He should have known better, better than to have given Billy Abbott the benefit of the doubt for a even a second. To have thought they could have found some common ground, even for Phyllis' sake had been ridiculous. This was all about posturing just as it always was.
"You think I haven't thought about it? You think I wouldn't like to go in there myself? You think I wouldn't trade places with her if I could?"
Billy chortled as he looked him up and down. "What I know is that you're out here reading the man that's holding Phyllis hostage some kind of love letter."
Nick drew his hands closer to his side as they tightened into fists. "I'm doing what they asked me to do, what they," He stopped and pointed to the men now huddled around papers and plans, "advised me to do in order to keep her safe. Since they're the experts here, I thought maybe I'd give them a chance and see what they could do."
"Because they're doing such a great job studying those plans and all. In the meantime, what's going on in there?" Billy turned towards the house and pointed to the still covered window. "You have no idea what she could be going through and you're content to talk to the press and watch as the so called experts have a coffee klatch over blue prints?"
"Why don't you just shut the hell up? You don't know anything about this."
"I know I wouldn't be just standing here. I know I wouldn't let somebody tell me that I couldn't go into my house. Phyllis is in this situation because of you. She never would have ended up here if you hadn't pissed this idiot off and now you're just gonna sit back and watch. You're just gonna wait and hope that things work out? What kind of bullshit is that? You know, I've got my issues with your father. Victor Newman is a son of a bitch, but the one thing I will say for him is he doesn't sit back and wait for things to happen. He goes in and makes things happen. I thought maybe you had a bit of that in you."
"Billy boy has a point."
Billy turned, his face betraying his surprise. "It's like Beetlejuice," he muttered. "It's like I summoned him."
"And it's a good thing you did," Victor whispered, taking a step closer towards Nick. "I wouldn't have known anything about this if I hadn't been watching the news this evening. Why didn't you call me, son?"
Nick shook his head. "I haven't called anyone," he admitted. "Everything's been happening so fast that I've just been kind of overwhelmed."
"Not everything," Billy spat. "No one is going in there. No one is actually helping her."
"I heard what he said," Victor replied gruffly, "and although he said it in his typical unrefined manner, he has a point. The police have protocol. They have procedures. They have rules they have to follow. I don't. I can do this son. I can get Phyllis out of there."
"No." His voice was adamant as the word echoed through the air. "You're not gonna do anything, Dad. I appreciate the fact that you came down here, but if you're gonna try to interfere then …"
Victor nodded. "Excuse me…." He stepped over towards the Sergeant.
Nick sighed audibly as he watched Victor take over the situation. "Dad," he began.
Sergeant Brunson waved his hand toward him. "It's alright," he continued. "Mr. Newman," he said politely before extending his hand. "It's nice to see you. I wish it were under different circumstances."
"As do I. I understand that you're heading up this negotiation?" Victor crossed his arms across his chest as he sized up the team. They seemed competent enough though a far cry from the group he would be able to assemble in a moment's notice.
"I'm the local lead, but we also have a hostage negotiations team on site. Commander Von Lutcken is heading that up."
"I see and I take it they've already made contact?"
"Mr. Newman," Sergeant Brunson began, "I understand your concern and I will be more than happy to keep you informed, but right now we're simply trying to get some information together so that we can get a good idea of what we're working with. We will definitely establish a communication pattern, but right now we need to take this slow. The last thing we want to do is make Mr. Brooks feel as if we're backing him into a corner."
"Sergeant!"
"If you'll excuse me." Sergeant Brunson walked away quickly.
"They're doing the best they can Dad," Nick protested. "Believe me, I'd like to get this over with too, but I can't put Phyllis in any more danger."
"Don't you hear what they're saying, son? They're worried about how all this is gonna make this man feel. They're worried that it'll put him in a bad mood, that it'll back him into a corner. Well he damn well should be backed into a corner. What do you think he's doing to Phyllis in there?"
Nick hung his head. "I don't even want to think about that. I can't think about it. I just have to trust that they are gonna do whatever they have to to get her out of there." He watched as his father studied him, his expression something akin to amazement.
"I hope you don't regret this someday, son." Victor shook his head in marked disapproval before walking away.
The hustle and bustle of the scene was his greatest advantage. No one was paying much attention to him. His words had been sincere enough to convince his father and Billy detested him enough to believe that he'd been willing to sit back and let things happen. In truth, he had far more of his father in him than anyone would ever believe.
"What's the rest of it?" Phyllis asked quietly.
Cameron lowered his head. "Looking back at it now, I should have just been honest with her. As soon as things started to go bad, as soon as I had the first hint that things weren't quite right, I should have just told Gwen the truth. She would have understood. She would have helped me. She probably even would have known what to do, but instead I chose to keep it all from her. I made some really bad choices. I kept lying and then when it all fell apart, it was like this giant blindside. But even then, she didn't leave. It wasn't until later. I had been looking for work for months and I couldn't find anything. Once you get fired for gross misconduct and have a few felonies on your record, the job interviews and references just dry right up." He managed a sarcastic laugh as he took another small drink from the scotch glass.
"Anyway," he continued, "I didn't want her to worry. I didn't want her to feel like she had to live a different life than the one I'd promised her. We had gotten Maxton in this great school and it was costly and I couldn't stand the thought of not being able to provide that for him. I knew I needed money and I knew I couldn't the job, so I got loans, but not from banks. Banks just laughed at me. And then I couldn't tell her where I got the money from, so I lied and told her that I found another job, but then I couldn't just stay home during the day when I supposedly had another job, so I had to leave the house every day and I'd just go and roam around town and it just got so complicated and crazy and eventually the money ran out and the bills got behind and they came and took the car and then the bills piled up and …"
He could see the look of understanding on Phyllis' face. She nodded for him to continue.
"Once she got the foreclosure notice on the house, it was over. And not because we lost the house, but because she knew the lies had been so big by that point. There was so much I hadn't told her that even I couldn't sort it all out. She just packed everything and left and she took Maxton. She said that she didn't think he should see me right now because I'm not 'in a good place'." He shrugged as he took another drink. "Whatever that means." His eyes roamed the room. "I guess, if I'm honest about it, this probably isn't the best place, is it?"
She thought for a moment, unsure of how she should respond. Sincerity wasn't always believable and he didn't always appreciate compassion. "I think it sounds like you've had a really terrible time of it," she said as honestly as she could. "And truthfully, if I'd gone through everything you had over the last few months, I can't promise you I wouldn't be in exactly the same place you are." The look of genuine surprise washed across his face as he turned to stare at her.
"I'm not a bad person." The words were quiet as he said them, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as her. "I've made mistakes, but I'm really not a bad person."
"I believe that," she whispered. "I believe you're reacting to things that happened and …"
She jumped at the sound of her phone. The screen lit up and numbers flashed across it.
"Who is it?" he said quickly.
"I don't know the number," she answered. "It's probably the police."
"Answer it." His tone had completely changed, the former warmth now gone. "And remember." He lifted the gun off his lap before lowering it again, his eyes still flashing a bit of softness towards her. "Don't do anything stupid."