Author Anon

“Long time no see,” says Stephanie.

“I”m surprised to see you back in town,” says David.

“David, we need to talk,” says Stephanie.

“Normally, I would have no objection to that, and more,” says David. “But right now I don’t have the time.”

“David, I need your help. And you owe me one.”

“What? I don’t recall you ever doing me any service that was not repaid in kind,” says David.

Stephanie looks at him accusingly. “You must have known all this time that Lucas was your son.”

“I suspected, but when the paternity test came back that Michael was the father, I just shrugged it off.”

“The test was doctored,” says Stephanie. “The samples were tampered with. They used your blood, not Michael’s.”

“How was that possible?” asks David.

“You don’t recall the huge blood drive for disaster relief? Your mother organized it and you all donated blood. The tech who took your blood substituted it for Michael’s.”

“And why did he do it? Don’t tell me you offered him favors for his services. Did you?”

“Never mind that. You are Lucas’s father.”

“First of all, I don’t believe you. Who was this tech? Can you give me his name? Secondly, why did you bother with suing Michael for paternity?”

“I felt Michael, with his strong moral sense of duty and responsibility would make a better father than you.”

“But when he demanded a retest, you skipped town. You could have sued me then, but you didn’t.”

“Your mother threatened me. She offered me money to leave.”

“My mother is not here to defend herself! Don’t you dare blame her for your actions.”

“But it’s true!”

“Michael was her godson and she probably favored him more. Why did she not stop you from harrassing him?”

“She didn’t know about the blood test. She believed Michael was the father and she wanted me away from him.”

“Why are you back? Because she’s dead?”

“No!,” cries Stephanie, deflated. “I’m broke and I need your help.”

“What?! Michael has been paying paternity. You should have been able to support yourself.”

“I could have, but I was being blackmailed.”

“By the supposed tech?”

“Yes, and he is not supposed. He followed me to Florida. Most of the child support money went to him. The amount kept escalating and I couldn’t keep up anymore. When I heard your mother died, I felt it was safe to return.”

“Who is this guy? For all I know, he could be the father, not me.”

“If you saw Lucas, you would know he was your child. He deserves to be raised amongst the other Golde grandkids.”

“Don’t be too quick to assume that just because I might be his father, he would be accepted into the family fold. You know nothing about us. What is the guy’s name?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Again, I don’t have time to play games. If you want me to believe you and help you, you’re going to have to tell me his name.”

“Damian. Damian Stone.”

They hear footsteps approaching the front door. The doorbell rings.

“Quick. Go out the back way,” says David, leading Stephanie out. He goes to answer the front door.

An angry Blanche walks in. “You are a difficult man to track down,” says Blanche. “I’ve been looking for you all day.”

“What can I do for you, Blanche? I hope you don’t mind my rushing you, but I am expecting someone.”

Blanche looks around to see the dim lampshades and the champagne cooling. “I see that.”

“If you please.”

“I understand you met with my daughter late last night.” Blanche stops to check his reaction. David is stock still. “I caught her stealing into her room.”

“So you know what we discussed.”

“Yes, and I feel that it is in my whole family’s best interest that none of that information becomes public knowledge.”

David laughs. “This is not New York City. Tom and Lucy were bound to meet somehow.”

“Not if I kept her in the house.”

“Like a prisoner?” asks David.

“No worse than the group home.”

“But don’t you think of the impact to me?” asks David.

“Of course. It was exactly what I felt when I first looked at Eileen,” says Blanche. “That’s why I implore you not to say anything to anyone.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” says David. “I need to know how this will affect Eileen, all of us. Keeping it bottled up causes too much mental strain. I’ve never been a big believer of keeping secrets.”

“Then I’m afraid I will have to persuade you in other ways,” says Blanche, pulling out a gun and pointing it at him.

David looks at her nervously. “Now, Blanche. Violence will not solve anything. Besides, I am expecting someone. She may turn up any minute not.”

“But she doesn’t know I’m here. I need some guarantee that my family secrets are not going to leak out.”

“You can’t stop that now,” says David, slowly advancing towards her. He stretches his hand up to her. “Give me the gun and we’ll see how to work this out.”

Blanche backs away from David. “There is no other way now. Talking won’t help. You can’t promise to keep quiet, and besides, I wouldn’t take your word for anything.”

“So you’d rather kill me?”

“If I have to, yes.”

David jumps at her and grabs her arm just as she crashes into the end table and knocks off the lamp. They both fall over in the dark room and Blanche feels the gun fall out of her hand. As she struggles to get up, a loud shot rings out. David gasps, then falls on top of Blanche. She screams and pushes him aside. Getting up, she hears running footsteps outside. As her eyes adjust to the dark, she bolts through the nearest door and finds her way out the back.

Amanda goes up to the door and rings the bell. After a couple minutes, she rings again. She looks through the window at the silent, dark room beyond. Getting an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, she turns the doorknob and it opens.

“Hello!” she calls. “David? Are you here?” She walks in, feeling for a light switch. After flipping several switches, the hall light comes on. She looks around to see a disordered room and someone lying on the floor. She rushes to him. “Oh my God, David,” she cries. Seeing a gun near him, she moves it out of the way. She checks his pulse and breathing. “Thank God, you’re still alive.” Looking around, she sees a phone, reaches for it and dials 9-1-1.

Filed under: All That Glitters