I’m talking to myself in public
and dodging glances on the train
And I know, I know they’ve all been talking about me
I can hear them whisper
And it makes me think there must be something wrong with me
Out of all the hours thinking
Somehow I’ve lost my mind
– Unwell, Matchbox Twenty

---

Monday, January 8, 2018

Penthouse: Living Room

“I’m so glad that you decided to consider my case,” Sam said, handing the coffee to the dark-haired woman seated at the table. “After everything that happened last spring—”

Martina Morales managed a thin smile, stirring sugar into her coffee. “Yes, well, perhaps it would be better not to discuss my previous clients. I know you’re friendly with Carly and Sonny—”

“Not anymore.” Sam took a seat, congratulating herself on quickly finding a new attorney who not only had no ties or loyalties, but actively disliked the people she did know in Port Charles. Martina had briefly represented Carly and had unknowingly slept with Sonny. “I told you on the phone that I had a difficult legal situation.”

“Yes. I read over the previous filings. You were very nearly legally divorced in 2012, but Jason disappeared before the it was finalized,” Martina said. “Then, through some quirks of fate, you married a man who you believed to be Jason—but now you find yourself married to two men.”

“Yes. It certainly wasn’t the plan,” Sam said.

“No, but this isn’t as strange or uncommon as you’d think. The memory experimentation—” Martina picked up a pen. “That’s not something I’ve seen before. But people have gone missing and returned later to spouses and families who have moved on. I see your last attorney drew up divorce settlements for both men, but there’s no custody paperwork on your, ah, current husband. Andrew Cain.”

“Yes. My first husband,” Sam said, though the lie stuck in her throat as Jason was hardly her first husband—just the first under the identity of Sam McCall, “had dangerous ties to organized crime. And he has other, nearly as dangerous connections, to the Cassadines. He continues to be connected to them. There’s also some more upsetting history. We thought Danny was the product of—” Her throat tightened. “Sexual assault. Jason wanted me to have an abortion. He didn’t want Danny.”

“And according to the notes, he’s never been in Danny’s life, so it’s not as though you’re depriving either of them of a relationship.” Martina made a note. “And your younger child? Emily Scout?”

“I…Drew’s a good father.” Sam hadn’t thought that far ahead, and now when pressed, there was really only one route. “He’s a good father. Joint custody. I want him to keep Danny in his life.”

“Well, that would be up to you once we’ve reached a settlement with Jason Morgan. He’s the biological father—and the legal father.” Martina paused, looked at Sam. “Did your mother tell you about your daughter’s birth certificate and the problems it presents?”

“She said something about Jason being the legal father, but that it was just a matter of paperwork. Why?”

“Well, Drew Cain will have to file for paternity and Jason will have to terminate his legal rights. It’s a formality, but a necessary one.” She shuffled some of the paperwork. “I bring it up only to suggest that it can give us some leverage in some other aspects of the case. The financial demands you’ve made of your first husband.”

“I told you—that wasn’t negotiable, so if you’re not going to file against him—”

“It’s not my job to refuse or allow. I represent you. If you tell me you want sole custody of your kids, then I’ll find a way to make it work. I will be honest about our chances, but I won’t refuse to file.” Martina tapped a petition. “For example, the financial demands—we might find it difficult to get a judge to agree to most of them. But Drew might be able to pressure Jason into making a fair settlement to make that case go away so that he can get custody of his daughter.”

Sam frowned. “I don’t understand. They’re not related—”

“You could oppose Jason’s termination of parental rights. Insist on a paternity test that would give us two months at least.”

“But…I don’t need a paternity test. Everyone knows Jason didn’t come home until a few months ago. Drew is her father.” Sam shifted uncomfortably, folding her arms.

“I’m not saying it’s a sure thing, but you did say you wanted to get the best settlement from Jason that you could,” Martina reminded her. “A judge is not going to award you half with all the circumstances we have here. But if Jason wants this to go away, and to make things smoother for his brother to have custody…it’s up to you, of course, Sam.”

Sam wanted to make this painful for Jason, but she didn’t really want to drag Drew through all of this. Then again, if Drew knew Jason could make this go away and was refusing in order to protect the coffee business—would that drive a wedge between them? Or would they both just blame her?

“Why don’t I draw up two versions of the petition?” Martina suggested. “Give you some time to think it over. Divorce can be painful, Sam. Particularly a contested one. It’s a terrible situation you’ve got on your hands, through no fault of your own. No one would blame you if you took the original divorce settlement with a fair addition for your son.”

“Draw up both sets,” Sam said finally. “I… can’t just walk away from Jason. I mean, I can’t let him walk away like this. It’s not right. It’s not fair. I just…Drew doesn’t deserve this. I don’t know if I could do this to him. I need to be sure. Even if it gets me what I want in the end. I need to think about it.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

Port Charles High: Library

Cameron dropped into a chair next to his cousin and pulled out his laptop. “Hey.”

Spencer frowned. “You’re talking to me? Why?” He ignored the librarian glaring at them but lowered his voice as he continued to speak. “You were pissed at me on Friday.”

“I still am, and when you decide to apologize, I’ll let you off the hook. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about—”

“What makes you think I’m going to apologize?” Spencer folded his arms, looking like the sulking kid he’d been once. “Maybe you need to apologize.”

“Oh, when I’m done telling you what I did this weekend, you’ll change your mind.” Cameron flicked through his computer screens until he brought up his English paper to check it one more time. “I talked to my mom last night.”

Spencer frowned. “So?”

“I can’t guarantee results, but Mom said she’d talk to Grandma about the files. She’s on your side now.”

His cousin straightened, his eyes wide. “What? Wait. What?”

“I talked about it with Emma on Saturday. You’re still an asshole,” Cameron added, “and a selfish idiot, but you have a right to want to be involved. So I talked to my mom. Like I said, I can’t guarantee it’ll work, but it’s the best I can do.” Spencer fell silent, and Cameron fixed a missing word in a paragraph.

“Um, thanks.” Spencer cleared his throat. “I—I am sorry. By the way. About the other day. And I’m not just saying that. You can check with Trina. She kind of talked some sense into me. This isn’t your fight, and it’s not fair to make you feel bad about that. Or insult you for not doing what I want.”

“It is my fight,” Cameron said quietly. Their eyes met. “But you and I don’t have to agree on how to do win it. You want to read the files? I can try to help with that. But my only skin in this game is making sure there’s nothing left in my little brother’s head that can hurt him. I don’t need revenge, Spence, but I get why you do. So I’ll do what I can to help you get it.”

“Thank you,” Spencer repeated. “I mean that. And I’ll try not to be an ass the next time.”

“”Good luck with that.” Cameron said with a snort. “It’s such a natural part of your personality.”

ELQ: Michael’s Office

Ned knocked on the ajar door and held up a file. “Bad news. First round of construction permits were rejected—”

Michael rose quickly from his desk, his brow furrowed. “Which ones? For Central Avenue or—”

“The new development on the west side.” Ned frowned when Michael yanked the file out of his hands. “The city wasn’t satisfied that we’d fulfilled the environmental requirements. It’s not a big deal, just a setback for a few weeks—”

“We can’t afford a setback like that. We’re supposed to break ground on the water front in March. A delay on the west side—” Michael went to his desk, started to flip through his papers. “It’ll hold up everything else unless we get another crew, and the overages on that will—”

“Michael, relax. I’m making a few calls. We’ll have the environmental guys out there—” Ned came towards him. “I think you might want to think about delegating these kinds of projects — we have a development arm of the company—”

“I can handle it,” Michael cut in. “All right. Okay. I think we can make it work. If we can find a way to get the Courtland Street project back on schedule, that crew can start on the west side, and keep the hotel on track—”

“See? Problem solved—”

“Only if we can get Courtland Street under control.” Michael jabbed the intercom button. “Sarah, can you get me Jack Pohler on the phone. Thanks.” He looked back at Ned. “You know better. Your mother is looking over my shoulder. The last thing I need is her accusing me of screwing up these projects—”

“Mother has barely said a word about ELQ since she arrived—”

“That’s what concerns me.” Michael sat down, started to search through the folders on his desk. “Has she even said anything to you about why she’s still here? She came here to yell at me, and then nothing else beyond some snide remarks over breakfast.”

“I don’t know.” And that did worry Ned. A quiet Tracy was never good. “Besides, these kinds of things happen. We’ll move some things around. You should relax.”

“I will when Tracy goes back to Amsterdam.” Michael yanked up the phone. “Jack, yeah, we need to talk about Courtland Street.”

PCPD: Squad Room

Valerie tossed aside one set of reports and glanced at the clock. She’d been working hard for the last three hours — there was nothing wrong with taking a quick break.  And there was something that had been buzzing in her head since brunch with Kristina.

She turned to her work computer and booted up the criminal history database. She typed in Samantha McCall, waited for the computer to spit back what she needed —

Then her eyes were wide as she skimmed the different files that mentioned Sam’s name. Grand theft auto, solicitation, petty theft, fraud, suspected arson, witness in child abduction—

She selected the kidnapping report first, refreshing herself on the details. It was interesting to see the background, to understand some of the pieces Kristina couldn’t have known. And there was something about the whole thing that felt off to Valerie.

Amelia Joffe.

Valerie switched to the public records database and fed in the name, wondering why a television producer would see out Sam McCall to host a local television show.

Amelia’s father, Bill Monroe, had been married to Angela Monroe. And Angela Monroe had been acquitted of murdering him, having claimed self-defense. Something about that story sounded off to Valerie, so she pulled up a newspaper database and did a further search.

She clicked around the results until she found the relevant articles — and the picture attached. Well, hell. Valerie’s eyes widened as she took in a much younger Samantha McCall.

She ran Angela Monroe’s criminal history and found a list of aliases, none of which included Samantha McCall. No one had connected them, at least not officially. But there were four more names.

Cheryl Richards. Sandra McIntire, Susan Curtis, Linda Powell.

Valerie scribbled each name down, and wondered if Kristina knew what exactly lurked in her sister’s past, because it seemed like standing by while an infant was kidnapped was just the tip of the iceberg.

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