Title: Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows
Author: Kimberly21570
Fandoms: Guiding Light / All My Children
Pairings: Olivia and Natalia / Lena and Bianca
Disclaimers and other Assorted Ramblings: The characters of Olivia and Emma Spencer, Natalia and Rafe Rivera, Josh Lewis, Doris and Ashlee Wolfe, Phillip and Alan Spaulding, Ed and Rick Bauer, and Jane, the nannyare owned by CBS/TeleNext and Proctor & Gamble.
No copyright infringement intended with regard to Guiding Light, CBS/TeleNext, Proctor & Gamble, or any other entity. The dialogue, settings, and story content in these scenes are original. Written for fun, not profit. All other standard disclaimers apply.
Thanks to my pal, MoniRod for the edit. You totally Rock, Woman! I appreciate you, and I owe you—BIG TIME!
Rating: Chapter 14 is rated NC-17 for some sexual situations and strong language. This particular section is Rated PG-13 for veiled references to sexual activity.
Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows
Copyright May 2009
"Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, 3 because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. 4 Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. 5 If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. 6 But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. 7 That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. 8 Such a person is double-minded and unstable in all they do."
— James 1:2-8, the Bible, New International Version (NIV)
"God promises a safe landing, not a calm passage. If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it."
Unknown
Chapter 14.12 – Trials and Tribulations:
Wednesday, June 17, 2009… The Springfield Courthouse—8:30 p.m. Central Daylight Time
At Tracy's arraignment hearing, the Assistant District Attorney, Carl Cox, argued for remand, citing the heinous nature of the crimes for which Tracy had been charged. Not only had she allegedly meticulously groomed her young, innocent victim like a seasoned pedophile, she had sexually molested her in a room full of college coeds, before dragging her off into a dark, dank room where she forcibly raped her. And it was likely that she had been similarly grooming her stepsons, from the moment she first set eyes on them.
Tracy's heart pounded with fear, and Jen's, Olivia's, and Natalia's, with anger, as the charges were ticked off one by one. And when allegations of misconduct against the boys were leveled toward Tracy, their mutual anger escalated to the point where Olivia had to forcefully stifle an outburst. Noting Olivia's rising ire, Natalia reached for her with a gentle hand.
And then, as if driven by a need for contact, Olivia reached for Jen, who sat on her other side. She could feel the tension intensifying, the longer Cox blathered on, and her heart felt heavy with grief as she watched Tracy's shoulders sag under the weight of the allegations. She wished she could reach out to Tracy, as well, but contact with Jen was as close as she could get in the moment.
Prepared for the onslaught of Cox's contentions, criminal defense specialist Danika Kováč argued that Tracy had never been accused of any wrongdoing whatsoever prior to these allegations, let alone anything this heinous. Further, she had never been arrested or convicted of any crime. She had never had so much as a parking ticket!
Additionally, the prosecution had not one stitch of evidence against her, forensic or otherwise, including any corroborating witness statements from this alleged "room full of college coeds". They had only the alleged victim's formal statement—filed nearly six years after the alleged incident occurred, Dani rightfully pointed out—and she intended to tear it down line by line, until she had the truth. And finally, Dani argued, with her close-knit extended family, and a fiancée and their two sons, Tracy Jackson wasn't even remotely a flight risk.
Erring on the side of caution, Judge Dalton Graham agreed to release Tracy, but she set the bond at twice the presumptive bail for the crime of aggravated sexual assault against a minor—two million dollars, cash. Tracy's breath caught, and Jen's heart lurched in her chest when the order was issued, and the gavel struck. Even if she had access to liquid assets at the moment, Jen knew there was no way she could cover that. Nearly all of the money she and the boys had received from the insurance settlement over Jake's accidental death was tied up in trust, and it took time to free any large quantity of cash—more time than she had at the moment. And she certainly couldn't ask that of Olivia or Phillip! It was far too much to expect from friends or employers, regardless of how close they were.
Noting Jen's reflex response, Olivia gently squeezed her arm to garner her attention. And then she leaned toward her. "Don't even think it," she said with quiet conviction. "It's already done."
Drawing her bottom lip between her teeth, Jen bit down, staving off the swell of emotions. And then she closed her eyes, allowing the slow seepage of relief to gradually calm her anxious heart.
"Thank you," she mouthed, as she met Olivia's gaze moments later.
Olivia simply offered a slight smile, and a confirmatory nod. It wouldn't be as simple as that, she knew. She was already stretched to her limit financially, given the maneuvers in which she and Lena had been engaging over the past several weeks, as they bought up every available share of Morgan Financial stock. But she would make it happen—even if she had to swallow her pride, and call Phillip. Tracy would not spend one more second in jail. Immediately, she was on her cell phone, sending the necessary messages to get things rolling.
As promised to Jen, Phillip had been more than willing to help; and he neither demanded nor asked for anything in return. That made Olivia all the more certain that this would come back to bite her in the ass. But still, she did what needed to be done, and within the hour, they were posting Tracy's bail.
After Tracy's release was secured, Phillip warned them about the scene that awaited them on the other side of the huge oak doors of the courthouse. Somehow, the story had been leaked to the local press, and there were swarms of news vans, reporters, photographers, and cameramen waiting like hungry vultures, primed for the kill.
Immediately upon hearing the information, Olivia was on the phone with Jane, asking her to ensure that none of the kids would inadvertently see the ten o'clock newscast on any of the local stations. Not that she thought they would, but she simply couldn't take that chance.
Jane gave her word that she would distract them with a Disney movie, and sweeten the deal with popcorn and a soda—a rarity for all three of them.
Olivia thanked her again for pinch-hitting for the night after having spent the entire day with the kids, as well, and promptly ended the call.
Concerned for their safety and well-being, Phillip offered to escort the women from the courthouse to the SUV Olivia had waiting outside, and Jen and Tracy gratefully accepted. Much to Natalia's surprise, Olivia was agreeable, as well. And then she realized: Olivia hadn't agreed for her own sake, but Natalia's and for the safety of their baby.
Moving closer, she took Olivia's hand into her own, giving it a gentle squeeze. Their eyes met, and they communicated without words, Natalia letting Olivia know how much she loved the protective side of her.
The moment Phillip pushed the door open, the unmistakable intensity of LED panel lights and the blinding flash of cameras illuminated the night sky. Like a scene from a movie, reporters and photographers pressed in on them, their voices rising at a frenzied pace, as they vied for first access to the accused.
If she hadn't already been convinced that Preston Morgan's filthy hands were all over this, Olivia wouldn't have a single doubt now. There was no other way this story could have been picked up by the press so quickly. The following morning, perhaps, but not before the arraignment had even taken place! And it was clear from the crowd that was gathered outside, that they had been informed long before that hearing had even been arranged.
Their questions were accusatory in nature, and launched at both Tracy and Jen—Did Tracy do what she had been accused of doing? Had she ever touched her stepsons? If so, how could she do such a thing? How could she justify her actions? And how could Jen live with such a monster? How could she bring that into her sons' lives? On and on, they rambled, hurling accusations into the wind.
Muttering under his breath, Phillip turned back toward Olivia and Natalia, urging them to stay inside until he came back for them. Olivia, he knew, could fend for herself physically. She had averted her fair share of reporters over the years, usually kicking ass and taking names. But Natalia was pregnant, and he simply couldn't allow anything to harm her or the baby.
With their agreement to stay put, protectively, he wrapped muscular arms around Jen and Tracy, sheltering them from reporters and camera lenses, as they exited the heavy doors.
"No comment. No comment," he repeatedly snapped at the press, as he swiftly moved the women toward the sleek black vehicle that stood idling in the circular drive. But the reporters were relentless, and he grew more determined by the moment.
Once they were secured behind tinted, bulletproof windows, he took the steps two at a time, quickly returning to retrieve Olivia and Natalia in a similar manner, with Dani following closely behind.
When all four women were safely inside the vehicle, both Phillip and Dani continued to ward off the press, as they politely excused themselves, leaving the women to their plans with the promise of checking in with them in the morning. Gratefully, the women thanked them for their help, and sent them on their way.
As the SUV moved slowly through the crowd of reporters and cameramen, Danika turned toward Phillip. "Thank you," she said, appreciatively. "You have something in the works?"
"Yes," Phillip answered. "I'll be in touch."
Dani nodded, and without another word, she quickly made her way toward her car, the swarm of press hot on her trail now that the Beacon SUV was out of sight. She managed to slip into a dark sedan just moments before the crowd caught up with her, and she was out of the parking lot in a flash.
Witnessing her swift, skillful escape, Phillip grinned and shook his head. Some things never changed. Amused, he turned on his heel, sprinting in the opposite direction. He had an agenda to accomplish, and had not a single moment to tarry.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009… Bennett Thomas's Residence—8:45 p.m. Central Daylight Time
When finally, Doris and Bennett came down from their orgasm-induced euphoria, they settled into a romantic candlelit dinner, complete with all the trimmings. The quiet intermingling of Chopin, Vivaldi, Bach, and Schubert served as a backdrop, as they lingered over a delectable meal, perfectly accented by a bottle of their favorite red, and conversation that flowed like the tranquil waters of a temperate stream. It had been so long since they'd had the opportunity to share a meal alone together, and neither of them wanted it to end.
Once their appetites for food were sated, and they could no longer conjure the pretense of leisurely dining, they adjourned to the living room. Lounging together on the sofa, naked and uninhibited, they shared another glass of wine, as they gazed out at the moonlight glistening against the tranquil waters of Lake Springfield.
Their conversation continued, quietly, almost lazily, as they talked anything and everything. Except the one subject that weighed heavily on both of their minds: Bennett's divorce, and what it might mean for the two of them, and the future they both wanted, but were too afraid to pursue.
There was no denying the physical chemistry that existed between them. Present from the first moment they met, it coursed through their veins, scorching them from the insides, out. Their passions ran hot, wild, and for the better part of three years, they ran right along with it. And though they never dared speak of love, there was no denying they both felt it.
But their time together was meant to be short-lived, they both realized, and after their term at Harvard came to a close, random sexual encounters in an office or the back room of an underground gay bar, and years later, the occasional stolen night when their daughters were otherwise occupied, were all there could ever be between them. Bennett had made that clear nearly two decades prior, when she announced her intent to marry Clayton Vaughan, the son of her father's business partner, effectively shattering Doris's fragile heart, and any dreams she had for a future with Bennett.
After the engagement, Doris had purposefully kept her distance. It was simply too painful for her to think about that man touching the woman she loved, let alone to see the two of them together, and God forbid, watch them marry. But remaining distant, both physically and emotionally, had proven too difficult given their close proximity—Doris had accepted a job at a small law firm in Bennett's hometown just weeks before Bennett announced her wedding, and they inadvertently ran into one another on an all-too frequent basis.
In the beginning of Bennett's marriage, they both tried hard to ignore the force that pulled them toward one another. And time and again, they had failed miserably.
Disgusted by her own lack of self-control, especially given the depth of pain Bennett had caused, Doris had packed up her things, and fled home to Springfield, eradicating any possibility of running into the object of her unbridled desire. Until Bennett showed up out of the blue, announcing that she and Clayton were relocating, not only to the Midwest, but to a country estate, an hour west of Springfield. Much to Doris's chagrin, that incessant pull was stronger than ever, and they ended up in bed within weeks of Bennett's arrival.
Despite their resolve to never let it happen again, anytime they were in close proximity, without business to distract them, they both knew where they would end up. And that was why they had chosen to avoid mutual social gatherings for the most part over the years, despite the fact that they ran in the same social circles.
The last time they ignored that rule had been for a charity gala arranged by Spaulding Enterprises to fund the new research facilities at Cedars—a gift from Phillip to honor his best friend Rick's father, Ed Bauer, for all of his contributions to the medical community. Doris had been married to Alan Spaulding at the time, and the entire evening, save the few random, precious moments she had stolen with Bennett, was an exercise in political maneuverings, designed for the sole purpose of lining Alan's pockets with cash and favors—and winning Doris a guaranteed second term as Mayor, as well as a coveted seat on the hospital board.
That night, no matter where Doris and Bennett were in the grand ballroom at the Beacon, or who they were with, instinctively, they gravitated toward one another. It was so obvious that even Ashlee had noticed; though to Doris's relief, she hadn't picked up on the sexual tension that pulsated between them. She had simply noticed that they always seemed to be together. Doris had never been so grateful that her daughter could be so dim.
Halfway through the evening, she and Bennett found themselves locked in a passionate embrace in a linen closet two floors up from the ballroom. How fitting, they both thought, as they touched and kissed at a frenzied pace, hoping to assuage the burning need they felt for one another, before anyone discovered them, and they became front page news for the Springfield Journal. Or worse, the top story on WSPR's ten o'clock news!
And even now, they couldn't deny it. Neither of them wanted to anyway. But still, they avoided—an effort to evade the inevitable hurt and disappointment. For Doris, it was the fear of hoping for something she was certain could never be, that kept her from acknowledging what she truly wanted. What she had always wanted. And for Bennett, it was the fear that Doris would turn her down, because she had hurt her so deeply in the past. She knew she didn't deserve a second chance after what she'd done. But that didn't keep her from wanting one, with every fiber of her being.
Those brief, unexpected moments of tenderness—the gentle touches, the tender kisses—in the midst of yet another frenzied fuck, had caught Doris completely off-guard earlier in the evening. They frightened her, more than she cared to admit. But she couldn't deny that they had happened. And she couldn't say that she regretted them. What she could do, was evade them again, instead focusing on the things that were safe, almost frivolous.
"You didn't really cook that dinner, did you?" she lightheartedly accused. A roguish grin was plastered across her face, as she rolled her head toward her lover. There was no way Bennett could have pulled off a meal like that on such short notice.
Bennett looked stricken. "Well, I can," she answered, a hint of guilt in her tone. "I just elected not to."
Delivered on an air of feigned smugness, Bennett's final comment drew a soft laugh from Doris. And then her blue eyes traced the edges of Bennett's beautiful face in the candlelight's glow. "Candor is quite becoming on you, Judge Thomas," she murmured over the edge of her wine glass, before savoring another sip.
A sultry smile tickled the corners of Bennett's mouth, as smoky gray eyes caressed Doris's body from head to toe. "And nakedness is quite becoming on you, Mayor Wolfe."
Doris arched an inquisitive eyebrow, drawing a laugh from her lover. "Horny again so soon, Your Honor?" Doris teased.
"Still, Counselor," Bennett was quick to correct, as she stealthily moved toward Doris on the sofa. She wasn't nearly close enough. "Not that you didn't thoroughly satisfy me. But once is never enough with you."
Smirking, Doris leaned over, setting her glass on the side table. And then she drew Bennett close, reveling in the sensation of hard nipples abrading her skin. Lightly, she kissed her, and then she met dark eyes with an inquisitive gaze. "So what's this business you summoned me about today?" she asked, curiously. As much as she craved Bennett's body, she wasn't quite ready for more sex. For the moment, she simply wanted to indulge in being near her, in talking with her. But she couldn't bring herself to say it; not in so many words.
"You really want to talk business right now?" Bennett's warm mouth made contact with Doris's neck. Lightly, an agile tongue swept across salty skin, before teeth firmly bit into tender flesh. "I can think of a lot better ways to spend our time."
"Exactly," Doris groaned. "Let's get the business out of the way, so we can focus on the pleasure you promised me," she grinned salaciously. She cast a fleeting glance toward the entryway. "I have a whole bag full of toys over there, and I plan to use every single one of them with you tonight."
Bennett's breath caught, and a dark eyebrow vaulted in interest. "Oh, really?"
"Yes, really," Doris husked. "Now… Business."
"It's that case you had reassigned to me," Bennett quickly answered. There was no reason to beat around the bush. The sooner they explored the case, the sooner she could have Doris in bed, thoroughly exploring that alluring body—and that bag of goodies Doris brought along for the evening.
Doris's face flushed. "You weren't supposed to know about that."
An eyebrow vaulted. "All the salacious things we just did to each other, and that's what you blush about?" Bennett teased.
Laughing, Doris conceded Bennett's point.
"Anyway, it was kind of hard to miss, DJ," Bennett grinned.
"Sorry…" Doris laughed. "I thought I was more discrete than that. I hope it didn't cause you any issues."
"None that should concern you," Bennett said mildly, as she took a sip of her wine. She leaned forward then, setting her glass on the table, and then returned to Doris's loose embrace. "These women are friends of yours?" she presumed.
"Yes," Doris answered. Reaching behind them, she pulled a crimson throw from the back of the sofa, draping it across their bodies. "And of Olivia and her partner, Natalia."
Bennett arched an eyebrow. "Olivia Spencer?" She sounded a bit doubtful. "I thought the two of you hated each other."
"We've become… close," Doris admitted.
"Close?"
The tone of Bennett's voice begged the real question, and Doris laughed. "Not like that," she was quick to assure. "Friends. Close friends."
Bennett noted the fondness in Doris's tone as she spoke of her friendship with Olivia, and smiled. "I'm glad you've found someone to confide in, DJ," she said affectionately.
As long as she had known her, Doris had never had anyone like that in her life. Yes, she and Doris had shared things, confided in one another; but there was always a part of them that each held back from the other. It made her sad to think about it really, because she knew it was mostly her own fault. There were… expectations on her, on her life. Expectations that she couldn't ignore, couldn't avoid. Not if she wanted to stay in her parents' good graces. Funny how that didn't seem so important to her anymore. She wished more than anything that that had been the case twenty years ago. But then, she wouldn't have her daughters. It was a stiff price to pay, to know and love the strong young women she had raised, but she knew in her heart, she wouldn't have changed it for the world. Even if it meant losing Doris forever. That knowledge, even if never spoken aloud, left her with a sense of melancholy, as well.
"Yeah," Doris sighed, pulling Bennett from her thoughts. Lifting her wine glass from the table beside her, she willfully stifled an unexpected swell of emotions. "Me too."
She paused, taking a deep breath and a long sip of her wine. And then, regaining her composure, she glanced at Bennett. "Anyway… I heard what happened in your courtroom today. What's your take on the situation?"
"Off the record," Bennett qualified, after willfully sloughing off the melancholy.
It wasn't a question, Doris knew, but she nodded her agreement anyway.
"Something about this alleged incident just doesn't set right with me," Bennett announced. "And it's more than just the timing."
Again, Doris nodded. "You know what a skeptic I am, BJ, but…"
Bennett grinned. "That's true enough," she jokingly interjected.
"Exactly," Doris confirmed. "But I just don't believe that Tracy Jackson is capable of something like this."
"You know her that well?" Bennett sounded surprised, and a little curious. She didn't know much about Doris's social life, given their agreement to avoid mutual associations wherever possible.
"I've only just begun getting to know her," Doris admitted. "But everything I've seen and heard tells me she's salt of the earth, BJ. And Ashlee has known her for a number of years, and thinks very highly of her."
Nodding, Bennett thanked Doris for her input, before moving the conversation forward. "There's something familiar about this case," she acknowledged. "But I can't put my finger on it. It's like… I know this woman—this Antoinette Martin. Or I've come across her name somewhere else. Somewhere that's related to Tracy Jackson."
"Yeah, I know what you mean," Doris agreed. "I can't place her either, but I know something isn't right here."
She went on to share what she knew of Jen's contentious relationship with her former in-laws then, and Bennett further explored her intuition, as they talked through the details at hand. It was perplexing, to be certain, and they were both convinced that somehow, Preston Morgan was at the crux of the issue. The key was figuring out exactly how, and together, they were determined to make that happen.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009… Residence of Potential Defense Witness, Huntington Ridge Apartments—9:15 p.m. Central Daylight Time
Thirty minutes after securing Tracy Jackson's release from police custody, Danika Kováč rapped firmly on the door of a small loft apartment near Springfield University. Detective Sargent Langston Malloy had been furious with her when she had declined to allow her to interview the accused, but Dani knew the hard-headed detective would get over it… eventually. This wasn't the first time they had butted heads—and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Dani needed more answers before she could allow the detective anywhere near her client. And her search for those crucial answers had led here.
All seemed quiet, still, beyond that door, and she waited impatiently for any signs of a response. It was late for a house call, she knew, but that couldn't be helped. She had a job to do, and the inhabitant of this apartment was her greatest hope in doing it well. If anyone could tell her the truth of what happened at that frat party six years ago, this was the person. Her client had told her so. And she prayed that the information she would receive would bode well for her—for all of them.
Several moments later, when no response was forthcoming, she knocked again. This time, a little more forcefully. And then she heard the telltale sound of slipper-clad feet, shuffling across a hardwood floor, and finally, the door slowly opened, revealing a cute, but rather disheveled-looking blue-eyed blonde, on the other side.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009… Penthouse Suite, the Beacon—9:30 p.m. Central Daylight Time
Per Olivia's earlier suggestion, they were whisked off to the Beacon after Tracy's arraignment, to share what little information they had managed to procure, and attempt to put more of the pieces together. Discussing it with Jen beforehand, she had made arrangements for Jane to take Emma and the boys out to the farmhouse for the night—an impromptu sleepover, they had been told, and all three expressed excitement about that. None of them asked any questions.
But Rafe certainly did. And Natalia calmly explained to him that her friends were in need of support, and that she and Olivia would be home late. In the interim, he was to be hospitable to Jane, and to Emma's friends. To her surprise and delight, he didn't scoff. She wondered what had happened with Josh that day, that she was seeing such a positive shift in his attitude, but she knew better than to ask. Much like Olivia, he would tell in his own time.
With the kids taken care of, Olivia had turned her attention to other details—arranging for a late dinner to be served in the penthouse suite. She was certain everyone was starving, despite the light meal she had had delivered by a member of the Beacon staff, mid-afternoon. They had basically just picked at it, none of them really interested in food. And she highly doubted that Tracy had been offered any sustenance whatsoever since her arrest—it was easier to get information out of a person who was hungry, thirsty, and tired.
As promised, Doris had somehow managed to get copies of the initial police report and the arrest warrant, and passed them along to Jen. With those documents in hand, the four women adjourned to the penthouse suite around a quarter of ten, each of them hoping that the answers would come to them, now that they had more information.
Upon their arrival at the suite, Olivia directed Jen and Tracy toward the guest bedroom across the hall from Emma's old room, where they could change out of their suits, and into something more comfortable. After arrangements had been made for the boys to stay at the farmhouse, Natalia suggested that Jen and Tracy stay in the penthouse for the night—it would give them a chance to talk things through, to be together, instead of having to spend the night in separate homes.
Jen was beyond grateful for the offer, and had immediately called Tracy's mother, asking her to pack a bag for the two of them, and drop it off at the Beacon. Michaela had been more than happy to help—she was worried sick about her girls, and it gave her something to focus on while they waited for some sort of explanation as to what was happening.
When the foursome returned from changing clothes, Natalia suggested that they try to set the circumstances aside while they ate. Difficult though it may be, she thought a brief respite might do them all a little good.
Grateful for a momentary reprieve, Jen and Tracy had agreed, and though they all found it difficult to set the situation aside, they sat down to a leisurely meal, the subtle clinking of silverware interspersed with quiet, sporadic conversation.
"Thank you for dinner," Tracy said after they finished their meal. Pausing briefly, she willfully tamped down her emotions. "And thank you for your support. All of you," she said appreciatively, her tearstained gaze meeting each of theirs, in turn.
Jen offered a worried smile as she reached over, gently squeezing Tracy's hand.
Nodding slowly, Olivia offered reassurance. "We've got your back, Tracy. We won't stop until we straighten out this mess."
"Thank you, Olivia." Tracy's tone was brimming with emotion.
Olivia nodded again, as Tracy took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.
"We're one step closer," Tracy reported. "My attorney managed to get a picture of the woman who accused me. Turns out I do actually know her." She had felt too overwhelmed in the car on the way to the Beacon to share this news.
"What?" Jen sounded shocked. "How?"
"Remember that girl who had a thing for me freshman year of college?"
"Yeah," Jen answered. She paused for a moment, thinking. "Toni, wasn't it?" she vaguely recalled.
"Yes," Tracy confirmed. "Antoinette…" She let that singular word speak for itself.
"Oh, God…" Taken aback, Jen covered her open mouth with her fingertips, her mind reeling from the information. Then she met Tracy's gaze. "But why would she accuse you of taking advantage of her? You turned her down," she said, emphasizing the parties and their respective roles.
Tracy didn't answer right away. Instead, she allowed her thoughts to drift back to that night. The stench of whiskey and vomit overcame her as though she were still there, as she evoked the memory of the atmosphere in that house that night. And her heart began to pound erratically, as she recalled Toni's body pressed hard against her own. "I turned her down several times that fall, yes. But what if I didn't turn her down that night, Jen? What if I had more of that punch than I realized, and something terrible happened?"
Jen could hear the swirl of emotions in Tracy's tone. She rose from her seat, pulling Tracy into her arms. Silently, she held her, comforted her.
"What if I really did this, Jen?" Tracy sobbed, as her fiancée held her close.
"You're talking crazy, Trace," Jen gently soothed. Her fingertips raked through the tips of Tracy's dark curls. "No one here believes you're capable of anything like this. I don't care how much of that spiked punch you had that night."
"That's the thing," Tracy said. "I don't remember having that much. What I do remember is Toni pushing me up against that wall, kissing me."
"And that's exactly what you told me when we talked the next morning," Jen recalled. "That Toni was kissing you." She stressed who was kissing whom. "Not the other way around."
Pushing back from Jen's embrace, Tracy met her gaze with tear-drenched eyes. "But what if… She stressed the possibility.
Adamantly, Jen shook her head. "No. You stop this," she commanded. The harshness in her tone was uncharacteristic, as she locked gazes with her fiancée. "I'm not gonna let you do this to yourself."
Tracy's cell phone rang, interrupting the moment. She glanced at her watch, noting the time: ten forty-five. It was really late for a call—at least for her. Fishing the phone from her pocket, she answered it without looking to see who it was, and found herself pleasantly surprised by the caller.
"Hey," she greeted, after hearing the caller's voice.
"I need to see you," the caller declared. "I know what's happening, and I can help."
Had the caller's tone not held such tittering, it might have sounded cryptic. Swallowing around the lump that had formed in her throat, Tracy fought back tears. "I'm at the Beacon. The penthouse suite."
"I'll be right over," the caller said. "And Tracy?"
"Yeah?"
"Everything's gonna be okay."
"Thank you."
When she disconnected the call, Tracy was met with three curious gazes, and a barrage of questions about the person she was talking to. She stared at the phone, her mind and emotions locked in a fierce argument, as relief and fear battled for dominion.
Jen's voice broke through the fog. "Did you hear me, Honey? Who was that?" she asked for a second time.
Tracy slipped her phone back into her pocket. "My second-best chance at the truth."
TBC in Chapter 14.13…