the docks. Now if we don't do something, we could lose a fortune in product."
"So, send someone down to check on it."
"I really think that you should go down yourself sir. They'll listen to you, they'll do what you say."
"No," he shook his head "You know how I feel about Port Charles. I assigned that location to you for the very reason that I would never have to step foot in that town again."
"I don't think you have a choice here sir," the man sighed, taking back the folder "If we lose Port Charles we lose a strong hold. That only provides opportunity for our enemies to sneak in and take away one of our most profitable ports."
"I'm not going, send whoever you have to, just get the job done without me. I'll make phone calls, I'll try my best to negotiate over the phone but I will not step foot in Port Charles. Do you understand?"
"What is it about that place?" the man marveled, taking off his reading glasses and tucking them into his coat pocket "What's so forbidden there that you can't go back?"
Dillon stared at the man and then dropped his eyes to the floor, taking the last sip of his drink.
"That's not important, just know that I won't go."
"I think you're making a mistake and as your accountant I have to advise you..."
"I heard you!" Dillon raised his voice "And you've heard my answer, now get out and keep me posted on the progress."
Ryan sighed, tucking the folder back into his case and letting himself out. As soon as the door was shut securely, Dillon hurled around throwing his crystal drinking glass into the marble fireplace.
"Sir?" the guard called from the hallway "Is everything all right?"
"It's fine," he answered "Everything's fine."
Georgie Jones stood in front of the mirror. This was the first day on the job at the new clinic and the butterflies in her stomach were frightening. She wanted to look as professional as possible. How could she when she was a wreck inside? Her hairbrush lay on the dresser and she picked it up, raking it through her hair.
"Georgie?" she heard her sister's voice downstairs "Where are you?"
"Up here!" she yelled, nervously turning to her closet. What was she going to wear? A dress, pants suit...
"Are you all right?" Maxie ducked her head inside the bedroom door "I've been calling you."
"I'm sorry. I didn't hear it," Georgie answered, flipping through the clothes hanging before her "I'm just a little nervous."
"You'll do fine," Maxie tried to assure her, walking up behind her "The khaki pants and the white shirt."
"You think?" Georgie turned around to look at her.
"Definitely. Professional, yet fashionable. That's hard to come by," Maxie grinned, hugging her sister.
"Thank you so much," Georgie smiled as she pulled away "It means so much to me that you're going to be a receptionist at the clinic. I need the moral support."
Maxie laughed "Well don't forget I get paid too. Besides, it's a great job."
"Of course it is," Georgie nodded, pulling the clothes out of her closet "I'm really happy that you went back to school."
"Yeah, me too. I wouldn't have if you hadn't pushed me."
"Hey, that's what sisters do right?"
"I'll let you get changed," Maxie walked out of the room and back downstairs.
Georgie pulled the pants and shirt on, and then took another look in the mirror. Maxie was right, it was perfect. She suddenly felt a little better, with one last glance she headed downstairs.
"So are Nikolas and Emily going to be there?" Maxie questioned as they walked outside.
"I think so. It would be so great if they would. It wouldn't be possible without their donation. Emily has been such an advocate since her cancer. She wants to help others. She's even going to head up one of the support groups that meets once a month at the clinic."
"She's so lucky. I mean, she's married to a prince, not to mention he's drop dead gorgeous. How come we can't find guys like that?" Maxie smiled.
The smile quickly faded off Georgie's lips and she began rummaging for her keys.
"Sorry," Maxie sighed, glancing at the ground "I shouldn't have..."
"No, no you're right. I mean, it's been three years. I've accepted the fact that it's over, time to move on right?"
"Right," Maxie nodded, forcing a smile on her face.
"Right," Georgie whispered to herself.
Dillon woke up in a crumpled mess of sheets and blankets. He sighed as he tossed them back revealing the newspaper still lying on his chest where he had fell asleep reading it. Pulling himself out of bed, he crossed the room and went into the bathroom. He leaned over the sink and splashed water on his face to wake him up. As he raised up, he was reminded of something that had happened several years ago.
* Flashback *
Georgie was sitting in the bathroom floor, knees pulled up to her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks. Then there was him, splashing water on his face and raising up to see her reflection in the mirror.
"Stop," he whispered to her, hoping she would do as he asked but knowing she wouldn't.
"Well what do you want me to do?" she sniffed.
"Nothing. I told you, it's the right thing. You have to believe me."
"No," she shook her head, rising to her feet "I will never agree that this is right."
He turned around to face her, staring into her swollen eyes glistening with tears. He reached out and wiped a tear away with his thumb.
"You don't have a choice."
* End Flashback *
He quickly shook the image from his mind and wiped his face with a towel. Heading back into the room, he changed clothes, then moved over to the phone and requested room service.
"Sir," the guard called from the other side of the door "You have a visitor."
Ryan, no doubt, he thought to himself who had come for round two of an argument that he would never win. He opened the door only to find Faith Roscoe on the other side.
"How did you find me?" he narrowed his eyes.
"It wasn't hard," she smirked "Never is."
"Very funny, what do you want?"
"Aren't you going to invite me in?"
"No," he shook his head, leaning against the doorframe "Either you tell me what you came here to say outside or you can leave. I really don't care which."
"Well," she answered sternly "I just thought you might like to know that things are going to hell in Port Charles. Now, I realize that you and I are in a competitive business here, but I don't really want to see you go under. Pauper's clothing, just doesn't suit you."
"What do you care?" he sighed.
"I'm trying to help you here. I thought you might appreciate it."
"You are a washed up, has been," he leaned closer to her "and I have no use for what you have to say."
"Just hear this," she added "If you don't go to Port Charles and rectify this situation, you're going to have to say goodbye to all of these five star hotels and fancy imported suits of yours and get a real, honest job. Maybe even little doctor Georgie might take you back."
"Get out!"
"Hm, funny, I thought I already was," she smirked as she turned and got back onto the elevator.
He slammed the door shut and kicked it for good measure.
"Damn it!"
He sat down on the bed and held his head in his hands. What if he had to go to Port Charles? He sure as hell didn't want to but if he could lose everything how could he not?
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.
"What the hell do you want now?" he flung the door open, only to find room service on the other side.
"Sorry," he tried to brush it off, taking the cart and handing the attendant his tip. He slammed the door behind him and rifled through the bed covers for his cellphone. He let out an exhausted sigh and dialed.
"It's me," he grumbled into the phone "Get the plane ready, I'm going to Port Charles this morning. No, you heard me, Port Charles."
"I don't care," he finally groaned at last "I told you what to do. Either you do it, or I'll give the job to someone else."
The elevator reached the bottom floor and he climbed inside with five other guests. He was the only one not to notice the tension in the closed in area. The two women standing in front of him shot each other glances of a mixture of fear and excitement. The little boy that was riding with his father tugged on his hand but his father ignored him. The older man standing beside him looked straight ahead; his eyes never glancing in his direction.
"Yes, I told him," Dillon sighed into the phone "Well, I don't see as if it will be a problem. You know how to handle this situation, don't you?"
There was a pause while the elevator doors opened and the father and son quickly walked out.
"Daddy, didn't you see who that was?" the boy exclaimed.
"Hush," the man urged him, dragging him by the arm down the carpeted hallway.
When the elevator reached Dillon's floor, he brushed passed the other occupants and walked briskly down the hallway. His doorman nodded at him as he made his way inside his suite, tossing his coat across the back of an easy chair. He walked to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a drink.
"Well, just see that it's taken care of," he finished his conversation, tossing the phone onto the unmade bed. He never allowed the cleaning service into his room to straighten up when he stayed in a hotel. It was too risky. He took another sip of his drink and unfolded the paper that lay on his bedside table. The stock market was up, armed robbery in Long Island, the president was visiting Africa, Georgie Jones elected to head new Port Charles medical facility. He almost dropped his glass onto the carpet. It couldn't be but there it was in black and white. There was a large picture of her in a doctor's coat, stethoscope around her neck and a huge smile on her face. He read on in the article. Port Charles had opened a Cancer facility, and Georgie was the doctor in charge of the staff there. Nikolas and Emily Cassadine had donated a sizable donation and they were quoted as saying they had full faith that Georgie would take good care of all the patients that passed through the doors of the facility.
A knock on his door broke his concentration and he quickly tucked the paper inside the night table drawer.
"Mr. Quartermaine?" a voice beckoned from the other side.
"Yes?"
"You have a visitor sir."
He sighed and crossed the room, opening the door to find his accountant Ryan Landon on the other side.
"Now is not a good time," Dillon insisted "I have had a long day, and I'm in no mood to go over stock quotes right now."
"I think you should see this," Ryan stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.
"What? Can't it wait until in the morning?"
"Look," he extended a folder of documents, which Dillon took and began to scan.
"What am I looking at?" he shrugged.
"Our Port Charles branch isn't keeping up it's end of the bargain. The shipments aren't reaching the docks. Now if we don't do something, we could lose a fortune in product."
"So, send someone down to check on it."
"I really think that you should go down yourself sir. They'll listen to you, they'll do what you say."
"No," he shook his head "You know how I feel about Port Charles. I assigned that location to you for the very reason that I would never have to step foot in that town again."
"I don't think you have a choice here sir," the man sighed, taking back the folder "If we lose Port Charles we lose a strong hold. That only provides opportunity for our enemies to sneak in and take away one of our most profitable ports."
"I'm not going, send whoever you have to, just get the job done without me. I'll make phone calls, I'll try my best to negotiate over the phone but I will not step foot in Port Charles. Do you understand?"
"What is it about that place?" the man marveled, taking off his reading glasses and tucking them into his coat pocket "What's so forbidden there that you can't go back?"
Dillon stared at the man and then dropped his eyes to the floor, taking the last sip of his drink.
"That's not important, just know that I won't go."
"I think you're making a mistake and as your accountant I have to advise you..."
"I heard you!" Dillon raised his voice "And you've heard my answer, now get out and keep me posted on the progress."
Ryan sighed, tucking the folder back into his case and letting himself out. As soon as the door was shut securely, Dillon hurled around throwing his crystal drinking glass into the marble fireplace.
"Sir?" the guard called from the hallway "Is everything all right?"
"It's fine," he answered "Everything's fine."
Georgie Jones stood in front of the mirror. This was the first day on the job at the new clinic and the butterflies in her stomach were frightening. She wanted to look as professional as possible. How could she when she was a wreck inside? Her hairbrush lay on the dresser and she picked it up, raking it through her hair.
"Georgie?" she heard her sister's voice downstairs "Where are you?"
"Up here!" she yelled, nervously turning to her closet. What was she going to wear? A dress, pants suit...
"Are you all right?" Maxie ducked her head inside the bedroom door "I've been calling you."
"I'm sorry. I didn't hear it," Georgie answered, flipping through the clothes hanging before her "I'm just a little nervous."
"You'll do fine," Maxie tried to assure her, walking up behind her "The khaki pants and the white shirt."
"You think?" Georgie turned around to look at her.
"Definitely. Professional, yet fashionable. That's hard to come by," Maxie grinned, hugging her sister.
"Thank you so much," Georgie smiled as she pulled away "It means so much to me that you're going to be a receptionist at the clinic. I need the moral support."
Maxie laughed "Well don't forget I get paid too. Besides, it's a great job."
"Of course it is," Georgie nodded, pulling the clothes out of her closet "I'm really happy that you went back to school."
"Yeah, me too. I wouldn't have if you hadn't pushed me."
"Hey, that's what sisters do right?"
"I'll let you get changed," Maxie walked out of the room and back downstairs.
Georgie pulled the pants and shirt on, and then took another look in the mirror. Maxie was right, it was perfect. She suddenly felt a little better, with one last glance she headed downstairs.
"So are Nikolas and Emily going to be there?" Maxie questioned as they walked outside.
"I think so. It would be so great if they would. It wouldn't be possible without their donation. Emily has been such an advocate since her cancer. She wants to help others. She's even going to head up one of the support groups that meets once a month at the clinic."
"She's so lucky. I mean, she's married to a prince, not to mention he's drop dead gorgeous. How come we can't find guys like that?" Maxie smiled.
The smile quickly faded off Georgie's lips and she began rummaging for her keys.
"Sorry," Maxie sighed, glancing at the ground "I shouldn't have..."
"No, no you're right. I mean, it's been three years. I've accepted the fact that it's over, time to move on right?"
"Right," Maxie nodded, forcing a smile on her face.
"Right," Georgie whispered to herself.
Dillon woke up in a crumpled mess of sheets and blankets. He sighed as he tossed them back revealing the newspaper still lying on his chest where he had fell asleep reading it. Pulling himself out of bed, he crossed the room and went into the bathroom. He leaned over the sink and splashed water on his face to wake him up. As he raised up, he was reminded of something that had happened several years ago.
* Flashback *
Georgie was sitting in the bathroom floor, knees pulled up to her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks. Then there was him, splashing water on his face and raising up to see her reflection in the mirror.
"Stop," he whispered to her, hoping she would do as he asked but knowing she wouldn't.
"Well what do you want me to do?" she sniffed.
"Nothing. I told you, it's the right thing. You have to believe me."
"No," she shook her head, rising to her feet "I will never agree that this is right."
He turned around to face her, staring into her swollen eyes glistening with tears. He reached out and wiped a tear away with his thumb.
"You don't have a choice."
* End Flashback *
He quickly shook the image from his mind and wiped his face with a towel. Heading back into the room, he changed clothes, then moved over to the phone and requested room service.
"Sir," the guard called from the other side of the door "You have a visitor."
Ryan, no doubt, he thought to himself who had come for round two of an argument that he would never win. He opened the door only to find Faith Roscoe on the other side.
"How did you find me?" he narrowed his eyes.
"It wasn't hard," she smirked "Never is."
"Very funny, what do you want?"
"Aren't you going to invite me in?"
"No," he shook his head, leaning against the doorframe "Either you tell me what you came here to say outside or you can leave. I really don't care which."
"Well," she answered sternly "I just thought you might like to know that things are going to hell in Port Charles. Now, I realize that you and I are in a competitive business here, but I don't really want to see you go under. Pauper's clothing, just doesn't suit you."
"What do you care?" he sighed.
"I'm trying to help you here. I thought you might appreciate it."
"You are a washed up, has been," he leaned closer to her "and I have no use for what you have to say."
"Just hear this," she added "If you don't go to Port Charles and rectify this situation, you're going to have to say goodbye to all of these five star hotels and fancy imported suits of yours and get a real, honest job. Maybe even little doctor Georgie might take you back."
"Get out!"
"Hm, funny, I thought I already was," she smirked as she turned and got back onto the elevator.
He slammed the door shut and kicked it for good measure.
"Damn it!"
He sat down on the bed and held his head in his hands. What if he had to go to Port Charles? He sure as hell didn't want to but if he could lose everything how could he not?
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.
"What the hell do you want now?" he flung the door open, only to find room service on the other side.
"Sorry," he tried to brush it off, taking the cart and handing the attendant his tip. He slammed the door behind him and rifled through the bed covers for his cellphone. He let out an exhausted sigh and dialed.
"It's me," he grumbled into the phone "Get the plane ready, I'm going to Port Charles this morning. No, you heard me, Port Charles."