Part 97

Drinking coffee in the Gatehouse kitchen, Zander and Quinn checked out the cars that drove by. Quinn's car was still at the side of the Gatehouse, but not all that obvious to someone not looking. They saw Pete drive by – he honked as he drove out, seeing Zander in the doorway. Diana drove by, probably on an errand, in Rosa's car. Oksana drove by, waved at Zander, and went on out.

"Well, that was interesting," Quinn said. "Though not as interesting as work the other day. The only other time I came that close to hitting a patient was the one that wouldn't tell me his medical history last fall!"

"This wouldn't have been poor little Emily, would it?"

"She is out of ICU and down in a regular room. I went to check on her for a follow-up. Lucky came in."

"That must have been fun. Poor Quinn," he said, going over to sit by her at the table.

"The conversation got around to you, of course. Now she observes, most legalistically, that you and she didn't break up for a real reason. Technically, she says, you are still in love!"

Zander laughed. "Technically, I never want to see her again. Technically, I am crazy about her nurse."

Quinn laughed a little, too, but said, "What she must be thinking is how it would be if she hadn't written her letter."

"No, it would have come out the same, somehow or other."

"Do you believe that?" Quinn smiled.

"Yes."

"I do too," Quinn answered, feeling happy. "From my side too, if it hadn't happened with Paul falling head over heels suddenly for Elizabeth."

He reached over and stroked her hair a little bit, gave her a kiss, and then said, "I had thought I was so lucky to have Emily, and didn't deserve it, and it is strange I should have you and feel less that way than more that way. She can't hold a candle to you. But I feel better about you. I hope you take this right, Quinn," he added, suddenly, as if he had caught himself making a mistake.

"I understand. I'm glad about that. I want you to feel secure about me. Not undeserving like that. I don't think anybody can be happy seeing it that way. And you're further from drug dealing and being alone and don't feel as bad about yourself."

"I'm further from dealing, and I have a family and a job, but it doesn't matter. It is that I feel like you know me much better. I know you much better. It's not a game. If somebody says something, you tell me. And you're not concerned that Little Emily will intrude because she's – technically – " he laughed, "still in love. She wants to prove she is in the right, that's all. She wants you and I to feel guilty about being happy when she's a victim of her family or me. She doesn't get the idea of love any more than I used to."

"I hope she can't get to you with guilt, though. Suppose she wants you back and starts on all that stuff you did to her, or so they say you did to her. Can she get you to do anything she wants with that?"

"No, Quinn! Besides, I'll be too busy defending you from the same thing. Believe it or not, it will soon be your fault, too. You know how they think."

"My opinion is biased, I know, but I think you are much happier with me, and if you have gotten over it all, or forgiven yourself, you want to be happy. You'd only pick her if you felt you didn't deserve to be happy."

"Quinn! There's no question of that! I could do a hundred other things to her before I'd do a single thing to you! You understand, don't you?"

"Yes. Funny, Paul told me once you would be insecure, and I'd better reassure you a lot. Maybe I need more of that than you do!"

"No, I do! No doubt of it. But if you need any, just ask."

"Paul isn't after me any more, but Emily may be after you."

"Paul isn't the only guy in the world, you know, Quinn. I still don't know how I have this beautiful, smart, sexy woman with a big heart, and a sense of humor. I don't want to let Little Emily guilt me into giving her so much as the time of day, you remember that! You will, won't you?"

"OK, if you promise no matter what you hear, you will check with me first, like you did when she told you way back that the hospital gossip mill said I wasn't serious about you. See how that gossip mill works? It was wonderful you told me rather than let it get to you."

"I'm glad I thought of it, then."

"Which reminds me of something else she asked me about. Some comment that arose out of that. She was surprised I was still seeing you and wanted to know if I was really serious. I don't know why I didn't tell her it was none of her business. I told her I didn't know. But that was the way I had of telling her it was none of her business without being cold to a patient."

"It is technically none of her business, and I will tell you anything she says to me about that, if she gets the chance."

She took his hand from where it now rested on her shoulder, kissed it and gave it back to him. Then she put her arm around his shoulders and hugged him. "You can think very well," she said. "Don't let people continue to tell you different."

After having his employees make inquiries, Edward Quartermaine realized that Sergei K, as he had come to think of him, was staying on and off at the Port Charles Hotel. A hotel Edward's family owned.

Edward went to the suite forthwith to inform this Russian pirate that he should cease his activities immediately. Kicking a paying guest out of the hotel was too low class for Edward to do more than fantasize about.

Sergei was not in his room. He was drinking coffee downstairs. Upon inquiry, one of the maids came up to Edward. She knew who Sergei was, and pointed him out to Edward.

Edward sat down, surprised to see a man not as much younger than himself as he had pictured Sergei to be, having assumed he was around the same age as Zander's mother.

"Are you Sergei Kansh, Ketchup, Kas,"

"Kanishchev. Call me Sergei," he said, standing up and shaking hands with Edward.

"I'm Edward Quartermaine," Edward said, as if that explained his presence and his approach.

"What can I do for you?" Sergei asked.

"First off, you can keep your hands off my company."

"What company?"

"You know very well what I am talking about," Edward said.

"Please sit down," Sergei said, pleasantly, "Would you like some coffee?"

"No thank you."

"What is the name of your company?"

"ELQ, as if you didn't know. You may think you can undercut that mobster Corinthos. But ELQ you cannot undercut."

"OK," Sergei said. "I got your opinion. Do you want to undercut that mobster Corintis?"

"Of course. And we are handling that, and were handling it, before and without you," Edward said, getting up, as if his speeches had taken care of the matter, "And by the way, keep your son away from my granddaughter."

"Huh?" Sergei asked.

"That deviant caused her enough trouble last year."

"That what?"

"Your son."

"Which son? I have two."

"I don't know about that. I'm talking about the one you call Zander Smith."

"Oh, OK. What granddaughter?"

"Emily, of course."

"Of course. I never hear of no Emily, so he must be staying away from her. If he's not, I will ask him to."

"You tell him to." Edward Quartermaine marched out.

Emily was reading in the living room when Reginald showed V. Ardanowski in. "Hi," she said, in a friendly tone. "I want to ask you a few questions about the accident."

"OK," Emily said, warily, putting the book down.

"When you left the house where the party was, what time was it?"

"I have no idea."

"Whose idea was it to leave?"

"Mine. I had a headache."

"In spite of that, you wanted to drive the car?"

Emily shifted a little. "Yes. I thought AJ looked tired."

"Who drove?"

"AJ, of course."

"Where did the accident happen?"

"Where the cops found the car."

"Do you remember for yourself where it was?"

"On Lake Road, a little way from Nicholas' house."

"Did you notice AJ going off the road?"

"No. I wasn't paying attention to the road. I don't remember any of this. I fell asleep, I think, because all I can remember is leaving the house and then waking up in the hospital."

"Did you talk to AJ during the ride, before the accident?"

"If I did, I don't remember it."

"Are you recovered now?"

"I'm stiff, and I get headaches, but I'm all right."

"Here is my card. Call me if you remember anything. Sometimes the more the injury heals up, the more you can remember."

"All right."

Sergei and Zander were at the Outback for dinner that evening, with Alexis. Sergei told them of that morning's run in with Edward Quartermaine.

"First, he says keep my hands off his company, and I know which one," Sergei said.

"Which one would that be?" Alexis said, with a big smile.

"I dunno. He says we are putting our hands on his company ELQ."

"If he says so," Alexis grinned.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, whatever it is?" Zander asked Sergei.

"It must be," Sergei answered his son. "He noticed it."

Alexis laughed.

Jerry came over to them with a fresh crab meat appetizer, straight from Maryland, he said.

"Always the Jax way," Alexis smiled. "Imports from everywhere."

Jerry told them he was going to import from Russia just for them. "Whatever you want, you describe it to Alexis," he said to Sergei and Zander. "She doesn't know enough about it," he said, walking off. "I'm going to get some wine."

"I'm slipping, Alexis," Zander said. "On your Russian heritage. Maybe not so much on your social life, though. How does Jerry know you don't know?"

"What, I'm socializing with Jerry, you think?"

"Well, why not?"

"Indeed?" Alexis asked, ruffling his hair. "So you like Jerry?"

"Yes. Quinn does, too."

"Look at this! They're happy, now they want everyone else to be!"

Sergei smiled. "I hope they do not want the Quartermaine family happy too. If they do, they take on too big a job. No one can do that one. Not even a big committee can do that one. The miserable guy also tells me to tell you, son, stay away from his granddaughter Emily."

Zander waved a hand. "Done, Dad," he said. "And it has been for a long, long time. They have such big egos, they can't believe I voluntarily stay away."

"What you did to his granddaughter Emily, anyway Sander?" Sergei asked.

"It's a long story," Alexis piped up. "The end of it is, he got Emily to fall for him, big time, which her family did not like. Sander here was trouble back then. I can testify to that. Then I got him out of jail, or so they see it, so they tried getting him back in with a trumped up case. Or no, it was a made up case. Made up out of whole cloth. Have you heard that expression, Sergei? It is the same as making up something out of thin air. Creating it from nothing, that is."

"What case they made up?"

"Edward, the one you talked to. He went to the hospital, claiming I beat him up."

"He even bought a witness," Alexis said. "And went to the hospital, having an alleged heart attack."

"That guy look and talk like he is in the middle of a heart attack every minute," Sergei said.

Zander laughed.

"He was released without heart problems, and later got caught when his son looked at his medical records, and saw no record of any traumatic injury," Alexis explained. "So you see the type you're dealing with, Sergei. He's not above cheating. He framed your son to try to get him in jail. He might do it again to get at you."

"And they say this Corintas is the criminal!" Sergei said, looking amazed.

Zander liked it when Danny asked him if he wanted to go out and play arcade games and get a pizza. He didn't take Tim and Brad, either. Zander thought it was really nice of Danny to spend time with him like this.

They were playing pin-ball, and Danny vowing to beat him, yet Zander won, but Zander thought Danny let him win. "I just can't beat you," Danny claimed. Zander smiled, suspecting that Tim and Brad and - maybe even Quinn - had been similarly unbeatable in the past.

The arcade opened out onto the dock, and Alan Quartermaine passed by with Emily. They were going out to dinner at Diego's. Emily was out of the hospital and doing well. The cook had the night off, and everyone else had some sort of plan. Alan saw and recognized Danny, and Zander. He didn't point this out to Emily, who walked on the farther side. He felt a certain regret, remembering how much Emily had liked Zander. Regardless of his own disapproval, he had recognized the way she had felt.

For a little while, Zander was afraid some shoe would drop; he still had a hard time accepting the idea that Danny and his family didn't want to get rid of him as the Quartermaines had. It was an ideal time to tell Zander to take a hike.

But time went on and all of Danny's conversation was light or amusing. He only mentioned Quinn to tease her. Zander tried to relax and have a good time as he was sure Danny wanted him to.

They sat down at Diego's, talking of the Nextel cup and Jeff Gordon's chances of winning it all.

Emily saw Zander as she and Alan were leaving, and pointed him out to Alan. "Who is that Zander is with?" she asked.

Alan was taking his credit card out of his wallet. He looked back, seeing the same two he had seen in the arcade. "That's Quinn's father," he answered. "Zander's girlfriend's father."

"Oh," Emily said, glancing back quickly again.

"I'm sorry, honey," he said, as they left. "I never thought of that. Too busy, and too much going on. It would have given me some chance to get to know Zander. If I had only thought of it. Almost too simple, so I never did."

"You guys did all you could to protect me from Zander," Emily said, "Don't feel bad, Dad."

"I should have learned more about what I was protecting you from," Alan said. "Then I might have realized that the threat was minor rather than major. I never thought about his family, for instance, until your mom needed his medical history. Yet if I had taken a second to think about it, I'd have realized that of course he had to have come from somewhere."

"Yeah, well, he never told us," Emily said. "There must have been some reason. I guess because his father's a criminal. Grandfather said he was."

"It can't have been that by itself. Zander was in jail himself, so why be embarrassed the old man was in jail? There must be more to it than that. I'm sorry I never found out."

"Oh, Dad," Emily said, rolling her eyes. "If you had tried to find Zander's father, it would have been to work together with him to get Zander away."

Alan smiled. "At the time, maybe, but who knows? I might have learned to be less hard on Zander. I still think I should have found out more. There was so much going on."

"Never mind, Dad," Emily said.

Lucky was on an out of the office project – he was looking for gardens and lawns in and on which to shoot pictures of models. He had an idea for submitting a piece to the Port Charles Magazine - "Landscaping in Port Charles," he would call it, or some such thing. Deception would get its name into this piece, somehow, because its ad campaign would have a similar name referring to Deception in the Gardens of Port Charles.

He had a list of places to start: the park, where the city maintained certain landscaping of interest, stuff that would look familiar to the average resident, PCU, which had landscaping and gardens, then the estates of the wealthy. His half-brother's family's house, of course, on its own island, would be a major site for landscaping. He knew the Quartermaines. He could do Oksana's. With these behind him, the Barringtons and other wealthy people would want to be included, too.

He decided to start with Oksana's, since she was already tied to Deception.

He went to Oksana's office to arrange for this. Oksana was there more nowadays, it seemed.

She said she would let Rosa, who was apparently in charge at her house, know.

So when he drove up to the gatehouse and pressed the button for the intercom, he explained who he was and what he was doing. They buzzed him in.

He parked in a big circular driveway area.

Sheesh! He said to himself. I never would have guessed in a million years, way back, that this was the type of place Zander would have grown up in.

He walked around for awhile, then came upon a flower garden. He decided to take a few pictures of it.

He was standing there putting film in his camera when he heard a girl's voice. "I can show you around if you want."

He looked up. He saw a pretty, dark haired girl, who wore overalls and had a rake in her hand. He thought to himself it would be a pretty good photograph if he could take a picture of her as she was.

"You work for Oksana?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm the gardener," she said.

"You're awfully young for a gardener."

"How old is a gardener supposed to be?"

Lucky smiled, then shrugged his shoulders.

"Anyway," she said, "Oksana told me that I should show you around if you needed any help."

"Why thanks," he said. "I was thinking of taking a picture of this flower garden. It looks pretty nice."

"That's a wildflower garden."

"Really. It looks kind of orderly, for that."

"Why shouldn't it be orderly?"

"Oh, just the word, wildflowers, I guess."

"It only means they occur in nature. Not that they have to look wild."

"Never know that. What are those?" he pointed to a bunch of white colored flowers.

"Bloodroot."

He snapped a picture. "They are so light. Why are they called that?"

"I think there is a blood red juice that Native Americans extracted from the root to use to dye fabric. Or for body paint for warriors and young maidens."

"Interesting. What are those?"

"Virginia bluebells. Hepatica."

He took a few more pictures. He looked back, and she was still standing there.

"I'm Lucky Spencer. What's your name?"

"Lisa. Lisa Benitez."

"We kind of have the same employer."

"Yes."

"You could stand in for a model."

She looked a little shy. "You mean stand where they would when you take their pictures?"

"Sure. Right over there, say, in front of the bloodroots."

She put the rake down, and went to where he pointed.

He picked up the rake and handed it back to her. "Keep this," he said. "It makes a good prop."

She shrugged and took it. She was a real trooper, he thought.

He took a few pictures. Used to working with models, he told her to smile, then asked her to hold the rake a certain way.

"You're a good model," he said.

"Except I don't look like one."

"Oh, I don't know about that. Before they get all their make up on and spend an age with the hair people, they look pretty much like you. Or not as good."

She smiled, a little hesitantly.

She showed him around the grounds.

"Tennis courts!" Lucky exclaimed. "Do they even use them?"

"The boys do – they play a lot."

"You mean Zander, and his brother?"

"Of course."

"Man, I can hardly believe this is Zander's family's house. How he kept his background hidden so long amazes me. Especially when it's like this. I mean, it's not the type of background people normally hide."

"No."

"Do you know him very well?"

"Not myself, but my aunt does. She was the nanny for Sander and Peter. She loves them. Thinks a lot of them."

"Well, I met the drug dealing version, but I guess someone who knew his when he was an innocent little kid wouldn't think too much of that."

"My aunt thinks he must have been in pretty bad straits to have gotten involved in things like that."

"Heck, he could have gone home."

"It was more complicated than that, I think."

"Hard to imagine what would be so bad you'd give up this kind of life, but everyone is different, I guess. Hey – would you mind posing in front of that bench, Lisa? Lisa, isn't it?"