As always, thanks for the thoughtful, encouraging feedback.

Everything belongs to Schwartz & Co. except for Jamie.

This chapter is rated R for language and sexual situations.

Chapter 13

Kirsten spotted a vibrant flash of crimson near the pool and hastily retreated deep into a shadowed alcove, but it was too late.

"Oh, Kiki, there you are!" Julie called brightly, gliding over in a swirl of red lace. "Now you're not all by yourself here, are you? Please tell me that you've been mingling and having a good time. I won't have anybody being miserable at my party."

Kirsten sighed.

Miserable might be too strong a word, but she certainly couldn't say she had been enjoying herself. Just minutes ago, she had completed a champagne-fueled tour of the terrace and great room, charming the people most crucial to the Newport Group's continued success. Kirsten had mastered the art of networking years before: an expression of rapt interest, a few flattering comments, some polite questions, and finally a cordial excuse to move on.

It was such a sham.

And tonight, it seemed to be such hard work.

Caleb had spotted her performance and inclined his head appreciatively, raising his glass in a private salute. Kirsten had replied with a curt nod, but she hadn't smiled or returned the toast. The memory of his earlier comments still rankled, and stirred tendrils of worry about Seth and Ryan that twisted menacingly just below the surface, threatening to break through her cool, smooth, social façade.

It had taken her a moment to restore her composure. Finally, satisfied that she had fulfilled her obligation to the company, Kirsten had found a private nook. She had been savoring a brief respite there, soothed by relative silence and a light, benign breeze, until Julie's demanding presence intruded on the moment.

Come to think of it, maybe miserable exactly described how Kirsten was feeling.

Miserable, or just emotionally exhausted.

She closed her eyes for a moment, before replying politely. "You don't have to worry, Julie. You've done a wonderful job making sure all your guests are having a good time. The party's a complete success."

Kirsten hoped that a reference to Julie's hostess duties would encourage her to continue circulating through the crowd, but instead she sank into a nearby chair.

"It is, isn't it?" Julie agreed, surveying the gathering critically. "Although the service has been a tad slow at some of the stations. I must speak to the caterers about that . . . But really, I wasn't concerned about the party, Kirsten. I just hate to see you looking so lonely."

"I'm alone, Julie, not lonely. There's a difference. And Sandy will be back any minute. He's just doing that little favor for you, remember? Helping Sara enjoy the evening?"

Kirsten smiled to herself, remembering the glimpse she had caught of Sandy minutes earlier. Gallant and handsome, he was escorting the elderly Sara Edelmann onto the dance floor. Something about the sight of him bent over the diminutive woman, listening attentively as she spoke, making her laugh, reminded Kirsten why she had fallen in love with Sandy.

He was such a good man, in every sense of the word.

"And so you've just been sitting here by yourself waiting for him," Julie concluded, her tone oozing saccharine sympathy. "Honestly, Kiki, it's so . . . sweet . . . how the two of you like to spend so much time together. But do you really think it's healthy for a husband and wife to be so codependent? Can a marriage really work that way?"

Jolted out of her reverie, Kirsten couldn't help herself. "First, of all, I have not just been sitting here waiting for Sandy," she snapped. "And secondly, I don't know, Juju. What would you recommend to make a marriage work?"

Julie's eyes glinted dangerously. "For a start," she retorted, "having a husband who doesn't embezzle from his clients." Then she collected herself, and gave a mollifying sigh. "Honestly, Kiki, can't we call a truce tonight? I know we don't agree on every little thing, but really, I do think of us as friends. Don't you?" She paused to wave at a passing acquaintance, her smile and red nails both flashing. Then Julie leaned closer to Kirsten. "You know," she murmured confidentially, "you and I set the tone for this family and for the Newport Group. They all look to us, Kirsten. Don't you think we owe it to them to get along, especially in public like this?"

Kirsten nodded, defeated. "I'm sorry, Julie. I've just been a little out of sorts this evening. As soon as Sandy gets back with the boys, we're going to go home."

"So soon? Why? Aren't Seth and Ryan having a good time?" Julie paused and pursed her lips, considering. "You know, I just realized that I haven't seen either of them since you arrived. Where have those two been hiding themselves this evening?"

Kirsten wished she had an answer, and that the phrase "hiding themselves" didn't sound quite so appropriate. And ominous. "It's a large house," she answered vaguely. "They've probably found somewhere to relax and avoid all the boring business conversations."

"Oh, but there are lots of young people here this evening," Julie pointed out. "I made sure to extend invitations to all the appropriate Harbor students. It's just so important that our children make the right connections now, while they're still young. Don't you agree?"

Kirsten started to reply, but then realized that would only prolong the conversation. "Julie," she said wearily, "I know you have things to do tonight. Please don't let me keep you from your other guests."

"That is so thoughtful of you, Kiki. But actually I was hoping to talk to you for a few minutes, and since you're waiting for your men to show up . . . well, what better time?" Julie signaled a waiter for a drink and relaxed, easing her feet out of her backless sandals. "Now that everybody knows the Newport Group is back in force, I've come up with the most marvelous public relations ideas to give us a fresh new image. I can't wait to run them by you."

"And I'm sure they'll be . . . very creative," Kirsten replied prudently. "But Julie, this is a party. Why don't we save specific business discussions for the office?"

"Really? So you're going to start coming back to the office? You know, Kiki, Caleb is getting a teensy bit upset that you're taking such a long leave of absence."

Kirsten's social smile froze. "It's been two weeks. And it's not even a leave of absence. I've been working at home, which Dad knows perfectly well. He and I have already discussed this, thank you."

"Oh, of course." Julie placed a perfectly manicured hand on her chest, shaking her head contritely. "I didn't mean to imply that you're not carrying your weight, even though this is an absolutely crucial time for the company and we really need everybody's best efforts. I'm sure Caleb knows that you're doing . . . well, all you can under the circumstances."

"Julie," Kirsten said, her voice clipped and carefully controlled, "I was helping to build the Newport Group while you were still filling your days with tanning bed sessions and visits to your masseuse. Or masseur. Now, Sandy will be back any moment, and you and I can continue our business discussion some time when we can both devote our full attention to it. So why don't you do what you do best? We're in negotiations for a development deal with Eugene Riley, aren't we? Well, there he is, all by himself over by the dessert table. I'm sure he would appreciate your . . . charm and stimulating company."

Julie sighed and patted Kirsten's hand benevolently. "This has been such an upsetting time for you, hasn't it? I know it's just the strain and anxiety talking. Don't worry. I won't hold anything you've said against you." She raised her voice and called flirtatiously. "Gene? Would you be an absolute darling and get one of those luscious cream puffs for me? I'll be right over." Julie slipped her shoes back on and stood up. Her perfume enveloped Kirsten as she leaned over and whispered, "And now I'm off to do what I do best."

"Cal!" Sandy exclaimed heartily, breezing into the center of a group of perfectly tailored men. He looped his arm around his father-in-law's shoulders. "I should have known I'd find you holding court like this. Gentlemen, you don't mind if I borrow Caleb for a few minutes, do you? Family business."

Without waiting for a reply, Sandy pulled Caleb into a secluded corner of the room.

"That was extremely rude, even for you Sanford," Caleb snapped. He yanked himself out from under Sandy's arm and readjusted his jacket. "I'll thank you to behave with some semblance of manners while you're on my property."

Sandy nodded in ostensible agreement. "You know, that's a perfectly reasonable request, Cal. I'll try to maintain the proper decorum from now on. And now it's my turn." His voice hardened. "I'll thank you to stop bullying my wife."

Caleb frowned, pulling his cuffs down and then centering his tie. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Really?" Sandy asked coolly. "Because I just spent twenty minutes calming Kirsten down. She was shaking when she left you, Cal."

Caleb gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "I don't see why. We had a simple conversation, that's all."

"A simple conversation," Sandy mocked. "Let me tell you what Kirsten got out of this simple conversation. One, you want to ambush Seth so that you can practice your drill sergeant routine on him, and no doubt make him feel like shit . . . excuse me, dirt . . . in the process. Face it, Cal; you don't understand anything about your grandson because you've never taken the time to get to know him. And that is completely your loss . . ."

"Don't be ridiculous. I know Seth very well . . ."

Sandy raised an admonishing hand. "Please, Cal. Interrupting someone is rude. I'm sure you know that. And I hadn't finished. Now, where was I? Oh yes . . . Two, you don't think Kirsten is contributing to the Newport Group, despite the fact that even when she's working at home, she's the most effective, reliable member of your entire staff. That includes you and your trophy wife, by the way. Three, you accuse Ryan of using his injuries as emotional blackmail, when the truth is, the kid never complains, and has done his damndest to take full responsibility for the accident. Have I left out anything?"

"I simply expressed concern for my family. I don't know how Kirsten could misinterpret that."

Sandy heard his name called, slapped on a quick smile, waved a greeting, and then turned back to Caleb, his face instantly grim. "Kirsten didn't misinterpret anything. She got your message exactly, Cal. Now you get mine. My wife and my sons are going through a very difficult time. If you make it worse for any of them, you will answer to me. Interpret that however you want."

Sandy started to leave, but he paused when Caleb gave a scoffing laugh. "Sons? You have one son, Sanford."

Sandy wheeled on him. "I had one son. Now I have two. You can accept that or not. It doesn't make a damn bit of difference to me, because frankly, I think our family would be a hell of a lot better off without you. But you are Kirsten's father. Oh, and Lindsay's. So I suggest that you concern yourself with how many daughters you'll have left if you keep acting like the complete ass that you are."

Sandy slapped Caleb on the back, a good-old-boy gesture delivered with a grin for the benefit of anyone watching, but with enough force to knock Caleb slightly off-balance. "Oops," Sandy drawled. "Sorry about that, old man. Sometimes I just don't know my own strength. Well, I'll let you get back to your vassals . . . Great party, by the way."

"Hey, Sum," Marissa called. "Over here." She waved her bottle in the air, beckoning Summer to the table where she sat with Alex, Luke, and Zach.

"Wow, water, Coop? I'm surprised. That's not usually your beverage of choice" Summer observed, sliding into a chair.

"Yeah, well, everybody here works for my Mom," Marissa explained. "She's got spies everywhere, so I thought I'd give sobriety a try for a change."

Alex squeezed her hand. "Marissa," she reproved.

"Kidding!" Marissa exclaimed. "Honestly, everybody needs to lighten up. I do not drink all the time."

Summer opened her mouth to reply, but Zach interrupted hastily.

"Summer? Where's Seth? And Ryan? I thought you went to find them so they could join us."

"Yeah," Luke added. "Here I came all the way from Portland for this party, and Cohen and Chino are A.W.O.L."

Summer took a miniature éclair off Zach's plate, examined it critically and then put it back. "Custard cream. Hate it," she observed, licking a bit of chocolate off her finger. "And Luke, by the way? Bullshit. You came from Portland to visit your mom and brothers. You only came from her house to this party. That's barely two miles. Anyway, we did find Cohen. Alex, you didn't tell them?"

Alex shrugged and rolled her eyes. "Seth," she reported coolly, "was not trying sobriety."

"Oh man," Zach groaned. "That guy does not handle pressure well. So what? He's off revealing private information and destroying relationships? Or maybe puking someplace?"

"No, he's not off 'puking someplace,' Zach," Summer answered impatiently. "And also, ew for the visuals. Gross."

"So why didn't you bring Seth back with you? I thought you wanted to try some big reconciliation thing," Marissa said. "Although I don't really know if I'm ready to be friends with him again. What he did to Ryan was just so vicious . . ."

"Marissa," Alex argued. "Look, I was disappointed in him too, but come on, you know Seth's not vicious. He's a really sweet guy, deep down."

Marissa pursed her lips dubiously. "How deep do we have to go?"

Luke snorted, and promptly choked on his mouthful of soda. "Hey, Marissa with a sense of humor. Who knew? But not when I'm drinking, girl, okay?" He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Although, I've got to say, I agree with you. I mean, fuck, Seth spends the entire summer with my dad and me because Ryan went back to Chino and he can't deal with Newport without his best friend around. Then he pulls a shit stunt that he's gotta know will piss off Chino big time. How stupid is that? And if there's 'sweet' in there, I'm missing it."

"No, guys, I know what Alex is talking about," Zach interjected earnestly. "I've had problems with Seth too, you know, because of . . ."

"You dating Summer," Luke concluded.

Zach nodded. "Right. Because of Summer and me. And once in a while, he's gotten a little, well, manic, and asked questions that are none of his business. It's like the guy gets so caught up in what he wants that he becomes oblivious to other people's feelings sometimes. I guess that's what happened with him and Ryan. But you know Seth's really not a bad person."

"Well, maybe not," Marissa conceded. "But the effect is the same as far as I'm concerned."

Summer made a whooshing sound, arched one hand and ran rippling fingers under it. "What?" she demanded, when everyone stared at her in confusion. "Water under the bridge, people. Time to move on."

Marissa leaned back in her chair and smoothed her skirt over her lap. "Fine," she said shortly. "I'll try. But how are we supposed to have this whole friendship-reunion thing? Seth and Ryan aren't even here."

"They should be soon," Summer predicted. "Chino is doing some sort disappearing act, but I sent Cohen to find him and bring him back." She lifted Zach's wrist and checked his watch. "They'd better hurry, though. Look, guys, I'll be right back. When Cohen and Ryan show up, do not, I repeat, do not let them get away. You can handle that, can't you, Luke? Keep them right here—especially Chino. I'm just going to make a phone call.

Finding Ryan proved to be remarkably easy.

Seth figured the best thing to do was to start looking as far away from the center of the festivities as possible and then work his way back in. As soon as he neared the turn-in to the estate, he spotted Ryan. He was leaning against a post at the bottom of the driveway, his jacket and tie off, his shirt rumpled, three buttons undone, his sling dangling around his neck, and his eyes apparently closed. The telltale debris of a private party, items definitely not supplied by Julie's catering company, surrounded him.

Murmurs of conversation and laughter drifted from behind the nearby bushes, indicating that the party-goers had just shifted location, but Ryan himself appeared to be alone, doing nothing at all.

At least at the moment.

Seth couldn't help wondering exactly what had happened before he arrived. He hoped the clues were misleading, because frankly, they were pretty damned incriminating.

Taking a deep breath, Seth coughed to announce his arrival.

Nothing. Ryan didn't even stir.

Seth tried again, clearing his throat. "Um . . . hey," he said weakly.

Ryan turned his head an inch, blinking without recognition.

Seth waved a hand and pointed to himself. "Seth?" he prompted. "Seth Cohen? Remember me?"

Ryan nodded, his lips twitching into the slightest hint of a smirk. "Seth. Yeah. Hey."

Seth smiled, relieved. "So, Ryan, found you. Not that you were hiding or anything, unless you were, which is entirely possible, because I know I was earlier, but anyway . . .yeah, so what are you doing? You brooding alone here, man?"

Ryan shot Seth a sideways glance, then resumed staring pensively into the distance.

"Yeah, you're brooding . . . Now see, I would have thought that would be my thing tonight. I mean, most of the charter members of the Seth Sucks Society are present and accounted for up at the house. Although I will say that I actually had a conversation with Summer and Alex tonight. Okay, yeah, it was more of a lecture, but still, it involved actual talking and even some touching. Well, you know, not that kind. More along the lines of a Save Seth from Himself death grip, but still . . ."

Ryan glared again, and Seth sighed.

"Yeah, got it . . . I'm doing the 'All About Me' thing again. And talking too much. I think I'll just sit over here and . . . shut up now."

He started to move away, but then Ryan lifted his hand to his mouth and took a deep drag and Seth caught both the movement and the aroma.

"Dude, the fuck? You're smoking? You're smoking marijuana. . .? I knew I smelled it, but I thought those guys by the bushes . . . Shit, Ryan. What the hell are you thinking?"

Ryan shrugged. "It's medicinal," he said.

"Medicinal?"

"Herbal remedy. I had a headache. Now I don't."

"Yeah, but no, man, you can't. The parents are here." Seth realized that Summer had just given him the same warning, but he was too upset to enjoy the irony. "You think they aren't going to know? Dad went to Berkeley, dude. Berkeley. I think the school logo is a bong. Hell, and Summer and Alex were on my case just because of a few drinks . . . Seriously, man, Dad is all 'Do as I say, not as I do'or, you know, didabout drugs. He does not play. You have got to get rid of that, Ryan. Now."

Instead Ryan tilted his head back and took another long pull. "No," he said as he exhaled. "It helps."

"Helps? Helps what? It'll help get you grounded until you're thirty. Fifty, maybe. And can you imagine what my grandfather will say if he finds out that you're doing this here? At his fucking house? Shit, dude, forget what he'll say. Think what he'll do. There could be a squad car and Miranda rights involved. Ryan, come on, you know what grandpa thinks about you. He's just been waiting for a chance to prove he's right. Don't give him any ammo, man. He will so use it."

Ryan's jaw tensed at the mention of Caleb, but he continued to smoke.

That wasn't the response Seth wanted. He thought for a moment, then tried a different approach. Nudging Ryan in the side, he grinned and wheedled, "Come on, bro, leave the substance abuse to the experts, like Marissa . . ."

Ryan shook his head slightly, looking at Seth from under his brows.

"Yeah, see, the Atwood glare? A lot more effective when you can actually focus."

Seth reached abruptly for Ryan's arm, stumbling when Ryan jerked away.

"Don't, Seth," he growled. "Just leave me alone and go back to the party, okay?"

"No, man. Not okay. Not without you," Seth argued.

He set his feet for another attempt to seize the joint, wondering if he should go for surprise attack or sheer force. Unfortunately, even without the full use of both arms, Ryan had the edge in the sheer force department. Seth wondered exactly how much Ryan would have to smoke before he'd mellow enough to lose his strength advantage. Then, of course, there was the other problem; if Seth waited for Ryan get that high, it would pretty much defeat the whole purpose of taking the weed away from him.

Time, Seth concluded, was of the essence. He decided to try subterfuge once, and then resort to a surprise attack.

"Ryan, look, it's pretty much time to leave anyway. Why don't we just go get you something to eat first?" Seth attempted to pitch his voice somewhere between entreating and hypnotic. "You're hungry, right? You've got to be hungry, so we'll just find the dessert table, okay? Chocolate goodness, dude, just waiting for you . . ."

He tried to catch Ryan's hand on a downswing, but wound up grabbing air and coughing as he swallowed the secondhand smoke.

"Fine, so you don't want any munchies right now. Well, okay. Then we'll just . . . yeah . . ." Seth was at a strategic standstill. His voice trailed off and he glanced nervously over his shoulder, hoping for reinforcements—Summer, for example, Summer showing up now would be good—but afraid he might see someone else coming instead.

Almost anybody else could be disastrous.

"Man, you have got to stop. Now. Come on, Ryan. Please. You know, the 'rents will be really upset if they find out you're doing this . . . Especially Mom, " Seth added with sudden and desperate inspiration. "Yeah, think about Mom, Ryan. She's already worried about you. This will just make it worse. You don't want to make things worse for Mom, do you, bro?"

Ryan's breath hissed. He took the joint from his lips, studying it, his eyes cloudy and troubled.

"Kirsten?" he mumbled.

"Yeah, Mom. She would not be cool about this at all, Ryan, herbal remedy or not. So what do you say? Toss the weed and we'll head back to the house, okay? Ryan? How about it, buddy?"

Ryan wavered visibly. Seth mouthed a silent "Yes," and was about to take the joint from his hand when a voice caroled, "Babe, I'm back. And I've got just what we need."

Seth found that he suddenly possessed an unwanted super power. Apparently he could become invisible. Without even trying.

A girl breezed past him as if he didn't even exist and pitched herself against Ryan's chest. She brushed his chin with a condom that dangled from her fingers, completely ignoring Seth as she snaked her arms around Ryan's neck and kissed him, breathing in the smoke from his mouth.

Seth watched, astonished, as, in one instant, Ryan apparently forgot his presence, forgot the threat of discovery, forgot his concern for Kirsten, forgot, as far as Seth could see, everything. Ryan cupped the girl's ass and pulled her closer, molding his body around hers. The girl nuzzled his neck, and Seth noticed for the first time the telltale welts on Ryan's throat. One appeared to be rimmed with tooth marks.

"Holy Hell. You have got to be stoned out of your mind. Ryan, what the fuck are you doing?" Seth demanded. "Who is this? Wait, I'll tell you who it's not. It's not Lindsay. Remember her, dude? Lindsay? Girl? Friend? Specifically, your girlfriend?"

Ryan blinked, and Seth realized just how glazed his eyes were.

Apparently any lucidity and reason Ryan possessed had vanished with the appearance of the condom. "I know it's not Lindsay. Lindsay's . . . not here," he slurred. "'s Jamie. Jamie," he added in a parody of polite introduction, "this is Seth. Seth, Jamie."

The girl pivoted in Ryan's arms, pulling his hand up to her breast as she turned.

"Ry-an," she pouted. "I don't want an audience tonight. Or a threesome. I just want you." She pointed her finger at Seth, said with clipped authority, "You, Seth. Go 'way. Now." Her tone changed and she murmured seductively, "Come on, Ryan. We were having fun, remember? Play with me."

Her head lolled back on Ryan's shoulder and she grabbed his hand which was absently fondling her breast, slithered it through her cleavage, along her throat and up to her mouth. Then she bit his thumb hard, thrust it through her lips and started to suck. Seth grimaced, pretty sure that there might be blood involved. Jamie's hips ground slowly against Ryan's groin, and the hand that wasn't holding his rubbed her own crotch, keeping rhythm with her pelvis.

The whole time, she kept her eyes fixed challengingly on Seth.

He stared at Ryan, whose body appeared melded to Jamie's. Seth felt as if he had stepped into some weird alternate universe, the way his comic book heroes often did, where the normal laws of nature didn't apply and people weren't who they appeared to be.

It didn't help that Seth was slightly drunk and that, despite himself, he was becoming aroused just watching. He forced his hormones into submission and tried to assess the situation.

Something was seriously wrong.

Ryan—and Seth absolutely knew this—might drink, he might smoke, he might smoke weed, hell, he might do any number of things not sanctioned by the parental units, but he would never do any of those things at a party he was attending with Kirsten and Sandy. And he would never cheat on Lindsay, not here, not anywhere.

It was like the hurt, anger and frustration of the past few weeks had combined with marijuana and Jamie's blatant sexuality to produce sort of chemical change in Ryan. All that corrosive emotion had transformed him from the inside out and short-circuited the brain cells that would remind him who he really was and where he belonged.

In the comic books, those alternative universes usually had some secret portal. Seth was trying to figure out how to access it and what he could possibly say or do to pull Ryan back to reality with him when he heard the sound of his father's voice. It was coming from around the curve in the driveway and getting closer by the moment.

"Ryan? Hey, kid, you down there? Ryan? Look who decided to come and join us tonight."

Seth made an instant decision. From somewhere, he summoned his second superpower of the evening, a strength based on sheer surprise. He grabbed Jamie with one hand and wrenched the joint away from Ryan with the other just as Sandy appeared, bringing with him a glowing, golden Lindsay.

"Dad . . . Lindsay. Hey," Seth said weakly. "This is a surprise . . ."

Sandy's eyes fastened on the joint Seth was dropping to the ground, narrowed as they raked back up to the stunned-looking girl wrapped tightly in his arms. His gaze shifted to Ryan, took in his disheveled clothes and discarded sling, saw how he swayed slightly, eyes closed, biting his lower lip.

"A surprise," Sandy repeated coldly. "Yes, I'd certainly say so."

TBC