"I should take that money. For the baby," Zander was telling Brenda, after her tennis lesson. He always put her as the last one of the day. "I just thought of it."
They had stopped for dinner at the country club that day.
"You can go and tell Daddy Dearest about it, my sweet," Brenda said. "He's staying right there in the hotel with us."
"No way!"
"I saw him in the Port Charles Grill today."
"Gives me the creeps."
"I know. Maybe he gives up knocking better than Sonny."
"I'm sure he has some sort of radar that determines when I'm having a good time."
Brenda giggled. "His kind always does know how to rain on a parade, don't they? Did you know the uncle who left you that money very well?" Brenda asked him.
"Great uncle Carl. Nice old guy. Probably he treated all of his nieces and nephews equally."
"Why not?"
"I guess that was supposed to explain why he didn't leave me out, even though I am such a – well, whatever."
"Rogue?"
He grinned. "That great vocabulary again!"
"He left your brother an inheritance too, then," Brenda said.
"I talked to Pete today."
"You did? How was it?"
"Good. He is happy. He wants to be a physical therapist. Dad is actually giving him some flack."
"Why?"
"Naturally Dad thinks Pete should be a doctor."
"Naturally. Makes sense."
Later, it was getting dark, and they walked along the shore of the lake, near the pier and the boat docks.
"I think it was Emily who your father talked to, in the Swiss rehab."
"Me too. Pete described the kids there. I got him onto the reasons they were there, and he said there was a girl there who had been in a bus accident. By now she must know that I shot Pete."
"I don't know that's necessarily so. The way your father described it, he figured it out from her description alone."
"You talked to him?"
"He told me. After I guessed and told him her name. He heard Emily describe her own experience, and though your name was not the same, he recognized you as the young man, from that description. When he heard your name that you are using now, he figured it was the alias you would come up with."
"He's that clever."
"Sure he is. But did you ever wonder if maybe he wasn't your father? I mean, biologically."
Zander laughed. "No. I mean, my mother - no one would."
"You don't really know what she was like when she was that young."
"I never heard anything of her to think she was much different."
"From your relatives?"
"Right. Though they don't talk much. I don't know. She left him, though. Pete said she did."
"Good for her. What does she look like? Do you take after her?"
"Come to think of it, not much."
"Let me see," she held up his chin to the moonlight. "I can't tell if you don't take after Dr. Daddy or if his perpetual scowl makes his features impossible to compare to yours."
He scowled. "Aim higher," he said, in a voice imitating Cameron.
"Aim higher? Is that what he says?"
"Yeah. Did I sound like him?"
"No, not entirely. Do people ever say you and Pete look alike?"
"No."
"Did people ever say oh you look like your mother, or your father, or Uncle Carl or Aunt Suzie?"
He laughed. "No, they aren't big on that. They trace the inheritances and the bank accounts rather than the physical features."
"That would figure," Brenda laughed.
They walked on a little more, holding hands.
"I like your theory," Zander said, "but it's too late now to make any difference."
"I guess. But would it make any difference? Would you feel any different? Maybe it explains how he treats you. See that's what I can't get past. No matter what your own kids does, they are your child and your flesh and blood. Who talks like he does? And to other people?"
"Usually he's too much trying to maintain his image," Zander said. "To talk about me to other people. I think you are an exception for some reason."
"Oh? Maybe. He tries to smote me down with his frostiest look. Looks shocked that it doesn't cower me. Then he answers my question."
"You are one of a kind."
"Thank you," she said. She turned and walked backwards, and moved him toward her.
They were in the dark, under the pier.
"I love how you just take things on," he said. "I mean, you don't worry or complain or have yourself surrounded with people trying to protect you from life. You just take it on."
She smiled and drew his arms around her waist. In the next second, he had pinned her against the pier. He kissed her really hard.
"Give me something to take on," she breathed heavily, "Ahh, that's it," she said as she felt his hardness against her.
Soon her skirt was pushed up. "That's it!" she gasped.
Her head went back, and she could only see the bottom of the pier. It was high, but there were a few footsteps.
"Ah," she groaned, quietly. "Ah, ah,"
She felt him pushing into her, his hands moving behind her lower back to make her position a little more comfortable. She pulled her right leg up, using it to pin his thigh closer in to her.
"OK?" he asked, in a thick voice, thrusting again.
"Oh, OK," she panted. "Yes, OK."
"Huh," she breathed, almost quietly. "Huh, uh,"
She wrapped her arms around his neck. They kissed long and deep, as he pushed her body up a little. She felt her hips rocking in a perfect rhythm. She felt the utter quiet around, the faint lapping of lake water and a few more footsteps overhead. Her breathing got deeper and deeper, but she was silent.
"Oh," she moaned, very softly. "Oh."
When they were done, she sank down to the sand, and he went with her. She put her arms around his neck. "You are one of the kind, too," she reached up and kissed him some more. "Unique."