Ch25

"Where were you?" Miller demanded as soon as Brooks entered the house, his blond waves matted against his damp forehead.

Brooks reached behind and grabbed a small cloth that was hanging from the back of his shorts and wiped it against his moistened hairline. "I went for an early morning jog," he said in defense, his breathing still heavy from the run. "What's the matter, is everything okay? How's Claire?"

Miller let out a frustrated huff. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap. She's fine, she slept all night, barely even moved." Miller ran his hand through his hair in agitation. There were too many things going on at once! Marie and Claire, the magazine, and now this meeting they were supposed to go to at Oliver's house. What was that even about? He said he'd be able to help their current situation, but that seemed unlikely. No one would be able to help him. "You're planning on going to the meeting later, right?"

Brooks walked into the kitchen and Miller followed. He watched as Brooks grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and swallowed it down in one long, thirsty gulp. "I'm planning on it," he finally answered, throwing the empty bottle into the trash. "I have nothing to lose."

"I can't imagine what he thinks he can do to help," Miller wondered out loud, rubbing his fingers to his forehead. "Unless he's able to take every single issue of that magazine off the shelves . . ." he said, his voice trailing off. "Do you want to go together? Anna promised to go with Claire to the doctor, her appointment is around the same time as the meeting so she won't be able to attend."

He'd barely spoken with Claire since the day before when she had confronted him with the pictures in the magazine. He planned to just lay low until after the meeting, then would tell her everything. There was no point in making her more upset than she already was, and he didn't need to get her all worked up before seeing the doctor. Whatever virus she had come down with sure was wreaking havoc. He wasn't used to seeing Claire this way. She might be soft-spoken but she was a rock, stronger than most people gave her credit for. Watching her now, growing more fragile by the day, was upsetting. He just hoped the doctor would be able to do something! After the meeting, he would make everything right with her. He would come clean about Marie and then take care of Claire the way he knew he needed to. It bothered him that he'd been too distracted to notice how sick she'd become, he should have been more attentive to her. If anything ever happened to her, he didn't know what he would do . . .

"Sure, why not," Brooks shrugged. He hesitated slightly before speaking again. "Hey, um, now that we're alone . . . Who was that girl in the pictures with you? Why were you with her?"

Miller plopped down into a counter stool and rested his face in his hands for a moment before finally looking Brooks in the eye. "I met her while I was doing research for Runaway," he confessed, the weight of his secret lifting slightly from his shoulders. He'd kept Marie to himself for so long it felt good to finally let it out. "I've been hanging out downtown for the past seven months pretending to be homeless. I wanted to see how they lived, to get a better idea of what life would be like."

"You've what?" Brooks shrieked incredulously, his voice bouncing off the kitchen walls. "That was a bloody dangerous stunt, dontcha think? I mean, what if something happened to you?" he demanded, a mixture of disbelief and anger written across his face.

Miller shrugged, "I was always careful, or at least I tried to be." He shook his head sadly. "Her name was Marie and I met her my first day out there."

"So . . . what?" he asked, dumbfounded. "Were you in love with her?"

"No!" Miller said, his eyebrows hitching together in annoyance. "Not in that kind of way, anyway. She was just a kid."

"I don't understand then. Why were you hugging her in the pictures? Why are you so upset? It's not as if you were invested."

"But I was invested," he said, his voice cracking with emotion. "She was a good kid, she had a rough life. I wanted to help her. I wanted to get her off the streets, but I was too late."

Brooks face softened. "So, you weren't in love with her, but you did love her?"

Miller sighed deeply as he fought to control his tears. "I really cared about her," he admitted quietly. "She was like a little sister. I wanted to save her, but I couldn't. It's my fault she's dead."

Brooks sat down in the seat next to him. "It's not your fault, man. You didn't force her to overdose."

"No, I didn't. But I knew something was up with her, she started to act differently. I should have forced her to come with me to a shelter, or a hospital. I should have made her listen."

"You know something? I've had some experience with making bad decisions. And even though I knew they were bad, I'd chosen to do them anyway. No amount of pleading on anyone's part would have changed my mind, I had to learn on my own. This is not your fault. There are resources out there she could have turned to, she didn't have to live on the streets."

"I don't know," Miller said, staring down an his hands as they rubbed nervously together in his lap. "She said she tried to go to a shelter once and ended up having her belongings stolen. She had a hard time trusting people after that."

"But she could have tried another shelter. Hell, she could have went to a church! She chose to live on the streets—you can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved," Brooks suggested wisely. 

That might be true, but it was too difficult to think about. Knowing Marie could have received helped if she'd only tried a little harder. . . Miller sighed heavily and leaned his cheek into his fist against the counter-top. "What about you?" he asked, changing the subject. "Are you worried about the pictures? I hear Jonathon Walters is a bear when it comes to his daughter."

Suddenly, Brooks' face crumbled and he looked away. "Yeah, well, I have a lot more to worry about then Jonathon Walters. Although, apparently he's out there looking for me as we speak."

"What're you talking about?"

This time, it was Brooks' turn to sigh. "Brianna Walters called me yesterday, I don't even know how she ended up with my phone number," he announced, shaking his head. "She said she's pregnant."

Miller's eyes went wide. "What? Are you kidding me?"

"I wish I was."

"You know," Miller said, "That baby might not be yours. Who's to say you were the only guy she slept with?"

"You know, that's the thing. I wasn't the only guy she slept with."

"Well, then, there's a chance you're not the father!"

"Yes, but there's a strong chance I am," Brooks concluded indignantly. "It just makes me realize how stupid I've been, how careless. What if I am the father, huh? What kind of dad would I make?" Brooks pushed both hands through his damp hair, a look of discontent covering his face. "I don't want to be a dead-beat. That kid deserves a father, not some bum like me. Not only that, but my mum would be a nan and my dad a grandad!" he realized with an ill-hearted chuckle. "They're gonna freak."

Miller watched his friend in quiet awe. This was not the Brooks he knew. The Brooks he knew wouldn't have cared either way. He would have paid the girl off and not given two shits about the baby. "You're not a bum," he said firmly. "Just the fact that you're worried about the baby's well-being proves that. You'd make a great dad."

"Yeah?" he asked with skepticism. "Try telling that to Jonathon Walters."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

What could Oliver McGee possibly want? It's been so long!

Juliana had been debating going to the meeting ever since she received the text message and since she didn't have Ashton to conspire with about it, she'd been at a loss. She'd even tried to get a hold of Claire, but reception near their new house in Malibu was sketchy at best. Dropped calls, missed texts, it was as if they were living in Timbuktu! Even Brooks wasn't returning her texts, which left her feeling paranoid. Juliana suddenly felt the way she did when she'd first moved to California all those years before, unsure of herself and completely alone. She'd been so desperate for someone to talk to, she actually called Vivian to tell her about the meeting, who of course responded exactly how Juliana imagined she would, put-out and pissed off.

It couldn't hurt to go and see what he has to say, she reasoned. I've made such a mess of my career as of late, maybe he would be able to help out in some way. Although, she wasn't quite sure how. It would take a miracle to to fix the disaster she'd gotten herself into this time. She sat on the balcony of her penthouse suite and contemplated her next move. Absentmindedly, she clutched her sweater closer to her body, barely aware of the unseasonable chill that had blanketed itself over L.A. Heavy clouds hung overhead, casting a dull gray shadow to everything around her.

It'd been a long time since she'd visited the McGee estate in Point Dume. She'd never been a big fan of it. It had always seemed so big and cold, positioned near the edge of the cliff, the icy waves of the Pacific crashing violently against the rocks underneath. The house was shaded by large trees, so many that they never let the sunlight in through the windows. The rooms were always dim and quiet. It felt more like a museum than a residence, Juliana never did understand why a family would want to live there. She looked up at the darkening skies and realized with a shutter that the storm rolling in would just add to the dreariness.

Maybe that's why Oliver's youngest daughter was so strange. Growing up in a house like that had to leave some kind of creepy impact. She remembered working with the girl on Paradise Cove. She'd always been a bit odd, kept to herself, not at all like her older sisters who were both lively and vivacious. Why Oliver had given her a part on the show had always been a mystery to her, and to everyone else. She just didn't fit it. Natalie, that was her name. Juliana remembered the girl had a crush on Brooks. She was always staring at him with her small, beady eyes. On the final day of filming she'd found the courage to ask Brooks out, but he'd turned her down, pretending it would be weird because of her father. Juliana remembered he'd confided in her afterward.

I wonder if she'll be at the meeting? Juliana figured she would be, after all the text had apparently gone out to the former cast-mates of Paradise Cove.

How is it that almost every single one of us ended up in that magazine? None of it made any sense. Maybe that's what Oliver wanted to talk about? The timing was awfully peculiar.

I need to know if Ashton is going. Maybe I'll just send her a text? Juliana pulled out her phone and held it between her hands for several moments, nervously weighing the pros and cons. She might respond to a text at this point before a phone call.

Deciding she had nothing to lose, Juliana pulled up her contacts and began punching in a message.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

"Ashton," came Marilyn Montgomery's familiar clipped tone. "I'm in town and would like to see you. We need to discuss your recent . . . extracurricular activities," she stated tersely over the phone.

Ashton felt the blood rush from her face. Her mother had obviously seen the pictures in the tabloid and was not happy about it. "Of course mom - I mean, Marilyn," she replied nervously, remembering that her mother hated being refereed to as anything maternal, claiming it made her feel old. "You could come by my house if you'd like - you've never seen it before. What time do you want to meet?"

"I'm staying at the Beverly Wilshire. I'd like you to be here at four o'clock sharp," she said, ignoring her daughter's invitation. "And Ashton, please don't be late. I have dinner plans."

Will Claire finally confess she's pregnant? Find out in Chapter 26!

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(Chapter 25 approx. 2,100 words)