by J. P. Bowie
“You are the party-pooper of all time,” Olivia said, dismissing her manager with a wave. “Don’t forget to call Peter and remind him I want to interview that Emily what’s-her-name, and the brother too, for the show when we’re down there next week.”
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“I’ll get right on it.” Brenda watched for a moment as Olivia pulled Luke’s head down to her breast and encouraged him to tease her nipple with his lips.
The two women’s eyes met for a moment, then Brenda looked away from Olivia’s mocking gaze and left the room.
“So, what d’you think?”
Nick looked up from the letters Brenda had faxed over. “I think we have two suspects.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Jeff stood and walked over to Nick’s desk. He perched himself on the edge and looked over Nick’s shoulder at the letter he held. “This one has a woman’s touch,” he said. “The phrasing is feminine.” He pointed to a line in the letter. ‘Such flagrant and cavalier indifference to the sensibilities of your audience is entirely unacceptable’. A man wouldn’t write that, would he?”
“Not a straight man, anyway.” Nick grinned up at him. “And this one, although the typeset is different, seems to come from the same person. Same terminology.”
“Right…” Jeff picked up another letter. “While this one…this one’s a lot rougher. ‘You better axe the pansies and homos from your show if you don’t want to burn in hell. God hates fags—and so should you’. Nice.”
“A woman could write that,” Nick said.
“But I’m guessing, not the same woman,” Jeff remarked walking back to his desk. “I’ll bet the cops are looking at this the same way.”
“You heard from Joe yet?”
“Not yet. I left him a message.” He gazed at the letter in his hand for a moment. “The religious aspect of both sets of letters is interesting. One threatens Olivia with hellfire and damnation…and you have to presume they mean when she dies of old age…while the other suggests a more immediate punishment. ‘I may have to take matters into my own hands’.”
“Yeah, that’s a definite threat…” Nick mused. “And, if it is a woman writing some of these, she’s the one making the threats.”
c h a p t e r 7
s
Emily smiled contentedly as she lay on the couch nestled in her husband’s arms. Dinner was over, the kids tucked up for the night, and for the moment at least, they were blessedly quiet. This, she thought, was as good a time as any to broach the subject of whether she should take part in Olivia’s interview with Peter and Jeff next week. Jerry listened quietly as she explained what Peter had told her.
“Well honey,” he said when she was through, “it has to be your decision. As long as it isn’t going to cause you pain to talk about it that openly, I can’t see any harm in it. It might do some good to others who have suffered in the same way, to hear how well you’ve come through it all.”
“That’s kind of what Peter said, too. I mentioned it to Anthony and he’s a bit more reticent about it. For one thing, he knows Mother watches that show and he said he’d feel really uncomfortable knowing she’d be watching and listening to him.”
“That would be difficult,” Jerry agreed. “How do you feel about that aspect of it?”
“Well, I was never close to her like Anthony. Frankly, after she was so willing to throw me to the wolves when my father was murdered, I tend to put any consideration I ever had for her to the back of my mind.”
“Can’t say I blame you for that.” Jerry kissed the nape of her neck and hugged her more closely to him. “You know how I feel about the old…uh, about her. I’m just glad she’s not around here to cast her poisonous shadow over Jer and Sarah. I don’t think I’d even want her touching them, ever.”
Emily sighed. She couldn’t blame Jerry for disliking her mother. He had been the victim of Patricia’s viciousness on more than one occasion, and had
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been appalled by her total lack of concern for both of her daughters’ safety and welfare.
“So, you wouldn’t mind if I talked to Olivia?”
“Not if you feel you want to,” Jerry replied. “I know Peter and Jeff won’t allow her to probe into areas you’re uncomfortable with. It’s good they’ll be there with you.” He groaned with impatience as the phone rang.
“I’ll get it,” Emily said, unwrapping herself from Jerry’s arms.
“If it’s a cold call, tell them I will sue for interrupting my trying to put the make on you.”
Giggling, Emily picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“You sound happy. Am I interrupting something?”
“Hi, Anthony. Yes, as a matter of fact—and Jerry says he may sue.”
“Sorry, Sis.”
“He’s just kidding—I think.” Emily sat down on the couch and leaned back into Jerry’s arms again. “What’s up?”
“I talked to Justin about that TV thing with Olivia Winters…”
“Oh yes?”
“He seems to think it might be a good thing for us to tell our story…you know, encourage other victims of abuse to rebuild their lives—and even be happy.”
“Yes, Jerry feels the same way…So, I think I’m going to do it.”
“Okay, then I will too.” He paused for a moment. “It’s just that it’ll be hard knowing Mom will almost for sure see the show.”
“I know, Anthony, I know. But, it just might help change her mind about everything.”
“If only I could believe that…Anyway, let Peter know, will you? I won’t keep you from your hubby any longer. Tell him ‘hi’ from me and Justin.”
“Will do. He says ‘hi’ back. Bye.”
“Bye, Sis.”
Emily sighed as she put the phone down. “It just burns me up that Mother has refused to ever see Anthony as long as he’s with Justin. She has to know it broke his heart when she gave him that ultimatum.”
“But, at least he made the right decision,” Jerry said. “He’s a helluva lot happier with Justin than he would be living alone with your mother, listening to her carping on about how you and Paula destroyed her life.”
“Can’t argue with that. Justin has been very good for Anthony. He’s opened up a whole new life for him, especially being a part of Justin’s family. He just J.P. Bowie
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raves about how wonderful Justin’s mom is. If only we could have had that same nurturing when we were growing up…”
Jerry tightened his arms around her. “But now you have your very own loving family around you. We’re going to make up for all the love you should have had.”
“You already have,” Emily whispered, her lips close to his.
“And we always will,” Jerry said, kissing her gently. “Little Jer, Sarah and me—your family.”
The show featuring Olivia’s bombshell announcement aired the day before she was due to meet with Peter and Jeff at their home in Laguna.
Peter and Eve watched it together in Eve’s apartment as Peter had hired a cleaning crew to go through the house with a fine-tooth comb before the interview scheduled for the next day.
“Wow,” Peter murmured. “The cops aren’t going to like that one bit. They already asked her to keep it quiet till they had some kind of lead.”
“How do you know that?” Eve asked, her eyes glued to the TV screen.
“Jeff talked to Joe French. They shared some ideas about who the writer might be.”
“Oh yes? Do they have someone in mind?”
“Not yet.” Peter smiled to himself. He knew he had only half his mother’s attention. “They think it might be Donald Duck.”
“Really?” Eve’s brow knitted in a slight frown. “Donald who…? Oh Peter!”
She laughed out loud. “I really was listening.”
“No, you were not,” Peter chuckled. “But that’s all right. Go right ahead and watch. I’ll shut up and let you enjoy
your Olivia fix.”
They watched the remainder of the show with conversation allowed only in the commercial breaks then Eve switched off the TV. “Well, that was interesting,” she said. “She is so different from the real-life Olivia, isn’t she?”
“You can say that again. She is, as Jeff so succinctly put it, a ball-buster.”
“But he’s taking the case?”
“With reluctance…I think he feels he has to, more or less—you know, with us being caught up in the publicity of the show and everything.”
“I’m surprised Emily and Anthony agreed to be interviewed.”
“That just might be a good thing,” Peter said. “They are so darned cute, the pair of them. I’m sure there will be a lot of people out there who will be able to J.P. Bowie
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relate to their experiences, and perhaps, will get some comfort from knowing there can be a good life after the horror.”
“If only it were true for everyone,” Eve sighed. “Sometimes, when I let myself think of what they went through for all those terrible years…it’s just too awful.”
“I know…I feel guilty sometimes—my childhood being so different from theirs. Having you and Dad so warm and supportive, no matter what craziness I got involved in. Always there for me…”
“Your father and I only did what parents should do for their children, Peter.” Eve looked at him with a fond expression. “You were never crazy,” she said, stroking his hair. “But, of course, Phillip kept you on the straight and narrow most of the time.”
“When I let him,” Peter laughed. They were silent for a moment, each caught up in their own memories of the past. “Anyway, I know I’ve said this before many times, but you are the best mother a guy could have.” He smiled at her with a touch of slyness. “Now, if only you’d make Fred a happy man.”
“Not again, Peter!” Eve said. “What is this? Do you want me to move out or something?”
“Lord no, of course not. It’s just that I see you two together, and you fit somehow. Know what I mean?”
Eve gave a little sigh. “Yes, I know what you mean and, to be honest, I have given it some thought recently. As a matter of fact, Fred and I talked about it just the other night.”
“You did? You mean he asked you again and you didn’t actually say no?”
“I said…give me a little time….”
“A little time? Fred must be the most patient man in the world,” Peter chuckled. “He’s been courting you for years and years, and has never given up hope. Well, if you want to know what I think…”
“I know what you think, Peter,” his mother said with a light laugh. “If it were up to you, I’d have been Mrs. Olsen a long time ago.”
“Darn right you would.” Peter grinned at her. “Don’t keep the poor man waiting too long, Mother. He just might get a roving eye.”
“Hmm,” Eve mused. “I suppose that is a possibility…”
“He is an attractive man…”
“Yes, he is…”
“Better not keep him waiting…”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Peter…”
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They both laughed together, then Peter leaned over and kissed his mother’s cheek. “I can definitely assure you,” he said, taking her hand. “The married state can be a wonderful thing—with the right guy.”
Orange County Times
Report by Mark Forrest
Olivia Winters will make her second appearance in Laguna Beach this week when she arrives to tape an upcoming show, which will feature the portrait that local artist Peter Brandon was commissioned to paint of the famous daytime talk show host. Rumor has it that there will be a couple of surprises on this show…
Olivia and her entourage descended upon Peter and Jeff ’s home the following day and turned it into a mess of cameras, lights, and snake-like cables that criss-crossed the entire ground floor, providing neat booby-traps for the unwary visitor. Peter had provided the tour of his studio, sweating under the heat of the television lights, while Olivia had stood, poised and elegant as ever, seemingly entranced by the many canvases that lined the walls. In center place, an easel housed the now finished portrait of Olivia that the camera lens had hovered over with loving attention.
Now, the living room was being set up for the interview section of the show.
Emily and Anthony stood nervously side-by-side in a corner of the room watching the proceedings. Eve, seeing them looking so lost, beckoned them into the kitchen.
“Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” Emily exclaimed, hugging her.
“Peter told me to look out for you both. Can I get you something to drink…a coke or tea…?”
Anthony grinned at her. “How about a stiff Scotch and soda?”
“Later,” Eve laughed with him. “Are you nervous? I would be.”
“Horribly nervous,” Emily said.
“Naw,” Anthony chuckled. “I always shake like this.”
“Oh good, here’s Jeff,” Eve said. “Are they finished up there, dear?”
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“Yeah, they’re on their way down. Hey, you two.” Jeff hugged them both.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “We won’t let the scary woman get you.”
One of the crew appeared in the doorway. “We’re ready for you guys. Please come with me.”
Dutifully, they followed him into the living room and sat where he indicated.
“Okay, everyone.” Grant Oliver, the director, tapped his board with his pen to gain attention. “Olivia and Peter will come down the stairs from the studio.
Jeff, you’ll come forward and say, ‘Hi Olivia’ and then introduce Emily and Anthony. We’ll stop there and get you all seated then we’ll start with the interview. Okay, everybody got that?”
A murmur of assent was heard, the lights flared up and Grant yelled,
“Action!”
Jeff watched as Peter and Olivia walked slowly down the stairs. He took Emily’s trembling hand in his own and started toward them.
“Hi Olivia, I’d like you to meet two dear friends of ours, Emily Lambert and her brother Anthony Hastings.”
“Oh my,” Olivia cooed, as she shook their hands and the camera zoomed in on them. “Oh, you’re so pretty,” she gushed at Emily. “And my, what a stud your bro is, honey.”
“Cut!” Grant yelled. “That was great, Olivia. Okay, everyone take their places for the interview.”
Peter smiled encouragement at Emily as they walked to where the couch and armchairs had been rearranged for the benefit of camera angles. As they sat down, Olivia turned on her famous charm.
“Let’s just chat a little before they start the shoot, shall we? It’ll help loosen you up.” She peered at Emily. “You look nervous, honey. Don’t be. Try and think of this as just another visit to your friends.”
“We don’t usually have all these people running everywhere,” Emily replied, trying to laugh.
“Eve, honey!” Olivia waved Peter’s mother over. “You should be a part of this, too. Let’s get spontaneous here, Grant. I don’t want this to look stiff and fake.”
Eve hesitated for a moment until Peter smiled and patted the space on the couch between Jeff and himself. “Come on, Mom. Sit here with us.” He looked at Olivia. “We should have invited Rod and ‘A’ over, too. They always liven things up.”
“The two old guys I met at your party?” Olivia asked.
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“They used to be in show business, years ago,” Peter told her.
Oh great, Olivia thought, keeping her smile in place, another couple of has-beens. That’s all we’d need.
A sudden commotion behind them made everyone turn round to see what had happened. It was Luke tripping over some camera cables.
“Quiet!” Grant barked, glaring at Luke who flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and anger at having been yelled at.
“Sorry,” he
mumbled, moving to a corner of the room.
“Let’s try and keep this as professional as we can, people.” Grant drummed his clipboard with his pen and cast a withering glance at Luke.
“Okay Grant,” Olivia snapped. “We get the point. Now let’s get on with it shall we?” She waggled her fingers at Luke who gave her a sheepish grin.
“Right,” she continued. “Let’s go. Peter, how did you meet Emily and Anthony?”
As Peter began his story, Grant signaled for the cameramen to start rolling.
Olivia had told him she wanted this as informal as possible, and skillfully she kept the line of questioning going—Jeff being the only one who realized that they were actually being filmed. Clever, he thought. This way Emily won’t be as intimidated as if they had told them this was a take.
“…And so,” Peter was saying, “Jerry, Emily’s husband…except at that time, they had only just become engaged, asked me to paint Emily’s portrait. During that time we became friends…”
Olivia turned her attention to Emily and her brother. With gentle persua-sion, she pulled from them the story of their devastating experiences at the hands of their father, of the years of painful loneliness when they felt there was no one to whom they could turn—not even their mother.
“I believe you’re still estranged from your mother…is that correct?” Olivia asked.
Emily nodded. “She could never bring herself to believe that my sister Paula and I were, in fact, the victims of my father’s perversion. She deluded herself into believing that we had seduced him.”
“Little girls seducing their father?” Olivia assumed a shocked expression.
“How could any loving mother think such a thing of her daughters?”
Anthony cleared his throat uncomfortably and Olivia looked at him, a small smile on her lovely lips.
“Did you want to add something, Anthony?”
“Yes.” He looked down at his hands clasped in his lap as he spoke. “I think my mother…our mother…went through a terrible time of loneliness and J.P. Bowie
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despair. That she ignored what was going on, I’m sure is hard for most people to understand…but…she had no one to turn to, either. Our father threatened to throw her out of her own home…to publicly humiliate her if she so much as breathed a word of what she knew. She may have made the wrong choices, but…I am sure she regrets that to this day. I still love my mother, despite the fact she has turned her back on all of us…”