Part 14-Cooling
The first conversation was between Belle and Philip. Belle repeated Claire's suspicions and demanded to know whether Philip had failed to warn her that her niece had been sexually abused before she took her shopping to have her body pawed by half a dozen strangers. Philip denied all knowledge.
The second conversation was between Belle, Philip and Abby. Abby, furious with herself for not broaching the subject sooner, confirmed that Allie had specifically denied being raped, but had all but admitted to molestation. Philip blamed Abby for not reporting what she knew to Allie's family sooner. Abby retorted that it surely wouldn't have slipped her mind if Philip's thugs hadn't drugged and kidnapped her an hour after her conversation with Allie. Belle ended up pointedly asking Abby to leave.
The third conversation was between Philip and Lucas. There was a great deal of swearing, and some breaking of inanimate objects.
"I won't miss this time," Lucas said when he regained his ability to speak coherently. "I'll aim for his head. Can you get me a gun?"
"Easily," said Philip, but he didn't move or offer further explanation.
"Well?"
Philip's fists were clenched, and he stared at a framed snapshot of a younger Claire riding a carousel horse. "What did Mom always tell us?"
"Always follow the money? Never date a woman without my approval? What's that got to do with anything?"
"I meant, revenge is a dish best served cold."
Lucas shook his head. "No way. He did it to Sami and he did it to Allie and he'll do it again if he isn't stopped."
"I agree."
"You've got a hell of a way of showing it."
"My niece just got her father back. I'd hate to see her orphaned because he made the same damn mistake—and by mistake I mean getting caught—that he made when she was a baby."
"I'd rather die or go back to prison than know that he's out there, walking around free, probably attacking someone else's daughter."
"And I'd rather we got rid of him without you dying or going back to prison."
"It's not your decision!" Lucas snapped. He pulled the picture of Claire from Philip's hand and threw it to the floor. The glass frame shattered. "Allie is my daughter, not yours! And don't tell me that you have a daughter and you know what it would be like. I've seen Claire and Ciara running around, hugging everyone they see, talking about anything at a hundred miles an hour. They're smart and they're talented and they're loved and they know it. And then there's my kid, who hardly ever says a word and spends all her time worrying that someone's about to attack her."
Philip knelt to rescue the photograph from the shards of glass. He swore as he cut his finger, and stormed into the bathroom to rinse the blood away.
A few seconds later, Philip's cell phone began to buzz.
"Look at the caller ID and see if that's from New Orleans," Philip ordered.
Feeling slightly guilty for destroying the frame, Lucas obeyed. The caller ID showed an area code of 504. "It is," he called to Philip.
"All right. Shit! Answer it, will you?"
Lucas rolled his eyes. "Mr. Kiriakis' line," he said with as little sarcasm as possible. "This is his secretary."
"I thought this was Philip's cell phone," said a hard-edged female voice.
"It is. He's been called away—"
"He promised that this would be sorted out today. Tell him that Vieux Carre can find another publishing house—"
Suddenly, Lucas remembered why he'd known the New Orleans area code without thinking. Vieux Carre had been one of the first magazines Titan had ever published. The earliest issues had run alongside the earliest issues of Titan's own fashion magazine, Bella. "Marianne!" he exclaimed, now recognizing the voice of the editor. "Philip will be here in a few seconds. He didn't want to miss your call. I don't think you'd remember me, but I'm his brother, Lucas."
Marianne's entire tone changed. "Lucas! As if I could forget you, forget the way you let our bill slide those first months when our biggest advertiser pulled out. No one has ever been as generous or as creative since then."
"You say that to all your business contacts."
"Just you, Lucas, just you. I've always been grateful."
"All I did was know a good investment when I saw it. You were back in the black by the end of the year."
Philip returned with a band-aid around his finger and a calculating look on his face. Lucas made to hand him the phone, but Philip waved him off, then made a "keep going" gesture.
"Yes, we were. If only it were so easy to recover from our missteps in the current market."
"Are we taking about a particular misstep?"
There was a scornful laugh. "I don't need to tell you that most magazines are supported by their online content, and that the hard copies we print are printed at great expense and largely for their advertising value."
"I understand that."
"So when a publishing house misdirects an entire issue, the ramifications can last far beyond one month."
Lucas winced. "You have my deepest apologies, and my brother's. All of Titan's. And we can certainly discuss a more practical expression of our regret."
"Two free months with your compliments."
"One free month, since next month is the biggest month of the year, with extra compliments."
"Agreed."
Now Philip reached for the phone, and Lucas handed it over. He didn't listen as Philip finalized the deal; instead, he began to collect the broken glass from the floor and wondered how in the world he was going to help Allie. Therapy was a given as a starting point; Sami had never had enough professional help. Will would know someone trustworthy. But how could he keep Allie from refusing the way Sami had?
He dumped the glass in a wastebasket and sent the most repulsive text message he could imagine:
Will, we need a therapist who specializes in molested children.
He knew that he should have spoken to Will in person, like Philip had spoken to him. But he couldn't bring himself to look at his son, or even listen to his voice. It was bad enough that he would have to look at Allie and know what had been done to her because of his failures as a parent.
Eight-year-old Claire was still beaming happily from her carousel horse. Lucas tapped the fragile image with one finger.
"I'll get you a new frame," he said to Philip by way of goodbye.
"Don't worry about it."
Lucas reached for the door.
"Two things," said Philip when Lucas' hand was on the knob.
Lucas waited.
"First, when you're ready, we need to discuss you coming back to Titan."
"I don't need a pity job, Phil. Victor left me a pity inheritance, remember?"
Philip ignored him. "That account was GONE until you got a hold of Marianne. No one else is going to hire you because of that gap in employment history and because you're my brother and I'm very important."
Lucas didn't laugh. He was pretty sure that Philip wasn't joking, and that it was this attitude that led him into a shouting match with Billie every time they were in a room together.
"But you're valuable to me and to Titan. I can take the time to get the rust off of you because you have every reason to be loyal when you're up to speed. You're already calling Titan 'we.' And I need people who aren't afraid of me to argue with me in case I'm wrong. It's why I keep Billie around. But we'll discuss that when you have more of a handle on Allie's situation."
"Oh, we will?"
"We will. Second, if you ever want to talk about Allie, I'm here. I'm not going to pretend that I know what this is like for you, and you shouldn't pretend that I don't know what it's like to worry about a child."
Will, we need a therapist who specializes in molested children.
The sick feeling in Will's stomach was strange, but familiar.
He was used to bad news delivered in sterile, impersonal words. It was how he liked best to receive bad news, in fact; he was glad that Lucas had spared him his usual "face to face is best" routine.
Still, his stomach turned at the official notification that his worst fear for Allie was a reality.
(Well, strictly speaking, "sexually assaulted by EJ" had been pretty much third after "murdered by EJ" and "brainwashed into becoming a child assassin by EJ." But it still counted as worst.)
He sighed and pulled a hospital directory from a filing cabinet. Most psychiatrists he eliminated as too inexperienced, too indiscreet, or inappropriate for Allie. He was left with two adequate choices. Time to call in the second opinion.
One button to delete his father's message. Two more buttons to call his grandmother, in Switzerland or Sweden or wherever she and John were now.
Even though Marlena consulted on cases only rarely, she always knew everyone in the department of psychiatry. Sometimes, she knew more about what was going on there than Will did.
Will kept his questions vague; he didn't want his grandmother to guess that he was looking for a therapist for his sister. If Marlena wanted to know what was going on in Allie's life, she could come to Salem and meet Allie.
Her assessment of the finalists was the same as Will's; Dr. Medy, they agreed, was the best choice. Will went straight to Dr. Medy's office and asked that he take on Allie as a patient even though he was not officially accepting new patients. Will's request was granted. Even though he'd been a member of the hospital family for seven years, it seemed surreal to Will each time someone went out of his or her way for him.
Will texted Lucas:
Done.
Lucas glanced at Will's message and marveled at his son's knowledge and efficiency. Lucas had no doubt that Will had made the perfect decision. That was one thing he didn't have to worry about as he knocked on the closed door of Allie's newly decorated room.
"Come in," Allie answered.
TBC