Chapter Three: Business As Usual
Justus' office
"'Rissa!" Justus called, flipping through several files on his desk. He stood up, walking around his desk, moving several piles of paper but obviously not finding what he wanted.
A young Hispanic woman stuck her head in the door, regarding him with amusement. "You bellowed?" she asked, taking a bite out of the apple she held in one hand.
"What?" He looked up, sharply. "No, I just--" Justus broke off, then grinned reluctantly, seeing the look in her eyes. "Sorry. Have you seen the Darrien Smalls file?"
Marissa moved around the doorframe, extending the other hand towards him, missing file in hand. "I grabbed it this morning before you came in to go over the background history. It's done." She handed it to him, with a smart grin.
Justus clasped the folder to his heart with a dramatic groan. "This office is going to fall apart without you, 'Ris. Tell me it's all a nightmare, and you're not leaving us."
She laughed, placing her hands deliberately on her bulging belly. "Twelve weeks. Then Alejandro's taking his paternity leave with the PCPD, and I'll be back part-time. You can manage for twelve weeks."
"Ha. Sez you," Justus grumbled, teasingly. "Alex is a lucky man."
"And, I make sure he knows it," Marissa grinned. She patted Justus on the arm then turned to go, pausing only as she reached the door. "Oh! Almost forgot," she fished around in the pocket of her brightly printed skirt and pulled out a small piece of paper triumphantly. "Jaime took a call for you earlier from an older man, said he was your grandfather?" she lifted a dubious eyebrow and handed him the message. "He said he'd stop by later this morning."
"My grandfather?" Justus examined the message, as if the scrap of paper would hold all the answers. "Thanks 'Ris," he said, absently, seating himself behind his desk as she left the room.
This was the third time the old man had called in as many days. It was like his attendance at AJ's wedding had opened a door that he'd kept firmly shut for the past several years. Justus was fairly certain that this was not a good thing; his sanity and his inclusion in the bosom of the Quartermaine family did not seem able to exist on the same plane. However, he had to admit curiosity. Edward's demeanor -- there was something different about it, something Justus just couldn't quite put his finger on.
Justus lifted his head as he heard rising voices outside his office door, letting out a small laugh of disbelief. It was as if the power of his thoughts had called up the man himself. He counted, silently. 'Four...three...two...'
His office door burst open. "Justus!" Edward stormed in, Marissa Garcia close on his heels. "Will you tell this very persistent young woman that I am your *grandfather* and that I do not need an appointment to speak to my own grandson?" he demanded.
Justus lifted a calm eyebrow, not speaking long enough for the silence to grown uncomfortable. Finally, he leaned forward, a broad grin on his lips, directing his comment not to Edward, but Marissa. "It's alright, 'Ris, I'll take care of him."
Edward watched her leave, glaring, then turned back to Justus. "You know, Justus, I have always said that a business is only as strong as it's weakest employee." He sat down, carefully. "That secretary of yours needs to brush up on her people skills."
How did he do this? How did Edward manage to get under his skin with the very first sentence the old man uttered? "She's not a secretary, she is the office manager. And, the best paralegal in Port Charles. And, if I'm particularly fortunate, in six months when she takes the bar exam, she'll become my partner." He realized he was gritting his teeth and carefully unclenched his jaw. Justus sat down behind his desk, more than aware of the distinct position of power it gave him. "What do you want, Edward?"
Edward flashed an innocently wounded smile at Justus. "Can't a man stop by to visit his grandson?"
Justus raised an eyebrow. "You never have before. And, somehow I doubt you were just 'dropping through' this neighborhood. Not exactly your speed."
"It's not exactly yours either, young man," Edward bristled. "I don't know what you're trying to prove, Justus, but Courtland Street is not the place for a Quartermaine! Or," he spoke over Justus' protests, "a Ward."
"This is where my clients are, Edward. I'm not the DA anymore." He gestured at his window. "This neighborhood, it's who I work for. Edward," Justus sat forward, leaning across his desk, "if you've come here to talk me into going back to the DA's office, save it. It is never going to happen."
Edward looked like he wanted to argue but suppressed the desire. "You've made a decision." He rested his palms against Justus' desk. "It may not be a decision I agree with, but you are a man. A man makes his own decisions and makes up his own mind. I can be proud of that."
Justus stared at the man sitting across from him for a long, wordless minute. "Thank you, Edward," he said, finally, warily. "But, I'm not sure how you want me to respond to that."
Edward reached in his breast pocket and pulled out an envelope. He dropped it on his grandson's desk as he stood up. "It's an invitation. To the next ELQ board meeting. I hope you'll be able to make it, son."
"You came all the way out here to hand deliver an invitation?" Justus picked up the envelope, turning it over and over again in his hand.
"And, to tell you how much it means to me that you be there. You may have turned your back on us, Justus. But we still love you. That is why I came all the way down here." Edward looked at his grandson, buttoned his jacket, and with an odd kind of dignity, left the office.
L&B
"And, last, but most definitely not least, the heart of L&B," Ned spread his hand about the room and grinned at Dillon. "The recording studio. This is where the magic happens."
Dillon prowled the room, trailing his fingers over an instrument panel. "Why do you always do that, man?" he asked, not bothering to look at his brother.
"Do what?"
"Talk like that." Dillon turned a couple of knobs then lifted his head. "It's like you're in some cheesy '80s movie or something. 'This is where the magic happens'?" He snickered. "Ned. No one says that."
"Sorry," Ned's grin was slightly embarrassed. "I guess I get a little carried away when it comes to L&B." He spread his hands wide. "What do you think?"
"I think it's a recording studio. Kinda small," Dillon shrugged.
Ned sighed, deeply. "What I'm trying to ask you, Dillon, is if you'd like a job. Here." Dillon looked up sharply. "Look, you've got spare time after school, and I have a feeling neither ELQ nor the mansion is where you'd like to be spending your time. So, I'm offering L&B as an alternative. We could use a good intern."
Dillon scowled, turning away. "I can find things to occupy my time on my own, thanks. I'm not your damn charity case, Ned."
"No," Ned put his hand on the boy's shoulder, turning him around, "you're not. You're my brother, Dillon. And, I'm trying--"
"Ned?" A young man stuck his head in the door. He smiled apologetically. "Sorry to interrupt but it's the call from San Francisco. You told me to let you know when it came in."
"Thanks, I'll be right there." Ned turned to Dillon. "Ten minutes. And, then we'll continue this conversation, okay?"
"Whatever." Dillon sat down unconcernedly in the controller's chair, leaning back, a completely bored expression on his face. Once the door closed behind Ned, he stood up and began making a circuit of the room. The posters on the walls of the studio caught his eye, and he walked over to take a closer look.
Dillon passed by the posters of Miguel Morez and Juan Santiago disinterestedly; he paused in front of a framed black-and-white photograph of Mary Mae Ward, tapping the glass softly with a fingertip. After a moment, he moved on and came to a full stop in front of the next poster. It was a simple design, a midnight blue background with a young woman's head and torso and the one word, Jessica, written in bold white script across the bottom. Her blond hair was tousled about her face, and her blue eyes -- something about her eyes made sense to Dillon. He picked up a sheaf of music resting underneath her poster and pulled the chair he'd been sitting in over, straddling it from behind. His foot tapped softly, as he pored over the pages. "...and just because i'm on my knees/that does not mean that I believe..."
He made a face, and lifted his head from the music, looking around the studio. Spotting his brother's guitar in the corner, Dillon grabbed it and sat back down, laying out the pages at his feet. He struck a couple of experimental chords, then slowly began to finger through the melody, his voice soft, but gaining strength.
"and just because i'm on my knees that does not mean that i believe i'm only doing everything that everyone expects of me
Nothing kills me i can live through anything that you can dish so why not one more dagger, darling Don't I look like I can take it?*"
He strummed through the next few chords with ease, not noticing he had an audience until Ned started applauding broadly from the doorway. Dillon's head shot up, and he stopped playing immediately, his face reverting back to it's habitual scowl.
Ned took a couple of steps into the room. "No, don't stop. Dillon, that was really very good." He looked over his brother's shoulder. "And, were you transposing piano music for the guitar?"
Dillon stood up, sharply, unslinging the guitar from his shoulder and gathering the music back into a messy pile. "Yeah, whatever." He propped the guitar back in it's corner and put the pile on the stand underneath the poster, where he'd found it. "Hey, Ned," he jerked his chin towards the poster, "who's she?"
"Jessica Vega. She just released her first CD last month, and sales are through the roof." Ned pulled a CD off the shelf, handing it to his brother. "Here, take one."
"Thanks," Dillon muttered, taking the CD, and exiting the studio quickly, without a backwards glance.
Ned watched him go, then strode over to the phone on the wall. He dialed a number, waiting impatiently for the person on the other end to pick up. "Lois! It's me, Ned...No, no, this isn't about Brooke. Listen, that conversation we were having about new talent....no, I know, that's what I'm saying." He glanced out the studio window, watching the door slam as Dillon walked out of L&B. "I think I've found him."
Sonny's PH
Sonny rubbed at his temples and stared down at his desk. He cracked his jaw, reaching for his ever-present coffee cup. The penthouse was too damn silent. He couldn't seem to make the progress reports on the new warehouse make any sense. He lifted his head and sighed, reaching for the remote, and pointed it at the stereo system, hitting play.
An old, bluesy tune filled the room, doing nothing for his mood, but it did dispel the silence. Sonny closed his eyes, took a deep breath and let it out, then looked down at the papers in front of him. He shuffled through them, doing his damnedest to focus on the words and columns of numbers. He was on page three of the twelve page report when he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head.
"What the--" His hand flew to his neck, and Sonny whirled around, his other hand shooting for his desk door. He jerked it back when he saw the woman standing in his doorway, eyes flashing furiously.
Alexis Davis strode over to his desk, bending over to pick up what she'd thrown at him. She extended her hand towards him, the object dangling from her forefinger. "What," she bit out, "is this?"
Sonny looked at her finger, then up at her face, a slight grin creasing his face. "Looks like a bracelet, Alexis."
"Yes. I know. That it is. A bracelet." Alexis spoke through gritted teeth. "The part where I get confused is why. Why are you buying me what is easily a three-thousand dollar diamond bracelet, Sonny?"
"Alexis. Counselor," he amended, looking up at her in obvious amusement, "I was just sayin' thank you. Next time, I'll remember you don't like diamonds, got it."
Alexis let the diamond and gold bracelet slide from her finger to pool on Sonny's desk. "There won't be a next time. You want to say thank you, you stand up, you walk out your door," she made a motion with her fingers, "you knock on mine. When I open it, you say 'thank you'. I say 'you're welcome'. And, that's how it works."
Sonny shoved back his chair, finally getting irritated. He stood up, his hands in his pockets, regarding the woman in front of him. "It was a token, Alexis. I don't know why the hell you're gettin' so bent out of shape about it."
"You don't?" She widened her eyes and spoke slowly. "Well, let me use really small words, just so you 'get it'. I," she pointed at herself, "cannot accept gifts from you," she pointed at him. "It's unprofessional, it's tasteless, and most of all, I don't want to. You can't buy friendship, Sonny. And, I don't like feeling like that's what you're trying to do."
"Who said I was buyin' anything from you, Alexis?" Sonny demanded, feeling his temper start to rise. "You did me a favor the other day, and I was trying to show you how much I appreciated it. Damn, remind me never do that again!"
"No, you were equating an act of friendship with gold and diamonds," she shot back, squarely. "I can't imagine that if Luke or Roy did you a favor, you'd go buy them pretty trinkets to hang around their necks!"
"Of course I wouldn't; you're a woman!" He winced, internally, as the words left his mouth. Bad move, Corinthos...
"Ohhh," he could practically see the steam rising from her head, "is that what I am? I'm so GLAD you could clear that up for me, Sonny, because I was confused. You see, I thought I was an attorney, a damned good attorney, who happens to be your neighbor and -- though I am starting to be ashamed to admit it -- on occasion, your friend. And, yes," Alexis' voice rose, "I am also a woman. Who has absolutely no desire to be bought for gold and diamonds by you or anyone else. If all of that, in combination is more than you can handle, Sonny Corinthos, then you might as well just take that bracelet and--"
"Well, I thought it was your voice I heard, Alexis." Both Alexis and Sonny whirled around as the voice interrupted from the doorway. Stefan gave a brief, undecipherable smile. "I apologize for the intrusion. Alexis," he looked at her, closely, "are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Stef--"
"How did you get in my penthouse?" Sonny rode over her words. Stefan was a convenient target, at the moment, for his frustration. Sonny strode to the door, elbowing past the other man. "Johnny!"
Alexis tapped two fingers against her mouth. "Sonny. I, uh, sent him downstairs. To track down the man who delivered...," she nodded at the bracelet.
"Now that that's settled," Stefan ignored Sonny completely. "Alexis, may I speak to you? Preferably, in private?"
"Who the hell do you think you are?" Sonny demanded, brusquely. "You barge into my apartment, interrupt my conversation with my attorney -- Alexis and I were in the middle of something, Cassadine."
Alexis stepped forward. "No, I think our business for today is over. And, as I believe I just got finished reminding you, I can speak for myself, Sonny." She turned to her brother. "I'll be in my apartment; you might want to wait a few minutes. I'm in something of a mood." She strode past both men, and a moment later, the slam of a door could be heard from across the hall.
Sonny strode over to his liquor cart, pouring a generous brandy. He turned around, draining the glass quickly. "Get out, Cassadine. You're not waitin' here."
Stefan lingered a moment in the doorway, smiling thinly at Sonny. "Mr. Corinthos, a word of advice. It would behoove you not to alienate people with whom you do business. My sister and myself, included."
Sonny's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?" he asked, slowly. "We don't do any business."
"Not yet, no. But one never knows when certain -- interests may coincide. It is a thing to remember." Stefan nodded, briefly. "Good afternoon, Mr. Corinthos." He walked out, closing the door silently behind him.
