Written in 61 minutes.

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June 2000

“Four days.” Sonny slapped his hand on the bar. “And nothing. Not one attack on me, on you, on anything—” He clenched his jaw. “What the hell is he waiting for?”

It was late morning, and the interior of Luke’s was abandoned as it usually was this time of day. Since Jason’s exile to the island, Sonny had found himself there more often than not, and today he was out of patience.

“Stupid question, Corinthos.” Luke tapped his cigar against an ashtray. “He’s waiting for Jason to pop up like a rabbit so he can take another shot.” He reached for the newspaper where the shooting last Friday night had been relegated to below the fold and bottom of the page. Nothing new to add or even to speculate. “We’ve known that from the beginning. I’m telling you, you go march into the Oasis, you pop him in the head, and bam! Problem solved!” He bit down on the cigar, then used both hands to open the paper. “Sale at Wyndham’s if you’re in need of a new grill.”

“Oh, you think plotting the assassination of a rival is so easy—” Sonny made a face, then picked up his drink. “You know, you didn’t even kill that one guy. He fell into that stupid machine and froze himself to death, so it’s not like you’re an expert—”

“Yeah, but the rest of world thinks I’m a hero,” Luke said, with a grin. “Catapulted me right into the mayor’s office—”

“Which you promptly resigned the second Laura came home, a blessing to us all. I’m glad I didn’t live under the political reign of Luke Spencer.” Sonny shuddered.

“Right? I must have been drunk when I agreed. All jokes aside.” Luke set both the cigar and newspaper aside, then folded his arms, leaning his elbows against the bar. “We’re going to do it this, right? It’s just a matter of time before Moreno decides to make a bigger stand. You were always going to have to exterminate him. Let’s just get it done and move on.”

“I…” Sonny pressed his lips together. “I am. But the problem with tossing out Moreno, I got that little bitch Sorel right after him—and there’s Mickey Roscoe, too. I cut one down, another one pops right up.” He scratched his chin. “So I gotta think about what comes after and be prepared. Or I set something up that eliminates the entire trio, sending that entire organization into chaos so I can pick up the pieces. Something like that, Luke, can’t be planned overnight.”

“No, I suppose not.” Luke straightened. “And not in the next week or so. What’s the plan for when Jason’s well enough to come back? He goes right back to being a target, along with anyone standing near him. Unless you can figure out how to keep him away.”

“Do you have anything to offer other than obvious statements?”

“Nope.”

“I need new friends.”

—

“This isn’t real food.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and plucked the plate from Jason’s grasp. “Didn’t stop you from eating it,” she called over her shoulder as she headed into the kitchen area. “Dr. Santiago said—”

If he heard that name one more time, Jason was going to put his fist through the wall, he thought, leaning back against the arm of the sofa. He was pretty sure that Elizabeth had taken notes or recorded the resort doctor when he’d come that morning to check his stitches and condition.

The fever was gone, and he wasn’t as tired, so he’d been upgraded from staying in bed all day to lying on the sofa all day, and if he was careful maybe a short walk to the water and back. No spicy foods, nothing that might agitate his digestion with the medication he had to take—

“Maybe for dinner, I’ll ask the resort to send down the nachos you liked the last time we were here.”

Jason opened his eyes to see Elizabeth standing at the foot of the sofa, biting her bottom lip and looking a bit hesitant. “What?”

“Well, the doctor said no spicy foods, but if they make it without the peppers, it could be okay. I could look at the menu again and you know, since you own the place—”

“Own shares,” Jason muttered reflexively.

“—they probably wouldn’t mind some modifications. I know you hated the soup the last few days. And the oatmeal. And the rice wasn’t a hit,” she said, looking towards the kitchen. “It’s just—”

“I’m not mad at you,” he interrupted. He sat up again, wincing slightly. “I’m mad at whoever shot me. I hate sitting around. I hate not doing anything.” He dragged a hand down his face, irritated with himself. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Elizabeth said, shrugging. “Hey, you wanna try the walk the doctor said you could do? It’s better than nothing.”

“Yeah, sure.” Jason braced a hand on the arm of the sofa to push himself to his feet, wincing at the pain in his side. He exhaled slowly when he was finally standing up. “Do you want to come with me?”

“Um, sure.” Elizabeth kicked off the sandals she’d been wearing.

“You don’t have to—you can stay and paint. You probably want a break from me.” He inched towards the terrace doors, determined to make it to the water and back without needing a break.

“You sure you don’t want a break from me?” she asked doubtfully.

He paused at the terrace door, looked back at her with a frown. She stood near the sofa, her arms folded low across her abdomen, and she was looking at the floor. He’d been ridiculous, he thought, complaining like a baby about things neither of them could control. “Yeah. Come on. We could both use a break from the house.” He held out his hand, and she took it.

—

“Oh, no—” Emily ducked away from the doorway of Kelly’s, turned and gripped Juan’s shirtfront. “You have to hide me—”

Juan looked past her, saw Audrey Hardy beyond the glass doors, then sighed at his girlfriend. “She might not ask you questions.”

“She’s only left three messages for Elizabeth since she left, and I don’t have a good cover story. Quick.” Emily shook him slightly. “Help me come up with one.”

“Have you tried — your granddaughter is a legal adult, and it’s none of your business where she is as long as she’s alive?”

Emily’s eyes rounded in horror. “No! No! Are you insane! If I talked to Audrey Hardy like that, my grandfather would murder me where I stood! Oh, you’re worthless,” she muttered. She collapsed at a table in the courtyard. “Isn’t there something else I could tell her? Anything else?”

“Emily.” Juan sat down. “You could tell her the truth which is that Elizabeth is off on a tropical island with your brother.”

“How do you know that? I didn’t tell you that!”

“I’m not a child, you know. I grew up around this stuff,” Juan reminded her. “Jason gets shot at, Liz is with him. They disappear off the face of the Earth. You told me yourself the island is where Jason goes when he wants to be away from people.” He paused. “You could tell Mrs. Hardy the truth, or you could go with reality which is that it’s none of her business and not your job to play Liz’s keeper.”

Emily folded her arms on the table, then put her head down. “There’s a third option. I’ll expire from anxiety right here in the courtyard, and I won’t have to worry about this at all.”

“Well, it would solve the problem. Creates new ones,” Juan added, “but it would take the current one off the table.”

She raised her head slightly to glare at him. “You’re not helpful.”

“Have you also thought maybe we could just leave and avoid the whole confrontation?” Juan asked.

“Yes! Yes! That’s exactly what we’ll do! See, I knew you’d come up with something.” Emily lunged to her feet, dragged Juan up with her, then squeaked when the door opened, and Audrey stepped out, a brown bag in hand.

“Hello, Emily. I—I’d hoped to see Elizabeth with you.” Audrey lifted her brows. “She never seems to be around when I’m trying to speak to her.”

“Oh, weird. She hasn’t called you back or anything?” Emily asked, hoping that she sounded cool, calm, and collected. And not like a squeaky mess.

“Oh, I heard from her this morning. But just strange how it’s always a call back. Almost as if she’s screening her calls.” Audrey pursed her lips. “And I always seem to just miss her at the pool house or the studio.”

“Wild. Timing is just…strange, right? And Liz is just crazy distracted right now. You heard about the show, I mean. She’s spending all her energy on that. Long hours, but lots of breaks,” Emily said.

Audrey stared at her, then cleared her throat. “And oddly enough, I took my car to your brother’s garage for an oil change. It’s closed.”

“Really? I think maybe he had things to do with the warehouse. You know, the garage is just a hobby, really.” Emily put her arms behind her back. “I can call him. Find out when a good time would be.”

“No matter.” Audrey headed for the parking lot, and just when Emily thought she was in the clear, the older woman turned. “When you speak to Elizabeth next, please remind her that she is an adult who is quite capable of choosing her own friendships, and that there’s need to hide from me. I’m certainly not going to disown her for being, ah, friendly, with your brother.”

“Could be so much worse,” Juan said, and grunted when Emily elbowed him. “What? Getting back together with Lucky would be worse.”

“That’s true, Mr. Santiago. I would characterize that as a much poorer choice. It’s lovely to see you, Emily. You look awfully pink. Make sure you’re using sunscreen.”

And with that, Audrey was gone.

——

Jason made it down to the shoreline, though he was unhappy that he’d broken into a slight sweat to get down there, and needed to sit down instead of starting back up to the house. He hated this — he’d hated it after the accident, when he’d been shot three years earlier—every time he had no choice but to sit down and be still for hours at a time—

It made him want to crawl out of his skin.

He stretched out his legs, close enough to the water so that the waves gently lapped at the bottom of his feet when the waves came in. Elizabeth sat next to him, tucking the ends of her light breezy skirt beneath her. She tilted her face towards the sun, her eyes closed, hair cascading down her back. His fingers itched to touch it, but he kept them at his sides. The last thing he needed was to start something he couldn’t finish.

“I could get used to falling asleep with the sound of the ocean,” she murmured. “Not one of those stupid sound machines, you know? Or the cassettes you can get. But the real sound of the waves.”

“Yeah, it’s okay.”

She opened her eyes, looked at him, tilting her head to the side so that those curls fell across the shoulder left mostly bare by the tank top she wore. “We need to come up with things you can do until the doctor clears you for more. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sit still for so long.”

Jason wrinkled his nose, then looked out over the ocean. “It reminds me of the hospital,” he muttered. “After the accident. I couldn’t move anywhere. Couldn’t leave my room. Then it was just to talk to doctors. I can be still,” he added. “I used—” He looked down, drew his fingers through the sand. “I used to stand with Michael in front of the windows for hours, listening to him sleep.”

“Ah, that makes sense. I’m sorry. I know this isn’t my fault, and that it’s not my job to entertain you or whatever, but I’m still sorry you’re so unhappy.”

He lost the battle with himself, reaching out to touch one of the curls brushing against her arm. “I’m not unhappy,” Jason corrected. “Just impatient. Don’t worry about me, okay? I want you to concentrate on your art. On the things you’d be doing if you were back at home.”

“Well, ironically, since I’m a waitress, serving you meals is what I’d be doing back at home,” she teased.

“Oh, yeah?” He arched a brow. “Am I supposed to be tipping you?”

“Oh, for sure, and I’m keeping a ledger, so don’t try to weasel out of it later.” She tapped her temple, and he laughed.

“Fair enough. Maybe I should make a down payment on what I owe you.” He leaned forward, brushed his lips gently against hers, then drew back slightly took find her eyes on his. She smiled hesitantly, and then he kissed her again, softly, lingering. Her fingertips brushed his jaw when he moved back.

“That’s a good start,” she murmured, her lips curving into a deeper smile. “A very good start.”

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