Elizabeth huddled in the corner of the hallway her fingers clutching the printout Dillon had brought them no more than thirty minutes ago. Dillon had promised he would keep his eye on the Internet and let them know how fast the information was spreading and how interested people were in the story.
"It could just blow over," He had offered on his way out the door. "You could be worried for nothing."
Dillon had a lot to learn about being comforting. She was no fool. As embarrassing as it was to admit at times, she read the gossip magazines, papers and blogs enough to know exactly how popular Lucky was. There was a reason his "publicity scams" were always so successful. Most of the record company executives tended to be older, uglier and didn't have the consistent track record for hits Lucky had.
This was not going to be nothing. It wasn't on an Angelina Jolie-Brad Pitt level, but it wasn't going to be nothing.
The press hadn't figured out about Cameron yet, but it wouldn't take them long, Elizabeth figured. Especially if there was any interest in this at all. There would always be some worker that needed extra money and could be persuaded to give away private information, such as a name. And once they had Cameron's name, it was one short record check to realize exactly how Lucky was related to him.
And from there it was just a short jump to who Cameron's mother was and what happened to her. Elizabeth wasn't sure how exactly Lucky had wanted to explain to Cameron about Jess's death but she was reasonably sure not having to explain it as a reason why reporters wanted to talk to him was a good guess.
She supposed she should probably be more concerned about her own identity about to be revealed to the worldwide gossip press, but she wasn't. Not really. Robin had reminded her constantly Port Charles was not that big of a town. It wouldn't be nearly as hard for someone to spill her name as it would be for them to find Cameron's. On some level she even realized this day would be coming. Not exactly like this of course. But once it became clear Lucky wasn't following his usual "dating" habits for the press, the questions would have come. Hell, she had always figured Taggert for blowing their cover when one reporter too many assumed Daphne had been Lucky's last girlfriend. Elizabeth realized it would be interesting to say the least but eventually the interest would die off once the press realized how boring her life was. How unscandelious she really was. No arrests for anything too embarrassing. No white trash ex-husbands. No liaisons with mobsters. The press would get bored and more onto the next victim.
Besides she was an adult and she knew what she was getting into when she started dating someone with Lucky's reputation. But Cameron hadn't asked for any of this. Lucky and his family had been successful in shielding him from this for almost four years now. His whole world was about to change thanks to a horse and he had no control over it.
"Elizabeth? Why are you out here?" Laura's concerned voice did nothing to lessen the surprise she felt when the older woman placed her hand on Elizabeth's shoulder.
"Laura. You scared me." As quickly as she could, Elizabeth tried to shove the printout into the back pocket of her jeans. Laura had suffered just as much as Lucky had in this mess and this was one thing they would just have to handle. There was no reason to worry Laura about this right this second.
"I can see that." Laura titled her head, curious as to what Elizabeth had tried to hide so quickly. It was a valiant effort but Laura had years of experience in sneaking up on people unawares. It was how she raised three teenagers, including two boys. If they don't hear you, then they won't know to stop doing what they weren't supposed to be doing. She had seen Elizabeth staring at a piece of paper as if it held the secret of life.
"Are you looking for Lucky? Because I think he's down the hall with the doctor." Elizabeth offered. Cameron had woken up during one of the tests and started yelling for his father within seconds of not recognizing him in the sea of scrubs and surgical masks. It had given Lucky something to actually do but Elizabeth was unsure about how much of a calming presence he was actually going to be able to provide.
"No, that's alright. I can talk to him anytime." Laura smiled. "I'd rather discuss what has you so distracted."
"Distracted? I'm not distracted."
"Elizabeth." Laura used her best no-nonsense voice. The one all her children knew meant no lying and no games. "I could have brought out personalized wedding invitations out to you and you wouldn't have noticed. Now tell me what's going on." She placed her hand on the younger woman's arm. "I promise it can't be as bad as you apparently are imagining it to be."
"I think I would have noticed that." Elizabeth protested, at the same time digging the paper out for Laura to inspect. "It will probably be nothing, but Dillon found this on the Internet."
Laura sucked in her breath quickly as she scanned the paper. "Has Lucky seen this yet?"
"Yeah. Haven't exactly been able to get a full sentence out of him since."
Laura nodded her head. Folding the paper in half, she tucked it into her purse. "I'm not surprised. Luke never could convince him that the press may one day find out about Cameron."
"He picked a strange thing to be optimistic about." Elizabeth muttered under her breath.
Laura bit her lip, deep in thought. "Well the good thing is right now they are not sure what exactly is going on. That buys us time and plan out exactly what to do. We'll just have to keep an extra close eye on anyone coming down this hallway or on the floor that doesn't seem to belong to anyone. It probably won't last forever but we may be able to keep this quiet long enough to get Cameron either off this floor or home."
"He's going to give up sleeping again."
"We won't let him. He needs to be alert to handle this. I know my son likes to pretend no sleep doesn't affect him but a mother knows better."
"It's not going to be easy to get him to listen. I didn't make out much but I do know he said something about going underground."
Laura rolled her eyes. She was going to have a long talk with her husband about filling her children with paranoid solutions to problems. "His father. I swear sometimes..." she let the thought trail off. "No matter. We'll just have to convince him we know better."
Maybe it was the obnoxious fumes of pine cones or the broken leaves underfoot that further proved he was nearing the Drake family cabin. The path had been covered years ago when he and his brother were children, their reason being that they didn't want the enemies conspiring against them to pick up on their secret location. Their father had humored them while their mother had openly encouraged them to hold onto their innocence for as long as possible. That, of course, was before the extra hours their father scheduled himself for and their mother's worsening condition.
Patrick had been the closest to their mother and her death had come as both a shock and a lead weight pulling Drake Senior and his first-born into the deepest, darkest tresses of the Earth, severing their bond forever. Logan hadn't been as hard on the old man understanding that the procedure had been as impossible as it was foolhardy. Their mother had been dead before she had ever laid down on that cold operating table and all three Drake men knew it to be true. To dull the pain, Noah had gone straight for an old Band-Aid: alcohol. Patrick had honored their mother by going into the career she had been pursuing when she married their father. Logan had done what he did best: he had run away.
Susan's parents had taken him in right after his mother's funeral and, really, he hadn't had a real problem with them until they started trying to control what he did and how he dealt with his loss. The day her mother suggested Logan see a counselor to deal with his overwhelming pain, he had started doing things that would have broken his mother's heart. He had been Susan's first but she hadn't been his. Somehow he had convinced her to give it up in her parents' bed no less and then made sure they were found later that afternoon. Mr. Shaw had demanded he leave the house immediately and, to cover his tracks, told the Spencers that they had kicked him out due to drugs. Logan had caught up with Susan a few years back and engaged in a brief affair until he had been called away to Boston and cut all ties with her.
Taking job after job when and where he could get them, he had been in the company of dangerous criminals for the better part of the last decade. They paid the best and didn't care what he did when he wasn't at work. They just wanted him to show up and sometimes rewarded him with basketball and concert tickets or, if he did an exceptionally good job, women. They had been high-class prostitutes as far as he had been concerned and had been whatever he wanted them to be, done whatever he asked, no matter how unorthodox it might have seemed. Bridget had been the most exciting of all of the women he had ever been with and that might have had to do with her desperation to keep the affair quiet and her desire to please him in any way possible. She was married, but that had never mattered. Her husband was always out of town and Logan had her on speed dial. He missed Bridget, missed her in the way that it had been far too long since he'd had sex. Maybe he would call her and they'd make a night of it.
Noticing the incredible damage done to the little cabin, Logan smiled. He wondered when his brother had gone after the helpless pile of logs and what had driven him to do so. Was it when I said I couldn't come up this year? Was it before or after you started fucking my wife? Logan figured the only way to know for sure would have been to ask, but he wasn't that interested in the reason. While a part of him wanted to believe that Patrick's handiwork had been the result of guilt eating away at his conscience, this might have just as easily been a robbery or something similar.
No matter how many times he tried to block out the unwelcome thoughts of his brother and his ex-wife, they kept pushing to the front of his mind, demanding attention. She was a clever one, picking them apart piece by piece and then turning them against each other. What a sick, twisted way to go about it. He had to give her points for being the devious little bitch he had never suspected her of being. She had been sweet in the beginning, her need to please him as pathetic as Bridget's, but something had drastically changed. He couldn't think it just had to do with the affairs, because she had only caught him the one time and he was too smart to leave bread crumbs. She had definitely stopped caring about whether or not he succeeded in his goals and even spited him for the pointless effort he was still putting into them. It wasn't like he hadn't kept up with the bills or left her high and dry after the divorce: she had taken almost everything from him, her only concession being that she threw the ring in his face and he was able to pawn it for his new start.
Why Patrick? Logan found himself wondering. What had been his appeal? Was his brother's money the drive, the root of the attraction? Were they doing it to spite Logan for his prolonged absence? Patrick could be pretty dramatic when it came to his idea of betrayal. The fact that the Spencers were supporting the relationship, actively pushing them together, made Logan feel even more justified in his decision to ignore them. Neither their mother nor their father had thought it necessary to incorporate them into the Spencer clan, so when Noah dropped them off on Luke and Laura's doorstep, Logan had been more than a little surprised. Patrick had adjusted just like he had always been able to do with very little effort. He had claimed Bobbie as a suitable stand-in for Mattie and never looked back.
Picking up his father's battered brown chair, Logan threw it into the opposite wall. The frame of the chair splintered and sprayed its chipped backside in every direction. Ducking to avoid coming in contact with the debris, he hurried to the kitchen and threw open all of the cabinets, finding their family china, assorted vacation glasses, and dozens of their mother's handkerchiefs. Sweeping his hand from one side to the other, he knocked them onto the counter, the floor, and the adjacent wall, the sound of breaking glass only making him angrier. There was no comfort in destroying what little family memories he actually had; he doubted Patrick would forgive him for this, but he was done with trying to live up to his brother's expectations. I hope this pisses you off just as much as it pisses me off…or maybe more. Yes, more. I hope you go on a murderous rage after you find the kitchen in shambles.
"A little adolescent, don't you think?" A seemingly familiar voice sounded from behind him, interrupting what should have been a private moment.
"How did you get in here?" Logan snarled at her, the last of the hand-painted glasses poised in his right hand as he prepared to throw them and be done with his ghosts.
"The door was open." She explained with an affirmative nod.
"What do you want? In case you didn't notice, this is private property." Logan clarified his tone as threatening as his narrowing walnut-brown eyes.
"I noticed a lot of things, like you're a little mad." She replied in a teasing, almost full-fledged mocking tone. "Did you realize you were screaming?"
"Go away." Logan ordered, extending his left thumb toward the door. "You have no business being here."
"Quite contraire, I think you want to hear what I have to say." She argued cleverly as she stepped carefully over the glass. It was hard to tell what color her hair was this year what with the shadows the dusky sky provided; she had a habit of changing it as much as his ex-wife had. He couldn't mistake those sparking brown eyes though and found himself strangely intrigued.
"I'm listening." Logan assured her, folding his arms to let her know that he was not one to be easily tricked.
"I'm guessing all of this means you're finally ready to help me." She declared, her eyes locking on his. Reaching up to snatch a piece of fallen glass from his bangs, she pressed her hand against his forehead. "That is, if you're interested."
"I'm not a gambling man. It's gotten me into trouble more times than I can count." Logan answered, swatting her hand away. "You should go."
"I'm not going to be driven away by that annoying alpha male attitude you and your brother share, so you can give up that notion real quick, tough guy." She snapped, though her eyes were still as bright and enticing as ever.
"What are you offering?" Logan wanted to know, pushing his luck. He might as well hear her pitch before throwing her out on her bony little ass.
"What do you want?" She countered instead, closing the space between them.
"You know what I want." Logan responded arrogantly.
Huffing in frustration, she was silent for a minute as she worked a new approach, "I know something you want more than sex."
"Does that mean sex isn't part of the deal?" Logan challenged, far too mature to openly pout.
"No. But it's not the main agenda." She shook her head and ran her index finger over his bottom lip.
"I'm sick of these games!" Logan shouted, catching her wrist and startling her. "What is it you want from me?"
"I think a little payback is in order, don't you?" She propositioned, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes in frustration.
"You're wasting my time." Logan accused, letting her go and heading into the living room.
"I promise I'm not. I think we can bring them down together." Emily promised, urging him to not throw her out.
"Who?" Logan demanded.
"Your brother and ex-wife of course. I've kept my mouth closed this long, but I can't do it anymore. Too many lives are going to be messed up if they continue on this ridiculous road." She told him, impatience clear in her conflicted gaze. "Are you in?"
"I'm in." Logan nodded with a full smile. "What do you want me to do?"